Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

Curved rows of shelves occupied the great chamber. Piled tomes and scrolls filled every nook and cranny, and were scattered across the floor in disorderly heaps. Zephacleas looked around, taking note of the bodies hanging from the shelves or lying broken on the floor. Men and women, clad in the remains of robes and armour, their bodies showing signs of torture. Their passing had not been easy, he thought, and anger rose in him.

Takatakk hissed softly, and he followed the skink’s gaze. A strange glow throbbed at the heart of the chamber. Past the fallen shelves, amongst the filth-covered pillars, a single skaven stood with its back to them, swaying slightly, clutching a staff tipped with a green stone which pulsed with a strange light. The creature hacked and wheezed piteously.

‘Rat-priest,’ Zephacleas said. The creature whirled with a shriek. It was cloaked in a sickening murk. Its flesh was swollen and its blind eyes wept oily tears. It shrilled and swept its claws out, filling the air with greenish flames. The shelves caught immediately, and their contents as well.

‘Seker, keep everyone else back,’ Zephacleas said as he stepped forward. He caught sight of Sutok doing the same. The Sunblood lifted his shield and Zephacleas crossed his weapons as the green flames washed over them. The heat of them was not clean — it made his flesh crawl beneath his war-plate. It was the heat of infection given shape and unleashed. Zephacleas ducked his head and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. The flames licked at his armour, leaving greasy trails of char across its purple surface.

From out of the corner of his eye, he saw Takatakk strike the ground with the end of his staff. The tainted pressure of the flames seemed to lessen, for just a moment. The skaven’s blind gaze turned towards the skink and it snarled wordlessly. With a gesture, it sent a column of flame roiling towards the Starpriest. Takatakk swept his claws out, splitting and snuffing the flames in a burst of star-light.

Zephacleas lunged forward through the dying flames and brought his runeblade down on the rat-priest’s skinny shoulder. The vermin staggered, but did not fall. Yellowish froth burst from its mouth as it caught hold of his blade with its free claw and tore it loose. Its blood spurted and sizzled where it struck his armour. Wormy muscles bulged unnaturally in its arm as it bent the sword away from itself. Zephacleas swung his hammer into the side of its scrawny chest, but the blow barely budged it. Still clutching his sword, it struck at him with its staff.

Zephacleas avoided the glowing nub of warpstone and tore his sword free from its grip. He chopped through the staff as it swept it around again, trailing greenish smoke through the air. The rat-priest shrieked and tossed the remains aside. Before it could attempt a spell, Sutok’s club crushed its skull. It fell twitching to the ground, its diseased blood burning the floor. The Sunblood waved his shield, snuffing the flames which clung to its surface.

‘Call down the storm, Lord-Relictor,’ Zephacleas said. ‘Put out these fires before we lose this whole chamber.’

Seker’s prayer was a melancholy one. The atmosphere grew damp as the Lord-Relictor called water from the very air. It dripped outwards from the walls and down from the ceiling, snuffing the flames. Soon, the air was thick with ash and blackened shelves groaned as they settled. Piles of scrolls and books had been reduced to nothing more than blackened smears on the floor.

‘All of this knowledge, ruined. A millennia of gathered wisdom, made into fodder for vermin,’ Seker said. His voice was harsh. ‘This is why we fight, brothers. This is what will become of the Mortal Realms should we fail — all will fall to corruption.’

‘Right now, I’m more concerned with the rat-priests. Mantius reported seeing more than one, but other than the creature we just dispatched, we’ve seen none,’ Zephacleas said, jabbing the body with his sword. One of the more infuriating habits of the ratkin was their propensity for cowardice, this one excepted. Mad, obviously, he thought — the plague-vermin are almost worse than the Bloodbound. But the others had fled. He hated having to chase the foe. Give me orruks any day… a straightforward test of strength, rather than all of this skulking and searching, he thought sourly.

‘G— gone,’ a muffled voice wheezed. ‘They’re gone.’

Zephacleas whirled, searching for the speaker, weapons raised. His warriors spread out at his signal, hunting.

‘There,’ Seker said, after a few moments, pointing with his staff.