Even expecting the worst the site that greeted Hilde as she emerged from the tower was shocking. She stood about fifty feet from the shoulder of the breech and could see the beastmen crawling over their dead to get at the defenders behind the ruined stone wall. Even as she watched the strong butchered the weak to be first to the kill. Isolde ran to the shoulder of the breach. The other woman spat a few words and twin lances of golden light shot from her palms down into the massed enemy. Where the golden light touched, the beastment burst into flames. Hilde hit Isolde in a flying tackle, knocking the mage from her feet. The golden beams died instantly.
 
“What are you..” Isolde began to snarl and then a dozen arrows were buzzing spitefully through the space she had occupied a moment before.
 
“Don’t do that,” Hilde instructed, “particularly not if I am standing near you.”
 
The clash of arms, curses of soldiers and screams of dying beastmen was overwhelming in the night air. Hilde risked sticking her head up over the wall. Her blood ran cold as she spoted the glinting armor of chaos warriors advancing across the dew damp field.
 
“We have to go,” she declared, voice a little shrill with panic. Isolde opened her mouth to say something but Hilde was already scrambling back into the tower and down the stairs.
 
The great hall was a stark contrast to the heaving battle around the breach. To Hilde’s surprise there was a small group of knights in the room led by the acestic looking scribe. The seemed to be packing something into small wooden chests.
 
“What?” she stammered, wondering why these men were not outside fighting for their lives. The scribe looked up at her with hatred.
 
“You!” he snarled. Isolde came through the door and the expression of rage on the scribes face twisted with hatred. His eyes flicked down to the wizards wrist, cataloguing the missing bracelet.
 
“You will not disrupt Sigmar’s Holy Work!” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips.
 
“Kill them!”