Nathanís heart beat rapidly and his eyes were open wide with fear. The sea of orks running at him was not a welcoming site at all. The lasgun in his hands was not enough of a moral boost to keep him from shaking in terror. Fear, however, was not going to deny him his duty as a guardsman. Not yet at least. Raising his lasgun with trembling hands, he took aim and fired. To his excitement his shot struck an ork right in the forehead, causing an explosion of brain and blood to fly out the back of its head. This brief moment of excitement was shattered as another ork filled its place.
This battle seemed hopeless. The orks seemed to be beyond counting. Thousands of them, dressed in crude blue and silver scrap armour, were charging across the dessert that separated them. Behind the mass of orks was a larger one, presumably the Warboss. All the orks were bearing a variety of weapons for slicing and bashing in one hand and an awful excuse for pistol in the other. Some of the bigger orks had large metal claws for arms and had poles on their backs which bore the heads of fallen guardsmen.
Nathan fired off two more shots, blasting off another greenskinís face. They were about one hundred yards away from the wall of sandbags where the guardsmen were hiding behind. Orks fell every second from the guardsmenís fire but it never seemed to be enough to stop them. Nathan knew he wasnít the only one that was afraid. They all were. He could see it on their faces. To make matters worse, their sergeant was constantly reminding them that whoever tried to run away from the front lines would be shot.
The orks continued to fall, but they were getting closer and their shots were getting more accurate. Occasionally, a guardsman would drop dead from a lucky shot placed by an ork. In a way Nathan thought they were the lucky ones. They were given quick deaths. Much quicker than the ones the orks would give him when they reach the frontlines. They would all die and Nathan knew it. It was only two hundred or so guardsmen against thousands of bloodthirsty beasts.
Nathanís thoughts were brought to a halt as the hand of Sergeant Luther slapped him on the back of the head. Luther was about to yell something but was cut off by a deafening Waaagh! erupting from the orks. The orks seemed to be fearless, But Nathan wasnít. Just as the orks were about to breach the front lines, Nathan turned around and started running through the ranks of guardsmen. Pushing and shoving his way through the crowd. He didnít care if the city he was guarding fell or not. He wanted to live.
Just as he was about to escape into the crowd, a sharp pain shot up his back. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees. He felt blood running down his back and his eyelids grow heavy. Slowly, he fell to the ground as his last breath escaped him.

Sergeant Luther lowered his smoking laspistol and turned away from Nathanís dead corpse. The orks were swarming over the walls like there was no tomorrow, slashing and chopping all the guardsmen to bits. It seemed hopeless to even try and fight back. The city would fall and go to the orks. But as long as Luther still drew breath, he wasnít going to allow death without taking down some of the xeno scum along with him. He drew his sword in one hand and charged at the nearest ork. The ork was caught off guard, which was the last mistake it ever made. Luther drove his sword right into one of its beady red eye and brought his boot into its face.
Another ork charged at him and brought down its ax with great strength. Luther clenched in pain as he parried the attack. Fighting back the painful vibrations shooting through his arms, he raised his laspistol and fired it into the face of the ork. It fell to the ground as a lifeless lump of green.
Luther smiled in satisfaction and turned to face another ork, but as soon as he did, his face contorted with pain and confusion. He stared down at his stomach where an ork choppa was poking out of it. His corpse tumbled over as the choppa was quickly removed. There was no hope for this city. It was lost.