Charging into another body of skaven, Sir Robert felt his lance snap as it pierced the furry body of one of the vermin. Quickly he drew his sword, and saw that on either side of him his comrades were doing the same as these rat-men refused to run. They made short work of them, their swords slicing through the unprotected bodies of their enemy, yet there were more skaven around them now and they had no respite from the fighting.

As his sword rose and fell again and again, Sir Robert began to realise the difference between his previous experiences of skirmishes with goblins in the Massif Orcal and a true battle. This was no short scrap with 5 minutes of fighting before the enemy were all dead or routed, this was continuous warfare with no opportunity for rest where a moments loss of concentration could mean death.

Yet concentration grew harder as the battle wore on. Sir Charles, the next youngest after Sir Robert and a less experienced fighter, was the first to go. A skaven warrior managed to under past his guard and cravenly slit open his horses belly. The beast rolled and Sir Charles was thrown clear, only to be overwhelmed by a tide of stinking vermin, gnawing and ripping at his armour until their teeth bit into his throat and spilled his life blood.

After this they were all more cautious, less inclined to press forward in case a skaven got around their flanks, and as a result their momentum fell further. They now realised that death was possible, and none of them wished to die. Yet as they became bogged down in fighting, death seemed ever more possible. With the force of their charge spent and the skaven fighting back fiercely, they fell into disarray and lost their cohesion.

Sensing this spurred the skaven on to new levels of ferocity, and two more knights errant soon fell. Out of the corner of his eye, Sir Robert could see a unit of spearmen pressing through the skaven throng to come to their assistance, yet he did not now know if they could hold until this relief came. He stabbed at a rat-man that had got behind Sir Tybold then was shocked to find Sir Clarance seemingly sweeping at the legs of his horse - until he saw Sir Clarance's sword pull back red with skaven blood.

A cry rang out 'The standard!', and looking around Sir Robert saw Sir Bleoberis sorely beset by the skaven. As he watched, unable to press through the skaven to come to his assistance, he saw one rat-man grab that standard bearer's foot. Sir Bleoberis struck down with his sword and removed its head but, encumbered by the standard, he could not protect all sides at once. The skaven obviously knew the importance of the banner waving over his head and were going all out to capture it. Sir Robert felt panic rising in his heart. This wasn't supposed to happen! They were Bretonnian knights, they weren't meant to be overwhelmed by worthless rats! The skaven should flee before the splendour of their martial prowess!

Yet the skaven did not flee, they kept coming. Sir Bleoberis' horse bucked as a rat's sword removed its tail, then a skaven knife found the back of its leg and it stumbled, its hamstring severed. Sir Bleoberis vaulted clear and landed on his feet, still fighting heroically. Sir Clarance managed to break through the press and tried to haul him up onto the back of his horse - yet this was to prove disastrous. As Sir Clarance pulled on Sir Bleoberis' arm, skaven grabbed his legs and another skaven took the opportunity to attack from the far side and slice through the saddle straps. Sir Clarance crashed to the ground, trapping Sir Bleoberis beneath him, and both disappeared under a surge of skaven.