“Who did this?”
The Skaven struggled in pain, his extremities broken and limp. It was no challenge to make him talk; it was obvious the coward had seen too much already.
The Templars had followed the fleeing plague monks to this clearing, where the skaven had tried to regroup with their comrades. Instead, and predictably, they had found another bloodbath, and bloodied runes of Khorne carved into the trees behind heaps of skaven skulls. Clan Pestilens was slaughtered everywhere in the red forest, many warbands against them, and it was only a question of time until their spire fell.
“Queen-thing Boudicca, yes-yes!” he squealed, gurgling and coughing as the two-headed Tzaangor pressed his gold-plated claw down on his chest. “I listen-hear them shout-scream her name.”
While Isthubar kept his gaze lowered on the squealing plague monk, Xshaeta turned to face Sorush the Dour, one of the Chosen and the foremost warrior of their entourage.
“She is indeed here. Presumably going for another assault from a different angle. We avoid them for now. We have the same goal. We might even make good use of them yet.” They answered Sorush’s unspoken question.
It was unlikely the Khornates would extend them the same courtesy if it came to that, but it did not matter. The War-Queen’s force was useful, for now. Just like the troops of the Karvul lodge their scouts had spotted some time ago. They all were headed for the Slekit Spire, a Nurglite abomination that had to be brought low. With an… added effect, if they succeeded.
With a measured crunch, the Templar Champions ended the skavens miserable existence and turned around, surveying the clearing.
Sariant warriors had already taken to throwing the fresh skaven corpses on a heap to burn later. As they had expected, there had been a Blightking amongst them, bearing the colours of the Pox Triumphant. He likely wasn’t the only one.
Still, this was a good spot, they thought, and Xshaeta nodded solemnly.
Isthubar and Xshaeta began carving sigils of power into the nearby rock formation. They worked with precision, but also with haste – it was imperative to complete the necessary arcane pathway in time for the Spire’s fall, or it would be all for nothing.
A path of Sigils lay behind them, but there were still many to go.
