TVC II Chapter 2 - A Distraction

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The musk of fear hung heavily in the air about Kenshiro,the almost tangible odor invading his nostrils as the Skavenslaves' meager fighting spirit failed when assailed by Elanor's sorceries and Kenshiro's fists. Even caught amidst the press of Skavenslave bodies, he did not miss the blare of trumpets that heralded the armies of Drakenhof finally joining the fray. It did not take a master tactician to tell that the tide was turning, and Kenshiro began to silently redouble his efforts.

Spying the Skaven weapon teams a short distance away, Kenshiro merged with the back of the slave crowd as they mindlessly fled away from the fighting. He traveled for a few short moments with a wall of verminous flesh between himself and the flaming webs, until he jumped onto the top of a very unlucky slave, crushing the Skaven and using it as a living springboard to somersault into the ranks of the Skaven gunners. Shocked by Kenshiro's acrobatic re-entry, the Skaven could not ready their contraptions before their skulls were shattered by a flurry of blows. Even as the first weapon team fell, Kenshiro did not stop, darting from team to team to unceremoniously acquaint them with his gromril-knuckled onslaught before he could be bogged down by sheer numbers and then destroyed by their arcane weaponry.
 
Morturion hissed as skaven souls smashed into him, knocking him to the ground. A gash opened in his skin after a hole was rent in his armour. Exerting a force of immense will on the souls, he forced them into the jar, which he promptly sealed. The hole slowly closed in his armour, and he got to his feet. "Interesting," Morturion said, looking at the monster. He then saw it take a vaguely humanoid shape. "Terrifying and life-threatening," he rethought after witnessing this. Suddenly, it did not seem such a good idea to try and grab the wyrm's attention. However, he reopened the jar, the souls safely trapped within the suction system, and waited for the creature to die. I got whoever was controlling that machine, anyway, and perhaps the obese skaven mage too.

A spasm of pain coursed through Morturion's wounds. I should probably get behind Carstein lines, if I respect my survival. I have done more than enough in this battle. But...it's best to resurrect this army of mine, before someone else claims it for their own. A slow, mask-set smile appeared on his face, and he raised his hands, ready to resurrect the dead. He was rudely interrupted by a group of clanrats who tried to stab him in the back. Their poor weapons broke on his armour, yet the jagged remains of some came close to penetration of his plate, and that angered Morturion. He snarled and propelled himself backwards with jets of darkness. A couple of these frazzled several unfortunate clanrats who were standing in front of them.

Those were the first skaven to be reanimated by the necromancer. They fell upon their fellows, and the air around them became rank with fear. As more and more skaven became bogged down by the dead bodies of their colleagues, Morturion felt like he was slpping into a deep sleep. It was becoming very hard to bring back these creatures; Morturion started to close his eyes...

He snapped them open again as the rats broke through his lines. Obviously, resurrection would have to wait until after the battle. "Curse you, vile vermin!" Morturion shouted out, the avatar of frustration in that moment. Dark bolts burst from his hands with renewed energy and ratmen screamed as they were rapidly obliterated. He launched himself into the air, and flew, getting an unsavoury view of the sprawling mess of the battlefield. He looked desperately for a calm spot on the battlefield; hope of recovery seemed to be dying within him.

He was just about to give up, when he sighted something. There! That spot in the woods is perfect! Morturion zipped towards it, and landed amongst trees. He almost sighed, before he saw that a group of rats had got here first. The skaven, a dozen battered stormvermin, prepared themselves for battle, and Morturion was once more annoyed. "You blasted rodents are everywhere!" he growled. He twirled his scythe, and readied himself for another slaughter as the chittering ratmen charged towards him.
 
A series of explosions amongst the Skaven lines caused a brief pause as a great shadow moved across the battlefield. Those who dared to look up were astounded as a great ship emerged from the clouds.

Judging by the design it was of Imperial manufacture or it had been originally. Where the sails would have been on an ordinary vessel it appeared to have several huge bags filled with hot air it was difficult to say. The sails appeared to have been moved to sides of the vessel to aid in steering. The most intimidating thing about it though was the figure head.

