The structure of the ziggurat rocked, nearly sending Emmaline over had Amal not caught her. T'Krit held on but a few of the other skinks were knocked off to hit the next level, relatively safely considering it was only a floor down due to the architecture shape of the building. Amal and Emmaline watched as rats poured out of the machine, all of the vermin covered in filth and puss and screeching to one another. In the dancing light of the torches, they seemed like a demonic tide of fur and grease that would roll over and devour anything in their path.

Outnumbered at least five to one, the Lizardmen didn't flinch or hesitate. Sor'Khan raised his axe and pointed at the horde of screaming skaven, roaring to his kid as they formed up. The Saurus and the red skinks rallied to him swiftly; the latter now equipped with impressive bronze maces they wielded with two hands. The rest of the skinks swarmed around the Kroxigor, who himself picked up one of the large slabs of bronze he had carried earlier and now held it like a club and bellowed, its roar echoing across the deserted walls of the temple city. 

Sor'Khan charged forth, meeting the rat-tide head first, leaping like a raptor into the clanrats. His first swing cut down a skaven effortlessly, his tail whipping to send another flying. The other Saurus and red skinks swung with deft precision that Amal knew bested even the Sultan's finest troops. But the ratment nibbled, bit, and stabbed with their crude scimitars and spears, washing into the Lizardmen like a virus.

A thread of the ratmen's line turned and began to make their way toward the ziggurat, reaching the bottom and climbing over themselves trying to make it up. Amal was concerned for that, but it seemed T'Krit was focused solely on the battle of his people. "Ackt'a vol en te Ackt'a! He incanted, lightning now dancing upon the edge of his staff. To Amal, the lightning looked like it leaped away from the staff to rain upon the skaven, burning flesh and fur and felling twenty of the monsters. 

As the ratmen began to climb upwards, Amal casually placed his foot on the slab they used to feast and with a will he shoved it down to the lower level, crushing four rats with an audiblt `squish.` A spear was thrown their way, flying right at Emmaline. On instinct Amal caught it a mere moment before it pierced her stomach. "You need to be more careful," He said in Arabyan. He turned the spear and tossed it at one of the rats, stabbing into it. Amal sighed. 

"Only fifteen left," He said, though he had a grin on his face as he did the last thing the rats and Emmaline expected. He leaped into the mass of vermin below them, hacking and stabbing. 
[@Penny]