Heavy rain poured down upon Vensoth bay, turning the ground slippery, and vision barely existent.
The Templar Chosen Esiavash the Stalwart wondered whether the Desraki had deliberately chosen this day for an attack. Previously, he had deemed them to be the kind of Khornates who would consider such acts… dishonourable, but maybe not.
He plunged his sword through the waist of the Bloodreaver before him, the jagged heavy axe of his opponent falling from his convulsing hands.
Whether intentional or not – despite the darkness and rain, the incoming Desraki counterattack had been spotted, Templar forces had been warned, the alarm raised, and soon, flaming arrows of swarming Skyfires were shot through the darkness, finding their marks as the Templars organised their defense.
A group of Sariant warriors, the guards of a captured watchtower, had been caught unaware by the Desraki vanguard and quickly slaughtered. The Templar Chosen had seen some of their mangled remains on the way here. The Khornates had taken their time, and as much blood as possible.
With an irreverent movement, the Tzaangor pulled his sword free, letting the lifeless corpse of the Khornate sink back into the mud.
He glanced upwards, to the barely visible top of the watchtower upon the cliffside.
Apparently the Desraki found this to be an advantageous position for one of their war machines – from here, he could only make out a vague silhouette. Some kind of cannon, perhaps?
No matter. It was not yet ready to be used, it seemed, and they would make sure it would never be used against the Templars of Our Burning Saviour.
The shining blue energy pulsated along his blade, a blessing from his god.
With a deafening warcry, a blood warrior wearing a red cloak charged him from his flank, her massive axe scraping by his beaked helm, making impact just below his eyeslit, before sliding and glancing off his shoulderplate he quickly brought between them, when he instantly spun around.
With a quick cut, the searing hot blade severed the Khornate’s unarmoured left arm, cauterizing the wound in the process and denying the woman the pleasure of spilled blood.
Even so, she grinned at him through the long, wet strands of hair hanging into her face as she stumbled, flailing at him once again, collapsing only when the Tzaangor Chosen hacked deep into her again.
Cursing under his breath, Esiavash parried another blow of another Khornate, as the Templars suddenly found themselves surrounded by a team of blood warriors, who had been lying in wait hidden by the wreckage.
The Khornates fought with rage and brutality, the Tzaangors with skill and cold efficiency.
Invoking his Faith in Our Burning Saviour, Esiavash rammed the tip of his sword into the mouth of his screaming opponent and ripped his head open; a display so precise and gruesome, it left even his comrades in awe. “His Golden Wings are ablaze!” he screamed at the ruined body before him, and a wave of divine inspiration swept over the Templars.
With uncanny speed, their long blades swept and darted like licks of flame towards the Khornates, using any chance, any gap in their defenses to cut deep wounds with their razored edges; parrying the Khornates’ clumsy strikes with swift, simple elegance.
Soon, they had made short work of the Khornate ambush, and their opponents lay slaughtered on the ground.
Signal horns sounded in the distance. Esiavash listened intently. It seemed the Enlightened were to charge, as part of a pincer maneuver.
If the Desraki’s plan had been to avoid the charge of the heavy Templar cavalry by weather, they were successful. However, the sacred discs of change did not care about such things, and the weather even played to their strengths.
Khornate curses and orders sounded down from the top of the watchtower, and as the first heavy rock fell far too close for comfort, the Templars lost no more time to enter the building through the shattered door barely clinging to its hinges, and began the Ascension.
The Blood Warriors tried to use the narrow stairway to their advantage, but with Esiavash taking point and well-coordinated use of their halberds, the heavily armoured Tzaangors brought their opponents down quickly.
High on the top of the tower, the Khornate Champion awaited them. A tall man, musclebound like all of them, with deep scars covering his arms, and trophies of many battles hanging from his armour.
“Your defiance is in vain! You cannot stop the tide! The Brass Lord will rule over this lands!” The Champion spit at the Tzaangor Chosen, but Esiavash could hear the slight wavering in his voice, and he could tell the Blood Warrior knew the battle was lost.
With two Goreaxes in his hands, the Champion, foaming at his mouth, threw himself into the fight, almost bringing Esiavash off balance by mere force of impact.
However, at that point, he was but one, and the Templars were many.
At the top of the tower, at the flagpole, Esiavash tore down the Desraki banner, and planted their Champions head.
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The battle had been a slaughter, but not on the way the Khornates intended. Their own attempt at guile had proven their downfall, as they themselves got stuck in the mud, hard-pressed to get in formation or form any kind of sensible defense or attacking force except for a few elite troops which were too little and too widespread.
The Templar, meanwhile, made use of fast, disc-mounted forces. Skyfire archers harrassed the enemy forces without any danger of retribution, and Enlightened shattered the disorganised Khornates with brutal strikes, attacking quick and hard, before withdrawing.
A strong pincer movement had finally led to the enemies encirclement. Somewhere along the way, the Khornates’ valiance vanished, like blood in the mud.
And the remnants of the once proud attacking force was slaughtered, with but the weakest few fleeing into the night.
In the beginning dawn over Vensoth Bay, the Choir of the Burning sang, a Sacred Hymn of Praise and Agony, to the Glory of Our Burning Saviour, and to the Victory of His Templars.
The construction of the Templars’ fortress was proceeding well. The Temple to Our Saviour built over the black pillars of the ritual site was almost complete, and already the priesthood was deeply occupied in their research on the defunct realmgate. From here, war could be waged.