Where most ships had a female figure at the bows this one seemed to have a male one carved in great detail with sharp fangs exposed on a mouth that appeared to be snarling. The figure held two swords one raised in the air and the other held at its side with what appeared to be a Wyrm carved into its handle.

Above the figurehead with his foot up on the rail surveying the battle below Simon stood smiling. It was not a nice smile. "Hard to Starboard!" he said without turning around. "HARD TO STARBOARD" a crewman shouted relaying the order.

With a technical grace of a ship on a calm sea the ship turned sharply and attempted to hold a relatively stable position. Raising a hand to his head in a salute to the Regent Simon shouted "ALL STARBOARD GUNS. FIRE AT WILL!"

There was a brief pause and then the gun crews opened up with everything they had. Cannons, Swivel guns loaded with shapnel and hand held blackpowder weapons ignited their powder.

The nearest of the Skaven vangard disintegrated into a red coloured mist whilst others who were further away were hurled away like rag dolls.

Karl watched the carnage dispassionately before finally speaking "All troops advance! Drive these vermin out of our land! FOR VASHANESH!"

As one the Carstein army began moving forward.
 
Nithek gaped at the flying monstrosity that had just emerged from the clouds. He had heard tales of such machines, but even the legendary grey seer Thanquol had failed to capture one for Clan Skyre. Between this and the man-thing reinforcements, this was getting to be too much. It was time to make a tactical advance to the rear, because it would be a great tragedy for all of skavenkind if a brilliant general like himself were to come to harm.

Nithek turned to his lieutenants, attempting to look bold and courageous as he spoke. "Fire all cannons at the flying thing! Many warp tokens for the crew that can bring it down! Drive the remaining slaves towards the enemy forces! Clanrats, protect the cannons at all costs!. Stormvermin! We will..... go and rally our allies in the tunnels! Yes yes!". With those words, Nithek Deathclaw's stormvermin turned about and marched towards the tunnels that they had come from, bearing his war litter atop their shoulders, glaring fiercely at any clanrat or cannon crew that looked likely to try and join them.
 
Morturion glanced Simon's ridiculous ship out of the corner of his eye. Honestly, these Carsteins are too strange to be real. Morturion made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and a chasm opened in the floor below four of the stormvermin, who fell in - to their deaths - before it closed. Morturion had time to outstretch his hand and release a deadly projectile which blasted a hole through one skaven, and smashed into another, killing both. Then the remaining ratmen were on him.

Frantically, they searched for chinks in Morturion's armour whilst he attempted to block some of their blows. There was only one hole in his armour - his visor. Once this had been identified as a source of weakness, the skaven seized on it with a relieved glee and jabbed at it. By this time, Morturion had started focusing on each individual stormvermin. His first foe parried his scythe twice before he was stabbed in the ribs. Morturion thrust himself forwards into the face of his choking adversary and then delivered a decapitating strike.

Shortly after the ratmen started attacking his face, Morturion staggered back, his vision limited by the weapons jostling in front of his eyes. The skaven ran forward, and Morturion duelled the first one to reach him, who had poor armour. His enemy's attack glanced off the necromancer's helmet, and Morturion's blow to the rat's chest shed the armour from the beast's clothes like a snake would shed its skin. Gradually, Morturion made a few small cuts on the slowing rat, before it screamed when he finally slipped under its guard and stabbed it in the shoulder, dealing it a mortal wound.

Morturion did not excel in close combat compared to the vampires. It was then that he was reminded of this. A blade slipped through his visor and jabbed his nose. Morturion practically fell back, yelling as blood soaked his eyesight, and another blade went straight through his armour and into his knee. Morturion cried out and collapsed to his knee. The four remaining rats surrounded him, chittering in laughter. "Now you will die-die, man thing!" one of them snarled. As a final act of defiance, Morturion punched one of the four's legs out from under them, and tried to crush its skull with a plated fist. It did not entirely work, and, after a bit of whining, a skaven with a dented helmet and a bleeding head got back to its feet.

The blades of the stormvermin were probing the necromancer, but he'd buried his face in the ground, obscuring it from the skaven. Small scratches appeared on his body as the sharp weapons started to break through his armour, and the skaven were enthused with a horrific bloodlust. Morturion groaned, and dark spots appeared in front of his eyes, who were looking at the ground. The skaven rolled him over, so that they could get at his eyeslit, and a stormvermin loomed over him, ready to thrust. This is an awful way to die... Morturion pondered, panicking and laughing at his own fate at the same time.

