Day One - Part 2

[Okor]

Okor looked up from his work, setting down the shrapnel caltrops and gazing through the crack in the barricaded windows. Along the horizon, puffs of black smoke could be seen. He almost disregarded it, until he discerned the pattern. Legion code! Snapping to attention as fast as his decomposing frame would allow, he shoved himself against the window, his eye feverishly soaking up every detail. The sorcerer was coming! His faith would be validated! Snatching up his sharpened piece of steel, he pushed apart the double doors of the clinic, and rooting himself in front of the entrance.

He would be glad to see his brother, but the pressing question was the status of his brother. Simply staying put in this small building had dragged them into an extended skirmish, and Tartaros may not last through the night. Had Galel suffered a similar fate? Sinking one of the two sharpened points of his spear into the ground, he gazed out towards the smoke. He could not afford to abandon his brother, and Tartaros was one of the Legions of old. Surely, he could make his way to the clinic without suffering a mortal wound? Nurgle knows they'd suffered enough as late...

An idea coming across him, he brought one of the spear's tips to his abdomen. The mortals had drawn blood, which was detestable. But, it allowed him a new avenue of warfare. Cautiously dipping the point through the scabbed wounds, he coated the sharpened end in blood, the clear liquid swimming with life. The mortals would come to regret crossing him. They may meet their end at the hands of man's greatest creation, or his greatest patron. It mattered not to him. Either way, he was determined to turn at least one of them into nothing more than fertilizer. Let the worms feast on their flesh, let the fungi bloom on their bones. Let the rot fester in their hearts.

Let them know the truth.