Good timing. I just ran into this thread and made this. Hope people like it, I'm a bit rusty and tired.
The battle had not gone well.
The few survivors of the PDF crouched behind sandbags and the cracked remnants of an archway, only able to make snap-shots amid the storm of bolts and warpfire.
And in the middle, a point of calm in a roiling sea of activity, was the still form of Sleeper Michelak. Like a statue, he stood amid their defensive position, sleeping deep as the rounds flew.
Watcher Gavroche was all that was keeping these men together, he realized--when he deemed the time right, he'd bark the order, and the men would rise en-masse and release a great, defiant fusillade, change positions, and hunker down once again. Sometimes they lost a man in this tactical shift. Sometimes they didn't. But Gavroche was running out of men, and the traitor legions seemed without number.
If only Michelak hadn't fallen into the Dreams, he wished. Just one more brother could have made the difference over these last two days. At least he was being ignored--perhaps the Chaos marines thought it amusing. An insult, or a symbol. He supposed it didn't matter. Not any more.
He moved before he saw--a flawlessly conditioned reaction, as one of the hated enemy vaulted the pillar he had taken cover behind, and brought his roaring chainaxe down for his skull. The Watcher didn't even try to draw his own sword, instead seizing the heretic by his wrist as he danced aside. The bolt-pistol snapped up as the axe dug its own grave in the earth, snarling and howling. The berserker hadn't even had time to register surprise as the Nightmare pressed his gun to his temple, rounding out the fluid motion.
"Chargers! Over the walls!" He roared to the guardsmen as he dispatched the first of them.
If only Michelak hadn't fallen into the Dreams...