Just then, a shriek could be heard, and a bizarre clunking skaven-shaped machine came crashing in, warning lights flashing all over its metallic body. A frightened warplock engineer inside it shouted at the stormvermin, "Get out of the way! The machine-thing is out of control!" The machine then proceeded to clunk towards the stormvermin, and an arc of electricity spiralled out of one of its three arms, hitting and killing the skaven who was about to slay Morturion.

Morturion wriggled away from the other three ratmen and the engineer, though one of them managed to give him a nasty cut on the back, and got to his feet quickly, a few metres away from the murderous skaven. He gasped as the machine started whirling around in chaotic arcs. He looked at the machine first in wonder, and then in horror as its pilot regained control. He had been saved from immediate death at the hands of the stormvermin, but it seemed like he was going to have a grislier fate.
 
Elanor looked up as a large shadow passed over her.
"What the hell is that?" She said to herself and was greatly relieved when the giant airstrip began firing upon the skaven. The tide had clearly turned.
 
Igor looked at the ship in fear, before realizing that it was crewed by the Von Carsteins. This would not turn the tide, as the battle was already decided, but it would help rout the skaven, preventing any of the vampires dieing.
 
Morturion knew he could not fly away, otherwise the skaven machine would blast him to pieces. For a few moments, the necromancer and the skaven stared at each other, confused at what had been happening. Morturion struck the first blow, and dark fire rapidly cooked another stormvermin out of existence. The rats were quick to retaliate; they charged, almost fearlessly, at the battered necromancer. The machine's guns were blazing as it ran at Morturion, and one shot managed to hit the top of his shoulder. Out of instinct, Morturion reached for it, but stopped himself, as the skaven were draawing close indeed. He would need to fight with both hands, and that delay had lost him precious time in which to kill the skaven chasing him.

Gritting his teeth, Morturion launched a second projectile at the stormvermin, but they dodged it this time. With an expert maneuvere, Morturion leapt into the air and spun his double-headed scythe round and round, beheading both skaven at once. There was just one problem - the warplock engineer and his mechanical terror had also been coming towards Morturion, and it crashed chest-first into him, throwing him backwards and knocking him to the ground. Next time I'm in a seriously outnumbered force in a huge battle, I think I'll stay at the back. "Proving myself" seems to be "nearly killing myself", and I don't think this ridiculous council's trust is worth that.

Morturion dismissed the thought as irrelevant and time-wasting; life-threatening, considering he was close to being mangled by a robotic rat. "I have you now, foolish man-thing!" the warplock engineer snarled. A claw picked Morturion up and threw him far; he crashed into a tree. The robotic thing ran on all fours; Morturion's body had gone numb. It picked him up again, and aimed a large cannon on the end of one of its arms at Morturion's face. The warplock engineer inside started up the firing mechanism. Immediately, Morturion snapped into focus and shot a shadowy spike down the firing mechanism. The warp lightning hit the necromantic sliver, and the two exploded in a small reaction. The arm with the gun on the end started to turn red hot, and the warplock engineer's eyes widened as it did so. He tried to open his compartment that held him inside the machine, but Morturion limply held it shut. Warning lights started to flash once more all over the machine, and a robotic voice started saying: "MELTDOWN COMMENCING IN 30 SECONDS."

The engineer starting squeaking as his contraption gradually prepared itself for destruction, and Morturion looked at it. Breath ragged, he made gestures to show what he was saying, and said in a voice that was barely audible,"If you let...me out of...this fist, I'll stop holding the hatch." The skaven seemed to understand Morturion to a minor extent, and a robotic hand released Morturion from its grip. The necromancer dropped to the ground, and ran away from the machine, the whole of which was turning red. "MELTDOWN IN 10 SECONDS." He looked back to see the skaven removing himself from the device, rejoicing that he had survived in joyous squeaks.

