Cyrdic had picked up a crossbow from a fallen man, having just aimed and fired into the eye of a minotaur as Camilla approached. With a quickness and casual air that only a strong man could do, he pulled the string back with one arm and knocked a bolt onto the crossbow, before firing once more into the throng. He had just dropped his crossbow and unsheathed his Ulrican sword when Camilla had made it to him.
He spun when he heard his name, and wondered why she was here. Not that he wasn't glad to fight alongside her, but he was certain Gilderoy would have seen to it she would be in the Keep. It took him a moment to register what she was saying, his gaze shifting to the younger knight, the only one in full plate.
"The Cellar!?" he cried back incredulously, over the ensuing roar of battle. He didn't know what to think about that. Why in Ulric and Sigmar's name would he be there? Cyrdic raised his shield to block incoming fire, and he ran over to Camilla. When he made it to her, it was plain he was troubled troubled. "We need his Knights." The Ostlander said simply. "I can hold here but not for very long..." he continued, looking into her eyes. "Go. Go and get him. Him or his men, but we'll need them. Do you understand?" He waited for her to tell him she did, and he nodded.
With that, he waded back into combat, one successful siege ladder now spilling over with Beastmen that were just now rising over and engaging Imperial swordsmen. Cyrdic charged from their backs and ran two through, before ducking a huge axe and beheading the Gor that had swung it, only for a primitive arrow to hit Cyrdic in the shoulder. He grunted, and felt the arrowhead sink into his flesh.
Perhaps it was the fact he had spun from the projectile, or perhaps it was a warning from his sword. But he felt the boulder more than he saw it, and on instinct pushed a swordsmen away as he dived backwards. A Minotaur-thrown boulder slammed into the battlements, sending Cyrdic whipping onto the stone hard, shards of cracked rock falling about him and flaking in his hair. He gritted his teeth and wheezed, but got up.
"Go!" He cried to Camilla, desperately, before staggering to his feet and ordering Crossbowmen to take down that Minotaur as the Handgunners focused on the plate armored Champions. With that, he just managed to block a spear thrust from an Ungor, chopping the weapon in two and pommeling the Beastman in the face.
Gilderoy had stripped off his vest and donned one of the robes of his sacred brotherhood, blood red with copper hemlines, his fellow knights similarly clad. The room was dark and unlit, save for the candles that lined the arcane symbol upon the ground, drawn with the blood of a virgin. A necessary sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. She had been a common tavern girl, nothing more.
Garmmen stood upon the dias, opposite the leader of the Templars who was vigilantly planted at the head of the circle. The scribe awaited Gilderoy to finish his prayer to Sigmar, before he opened the book of Aborash. His plump fingers gripped the human-skin cover, the ancient book brimming with unbridled power.
"Tabda altuqus," Garmmen began in ancient Khemri, his voice halting and starting with subtle clicks of the tongue, "fi fajar hdha alyawm aljadidi..."
The ritual would last sometime, but they had faith it would be completed. The three Dragon eggs at the center of the blood pattern were still, but eternal life flowed through them. Gilderoy could feel it.
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