The fall of Burgh Part 2

Phillip sped through the woods as though the hounds of hell themselves were tailing him. Through it
all the shame of what he had done burned him from the inside. He knew what his father had said was
true, someone must warn the village and save the people, but why him? Why should he be stained
with the stigma of having fled from battle leaving his brother and father dead on the field? It wasnt
fair hed never asked for this, all he had ever wanted was to fight gloriously for his country, not flee
like a coward from a band of filthy rat things. As he bemoaned his situation he became aware of a
commotion ahead of him, something was in the bushes. Suddenly four Skaven burst from the
underbrush to bar his path, with a snarl of defiance he drew his fathers sword, Deliverance from its
scabbard and set about the Skaven. Soon all four lay in a ragged bloody pile around him. Gathering
his breath Phillip heard the sounds of his pursuers gaining on him and knew he could not linger to
savour his brief victory. On he rode for Burgh and his family.
Bursting from the tree line despair filled his heart. There in front of him lay his beloved Burgh, the
wooden Palisade had been caved in and dead Men at Arms lay all around, half the village was a fire
and there were screams and shouts from everywhere. The Skaven raiding force had been nothing
more than a diversion, a clever ploy to lure Lord Ponsonby and his Knights away from the keep and
the village. With an incoherent cry of rage Phillip plunged his spurs deep into his destriers flanks
urging the noble beast down the steep incline toward the breached Palisade.
The Rat men were everywhere, running amok glee fully slaying and torturing or stealing anything of
any value or worth. Phillip aimed directly for the beast that seemed to be controlling the Skaven it
saw him as he approached and screamed something unintelligible at a huge lumbering monster. The
Rat Ogre moved with incredible speed to block the young knight, but his blood was up and his hatred
was burning deep, nothing was going to stop Phillip from reaching his prey. As he neared the Ogre it
lunged for him. He twisted in the saddle and plunged Deliverance deep into the creatures neck
severing its spine, as it fell Phillip wrenched the sword from the carcass and used the upward stroke
the deliver a telling blow toward the Skaven leader. This however was no mere champion it was the
leader of the entire horde, a cunning and vicious beast who had fought many battles. It spun quickly
deflecting Phillips blow and letting the young knights energy unbalance him. The Skaven warlord
lashed out with a dagger in its left hand plunging the knife deep into the thigh of the knight errant as
he thundered past.
Phillip felt a white hot pain in his upper right thigh as the dagger pierced his skin. Letting out a gasp
of pain he reigned in his warhorse and turned to face his foe. The vile Skaven had a leering smirk on
its face and it licked its lips with anticipation. With a flash it was spinning toward young Phillip, its
twin blades spinning faster than they eye could see. Phillip didnt care how deadly the beast was. He
had an overwhelming need to strike it down. Filled with a righteous fury he met the Skaven head on
and traded blows. The two combatants thrust and parried, more than once Phillip had to use his shield
to deflect a lethal blow whilst he was unable to land one on the Skaven. Slowly but surely the young
knight was beaten back toward the Palisade. Hemmed in with no more room Phillip desperately strove
to find a gap in the Skavens defence. The Warlord darted in to deliver a fatal blow but slipped on the
remains of a young peasant boy; that momentary lapse was all Phillip needed and the exhausted and
bleeding young knight struck out, plunging the magical sword deep into the Skaven warlords chest.
With the death of their leader many of the rat men started to flee. But there was a core of heavily
armoured storm vermin inside the village attacking the Keep. Putting aside his fatigue Phillip spurred

his horse into the village and cantered toward the new foe. As he rode through he cut down numerous
clan rats and Skaven slaves all fleeing after the fall of their leader. Ahead he saw a large group of 20
or 30 heavily armoured rats. They were engaged in a sprawling melee with the remains of Burghs
Men at Arms and the peasant militia. Things look bad for the peasants they were losing ground every
second and three peasants fell for every stormvermin. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg
Phillip prepared for one final charge. As he crashed into the Skavens rear he heard a ragged cheer go
up from the Men at Arms and cries of Vive La Burgh. This desperate show of defiance filled the
young knight with hope and he redoubled his efforts. Having identified the pack leader he battered his
way toward the hunched fiend. Seeing the knight approaching with a fire of hatred in his eyes and a
seemingly unstoppable sword arm, the pack leader fled spraying the musk of fear as he went as the
other rats smelt the scent of fear; they too soon turned tail and ran.
As the Men at Arms and the militia chased the feeing rat things Phillip wearily made his way to the
keep. At least his actions here would go some way toward erasing the shame he had brought upon his
family by his earlier actions. The Keep was intact the Rat men had never breached the causeway let
alone the gate. As Phillip approached he wondered why the guards hadnt opened the gate for him, for
that matter why were they not now streaming from the castle to join the rout of the fleeing Skaven.
Something was terribly amiss. Dismounting with difficulty Phillip sat on the wall of the causeway and
wrenched the dagger from his thigh. Tearing a strip from his tabard he bound the wound tightly to
staunch the flow of blood and then hobbled painfully up to the sally port hidden in a clever defile in
the wall.
As soon as he entered the castle he knew that something was terribly amiss, there in front of him lay
one of his fathers Hearth guard, his throat slit. At the foot of the stairs to the great keep lay another
guard. With a sense of dread Phillip made his way swiftly to the main hall of the great keep. At every
turn he found dead guards and serving maids, all had their throats slit and none showed any signs of
struggle. As he entered the main hall he stopped dead. He fell to his knees, a cry of anguish and
despair bursting from his lips. There on the main dais lay his mother and sisters. They had been
butchered mercilessly, there was blood everywhere. His youngest sister had only been six but she had
been disembowelled at the foot of the dais. His mother was sat in her chair with just the smallest spot
of blood at the base of her slender neck, yet it was obvious from her eyes that she had died almost
instantly.
Phillip heard the sound of footfalls behind him, he rose and swung his sword in an arc as he turned to
face his would be attacker. As he moved to strike a he saw that it was Thomas, his fathers steward,
and at the last moment he was able to turn his blade so that he did not decapitate the elderly man.