A wicked axe sliced at Cerdic's neck, the Sergeant ducking and taking the opportunity to run the Ungor through the chest with his sword. Past the monster's bloodied fur, he saw the two women he'd come to be beholden to run back inside as if the very Gods of Chaos were behind them. Judging from the carnage that was being wrought, that didn't seem so farfetched to Cerdic anymore. Despite his sense of loyalty to these men, something pulled him to follow them. He told himself it was to get Isolde back to the front as well. If she could take a dozen of them out in a single spell... 

"Hold them!" He said, pushing the corpse down and pointed his sword forward. He eyed the Knight that had been commanding the men, and then he backpedaled out of the courtyard. It was agonizing to watch the butchery being wrought that he could be aiding with, so he turned around and charged like a bull into the Great Hall “You will not disrupt Sigmar’s Holy Work!” the scribe screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “Kill them!” 

The scarred young man leaped in the way of the Knights. "Hold!" he called, and for a moment the Reikland Templars faltered. "What are you waiting for!?" The Vitus Garmmen demanded. Isolde held her hands out, and she glowed with an inner light as the scribe suddenly stopped speaking, his eyes bulging as if he couldn't comprehend why no words were leaving his lips. "I've been waiting a long time for that." Isolde said, her full lips spread in a satisfied grin. 

"What is so Gods damned important here that you Knights aren't out fighting with your comrades?" Cerdic asked, anger evident in his voice. "Lord Egling is dead, what are you fighting for?" 

"Dead!?" One Knight asked. The others looked to one another. "How?" 

"How do you think? Cerdic snapped. "Chaos is at your door. Now what the fuck is so important in here?" Only silence greeted him at first, before one of the older Templars spoke up. "It's the prophecy of our order..." 
[hr] 
Balgar gutted an Imperial, he and his Chosen having made short work of the initial line of Imperial troops that stood in their way. He chuckled at the ease of this. They fell like wheat cut by a scythe, and he found he enjoyed that image. It was accurate, only much, much bloodier. He was not addicted to blood letting as the followers of Khorne were, but he took satisfaction in slaying those he deemed pathetic. 

Speaking of which, where was the man? He needed to find him and the woman. Balgar knew he needed to find the Pistolier before Crovendif, or there would be very little left of her that was coherent (or whole enough) to question.
[@Austronaut]