They had formed a defensive circle.
This knight did not fight honourable, so much was certain. He did fancy himself one, as could be gathered from his boisterous challenges and war cries. A knight of the chalice, apparently – he still fought like a steppe savage. He charged, hit hard, and retreated.
On edge, the Tzaangor warriors stared into the darkness of the dense jungle surrounding them, heavy rain pouring down upon them. The armoured Orruk riding a great reptilian beast could strike them at any moment, from any direction.
Many trampled Tzaangor bodies lay here, in the mud, some others had been carried away by the beast.
The Archprophetess stood in the midst of the Templars’ defensive circle, chanting and reciting from the holy books of Our Saviour, dark, inky strands of magic dancing around her staff.
She was furious. Not only because them following the giant cracks, wounds spontaneously cut through the body of Furyoth Dell, had led to this slaughter upon discovering the mudhaulers’ Amber blood mining operation, but also because she had let herself be deceived so easily. What Sytarith has seen in that vision, that dream – it had been a knight of the chalice. It had been a trap, a lure, nothing more.
Templar Oron shouted orders at his men, corrected their positioning. The tension was palpable. This time, they had to get him. This time, he could not be allowed to escape.
There – a glint in the night, and movement in the leaves. It was a split second to make it work, and Oron was determined to force the decision.
Empowered by Sytarith’s magic, the Sariant warriors fanned out, slashed at the flanks of the beast breaking out from the jungle with vicious weapons, to little effect. Two of the Templars drew the Orruk knight’s attention, while also leaving the Archprophetess wide open to attack, an opportunity the Orruk, as estimated, could not forego. He did not spot the other Templar, partially hidden, as he spinned around and brought his halberd forward in a powerful stab, which threw the Orruk off balance and made him fall.
Riderless, the beast charged straight ahead, and with surprising agility, Archprophetess Sytarith evaded the beast with ease, as it fled into the jungle.
Templar Oron pushed his sword down into the Orruk’s lightly protected neck, ending his miserable existence.
He wouldn’t have told them anything of value, anyway.
The Archprophetess stepped forward, to Oron’s side. Coming closer, she examined the Orruk’s body, carefully pulling a tiny vial of Amber Blood from his neck.
It certainly was interesting to find, this mining operation. By now, she had little doubt the fae were behind those operations, and also behind the knights of the chalice. She had also little doubt they were all mind-controlled, in a way, just like the mudhaulers. Or maybe something more insidious?
“We take the body with us.” She ordered. Three sariant warriors took to the task, instantly.
The Archprophetess was curious. Maybe some insight could be gained if she cut the Orruk open, and analyzed the remains. She also had to find out more about the amber blood, and this vial and what they had gained when interrupting the mudhaulers gave her the opportunity.
There had to be some importance to amber blood, a reason for all this effort. This information was vital, and would lead somewhere. And she had a feeling this was part of the reason why Our Burning Saviour had wanted her here.
