Hey all, was wandering around my documents today and unearthed an old (7th Ed.) battle report I had done a while ago in story format, though it is a battle report and describes a game between myself and my brother, I thought it was better suited in here because it is in a fluffy story format, and it certainly is Druchii History since the game was from quite a while ago. Anyways, I thought you lot might want to have a read.
Any C&C on my writing is much appreciated, this was written a while ago and I haven't had a chance to go over it recently, also, before you ask why about the unlikely and unfluffy alliance I played (as DE), that was all we had to hand to balance the numbers, if you want a fluffy explanation it could be a desperate circumstance forcing these two together, DE manipulate dwarfs, dwarfs would be wiped out on their own. Also, maybe these dwarves sympathise with DE because the DE were betrayed by HE just like the dwarfs were (although, granted, DE were actually the ones who made that fight between HE and dwarves) and the dwarves universally hate the greenskins more than the dark elves (or at least these particular ones do, maybe because they live far from the coast and DE raiding grounds, so haven't encountered many DE), pretty flimsy justification I know but if it will do.
Warning, some battle scenes are described in quite graphic detail, there may be some grisly deaths which might upset the stomachs of some, you have been warned. So, with that little disclaimer out of the way, let's begin shall we?
Battle of the Rashtok Plains
Cold, depthless eyes surveyed the battlefield from a slight rise on the plains of Rashtok, what they saw was death, a savage grin tugged at the corner of a thin mouth. But for who? Waves of noise beat off small, pointed ears framed by a mane of long, black hair which flowed down to waist height. Above the fragrance of grass and wild flowers the smell of blood, sweat and dung carried faintly on the wind and assaulted a sharp and angular nose. Fifty yards across from him a stocky dwarf in ornate gromril armour covered in protective runes hefted a vicious looking axe and growled, standing amongst more short, heavily armed and armoured warriors of the Dwarven race. The Druchii commander spun on his heel, an amulet set with a gem that swirled with dark colours glinted as it caught the sunlight, and mounted the huge nauglir standing beside him. The beast was armoured along its skull and neck with overlapping metal plates, the rest of its body covered in a thick hide of almost impenetrable scales, a long whip-like tail slapped the beast beside it, but the other cold-one did not flinch. A guttural grunt caused the Druchii to break from his inner musings of strategy and look up; the dwarf commander rested his axe on his shoulder, “what’s the plan, elf?” he growled.
The druchii took a moment to consider his answer, “pound them with the bolt throwers and cannon whilst they close, aim for the big ones, then let the flanks sweep forward to pincer them, when they’re encircled send in the elite to finish the job”.
The dwarf nodded, “any particular targets for mine?”
The elf nodded, “the giant should be right up your slayer’s alley, we’ll soften him up with our reapers, then your men finish the job, after that hit the ogres,” the elf scowled, the ogres had been an unwelcome addition to the battle. The giant and trolls were bad enough.
“Sounds like a plan, the thunderers should protect the war machines,” the elf nodded. Then a rumble went up from the opposition, the dwarf gave a departing nod to the druchii and returned to his troops.
“Orders my lord?” asked Vanaar, captain of the cold-one knights.
“Aim for the commander, kill the beast and its bodyguards and the enemy will fall apart.”
Vanaar grinned, “They won’t survive our steel and nauglir fangs my lord, you have my word on that.”
Sirion the Vicious surveyed his line once more; a mighty war hydra held the tip of the right flank, a unit of spearmen commanded by one of his lieutenants stood next to a band of corsairs and a silent group of Draichnyr Na Khaine- executioners of the god of murder. Beside them stood the dwarves, two near naked, orange haired warriors with enormous
butterfly-bladed axes beside the Thane and his bodyguard. In-between the dwarves and a fearsome, heavily-armed unit of black guard stood a cannon and two reaper
bolt-throwers guarded by dwarf handgunners. Next came the fearsome cold-one unit, twelve great nauglir, one was ridden by himself and ten by his bodyguard of knights. The last belonged to a sorceress, as his eyes met hers she smiled, the sort of smile which might adorn the face of a serpent. On the left flank another unit of spearmen and corsairs kept their distance from ten she-elves. Poison dripped from each of their twin blades and their thick white hair cascaded down slender shoulders. The Anwyr Na Khaine were a glorious sight, but one best observed from a distance.
