What orkish forces remained were quickly mopped up by the barrage of weapon fire against them. The battlefield was quiet for a moment. Then a hatch on a nearby bunker swung open. A steel-faced man stepped out. His uniform denoting an officer of somewhat high rank. "So... you are the new men for this small stretch of fortifications... Well then, I see the xenos already gave you quite the warm welcome."

He stepped forward ponderously. Sizing up the band of misfits before him. He seemed to decide internally they were adequate and nodded in silent approval. "You look like a good bunch for a mission I've been planning... I need some men to break the current stalemate. This bunker has a tunnel connecting to a local mechanized bunker. Go there and join up with the techpriest I assigned to prepare the machine spirits of the equipment you will be using. The mission is simple. force an opening into the orks defences by any means necesarry. Dismissed!"

With that, the officer returned to his station. Coördinating with various vox operators. You can glimpse an overview of the entire trenchline... YOu aren't trained for higher tactica, but it doesn't take a genius to see the orks are making steady gains every day... or possibly even every hour.

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, butchered men and orks scattered around the area as the guardsmen finished off the final xeno scum.
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 near 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 as Metallus, 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.

As the guardsmen finished mopping up the orks, a few noticed the approaching red priest of mars and his 'aide' as the techpriest put away his pistol after checking around him.

He didn't know why, but he felt like he'd met them before as he looked at them, but didn't mention it.

-"Whom of you is the squad sergeant?" Metallus let sound to the squad, with a voice slightly rasping and with a deep melancholia to it, all of it with a metallic sound to it like he was talking through a vox. Frankly it sounds freaky.

Hadariel, had in the confusion of the battle with the green skins, managed to join the squad just in time to assist them with the menace of the foe. Though he hadn't exactly fired any shots, yet, he saw fit to join them – wasn't like his own squad was doing much since the commissar had the amazing idea of charging a small band of Ork Nobs. Hadariel had otherwise simply tagged along to the best of his abilities, though being something almost resembling a tiny Ogryn didn't exactly make things easy when going through cramped trench networks that led up the local officer's command bunker. “Always getting the best, ain't they...” He muttered to himself, lambasting the normal officer routine of having everything being nice and cushy for themselves.

He soon held his tongue, however, as he entered the bunker alongside his new-found squad he made a mental note to not tell any over-zealous officers that he had more or less left his old squad. Not like the higher ups should care anyway, right? Swaggering into the bunker, Hadariel gave a swift salute to the commander before setting himself to be at ease. No doubt formality had gone out the window.

“As you wish, it shall be done, sir!” Hadariel spoke when the commander was done giving orders. He hadn't actually listened to what was said, just that guardsman know-how knew that asking for orders a second time didn't normally go down well. Hadariel went to follow the tunnel system that the commander had spoken about, though, anything Mechanicus surely meant that the squad was considered at least somewhat important.... though just as he went to start walking he heard the mechanical voice of a tech-priest.

“Uh, ain't me mate. Try that commissar o'er there.” He pointed out the commissar before making it clear that he wasn't too keen on the newfound techie.

A bit taken aback when the beefy guardsman spoke to him with a simple.

-"Uh, ain't me mate. Try that commissar o'er there."

Metallus gave him a cold unblinking dead stare with those icy blue eyes, then he inspected Hadariels visage while doing a few twitches with his head.
-"Sturdy, proficient muscle density, lacking in language capabilities.... fitting for servitor duty." Metallus murmured just over his breath, when he realized the muscly guardsman probably heard him the techpriest straightened his back and closed distance with the commissar that had been pointed out to him.

-"Are you the commanding officer of this unit?" Metallus spoke as he halted a mere yard in front of him.

"Yes the misfits you see before you are mine. The Sergeant is their officer I am here to watch that one." He said gesturing toward the Psyker.

Viber cleaned the blood from his blade and smiled. "Whatever mission we are offered we shall succeed the emperor shows favor to us on this day." Viber still felt the rush of the battle in his heart and he was not yet done. He thirsted for more Xeno blood. He looked at the tech priest and gave a nod as if approving of the presence of not just one more man, but his skill set and the lack of such a man previously among them.