A shadow grabbed the ratman's feet and swept him back towards the machine, holding him fast. He looked up accusingly at Morturion, who called at him from a distance, "Why are you complaining? I let you out of the machine; I just didn't let you get away from it." A sick smile formed on Morturion's lips. The skaven desperately tried to blast his way out of his shadowy bonds with his warplock pistol. "MELTDOWN IN 5 SECONDS." The attempt nearly worked, and Morturion dropped to his knees, gasping with the effort he had to put in to maintain the skaven's bonds. "MELTDOWN IN 1 SECOND." The engineer looked at Morturion, defeated, and an anger emerged from the tiny being, a mighty thing that could not be expected to be harboured in such a small vessel. As a final act of revenge, the skaven aimed his pistol at Morturion, and fired his last shot. MELTDOWN COMMENCING. The machine promptly blew apart, and the warplock engineer was incinerated.

The shot hurtled towards Morturion, and he was so weary and slow that he failed to avoid it. It smashed into the midde his chest, penetrating his armour, and Morturion fell to the ground, shouting in pain. Slowly, gingerly, he extracted the bullet from his chest, and closed his eyes; his enemies were defeated, and he needed a rest. He was too tired and hurt to check that he was safe. But what if there are more skaven nearby? Morturion's eyelids flickered open, and in vain he attempted to get to his feet, but the tiredness was too strong this time, too strong to be resisted. He closed his eyes again, falling into a dreamless sleep...
 
Noticing Nimrais clinging to his arm now, and looking between her and his two-handed sword. Seeing that she seemed to be unable to move for now, he looks at the approaching skaven, and tries to lift up his giant sword to defend, but fails to lift the point off the ground more then a foot or two before falling back into the dirt.

When the others started to attack, and pushed back the skaven, Kavok quickly plunged the giant sword's point into the ground before lifting Nimrais up into his arms. Taking one of her arms and putting it around his neck, he shifts her so that he is supporting her with only his left arm, going down, across her back, and then under her and supporting her legs above the knees.

Quickly picking up a dropped skaven blade, and frowning at its crude yet sturdy shape, he goes over towards where Elanor is fighting. Trying to support Elanor while also trying especially hard to parry any of the strikes that come close to Nimrais, Kavok managed to at least not have Nimrais gain any new wounds. But with his focus being to protect Nimrais, he ended up suffering a few close calls, and now has a few small scraps and cuts in various places that his armor does not cover completely, and also quite a number of scraps upon his armor. Kavok has also failed to actually cause any real damage to the skaven other then distracting them from attacking anyone else.

When the airship's shadow loomed over Kavok, he gave a worried and quick glance upwards at it. Seeing it firing upon the skaven, he noted it for being an ally for now, and went back to parrying away blows to the best of his ability.
 
Kraskor watched, slightly awed, as the soul of the beast was ripped out by Morturion's magic. What followed was even more disturbing; the monster warped into a more human figure, twin muscular arms with blades of bone launching a fresh attack on Rowhaine. There was something about the assault that distressed Kraskor, and he couldn't place his finger on it.

Suddenly, a jarring voice resonated through his skull, taunting the Champion. Kraskor fell to one knee, his hand reaching up to his head as the sound thrummed through his very soul. It was the same voice, but different. A familiar voice, yet one he had never heard before. The Blood Dragon forced himself to look up, wrenching his head to the battle, where the beast still shuddered as its new occupant forced its way in. Its fighting style became more and more eloquent as time passed. Not even the appearance of a Carstein airship could distract Kraskor, as he gazed at the twin-bladed stance and style of the shambling horror.

Kraskor stood, roaring his challenge in an attempt to clear his head, trying to viciously hack his way closer to the raised area where Rowhaine fought the beast. He was too far away, too distant, but Kraskor had to try. A Stormvermin leapt at him, its spear poised to skewer the Blood Dragon. Kraskor deftly parried, the spear snapping in twain. Kraskor had forgotten; he had taken the Engineer's enchanted blade, and it still glowed with twisted green light. Banespike followed up with a straight lunge, tearing through the rat's skull, drawing its own curved sword from its scabbard as the warrior fell. Kraskor continued to move deeper into the routing Skaven lines, the glowing green blade in one hand and the sturdy, curved mundane one in the other.

