So this was what remained of much of the Chaos Reavers’ fleet, Areshtur thought. He had already heard many had escaped deeper into the biting sea, but still, this had been a devastating blow. The followers of the True Gods, their unity brutally shattered by an awakened continent.
Trudging through mud and knee-deep water, intermingled with blood and the odd dissolving Nurglite, Templar-Captain Areshtur and the remnants of his ill-fated shore expedition made their way back through Civilia’s destroyed harbour.
Broken hulls of ships littered the ground, strewn among them corpses of their crews.
Scavengers, both those looking for loot and those looking for flesh, had already begun their grisly work.
It was not hard to surmise what had happened here. In flight, they had turned against each other. Just like Magistrix Nikos had turned against them all, by forming a truce with the Seraphon, and simply handing over the void-shield that protected the city. The great prize. It had been imperative to not let the artifact fall into Seraphon hands, and the true reason why the Templars of Our Burning Saviour had protected Nikos’ city – alongside the need for a secure harbour for the Archprophetess’ expedition into Furyoth Dell, of course.
Now, both these reasons were no longer applicable.
They had only heard of Nikos’ deal during an engagement with the enemy. Warbands loyal to Nikos had spontaneously retreated, and a likely victory had turned into defeat when Templar forces now stood all but alone against Seraphon who were not tied down anywhere else.
The Templar Captain could not help but spit on the ground at the mere thought. They had fought and bled for Nikos, and in the end, she had just given the Seraphon what they desired. “Truce”. It was a capitulation. Scum. Traitor. Heretic. He wished he could see her burn.
Their Alliance was broken, and for now, Areshtur couldn’t do anything but gather the forces he still had command over, and hope the Archprophetess would soon return from Furyoth Dell, and that she had found what she sought.
The few Reavers that still dwelled in the corpses of their ships and had not fled Inland knew better than to engage the disciplined Tzaangor Warriors. Their number had shrunk, true, but they were still a force to be reckoned with. Even moreso, if the deck crew under the command of his first mate Sepideh had survived.
Just then, he spotted the Pyresoul. The Templar Captain had not been so optimistic as to dare to hope she had made it to the open sea, but still, the crew had managed better than most, as it appeared.
They came upon a few Khornate berserkers strewn about with the familiar arrows of the Skyfire Kourosh sticking out of their eye-sockets.
The blood-red banners of the Templars were still flying on the ship, and if that was not enough to reaffirm him, there was the “Glory to the Flame!” screamed from many beaks that showed him his crew was still intact.
Sepideh jumped down from the ship into the wet sand.
“Templar Captain. In the name of Our Saviour, I report: vessel run aground, 6 combatants lost in skirmishes. Multiple minor injuries, all hands combat-ready.”
“Noted.” He took the time to march around the ship, to examine the damage. Sepideh had joined him in the inspection, walking alongside him.
The ship was not too badly damaged, however…
It lay too far from the new shore. They would not be able to move it that far. They would have to abandon the Pyresoul.
“All hands on deck!” Areshtur ordered briskly.
Soon, in disciplined ranks, all Sariant warriors that remained of his crew and the attachment sent by the High Templar stood on deck and alongside the ship.
“Templars! We have been betrayed. In an act of abject avarice and recreancy, Sorrah Nikos has knelt before the Seraphon and has gifted them the void shield. Thus, I declare our alliance to be broken, and in the name of Our Burning Saviour, she is to be considered a heretic.” Areshtur addressed his warriors, deep distaste obvious in his tone.
“Civilia is no longer ours to protect. Thus, until the blessed Archprophetess Sytarith the Intricate returns from the wilderness, our new operative goal is to disrupt Seraphon operations in Rondhol. Considering recent development, this will not be an easy task. The continent stirs, and its awakening has already cost us our ship.”
His eyes wandered over to his first mate, standing beside him.
“There is a Slaaneshi vessel not too far from here, abandoned by its crew. She’s stuck as well, but I’d wager we could get her back into the open water with some rope.” Sepideh opined.
The Templar Captain nodded thoughtfully.
“Very well. Take everything we can use from the Pyresoul, I want the Slaaneshi vessel operational by nightfall. Our Crusade against the Seraphon has just begun – I intend to take the fight to them – wherever they least expect it, and where it hurts them the most.”
