It was a repulsive sight, the elegant spires of a Tzeentchian Oasis so defiled by the Archenemy, Esiavash the Stalwart thought as he regarded the Rotglass Alcazaar.
Filth and gigantic growths of flesh and mucus clung to the once resplendent castle of glass, giving the structure the appearance of tragedy and lost glory.
By now, its only possible salvation was destruction.
Another thunderous wave of cannonfire sounded as the Templars’ artillery continued to bombard the castle.
The Rotglass’ Alcazaar’s resilience was certainly mostly a result of the ingenuity of its Scorntide creators, but it would have been disingenuous to deny the part the ever-growing, ever-pulsating ulcers and festering sores played.
Templar forces used the captured cannons of the Desraki in concert with their own, magically enhanced artillery. Sacred Blue Flames spread across the diseased growth, burning the rot away, while the cannonballs shattered the glass.
Waves of Nurglings did not tire of running up against the Templars’ encampment, but they stood no chance in the kill zone they had erected, with Holy Apparati of Magical Cleansing (the first ones recently reverse engineered from the Khornate devices, inverting their effect) enhancing their ring of Holy Fire, Skyfires keeping watch and the tall shields of the Templar Infantry with barely any scratch – for now.
Esiavash pulled his greatsword out of the fallen Blightking before him. These were the attacks they had to be truly wary of – the subtle ones, those that tried to circumvent their defenses.
He watched the rest of his unit – hulking, well-armoured Tzaangor Templars making sure their foul enemies would stay dead, with precise stabs.
The Sariant warriors had already begun to erect a makeshift pyre, to burn and cleanse the corpses.
They were resistant against the Nurglites’ illnesses. Their non-Tzaangor auxiliaries, however, were not. The Acolytes and Adepts of the Academy of the Arcane Arts of Aith’erant, for example, or the former Desraki Slaves willing to fight. They all had their part to play in Vardeshir’s plans.
He would not allow the Nurglites to make that move.
“Eternal Vigilance, to the Glory of Our Burning Saviour!” he spoke, solemnly. “His Will be done.” Came the reply of the unit in unison.
As soon as the corpses were burned, they would head back. He expected many more skirmishes – mayhaps a battle – until the Alcazaar would fall.