A Skaven captain approached him, bedecked in crimson armour and bearing a single sabre. The sabre was covered with small, glowing runes; it would not shatter to Kraskor's appropriated green blade as his own weapon had. Kraskor used a fallen warmachine's carcass as high-ground, vaulting off with blades aimed to slay the captain. He moved fast, however, parrying one blade and dodging another, before sweeping under Kraskor's guard and landing a blow. Kraskor cursed under his breath, blood dripping from the wound on his shoulder. He had been fighting for a long time now, and fatigue threatened him; but Kraskor would not succumb.

Using both blades to devastating effect, Kraskor began a dance of swordplay with the Skaven captain. Each time the captain tried to attack, Kraskor would backstep, sweep around, and land a blow, drawing blood and flesh from the beast. The dance continued, with Kraskor keeping his foe at arm's length. Finally, his chance came; the rat made a desperate lunge, which Kraskor easily blocked and forced aside with his mundane weapon. Simultaneously, Kraskor brought his glowing blade around, decapitating the rat in a clean swipe.

Panting, the Blood Dragon looked up at the ongoing battle between Rowhaine and the beast; something was wrong. In his horror, Kraskor realised that the beast's thrusts and parries mimicked his own. On a much grander scale, with every attack infinitely faster and more precise, granted. But the battle was undeniably similar to the one Kraskor had just concluded with the rat. Worse, Kraskor could see the whirlwind of blades moving towards the final phase, echoing the very same movement Kraskor made before... the Blood Dragon looked back at the headless corpse of the rat.

"No!" snarled Kraskor, loosing a magical thunderbolt from his outstretched hand, aiming for the beast, hoping to disrupt the flow, somehow alter the duel so that it had a different conclusion. How could it be the same? How was that possible?
 
Elanor saw Kavok making his way towards her half carrying half dragging Nimrais. The skaven following close to attack while he was vulnerable.
"I will cover your retreat." She shouted stumbling towards him. With a slash she parried one skaven s blow and then followed up with a thrust into the creatures chest.
"We need to meet up with the drakenhof reinforcements." She said carrying another crude blow, hoping Kavok could hear her over the flying machine and all the loud screams and cries.
 
Morturion was sleeping deeply. In his moment of rest, he didn't care what was happening in the outside world. He could escape it all... MORTURION. Is this what you have become? A voice roused his mind out of its tranquility. Why can't you stop bothering me? a part of Morturion asked the angry voice. Another part started to laugh: Did you think you could escape yourself? The fragments of his mind started to bicker with one another, disrupting Morturion's calm.

He groaned and shifted in his sleep. He could see skaven approaching, but they had not seen him yet. Sleep started to possess him once more. No! This is no time for sleeping! But he realised he was too weak to fight. I will have to retreat, then. Morturion picked himself up off the ground, and started running towards the Carstein lines. There was pain all over his body, particularly in his chest, where the warpstone had embedded itself. I should have saved that for consumption. Warpstone is a valuable resource; and quite rare in this age. Blood glazed his sight a bit, but that did no deter him much, and he continued towards the host of Drakenhof. He was feeling like he was going to fall over again, when a thought struck him. I can see the symbols on the banners! I'm nearly there! He hurried on, enthused and desperate to reach relative safety.
 
Igor, seeing Kavok trying to protect himself while carrying another vampire, saw someone go to help, but decided that this was as good a way as any to get back into the fight. Throwing his cloak around him, he moved through the battle, occasionally slitting the throat of a rat.

As he began to near the group of three, Igor threw his cloak off, and leapt onto a group of skaven, killing two instantly. The other four were faster, and had gotten out of the way, but Igor was already on his feet, killing the remaining skaven. He carved his way over to the group, leaping through the masses of skaven, and stopped when he was right next to the human knight.

"It seems that you need some help, um, making an advance to the rear. Move to where the Von Carstein army is, and I will cover your rear."

Without waiting for a response, Igor turned and slashed wickedly at the three skaven who had been trying to sneak up on him. He killed two, but the third snuck a blow under his guard, grazing his knee. I am tiring, he thought to himself, and my injuries are not helping. This battle needs to end quickly, for even vampires can be fatigued, while our enemy has units that have not seen combat.
 
