Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

A moment later, rank upon rank of reptilian warriors emerged from the glowing nimbus and moved towards the skaven. They advanced shoulder to shoulder, bearing exotic weapons and armour which gleamed with a fiery radiance. Even as they tore into the skaven, their ranks split to disgorge a pack of monstrous reptiles ridden by saurian warriors. At the head of these scaly riders was an even larger monstrosity, such as Zephacleas had never seen save in half-formed memories of deep jungle crevasses and bellowing shapes which hunted for man and beast alike. The great beast bore another of the scaled seraphon on its back and both rider and mount roared in fury as they tore through the skaven like a sword through flesh.

Taken aback by the sudden appearance of this new threat, the skaven could muster no defence. Their horde crumbled in on itself, as the more fanatical fought and the more prudent attempted to flee. From atop the war engine, the skaven priest chittered imprecations at its followers, but to no avail.

Zephacleas clashed his weapons together. ‘They’re distracted. Gravewalker, keep herding them towards the newcomers — if the seraphon want to slaughter vermin, let’s oblige them. Beast-bane, forward!’ he said, raising his sword and signalling the shield wall to advance. The Lord-Relictor shouted something, but Zephacleas was already moving.

The Astral Templars forced the confused skaven back, herding them towards the advancing seraphon. ‘Thetaleas, with me,’ Zephacleas said, calling out to the Decimator-Prime. ‘I intend to turn that war engine of theirs into kindling.’

Alongside the Decimators, Zephacleas began to carve himself a path towards the skaven catapult. But as they drew near, it seemed as if others had the same idea. At the urging of its scaly rider, the monstrous reptile broke into a ground-shaking run, followed by the rest of the mounted seraphon. The great beast rammed the war engine, knocking it over. The machine crashed down on its side, crushing any skaven too slow to get out of the way and spilling the priest and its bodyguards to the ground.

The rat-priest was on its feet in a moment, whirling to face the first of the smaller saurian knights as its mount scrambled over the fallen war engine. A crackling burst of sickly green energy erupted from the rat-priest’s claw. Great sores opened all over the scaly forms of both rider and mount. Jaws gaped in a silent shriek and a shimmering light burst from yawning wounds, as both vanished in a flare of starlight.

The rat-priest chittered and swung its claw towards another of the seraphon. Zephacleas charged forward, knocking the creature’s guards sprawling. As it turned towards him, its single eye widening, his runeblade swept down, removing its glowing claw. It screeched in agony and staggered back amongst its fellows, where the Lord-Celestant lost sight of it. The other rat-monks surged backwards in a wave of foulness, carrying their leader with them.

The saurian riders moved to pursue them, their scales glittering like starlight. Zephacleas and the others held their ground as the seraphon swept past them in silence. He killed a foam-jawed skaven and then was left with nothing to do but watch as the reptilian beings drove the skaven back or butchered them where they stood. The ratkin retreated, scurrying down side-streets and up the sides of the towering setae, vanishing almost as quickly as they’d arrived. The great reptile crouched over the remains of the war engine, roaring in triumph.

‘Zephacleas—’ Seker began, as he joined Zephacleas. Steam rose from the Lord-Relictor’s armour, and Zephacleas could smell the iron tang of celestial lightning.

The Lord-Celestant shook his head, still watching the carnosaur and its rider. The saurian warrior was a battle-scarred creature clad in golden armour. It clutched a spear in one talon and bore a golden gauntlet on the other.

‘We need to reform the lines, before they finish with the vermin. I don’t want to be caught out in the open, if they decide to turn on us after.’

‘They won’t,’ the Lord-Relictor said, softly.

‘How do you know?’

‘The Moon Monks of Hysh say that they are the children of Dracothion, spawned by his breath in the Age of Myth. They say that the Great Drake’s hatred of Chaos burns like a star in the heart of each seraphon,’ Seker said.

‘They say — don’t they also say that they usually vanish, when the battle’s been won?’ Zephacleas asked, watching the ranks of scaled warriors move with enviable meticulousness. Stormcast Eternals were drilled past the point of perfection, but the seraphon arrayed themselves with inhuman precision, as if they were not individual creatures at all, but rather the components of some greater pattern that was beyond human comprehension.

‘Indeed. Which implies that the battle has not yet been won,’ Seker said, in reply.