1. Events

Purging of the Sacrosanct Temple

13. 6. 2026


Battleplan     Be It Purity or Putrsecence
Fought Battlerounds              4      



Clan Spitscreech

Dawnbreakers

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LossVictory
180260
-Purifiers of the Blighted Wilds



And It Was Pure

There shall be no rest, no wavering, no indecisiveness. The forces of Chaos march unerring towards the befouled site of Twinbriar Monastery; the ground beneath chittering with skulking ratmen, the surrounding lands blighted by the approach of nurglite acolytes, and the skies darkening with the tattered wings of bloodthirsty daemons. 

It was impossible to halt their advance anymore. In recent battles, the provision of thwarting the Dark Gods' worshippers from inching ever closer to their quarry turned into a distant dream. Yet, having collected immense amounts of power from the leynodes of Thyria, the Dawnbreaker stormhost, headed by the golden-scaled An-Zashra would strike anyway in a last desperate attempt at scattering the enemy and preventing them from taking what was hidden beneath the temple grounds by the God King's wont. They would arrive with thundering clouds, riding aurum lightning, finding the ruined confines of the erstwhile sanctuary crawling with a manifold of Skaven. Clan Spitschreech, a foul gathering of deviously intelligent rodents, has become well familiar to the Draconith's faithful Talons, this being their third clash. And by the seething wrath of head of the host, it shall be the last. 

Surprised by the Stormcast's arrival, the ratmen remained confined within the ancient walls of the temple. While assailing the Skaven's position immediately would be An-Zashra's most-desired course of action, this campaign has proven humbling to her fiery nature and, with the guidance of Lord Arcanum Bleakshawl, her quelled fury gave way to an understanding of preferential strategy. The entrance towards the vaults beneath Twinbriar was here, they just had to find it.

The Dawnbreakers' ranks spread wide, attempting to cover as much ground as possible, as both squadrons of the Protectors scoured the grounds for an overgrown entrance into the underground halls, while the Giltseekers rode to meet the Great Rat's faithful as a diversionary force. At the same time, the sputtering screeches of the rats' overlords stirred the unnumbered horde into motion, as a massive throng of clanrats, empowered by imbibing the corrupted waters of Thyria as well as the unknowable twisted brews of their masters' making, sallied forth. The Draconith herself charged ahead to join the fight, the situation soon turning desperate as the Giltseekers could not hold for much longer, all the while tears in the very fabric of reality spilled out more rust-clad miscreants. Yet, it was at this moment, when the Lord Arcanum explored a nearby collapsed section of the temple, that the entrance into the forlorn vault was found. Within the blink of an eye, the goal of both forces had shifted. The Skaven were forced to pivot, while the Stormhost pulled back, all prepared to spend their lives to attain what was hidden within. 

Unfortunately, for the grand army of chittering teeth and scratching claws, this was not to be. Within a flash of lightning and the deafening echo of thunder, the gleaming crowns of the Dawnbreakers, the eponymous master warriors of the host, surged forward with such clashing might, they left the whole host of clanrats stunned and blinded. At the same time, from the other side, with a rumbling break of wings, wreathed in a gilded storm, An-Zashra struck with before unseen rancor. In fulminant flashes of glistening hammers and blades, the line of the ratmen broke, cut down near to the one, while their overlord and his elite fell to the Draconith's sundering talons. As the rats scurried away, attempting to preserve what remained of their meagre lives, the Stormcast have succesfully secured the vaults. 

Yet, they could not rest upon their laurels. The Skaven were not alone. While they have managed to prevent them from getting their grubby, filth-caked fingers on the artefact, what remained of the clan joined with a great host of Khornate champions, blood-drunk and dragging a throng of corrupted humans in their rear. The Lord Arcanum remained with a portion of the host to safeguard the quarry, while the Draconith herself met with the battle-tattered Aelves of Sunspire, expressing regret and penitence for their previous clash, hoping to secure their aid in this upcoming final battle. What more, however, together, they would find some more unlikely allies.

The end of a Rat

Taxril Apnoesnout was livid, finally, his day of triumph dawned. Those fools, Snotsqueek the Red Rat and Nickit Cravenclaw have failed him one too many times, especially with having constructed the glorious The Greandestest Plough of Purity far too soon before his arrival. No matter, those fools will die very soon and once they do, he will secure his grand creation and uncover the great relic hidden in this land, thus ascending. Oh the future is so glorious, yes yes.

____

The onslaught of the stormcast was great, yet they overreached, Taxril could clearly see that, their cavalry already crumbling under his onslaught. Surely they understand the danger he posed to them and thus decided to strike. Far too soon. Fine an opportunity to get rid of some of his underlings....

He yelled his orders and smiled as the battle progressed according to his designs. But then, the fool!!! Snotsqueek  disobeyed a direct order and soon his retinue was lost in the distant fighting. No matter, he will die surely yes yes. He waved his hand from a top of his bell, commanding Nickit  to sally forth on top of the magnificent creation. Alas, with and evil grin on his face, the arch-warlock vanished, and suddenly, all the skaven forces started retreating.

Traitors, traitor all he yelled, as he hurled toward the towering structure in front of him, yet it already started to crumble. He fled-run, the stromcast on his heals.

He fumed with rage as he cowered in a cave nearby. Then he heard steps. Out of shadows, two skaven came, the underlings whose hatred, stupidity and rivalry has amused him in the months past. They stepped forward side by side. Lies, all Lies he realised, waving his hand to form a spell, yet Nickit dispelled and and as if proppelled by the Great Horned Rat himself, Red Rat rushed forward, stabbing him. 

As his life dripped away he heard them - all lies, not one of his spies made it out, outplayed, alone, his failure, their triumph and freedom. And even now, his prized creation was being built anew.

___

The two rats left the cave, hatred so palpable. But they had yet one quest before them, one last battle where they had to be allies. And then, then they would see who shall rule the new clan. One last battle awaited....