"Stop trying to be a hero we will both cover each other." Elanor said as she watched Ig or fighting the three skaven. She struck out with her blade cutting down the third rat. Did they never end?
 
"I was not trying to be a hero. I could have easily killed them, but I am tired. " Igor replied irratibly, "anyway, it barely nicked me."

Turning, Igor parried two more strokes, killing their owners with a single swipe of his dagger. When will they end, he thought to himself, hoping that their morale would break soon.
 
Panting, Morturion continued towards Carstein lines, and felt annoyed. All respect he'd gained from the Carsteins would be lost when he came pleading for aid. Am I doomed to grovel before that blasted Carstein regent? I will not beg to HIM! Rage filled him, and further flashes of pain arced across his chest. He saw that part of the warpstone was still embedded in his flesh. Maybe I won't have to beg after all. If I can use this... He promptly sat down and drew it out; he was quite safe as the skaven were keeping a safe distance from Carstein lines in this place, and thus, they were staying away from Morturion.

Morturion began to chant, and the light in the warpstone dulled a little. Holding the shard between thumb and forefinger, Morturion breathed in, before consuming in. It would have been horrific to watch; warpstone consumption was definitely not a pretty process. Restraining himself from throwing it back up, throat burning, Morturion got to his feet, and sighed as power flushed into his veins once more. The warpstone in that shot of the warplock engineer's had been very fine, and Morturion felt invigorated once more, strong enough to fight a little longer, perhaps. Not much longer, but enough to make a dignified retreat instead of a panicked flight.

He saw Igor, Nimrais, Kavok and Elanor trying to escape some distance away, and his eyes lit up in anticipation. Aha! I do believe that is my ticket out of the battle! He started to plod towards them, killing skaven in his path, before realising it would be much quicker and less draining to fly to them, and doing so. The ground was so choked with skaven; it was almost impossible to get anywhere quickly on foot. Hurtling to the ground before landing on two feet, Morturion stood, looking contemptuous of Kavok, but as if he would bear him for the moment.

"It seems you ladies needed help." Morturion addressed Nimrais, Elanor - and Kavok. Turning to Igor, so that he was addressing all four of them, he said in a more serious voice, "We need to get out of this hellhole. We're tired and could easily wind up dead - we should leave the rest of the fighting to the Carsteins. Their troops are fresh and there are many more of them than us. Chitchat can wait - it's time to go." With that, he turned towards Drakenhof, craved a skaven's head in with a plated fist, and headed for safety.
 
Dieter had thought himself dead when the assassin had launched himself at him.

Peter apparently either too busy or too slow to assist him.

The venomous daggers where mere inches from the Blood Dragon's face when the the earth was blown from under his feet.

Vampire and Skaven alike where thrown through the air.

After a few moments Dieter groggily looked up from the flat of his back wondering what had happened.

Then he saw Simon's airship firing at the Skaven and realised he'd been caught in one of the volleys which had actually saved his life from the Assassin.

Dieter slowly got to his feet, picking up his sword as pain lanced down his side.

There were no Skaven nearby anymore.

At least that's something he thought to himself before stumbling off to look for Peter.


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Nekhlior appeared next to Kavok and the others looking around, he had vanished from the battlefield for a few minutes to gather his thoughts.

The Necrarch snarled an incantation and tentacles of darkness shot out from the ground to tear the heads of nearby Skaven.

"So where are we going?" he rasped.


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Karl hung at the back of his army giving orders both verbal and mental to his forces.

The Skaven provided little resistance to the combined might of the von Carstein army.

Many where already in full retreat.

The von Carstein smirked at Lukas.

"Easy pickings, isn't that right human?"
 
Nimrais looked a bit surprised at Kavok as he was carrying her across the battlefield. He was doing so even with danger to his own life! Kavok got pretty close to the Von Carstein army line now, and was joined by the other counsil members. She had now regained most of her strenght back through Nekhlior's potion. When she saw Igor struggeling with the third assassin she raised her hand and started to whisper a small chant, but before she could finish it the Skaven already started to scream as he got hit by Elanor's blade and started to catch fire.

Feeling sort of guilty of herself that she let Kavok carry her for so long she looked back up at him. "I can walk if I'm too much trouble for you," she said. She didn't mind getting carried, but the Mortal knight must have had it difficult enough without carrying her.
 
