Vitressa’s toes gripped tightly around the cold stone of Old Kleah’s city wall as she ascended. In total darkness, she and her Corvus Cabalist brothers and sisters clambered up the wall, not making a sound.
She knew this way well, from sneaking out as a youth. She knew exactly which barely protruding stone to grab, where to set a foot, and which stones were dangerous to put any weight upon.
Old Kleah was where Vitressa had been born, and, after her mother’s death, she had spent her early life in that unforgiving, bloodstained city as a street rat. It was a harsh life, full of hard knocks, always on the edge of starvation. Stealing to survive, always on the run. She had spent her childhood and early adulthood like this – until the then reigning Tusk Chieftain’s men had caught her one time too many. She had been beaten, broken, made a slave, she and her friends, and sent, like thousands of others, to live a grueling existence in the mines. Most didn’t make it. She did.
After the Templars had broken her chains, she had found her place amongst their Corvus Cult auxiliaries. Her skills had earned them a place amongst them, and her knowledge of Old Kleah had earned her a leadership role in this mission. The Shadow Piercer had put a lot of trust in her.
Slowly, without any hasty movements, she pulled herself up onto the ramparts, surveying the situation with quick glances.
They were in luck, as there were only few Desraki guards on the walls, easily recognisable by their bulky red armour; the others were mostly Tuskmen carrying out their will.
Vitressa’s sharp gaze wandered along the walls. Her comrades were in position. She could feel it.
They were ready. She leaped.
Silently, her stiletto slipped deep into his eyeslit, taking him out instantly. The Desraki soldier dropped to the floor, and along the wall several other thuds could be heard. Perfectly synchronized – the Great Gatherer would be pleased.
She silently moved towards the cannons lined up along the crenellations, and set her rucksack down.
Vitressa could not help but flinch when the torch in her hands erupted into a bright blue flame – the signal for the besieging army that their mission had been a success.
The response did not let her wait for long – the roars of Kharadron machinery and the unnatural screams of discs of Tzeentch soon filled the air as the Templars’ air force approached.
Soon thereafter, the first sounds of alarm could be heard from inside the city, with Desraki Watchmen trying to raise their comrades from sleep or feast, and trying to catch the attention of the horde of daemons prowling the blood-stained city.
Vitressa and the other Cabalists took their positions – this, for them, would be the most dangerous phase. They activated the explosives.
The Desraki cannons exploded in bright alchemical fires, some tearing holes in the walls and sweeping those nearby off their feet. At the same time, from the captured gatehouse, the gates were raised to let the besieging army in.
Finally, the true alarm was sounded. The doors to the towers dotting the walls were smashed open, and Tuskmen and Desraki soldiers started pouring out.
Bolts of sorcerous lightning came down upon their attackers, shattering their first attempts at a counteroffensive -until the Bloodletters came. Hacking a path through their own lines, the Khornate Daemons charged onto the walls, hacking and slaughtering everything in their path. The Cabalists were quick, and dodged many attacks, but in the end, the confined terrain was an advantage for the Daemons.
Vitressa dodged one of the daemons, her spear puncturing its leg, and rolled over to get out of the next axes way – only to collide with a third one.
The Bloodletter raised its mighty axe – and she witnessed his head slide from its shoulders as a disc’s blades came screaming by.
The Corvus cabalists were joined in battle by a squadron of Tzaangors racing along the wall on their discs, and soon thereafter, the air was filled with screaming of Fyreslayer Duardin jumping from airships into the fray. A massed melee erupted, with the toll of death rising every second.
Vitressa and the Cabalists quietly retreated, regrouped, and climbed down into Old Kleah proper, unseen. They had a different mission now. Vitressa knew exactly where the cities’ dungeons laid, with slaves, political prisoners and insurrectionists who would… certainly serve the Templars’ plans very well.
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In the night outside, the Golden Wings of the Templar cavalry ignited as they rode towards Old Kleah.
Vardeshir the Solemn observed the movements at the city walls from the commander’s hill.
Soon, he saw what he had foreseen.
Through the grand portal, a mindless horde of demons flooded out into the night. He could always count on Khornate Daemons’ inherent need for carnage. Driven by pure bloodlust they charged screaming towards the Templar vanguard.
The Templars changed their course and retreated, which only served to anger the Khornate demons – judging from the surprising increased intensity of their screams – who charged directly into their trap.
Rows of cannons and Templar Monoliths opened fire, joined by the fiery arrows of the Skyfires, shooting down the Demons who collapsed into unholy heaps. Rows upon rows of demons fell, with the rest – unable to rethink their single-minded approach – continuing to charge screaming in frustration.
Before they reached the besiegers’ lines, the Templar cavalry countercharged from their flanks.
Sacred lances tore into daemonic bodies and claws of reptilian mounts ripped their flesh.
Vardeshir praised Our Burning Saviour with raised arms as he watched the fighting unfold, the Khornates ridden down by heavy cavalry.
The great march of the infantry began. Golden armour glistening in raising Hysh, contingents of Blue Lions marching with them. Once they streamed into Old Kleah, systematically clearing the city and joining up with the internal insurgency and the Duardin upon the walls, the battle had been won.
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Vardeshir the Solemn entered Old Kleah in a glorious procession, with Hymns of Glory and Victory sung, Prayers and Benedictions spoken by the Priesthood, and the Choir of the Burning singing from Pyres of Celebration.
From the downtrodden populace, the Templars if Our Burning Saviour were welcomed as liberators.
It would take a while, but the city would be rebuilt and blessed, in Our Burning Saviour’s image. The heart of the crusader state in Thondia had finally been gained.
