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Hey guys, I wrote up a rough story outline and hammered out a few scenes before I submitted a snippet to the Black Library. Had a few people read it and I was wondering what you guys thought.

Sisters of battle and Salamanders space marines are cut off in an artificial box canyon on a continent racked by black storms. Thanks again.

Kathryn kept the well-used triggers squeezed in her armoured fingers. She swept her twined hand flamers quickly, immolating the charging greenskins in her holy fire. Her helmet blocked out the stink of burning flesh. Just below, fellow sisters kept up their coordinated wave fire, keeping their foe's on the other side of the partially completed earthworks.
A deafening clang reverberated in her helmet as a errant 'big shoota' shell shattered the left lens of her helmet. She grunted, her readouts flickered, but she stayed on her feet. The thundering roar of a bolter barked above her. .75 Calibre casings bounced off her right shoulder, spinning smoke trails in their wake. The green of Par'san's armour flared brightly in the roiling light. His scoped Mk sIV combi made a noise very distinct from that of her Sisters. Over the advancing battle line, the gunner on a ramshakle buggy had his head explode in a twisting mess.
The driver raced on, roaring away into dust.
“It was surprisingly enlightened to give you a warning shot,” Par'san said in his slow monotone.
She kept focused and started stepping down the wide stairs. Slowly grinding her flame bursts into more of the filth. The Brother Sergeant started after her, sweeping his massive weapon slowly and deliberately over the battlefield. Every burst found a new home. His footfalls echoed on the steps.
Sister Marion ducked to reload and Kathryn moved her off-hand flamer to cover the new hole in the line. The Sister smirked her crooked smirk up at her before nodding. Kathryn released the trigger and the hole was filled with righteous bolter fire.
The smoke trails of multiple rockets screamed around the duo, their heraldry fluttered in the air displaced air. The carved, adamantium walls behind them erupted in a yellow/orange fireball. The flames engulfed them, setting her white robes alight. Rounds deflected uselessly off their armour as they kept up their slow advance, plowing the smoke apart as the moved ever on.
The biker mob broke off with worrying discipline to start another pass.
“Sister Marguerite and Brother Le'ham are going to be upset,” he mused dropping a half expended magazine before affixing it to his belt. He slid in a full one and locked it in precisely before pulling the hammer back and bringing the weapon to point.
“By what, Brother?” The readouts in her helmet rippled with increasing frequency.
“That they missed the fun,” another burst blew apart the crude frame of a repositioning bike.
She stopped, dropping her weapons. Their fuel lines made them bounce at her sides. She twisted her helmet and pulled her head out. She cast it onto the metal below before turning to look up at the Veteran Sergeant. The burning red eyes in his helmet focused on her. Her white robes burned, flecks of blackened material danced around her head.
A shell ricocheted harmlessly off her chest plate, “there will be enough fun for them as well.”