Making the Enemy Bleed

Created by Burning Templar

"In the name of Our Saviour, cut them down!" The High Templar's voice thundered over the battlefield.
The panicked rout of the attacking forces was a glorious sight to behold, and the Templar cavalry lost no time in following the fleeing soldiers, relishing in their terror, the giant demon looming above.
High Templar Veshirnath rode at the head of his knights, slicing at the unprotected leg of a fleeing Freeguild soldier to the right, while shattering the hastily raised shield of another to the left. Both were trampled by those who followed, as the mounted Templars fanned out.
Behind them, a disciplined line of Templars on foot were slowly advancing. They were not going to join in the chase of the fleeing attackers, no - they were carrying heavy chains with them, and they came for the enemy survivors lying strewn all over the battlefield, their cries of pain and pleads for mercy filling the air. The city of Scarra had sacrificed many of its thralls for the siege, and it was time to replenish the stocks. With them were groups of Sariant warriors, who ganged up on those too heavily injured to flee, but still too dangerous to immediately take as captives, and "disabled" them. The Tzaangor surrounded those unfortunates left wounded in the mud, hacking and slicing at their arms and weapons in seemingly random succession to minimize retribution, until they could fight no more; and they were dragged in chains into the blood-soaked nightmare that was Scarra, never again to see the sky in freedom. Needless to say, those who died of their injuries on the way back were bound to be the more fortunate ones. ____________________
With his last reserves of strength, a Stormcast decimator, a warcry on his lips, turned around to face him, using the momentum to strike his mighty thunderaxe at him. The High Templar's warded armour held, but the blow still sent painful tremors through his body. A flick of the reins, and his Karkadrak pinned the Decimator to the ground, biting down on his left arm, penetrating his silver armour and drawing blood.
The Stormcast tried to continue the attack, but he could only helplessly strike the Karkadrak's armoured flank as the High Templar used his vicious long mace to bash the man's head in. It took a surprisingly long time until there was a disconcerting crack, and the Stormcast went limp.
Gathering his bearings, the High Templar took in his surroundings. To his left, one of the heretic Khornates was impaled by the Holy Lance of a Templar, and to his right, a small group of Nurglites was ridden down and hacked to pieces by the righteous fury of his men, their sickening gurgling noises dying down a sound certainly pleasing to Our Burning Saviour.
Their tainted yellowish blood flowed into the soil, joining the red that had been spilled in abundance.
Broken bodies and broken equipment littered the Scarlands around Scarra. The Stormcast and their allies would lose many that day, he was certain. The defence had been a glorious success. Now it was imperative not to overcommit; the Templars were disciplined enough for that not to be an immediate danger; as for the Khornates (especially those mounted on Slaaneshi steeds) and those Duradin mercenaries -
He lifted his gaze to the gigantic demon and his smaller compatriots, fully engaged in slaughter -
He wasn't too sure. Quick, decisive orders brought back cohesion to the cavalry, and the Templars continued to chase down stragglers.
Soon, they would turn back, when it was tactically appropriate. He has no doubt that most of the other forces would continue the chase. The High Templar knew it would be prudent to support them, if he wanted to prevent the victory turning into a disaster.
Luckily, he had specialists for that, who were already in position.