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The roar of men was accompanied by another throw of their artillery machines. Those who were facing the edges of Morr’s Domain, led by his Champion upon the mortal plain, advanced towards what was surely their doom. In a morbid sense these men were choosing how they would die for many had already seen the Skaven plague take their fellows.
Men from the opposing wall slowly raised themselves. Their flesh each marred by the same plague which had infested those under Morr’s banner. They sent unhonorable arrows upon the advancing forces with poor accuracy.
These men, so addled by the sickness which held them yet duty bound to place themselves upon death’s path, failed to notice as torrents of fire were thrown above their heads. Many were so weak that their deaths were instant and seamless. Others had much greater constitutions and took minutes to die as the boulders finally broke the gate open.
Lucian did not worry himself with directly helping his forces. The path made the Knight brought Satharifax down upon the heads of a group of Knights who were preparing themselves for a counter-charge against those going through the gate.
They all tried to fight against the terrors that was a Dragon fighting against them, but the Lance which they formed was a blunted thing that served only to help get them killed in the dozen. Those immediately close to the Drake found themselves not killed by the claws of teeth of the creature but instead the whirling blade of a Grail Knight swiftly cutting their bodies down. Such was the advantage to having such a long weapon in the form of a scythe.
Not to be out done by his rider, Satharifax bellowed a torrent of fire which impacted the men. The fire was so bright that it shined blue in the clear day’s sun. A quick affair of power that was the mighty cutting down the weak and powerless.
He did not worry himself with their plight. Some might have been unwilling warriors of Duke Moriset but they were still accomplices. It was a slippery slope towards the ruination of Chaos, and Lucian was here to cut them down before they fulfilled their chances.
Some tried to fight back against the Dragon and its Rider. They took their spears in a vain attempt to slam it into the scaled flesh of the beast. Others simply dropped their arms, either too weak to fight or not willing to bring a weapon in the direction of a shining Knight of the Grail.
These men were the lucky ones for they did not try to fight it. Those who went close were simply reaped as the Scythe went through their armor like it was paper.