As the clanrats begin a full-fledged retreat, one of the stormvermin triggers an explosion that reseals the tunnel entrnce. Alarmed, those skaven not directly involved in combat flee up the hill sides, leaving behind plenty of backstabbed, dead and dying.
 
Noticing that many other members had joined them, and that the Lahmian was back to consciousness, Igor had less and less skaven to deal with. Luckily, some of the most powerful members had joined him and the others, both of them wizards, so it complemented both him and the knight.

How interesting, this knight. He has a pathetic code of knightly honor, yet he fights with creatures that he has been taught by his vows to attack and destroy without remorse. Perhaps he underestimated the human-like aspects of vampires, or perhaps he just decided that it was in his interests to forget his honor momentarily to survive. That would be much more sensible, and if this is the case then my respect for him has grown considerably. Igor thought, all the while retreating to the Von Carstein lines.

Finally, they were within twenty feet of the Von Carstein army, and Igor noticed that the skaven that they were not fighting were fleeing disorderly. Finally, the vermin are fleeing. We can end this battle with the entire council intact. Thought Igor, relieved, but knowing that they were not safe yet, for many skaven were still fighting the group.
 
As they ran Elanor spotted a not rat like body lying in the mud and ash. Intrigued she went to investigate and saw that it was Alastor lying face down, his white mask next to his face.
"It's Alastor!" She called out to the others. "We could just leave him here." She said with a grin, unseriously.
 
Peter was thrown from his feet by Simon's explosive weaponry. It was typical of the poet to arrive in the most over the top fashion, but the flying machine was impressive even for him. Peter was separated from Dieter by the blast, but he soon picked out the other Vampire wandering around, looking slightly dazed.

Peter joined him, taking the chance to catch his breath in this brief rest from the relentless grinding of the Skaven infantry.

"What happened to you?" snapped Dieter, "That assassin nearly had me, and you just stood there!"

"Sorry," replied Peter with a grin, "I thought you could handle it. Come on, we should link up with the others."
 
Kavok has managed to not get himself any new serious injuries during the retreat, though would not fall back without having Elanor coming back as well. But with him not wanting to say that he was ignoring her suggestion to hide behind her and retreat, and was still trying to help protect her as much as he could manage while still protecting Nimrais, the movement back was relatively slow.

With the new support of Igor, Kavok felt a slight ting of relief sneak its way in. 'It is nice to have another swordsman fighting with me again. I know that Elanor can defend herself, but what kind of knight would I be to just leave a lady alone on the battlefield? And with the new swordsman, he can help me hold the line while we escort the ladies back behind the front lines... Which is now behind the new reinforcements. So glad there is a front line again instead of just a small group surrounded in something resembling a last stand. Never a good position to be in.'

Continuing to do what he could to hold back the skaven attacking, and also preventing blows from getting to either Nimrais or Elanor, Kavok was a bit surprised when the two mages just suddenly showed up, or fell from the sky. Frowning quickly at the necromancer, Kavok went back to his swordplay as he shouted out to the wizards "We are moving back behind the front lines. Stay behind us and any magical support you could give would be extremely useful."

Quickly glancing down at Nimrais as she spoke, Kavok made no motion to let her down and continued his sword play, but said "If you need more rest, then I will manage. It shouldn't be much farther till we get behind allied lines, so if you can hold on till then you can rest easier without having to dodge sword and spear strikes."

With most of the skaven retreating, and the group around him managing to wound and slay some of the beasts, Kavok was finding fewer and fewer blades to parry. The pace at which Kavok was gaining minor injuries is slowing down and now the group is closer to the carstein's forces.

Hearing Elanor's calls about Alastor, and glancing over quickly, Kavok shouted out "Move over towards him and see if we can't get him up. We should be able to hold till allied forces manage to arrive if he proves to be unresponsive."
 
Nimrais laughed softly. "I'm sure I'll be okay again in a short while, but I do like to be in the arms of a handsome knight. And I'm sure that with current company we would be well protected."

She looked over to where Elanor spotted Alastor, still laying with his face in the ground. "But maybe you should carry him them, if he doesn't wake up," Nimrais mused.
 
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