In the Ashfall Delta, disparate forces have assembled under the banner of the Redhands in a desperate defence to delay the Waagh of Colossaboss Mogrek Longblade’s arrival in the Aelven Prime Dominion, so defenses can be prepared.
On one of the Delta’s islands, Infurnata, the Templars of Our Burning Saviour have resolved to make their stand against Mogrek’s hordes.
_____________________________________________
The March of the Templars had begun.
The gaze of High Templar Aethador the Absolved, mounted upon his Karkadrak, rested upon the rows upon rows of heavy Tzaangor infantry in resplendent golden full plate armour marching towards the Gleaming Tower. They were led by Priests of Our Burning Saviour in Sacred Hymns of Praise and Glory.
Inconspicuous they were not, the High Templar resolved.
Excellent.
It was their role in the coming battle, after all, to draw the ire of the Orruks and other rabble fighting for Mogrek and his Longblades, as Shiraghul and his Khornate Beastmen attacked them where they were vulnerable.
They took position shielding the Gleaming tower from Mogrek’s troops, disciplined ranks of Tzaangor Steel, Resolve and Faith. They had not stopped singing, on the contrary – the Priests continued to raise their spirits more and more, aiming to drive them to religious ecstasy.
Behind them, the High Templar raised his blade, the Sword of the Umbertide, an artifact of great power recovered from the bleeding wilds, and addressed his men.
“Glory to the Flame!” his voice thundered over the battlefield, with the battlecry being repeated by the whole force as one.
They could already see the Orruks and their allies approach, a wild, vicious horde out for blood. Many ghouls were amongst them, too, it seemed.
Along the Templars’ defensive lines, the sacred halberds were lowered, tower shields planted. As the priests continued to recite Holy Scripture, the Templar warriors awaited the impact.
“Templars! Know it is the Will of Our Burning Saviour that we shall succeed! Know that His All-seeing Eye rests upon you! They shall Break upon Our Faith! They shall be Purged by Our Arms! Stand with me! For this battlefield shall be Cleansed with FIRE,…”
Conjured Flames burst forth, thoroughly scorching approaching barbarians who fell to the ground screaming in agony; Walls of Holy Fire disrupted the Longblades’ movements, cutting their troops off from each other. The surprise and confusion was accompanied by a collective “Cleansed with Fire!” from the defenders.
“…Anointed in BLOOD!”
The first ragged wave of Orruks broke upon the Templars Tower shields, running headfirst into the razored halberds and waiting swords of the defenders.
A full section of gore-gruntas’s lost their footing as the floor collapsed beneath them, tumbling down into a deep spiked pit dug by Shiraghul’s hunters. The momentum of those after them carried them down into the pit as well, as Templars finished them off with precise thrusts of their halberds.
The remainder of the charge swerved, colliding into each other, rendering their attack useless as they struggled to regain any cohesion.
A salvo of fiery arrows from Skyfires finished many of them off, with the rest easy prey for the defensive wall of Templars.
The Templars fought with unwavering discipline and precise maneuvers, shielding each other with their shields and striking fast, hard and deadly.
Before them, the High Templar saw two fiery arrows puncture the eyeslit of a charging Megaboss, causing the beast to collapse before it even reached their lines.
As he knew what to look for, he saw – with much inner satisfaction – more and more of the Longblades fall victim to the hunters’ various traps.
This was the time the hunters themselves sprung into action. As more and more Orruks made it to the defensive line, becoming entangled with the Tzaangor defenders, the tiger-like Rakhasa clawed their way out of their hiding spots in small chasms and fell into the backs of Orruks and ghouls with teeth bared, claws and vicious twin axes, slaughtering their way through unsuspecting prey.
Winged Asura lept from behind the golden Wall of Templars and landed on the other side of the attackers, slamming their heavy mauls in the ground so the Orruks lost their footing, and were made short work of as the Templars cut them down from the front, and the Asura from behind.
The time had come. The Longblades had grown bloodied and distracted with the deadly hit-and-run attacks inflicted upon them by Shirahul and his Khornates.
The High Templar lifted the shadow magic spread over the Heavy Templar Cavalry by the Umbertide, the complex runes alongside the sword’s blade growing faint.
