A short story coming

Darkness slipped over his face as his helm was fitted and locked into position. Eye slits opened as the ancient Grey Wolf terminator visor whirred into life once again. Targeting monitors as ghostly displayed runes and whispers audited the scene in front of him, sensing danger ahead. Ansgar Fjordbring prepared himself for another battle against the unclean. Chaos. Flanking helm inlets pistoned oxygen slowly, keeping the inner temperature at a constant 20.2 °C. The storm was fury incarnate, jabbing clear white lightning strikes through the night sky. Wind that would have felled a normal man smacked softly against his rune armour as he moved forward on the ledge, power claw raised, his troops below and behind raising their chain swords, purring. ‘They want Death and we shall bring it!’ Ansgar roared, the hundred Grey Wolves in combat armour, remained silent and furious, ready to perform their charge in honour of the Norse gods.

A chorus of sickening chants and shrieks, only the warp could spawn erupted from across the plains, a myriad of moving shadows, bulky and thin began their assault.