The land fell silent once again.
The heights were littered with wrecked tanks, corpses, and blood of every color, adorning the collapsed, burning T'au buildings like candy on a cake.
Seen from above, bodies of every kind lay scattered throughout the city.
Humans, Astartes, T'au, Kroot, Orks-all were there, their corpses and severed limbs intertwined into a different kind of landscape.
They had fought over these heights for three full days. Both sides had bled several units dry, and even the Dawn Army's Ork assault battalion had been wiped out to the last warrior.
The only winners, perhaps, were the Gretchin.
Several Gretchin scrambled up and down the piles of corpses, their eyes gleaming as they greedily searched for loot.
"Haha! I'm rich! I'm rich!"
Little Limp shouted gleefully, then picked up a pulse rifle.
Beside him, Big Crooked Head was equally excited. He carried a heavy bolter, and although the weapon was so heavy that it bent him double, he still loved it.
They rummaged freely for their "spoils." If they had not feared being shot dead, they would even have dared to loot the Space Marines' power armour.
As Wawaka Big Boom's expendables, these Gretchin lads emerged during every lull in the fighting, risking their lives to scavenge supplies.
Suddenly, a flash appeared nearby. In the blink of an eye, Big Crooked Head's head exploded as he carried his heavy bolter.
Terrified, Little Limp immediately dropped the junk in his hands and sprinted away.
Only after running for his life and ducking behind a wrecked Leman Russ tank did he realize that the "treasures" he had painstakingly collected had been smashed. They had taken several shots for him.
"Damn you! You smashed my treasures!"
Little Limp picked up a dagger and a standard-issue T'au Empire grenade, then crept