There they were, a grand force of Templar knights upon armoured reptilian steeds positioned in the Longblades’ flank, arranged in attack formation behind him and his Karkadrak.
At his signal, the golden wings on his Karkadrak’s saddle inflamed, and all the Golden Wings attached to the saddles of his knights did as well.
“Cleansed with Fire, anointed in Blood!”
They Charged.
The thunderous impact of clawed hooves upon the battlefield and their common Warcry from each beak heralded their arrival and deadly impact.
Impact. The blessed tips of their lances punctured armour, burrowing deep into the flesh of their foes. Clawed hooves ripped up Longblade bodies as they were overrun, and razor-sharp teeth tore away their limbs as they ran by.
The High Templar’s Karkadrak at the tip of the formation smashed through their ranks and gored one of their uselessly flailing Bosses, while Aethador effortlessly cut the throat of one Orruk and caving a ghoul’s head in with his long mace – just after a few seconds, the killings blurred into each other as the heavy cavalry cut a swathe of destruction through the attacking horde. Still it rained Holy Fire, weakening the enemy before them, and mud-covered units of Shiraghul’s Kishi rose from hiding to support them as well, harassing each attempt at resistance with arrows.
The High Templar saw some of his knights had been thrown from the saddle, but they were still close to full strength. More importantly, they had barely lost momentum, and it was key to keep going. They continued to carve a bloody path through Orruk warbands, Ogor mobs and gaggles of ghouls. Their golden armour was dented and splattered with blood as the High Templar ordered them to stop and reform, but their determination was unbroken.
Aethador’s gaze quickly swept over the battlefield. The brutal cavalry charge had taken full effect. Beyond the dead and dying, he could see the Longblades’ lines faltering. A ragged mob ran forward, others hesitated, some even turned to flee.
Meanwhile, he had a perfect formation of golden-clad Tzaangor knights at his back.
This was it. One more charge could end this. If Fate was with them, they could cut them down once and for all and shatter their resistance in Infurnata. The Prime Dominion’s survival hung in the balance, and he had to fulfill Our Saviour’s Will; he was not to fail again – maybe he had been too critical of their chances of survival, and maybe it was not his Fate to die this day in the defence of the Prime Dominion – maybe there was still Hope. Hope for better things to come – for his Ascension, which he had been denied for so long.
“High Templar, watch out!”
Somewhere behind the Longblade lines, a Gargant stood, arms thurst up in the air.
Undoubtedly, Mogrek’s minions had understood the danger the High Templar posed upon the battlefield, and therefore resolved to target him specifically.
Thus it occured that an airborne monstrous pallid-skinned Donkhold Troggoth flew towards the Tzaangor Chaos Lord; he had to have been thrown with great force, and he came closer with concerning velocity, the wreath of blue morkshrooms upon his head already visible in uncomfortable detail.
Aethador immediately edged his Karkadrak on, but the beast instead reared in pain, as a broken spear was thrust from out a pile of corpses up between two armour plates.
The last thing High Templar Aethador the Absolved ever saw, was a dying Orruk’s ugly grin.
________________________________
The impact was devastating. Both the High Templar and the Karkadrak were instantly crushed under the Troggoth’s accelerated mass, their holy armour useless against the sheer force. The Troggoth itself splattered in blood and flesh all over their surroundings, covering the assembled cavalry in vile, murky Troggoth gore.
Amongst the Longblades, cheers and a cacophony of crude battlecries erupted instantly, while the Templar cavalry and their allies were shaken at the sight of their commander’s sudden demise.
Many of the reptilian Templar mounts panicked, their riders struggling to regain control while also being affected by the blinding and foul-smelling Troggoth muck. Into the now disorganised cavalry formation, the Longblades charged, easily overwhelming and cutting down those who did not flee soon enough with their superior numbers; the Templar cavalry, and, indeed, all the Redhands’ cavalry was routed and forced to retreat in disorder.
The Redhand’s strategy quickly devolved into a mixture of fighting retreat and desperate defence in depth, struggling to delay the seemingly never-ending tide of Longblades as long as possible.
As Templar forces retreated, their commander’s crushed corpse was left buried below a broken heap of Troggoth flesh, his Path to Glory having found an abrupt, unceremonious end – the shattered ambition of a shattered corpse.
