Chapter Twenty Four.Hierax stepped down from the dais, the ritual blade in his hands dripping black ichor. Xelga stood behind his Dark Apostle. The captain and Apostle were alone, their brothers had departed to face the loyalists in the city. Both wore helms, though the grim-snout of the captain's was covered in tanned leather.
'My master,' Xelga said, his words a rasping growl. 'Is the Anointed hout upon us? Do the peacock's not stand ready, do the Ravens not squawk? Even now, your chosen few stand ready to open the city to our nether-kin. Is he who you once served now ready to join with us?'
'Yes,; Hierax said flatly, holding his blade tightly. 'My former mentor and brother-confessor, I sense him closing with us. He brings with him the catalyst. As we bring with us the sacrifice. The daemon-eye is broken, the future set. To be or not to be, we must wait and see.'
Centarine looked out over the city, his brother's Nicholan and Cymar standing close to him. The former with his red-dyed hair hanging freely, the second with his mighty thunder hammer slung over his shoulder. With them stood a Word Bearer, a sergeant named Marrack. He was a stout warrior, his face forever contorted in a sneer.
'The walls are sure to fall by nightfall,' remarked the Word Bearer. 'I would join my Company brothers as they make their prayers to the Dark Gods.'
Centarien waved the Word Bearer away, returning his attention to the city. 'He is correct,' he said. 'The walls are soon to fall, then we may send in the Army. These fanatics will make excellent shields in our attack. Cymar, I want you to take the aerial assault force, do what you want to enter the city. Nicholaen, you will support the Word Bearers. Galen will soon reach his target. Once you three have completed your tasks, I will lead the final push.'