"So how quickly can we be on with next phase?" Viber said with great anticipation.

Viber's words seemingly had the same weight upon the martian priest as throwing eggs on a leman russ battle tank. If it was because of not caring or actually not understanding was up to anyone to guess.

-"I see, regardless, i have decided that your unit is in need of a mechanicum priest to properly guide the machine spirits of your squad along the righteous path of warfare. Therefore i hereby attach myself as that operator to this squad. I shall work as an advisor and perform any orders as i see fit while i provide my expertize to your men so they don't mistreat their weapons too much." Metallus informed with his classical monotone voice which seemed to accentuate the wrong words often.
As he said the last part he looked with a sad gait upon the ogryn with his ripper gun.

Turuk tried his hardest to enter the bunker last, or at least during a time when he could actually get in there properly. The idea of being in a relatively small bunker was diminished, however, as the readily available windows made it somewhat more bearable than normal. He crawled his way through the tiny doorway, being rather careful despite his massive size and general bulk. The presence of both the local commissar and his comrade made the process easier, probably for the best.

When inside the bunker, the Ogryn resorted to kneeling with his weapon at ease. The gargantuan shotgun was clutched in a meaty fist like it was nothing larger nor heavier than a common club while his even larger great weapon was casually slung over his back in a careless manner. Turuk paid immense attention to the commander, he recognised instantly that the man must be important judging purely by the collection of shiny metal bits that was pinned to his clothing. With effort, Turuk saluted without sound. He looked almost proud to be addressed by someone so important, given that Ogryns rarely got the time of day from normal humans as it was...

Tuur had a somewhat easier time entering the building, entering before his Ogryn accomplice and gently guiding the larger soldier into the bunker with a practised set of instructions. The guardsman stood to attention not so much out of fear or training, but more because he deducted that the commander was probably the same as the other officers – stuck up show offs that lacked any sort of common sense save that which money or hereditary privilege could buy. “Sir!” He spoke loudly and clearly, suppressing his natural accent in such a way that made him sound almost, understandable., almost.

Turuk wasn't fazed in the least when the mechanical man, the tech-priest, showed up. The Ogryn simply nodded in his general direction without caring so much – his time in the sapper regiments was enough to tell him that his own instincts about construction were “gud 'nuff.” No fancy man in robes would tell him otherwise, mostly because the people like that often used words too large to even be fathomed by Turuk.

Tuur wasn't as kind, snickering at the priest like he was some sort of circus attraction, but he was...displeased, by the tech priest's easy dismissal of the new gunner. “And w'hat are you gonna be doin' in a foight? Usin' yer ego like a bleedin' war'ammer?” Tuur wasn't most amused but just gave up as it were. He most certainly didn't like the Mechanicus.

At first Metallus didn't seem to notice Tuur's remarks. But after a second or so he turned to the man and closed in and stood less than a yard from him and scrutinized him closely.

-"Probable feral worlder, barely any brain functions of note, high degree of self right. Only suitable for violent duty before inevitable death and corpse ration refinement." Metallus let out with the same low murmuring as with the gunner before.

-"Analyzing your attempt at gothic, i deduct that what i will be doing in combat situations is to tend to the machine spirits, while you purge enemies and keep me safe under your 'watchful gaze', if any foe comes to close, i plan on using this. No need for ego." Metallus menacingly leaned as he spoke, the words 'watchful gaze' spoken in a clearly demeaning manner. When mentioning 'this' he clenched his power fist in front of Tuur's face and activated its power field, making it crackle fiercely with small lightning bolts.
At the same time he swirled the head of his manipulator mechandrite and rapidly closed its jaws a few times to mimic a hounds biting.

After that he stepped back, but made sure that he had Tuur within his field of vision.
-"I have no interest in petty brawls, i'll let you be alone and i will be focusing on... 'my ego'." The tech priest noted to Tuur, 'my ego' spoken with a voice that tried to be sarcastic but failed.