As the maniacal laughter of an ork was heard followed by the unmistakeable sound of men being burned alive Metallus Magnus Ohmnati notices that his right flank of the trench was being assaulted.
With heavy footsteps he closes in on the fighting, leaving the misaligned vox caster he had been working on behind. As he drew his pistol he stepped on a slight patch of burning goo left by the burnas attack, the flames briefly engulfed his foot before subsiding as he rolled the fingers of his large left fist.

He took another step and crushed the wrist of a charred guardsman with his right boot and witnessed the scene in front of him, a nasty sight, orks attacking in melee, burning men and an unmistakeable burna boy on the trenches summit revelling in the misery he caused the poor men of the guard.
Small patches of fire licked his long red coat, but could not find hold of the flame retardant cloth.

The form of the techpriest was an imposing one. His somewhat broad shoulders enlarged by the steel coloured armour he wears, with some of the classical forms of the power suits given to higher ranking enginseers, although not near one in its complexity.
Worn over it was the classic red combat robe of the secutors, more like a very long open vest than a classic set of robes, making it easier to move in during a fight than a robe. Decorating it close to its edges is a white line with cog teeths.
Under the similarly designed hood beneath short locks of grey hair was a pale face with two ice blue eyes with that classic thousand yard stare, his nose and mouth was covered by a metal rebreather seemingly designed to bolt on something else on the face, with two tubes sticking out from the rebreathers sides going over the shoulders to his backpack.

His left arm is covered in an although sleek but still unmistakable power fist adorned with silver skulls on its knuckles.
Over his right shoulder, a manipulator mechandrite opened and closed its mechanical jaws like some animal baring its teeth before a fight, moving like a mix of machine and biological giving it a strange sense of fluidity from such a crude looking device.
His footsteps slow, the weight of the equipment resulted in his footfalls making clear thuds even in the muddy trenches and leaving footprints with clear lines and a skull with every step.

On his chest, the Opus machina of the adeptus mechanicus, that half machine skull symbol of the mechanicum. With a single red light within its eyes.
Flanking him on his left is a pale servitor lacking a shirt wearing black pants and heavy boots. His eyes milky white and his mouth and nose covered with a similar metal rebreather albeit bolted to the flesh itself here.
His right arm bearing a multitude of inbuilt tools like drills and mini saws and a welding torch that briefly spit white blue sparks.

The duo approaches the battleground with an unerring determination.

Agility check!
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18, Passed.

Init roll!
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10 + 3 = 13

Bloody hell, max init again.