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Thanks to Wargamer for this
The Puxian 67th sat idle upon the snow-fields of Arcos, watching the Orks rumble forwards in their crude machines.
Commissar 2nd Class Chen Tzo Lee settled himself in his tank, aware of the bloodstains the cleaning teams hadn't quite removed. His predecessor had died in this very seat, and Tzo Lee had no wish to be next.
"Comrade-Commissar!" Tzukov boomed, his thick beard and fur-lined uniform making him look like a giant snowbeast, "Tiz good day for battle, jes?" The man grinned, and his acohol-filled breath washed over the frail-looking Commissar.
"Indeed," Tzo Lee replied, "We shall annihilate the blasphemous foe."
Tzukov cocked his head slightly, "err... no, mizen Gothic iz err... 'it'll bit not good."
Tzo Lee nodded. Imperial Gothic was his second language as well. Instead, he settled for making the symbol of the Aquila, and returned to his tank.
As one, the armour roared into life. They thundered forwards, a formation twenty-strong composed mostly of Exterminators, with the occasional standard-pattern Russ to provide heavier firepower, and Izenboar , the regimental Demolisher.
As they reached the incline that marked the end of the mile-wide snow dune, Tzukov opened his top hatch, and raised the Regimental Banner. He lifted out his vox-speaker, and his warcry echoed to every vehicle in the formaiton.
"Drazkov Igo Tzuhuman Strungenhadden! Gotsvellund Gonnos Norda!"
The cry was picked up by the tank commanders, as their mighty machines stormed down the side of the dune, kicking up a blizzard behind them.
Tzo Lee turned to his primary gunner, "What did that mean?"
The man smiled, "Snow nor cold does not halt us! Onwards Battle Metal!"
"Battle Metal?"
"The man shrugged, "That's what we call Tanks, Comrade-Commissar."
The armour column smashed headlong into the approaching Orks. Autocannon, Lascannon and Heavy Bolter roared a deadly battle cry as the xenos vehicles came into range, and were annihilated. Plasma blasts from Izenboar struck a crude looking battlewagon, and sent it spinning end over end, before its fuel ignited and immolated the machine.
However, the Orks had the numbers. Nearly fifty Battlewagons remained to fight on, and now they were bringing their guns to bear. Numerous shots rang off against the solid armour. Tzo Lee looked through the view-ports of the turret and watch Tzukov waving his men on, firing with his Laspistol at the enemy tanks. Amazingly, he'd managed to kill several Orks already, resulting in panic and confusion around his push.
A missile exploded nearby, causing the tank to rock. Tzo Lee fell back into his seat, and barked orders to return fire. His Russ' main gun cranked around, singling out a six-wheeled mobile gun painted bright yellow. The shell struck home, and the vehicle came apart as if it were paper. The detonation caught a passing Ork Gunwagon, flipping it over and leaving it useless.
Suddenly, the smell of burning tin filled the air. One of the crew began yelling something, but his cries were drowned out by an explosion that ripped the port Sponson off, along with most of the armour plating.
Tzo Lee knew the tank was doomed, "Abadon armour! Get out! get out!"
He reached for the ejector-handle, and the world went white before his fingers touched the grip.
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