Just finished this fluff on a battle I recently had (I lost ) Anyway, let me know what you think!

A lethal burst of flaming prothemium launched from the inferno cannon of a battered hellhound fried half a dozen traitorous scum as they surged from the corrupted, but once blessed, rhino transport. Its hull seemed to writhe under the weight of the tortured souls it imprisoned. The remaining mutants fled, flaming and shrieking to a blasphemous pitch as they were mowed down in a hail of fire from the holy venerable dreadnought nearby. An awe-inspiring sight, he thundered his way from the now destroyed drop pod he had screamed to the tainted earth in. Revered Brother Retemis triumphantly crushed one of the rebellious filth in his monstrous fist, as he heaved himself, somewhat gracefully, over a breached imperial pillbox emplacement.

The hulking war machine, along with marine Brother Sergeant Worreck and his tactical squad, led a beleaguered group of PDF stormtroopers into a battle-scarred tank manufactorium, seized by the Chaotic forces mere hours earlier. Out of the lost structure was spewing a seemingly infinite queue of unholy predators, corrupted razorback transports and various other accursed war machines, reinforcing the heretics’ front line.

* * *

The headquarters command bunker of Genexus Minor, once a gleaming gem in the crown of the Imperium of man, was now little more than a war-stricken wreck, held together with little more than industrial steel girders and makeshift ceremite plates where the walls once stood. But now the disgusting, relentless beast that was chaos scarred the whole planetary system.

Deep within its walls, the massive form of Blood Angels Force Commander Nathan Nastartos watched the monitor intently at the horrific madness outside. A few PDF troopers and a single, fatally wounded battle brother threw themselves into a blast crater to avoid the lace of laser and solid slug fire weaving its way from the hill ahead. To the east, an Imperial Predator Destructor poured its firepower into the back of a nearby traitorous chimera disgorging its unholy cargo into loyalist lines.

The Terminator Commander turned from the screen, and faced Colonel Raarstein von Murek of the Genexus Minor Planetary Defence Forces. The highly decorated hero stood resplendent in his ancient, revered suit of tactical dreadnought armour. He dwarfed the guard Colonel who was, by normal standards, a well-built man - his protruding stomach hanging over his medal-ridden belt, the Medallion Crimson sitting proudly among these.

“Have the Knights not arrived?� he enquired.

“Not as yet, but I have their word, and a truthful word that is.� Nastartos’ voice was dismissive of the Colonel’s doubt, yet it reassured him.

As he smiled at the huge Force Commander, the monitor flashed with a blinding light that fully illuminated the entire room, perfectly highlighting the chiseled features on Nastartos’ face, with nothing but a deep, half-healed scar running down from his shaven head to interrupt this. While the brightness flickered, Murek tried to make out the massive forms in the center of the concentrated beam. The light faltered and died, leaving what appeared to Murek as five gleaming, god-like warriors, liberally covered in purity seals and battle honours. Their armour appeared to have only just left the artificer’s workhouse, yet their inscribed incantations and holy runes told him that they were veterans of tens of thousands of glorious battles against the foulest of the Emperor’s many foes.

“Nastartos! Nastartos, look! They have answered us!� Colonel Murek ecstatically informed the Commander of the arrival, yet his gaze never left the monitor.

Nastartos turned and met Murek’s gaze, as he too glanced at the holy warriors, shining paladins of the Emperor’s light. As he watched, the Grey Knight terminators fearlessly joined a swirling melee of marines, PDF and filthy chaos scum, and fought with deadly strength, wonderful grace and the utmost martial precision.

All over the tattered battlefield - from the closest allies to the furthest traitors - men, superhumans and mutated heretics watched in awe as the sky filled with the blinding beams of light that seemed to reveal the tiniest portion of the Emperor’s might.

Calmly, Commander Nastartos pulled his gaze from the screen, and to his personal chamber. He entered, and as the sliding pressure lock doors hissed closed, his presence scattered the various servitors and workers attending to his dorm. He strode over to his military cubbyhole and took out his helmet, power sword and his storm bolter. He affixed the helmet, and felt his suit’s CPU pressurise the helmet, lock it in place and finally display the various targeting icons, which he had personally customized, of course. As he took up his sword, he heard it power up, and it became sheathed in a disruptive energy field, ready to take the Emperor’s holy justice to all who deserved it. He exited his chamber, entered the command area and beckoned to Murek.

“Come, Murek, we must assist the Grey Knights.�

Murek dropped his cigar, muttered something down his vox, took up his bolt pistol and affixed his power fist. He followed Nastartos who, with a satisfying “click�, clipped his personalized combat storm bolter onto the wrist of his bionic left arm. As Nastartos led Murek out of the chamber and into battle, he momentarily glanced at the monitor, to see a courageous Grey Knight deprive a disgraced cultist of his head. Inspired, he and the Colonel left the tattered bunker, entered the overwhelming tide of Chaos and spread the word of the Emperor’s light to the battlefield.