“Excellent.” Templar Captain Areshtur the Ardent hissed to his adjutant. They had the Seraphon just where they wanted them – they had not hesitated to follow the seemingly inferior force of Tzaangor warriors right into their demise.
The Tzaangor warriors’ panicked flight hadn’t be as panicked as it had appeared to the Saurus warriors, and it had led them here, into this part of Civilia’s ruins that were hard to traverse – at least for troops that hadn’t scouted the area as extensively as the Templar forces had done beforehand.
As the Seraphon forced themselves through ruins and rubble, the Tzaangor silently slipped away.
Areshtur could feel it, there was the moment when the Saurus commander realized, in the sudden silence, that he had made a mistake – only a couple of heartbeats before tormented moaning and growling rang out, at first a single voice, then dozens from every direction. He savoured this feeling with all his being.
The Templar Captain loved it when two problems solved each other. What made it even sweeter was the fact that the Skink Priest with the cut throat beside him was powerless to stop him as he had intended. Areshtur had gotten to him first.
Now they only had to wait, enjoy the spectacle and clean up once it was done.
Right now, Templar forces moved in to cordon off the area and cut off any Seraphon fleeing the scene. But as it seemed, nobody would even try.
Just then, the earthquake started. The ground moved, shifted, rumbled in anger.
“Steady.” Areshtur ordered. It was a superfluous order for a force that had fought together for so long as his crew had, but old habits died hard.
This was… no ordinary earthquake.
The ground’s movements grew more intense, it rose up and fell down, broke up, and was devoured by itself. While the Tzaangor warriors around him grew slightly uneasy, Areshtur’s eyes were still locked upon the Seraphon and Undead tearing each other apart. The ruins began to crumble, decrepit walls and half-standing towers moving, crashing into each other, mercilessly crushing bodies and burying whatever came in their way. The fight down there shifted, while the mindless undead were unfazed, the Reptiles now realized their foe was not the only danger to their continued existence, as a number of them were immediately swallowed whole or crushed under tons of debris. They desperately tried to get away, but with dozens of undead bodies clawing and grasping at them, they were lost to the appetite of the land.
“RETREAT! GET TO OPEN GROUND!” Finally, Areshtur snapped out of his observer’s paralysis, now truly coming to understand the dangers to the forces loyal to Our Burning Saviour.
They had to get away from the ruins, and quick. In open fields, it would be easier to endure whatever the angry land would throw at them.
“Remember, only the Unflinching please Him! I want an organised retreat!”
His Sariant warriors leaving their positions in ordered units, the Templar Captain led them out of the more dense ruins out into the open.
The nimble Tzaangors, experienced sailors used to shaking and breaking ground, suffered few casualties in their retreat – but then Areshtur noticed the huge masses of water come streaming into the ruins.
“Right Flame, get to higher ground NOW! Left Flame, brace yourselves!”
Templar Captain Areshtur the Ardent could only observe helplessly as some of his crewmen and -women were seized by the flood and swiftly carried away.
It was obvious – the rage of Rondhol had awakened, and it thrashed around furiously.
_____________________________________
All hell had broken loose in Civilia’s harbour, and it certainly was not the good kind.
Even more than those farther into the biting sea, those ships that had been docked at the harbour fought a desperate fight for survival; the “Pyresoul” among them. When the ground started to shake below them, and ships began running onto ground, or rather the ground running onto ships, the panicked crews tried to bring their vessels out of the shattering harbour into deeper waters. With ships laying this close together, however, it was impossible to not hinder each other in the attempt. As was the nature of Chaos, this meant every crew fought for themselves, and a chaotic battle commenced.
Fortunately for the Templar forces, the first mate of the Pyresoul, Sepideh, had acted quickly; combined with the usual discipline of the Sariant warriors of Templar Captain Areshtur’s crew, she had managed to avert the worst so far. They passed several other ships that struggled to set sail, and others whose hulls burst as they were crushed by moving landmasses. Marauders from different ships fought each other brutally for the privilege of leaving a shared dock first, damaging the others’ ship in the process.
As a narrow spot formed by risen ocean floor and a capsized Slaaneshi pleasure caravel, the “Pyresoul” found itself at odds with the “Skulltaker”, the unoriginally named ship of a Khornate warband currently lost in the Dell.
Wood scraped against wood, and jeers and insults rang out from the scantily clad Khornate barbarians. On the Templar ship, though, silence reigned but for Sepideh’s sharp orders.
The Tzaangor fought defensively, concentrating on the prevention of any severe damage to the “Pyresoul”; people died on both sides until the battle was decided by a formation of sharp rocks spontaneously bursting through the Khornates’ ship’s hull. Sepideh had tried to steer their opponents towards the formation, but it has also been fate for the ground to move in such a – for this singular moment – fortuitous way.
Others came into their way, but Sepideh and the crew always managed to drive them off, and to leave the other ships behind them.
There – the open sea was in sight, just a little further…
The “Pyresoul” ran aground.
The ocean floor had simply risen too much for a ship of the “Pyresoul’s” size to cross into the biting sea.
Sepideh cursed under her breath as she ordered the crew to examine the sustained damage.
The tremors… yes, it seemed the change slowly came to a halt. If they just managed to stay afloat, to repair the damages… maybe they had still a chance.
With the battle between a once united chaos fleet raging around her though, the cries of those drowning and dying, she couldn’t help but doubt it.
