The impromptu war council's planning continues. I am not a martial leader by any means and as such stay out of if for most of the time. Elmeric proves very valuable, coming up with some creative and sufficiently horrendous ideas on how to best massacre our foes and split up the four chaos champions.
A bit later in the day, Elmeric approaches me, wanting to discuss the use of magic and consequences of such. At first I find his ideas preposterous and on the very edge of heresy - comparing the wounds of a soldier with the Chaos markings of a wizard from magic gone awry? Surely he cannot be serious?
But, I discover, the teachings of the Sigmar church aren't quuuuite crystal clear on how to handle all the gory details in the field...should a wizard using his abilities in the service of law be punished no matter what? And to what degree? How about a priest? There were rumors and whispers at my church that even our magic, blessed as it is by the gods of man, still can go wrong. And to be honest, I never paid much attention during the classes focusing on magic...
In the end we settle upon a shaky agreement of sorts. While Elmeric respects my faith and hardline stance, he wants assurances that I will try to give him the benefit of the doubt and try curative actions if possible before sending him into the arms of Father Sigmar (or Tzeentch as the case might be...). After some hesitation, I agree. Shallya's priests can be powerful indeed and capable of cleansing all but the worst taint from a true believer - or so I have heard.
I am not entirely sure I made the right decision. I must pray for further guidance, but for the nonce there is no time for such luxuries. If something happens on the battlefield tonight, so be it. Moral qualms have a tendency to sort themselves out once you have been sufficiently drenched in the blood of your enemies and battlelust grips you!
We set up a vague plan, with a large reserve of men kept in the middle of the town square, free to be deployed to either wall. We will target the Chaos warriors, the demon and the fallen one. The priests will defend the sacred remains. I am tasked with carrying them away if the town falls.
Yavandir returns from scouting, telling us they are on their way - and half a bell later, we hear the roar of beastmen and thundering of charging troops. The mutants and beastmen are a fearsome sight, but the soldiers of this town are true of faith and not a single man runs. The enemy splits up as expected, we counter. One of the champions charge at the main gate, and falls into our disguised pit, impaling himself on sharpened spikes, dying a messy, messy death. I cannot help myself and a roar of triumph escapes me - FOR SIGMAR!!
The champions split up, and we get a message that the west wall has been breached! What? Impossible!! The next report clarifies the issue - the demon is wrecking havoc, having flown over the city walls. Rigo, myself, Elmeric, Felman and Caspar run over to deal with the situation. Shortly thereafter, one of the champions manages to scale the wall using one of the many ladders the mutants brought...and Julia is left alone to fight him, together with Yavandir. Not the best of odds...even for a true-hearted warrior such as herself. She falls, felled by the savage blows. Yavandir takes up the fight, using some of the guerrilla tactics his people is known for, mocking the champion and guiding him away from the soldiers.
Meanwhile, the rest of us have our hands full dealing with the demon, in addition to a minor swarm of mutants. We might have chosen the wrong tactic, as the two other champions climb the north wall while we deal with the demon...in the end we manage to dispatch it, leaving the mutants to the soldiers.
We run towards the champions. They are tough, emboldened as they are by their foul patron, slavering at the chance to desecrate an important symbol of Sigmar such as this. Brave Felman falls unconscious from a barrage of blows so vicious most men would have been crushed to a pulp. And meanwhile, the false one has entered the town, heading towards the shrine.
Elmeric runs towards the shrine to try to delay them while the rest of us desperately try to finish the champions. In the end our faith is stronger than theirs and we prevail. We rush towards the town square. I order soldiers to die for Sigmar, even if their death delays our foes by a mere second. They listen, and they obey, for such is my resolve at this hour.
When we arrive, several soldiers have been left as grotesque, mutated mockeries of themselves. Elmeric has fallen, sacrificing himself to stop the advance of the heretic. For a second I am glad that I won't be forced to finish him of myself if he had suffered the same fate as the soldiers...and then guilty that I even entertain such thoughts after he has sacrificed himself to stop one of Sigmar's holy sites from being desecrated. But philosophy and ethos can wait, there is heretic blood to spill!
The priests are dead as well - and the remains are already disturbed. Our anger rises in our throats, and we charge with all our speed. I bring out my big hammer, all thoughts of defense gone. I feel a deep satisfaction as I smash the hammer into his ribs, breaking several and denting his chest. The fallen one uses the most foul of the Changer's magics, surrounding poor Caspar with an unholy glow that briefly leaves him changed - but Sigmar's light protects him, as he slumps to the ground, himself once more. That turns out to be his last action on this world, as one of Yavandir's arrows strike true, burying itself deeply into his skull.
We kill the last champion fairly handily while the soldiers of the town finish off the remaining mutants and beastmen. The air is rank with the smell of blood and guts and the moans of the wounded and dying - but victory is ours, praise be to Sigmar!