Sirion then cast his gaze to the enemy; a screen of small goblins interspersed with two large rabbles of orcs shielded the armoured fist of the orc and goblin army, three groups of tremendous ogres, a giant and two massive trolls standing with a large force of goblins. Finally, Sirion’s eyes were drawn to a group of eleven heavily armed orcs in the centre of the army, black orcs, one holding a huge battle standard. Their leader raised his magical axe high above his head, Grimgore Ironhide, one of the deadliest creatures in existence. As Grimgore raised his axe the horde moved forwards as one, no, not quite as one, a unit of spider riders stalled on the left flank and some goblins also halted, apparently fighting among themselves. Sirion sneered, how was this rabble going to defeat his mighty army?
Then a grizzled orc raised his staff to the heavens, and the world shook.
Battle of the Rashtock plains
Moderators: T.D., Drainial, The Dread Knights
Battle of the Rashtock plains
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
Green lightning played across the creature’s frame. A goblin in the rearmost-unit also raised a staff, a bolt of emerald fire raced into the sky, but was interrupted by a stream of black energy from two druchii sorceresses and dispersed harmlessly. Then a far more powerful blast of energy erupted from the orc shaman, a third sorceress attempted to dispel it, but the blazing magical missile smashed the dark energy aside and exploded above Sirion’s army. A gigantic foot coalesced from the energy, and stamped down directly upon the cold one unit, Sirion heard a scream, no, two screams of agony at the same moment as he felt something strike his right pauldron. The blow passed straight through his blood-red, ensorcerelled armour without any resistance. The magical amulet at his neck blazed, but the assault still crushed into his arm. Sirion felt a searing pain begin to creep down his right side. He looked to find the source of the screams; two mangled riders lay on the floor with their mounts, crushed to death. The pain was getting worse; it felt like a sword had been thrust deep into his shoulder, and was now being twisted in the wound. Just as Vanaar regained control of the unit and turned to aid Sirion a green and yellow flash splattered into the ground five yards away, clods of earth were hurled everywhere, and in the hole lay the corpse of a goblin, a look of insane happiness plastered across what was left of the creature’s face. The spell continued to drive into Sirion, in its wake came an agony so intense that spots danced across his vision and the druchii feared he would black out, the only thing keeping him from submitting to the darkness was his overbearing pride, no greenskin would best his iron will. The small spark of hate that lived in every dark elf’s heart burst into flames of anger at the thought of a leather-headed savage beating him, the boiling rage rose up and stopped the sorcerous energy in its tracks, burning away the pain. The shaman would not be beaten so easily though, the spell raged back with renewed vigour, the will of the orc clashed with the will of the druchii, sorcerous power was the weapon of the former and pure bloody minded hate was wielded by the latter, they clashed in the battleground that was Sirion’s black soul, eating away at him from within. But he still would not submit. Sirion doubled over, a gasp of tortured agony leaking from his lips. Dimly Sirion’s brain, overloaded as it was with pain signals, registered that the pendant of Khaleth still glowed with its curious dark light, it emitted a mystical aura which gravitated towards Sirion’s damaged shoulder, the pendant bolstered the power of his will and fanned the flames of his hate, little by little, he beat the spell back, driving its taint from his body until at last he felt the shaman relinquish its hold on him. The elven general looked up just in time to see a shot from a bolt throw hurtle through the air into the war hydra. The bolt struck one of the necks of the six snake-like heads, almost completely severing it, and then plunged on to score a deep gash in the side of the titanic beast. But within moments the gash healed over and the neck re-knit itself, leaving little more than a scar to show where a blow, which would almost certainly have been mortal to many other creatures had passed. The pain finally began to abate in Sirion’s wound, to be replaced with the black ice of the noble’s cold arrogance; he turned to face Vanaar, his expression impassive once more. “Signal the advance.”
As one the Druchii marched forth, the witch elves moving to place a group of wolf riders in their sights and the corsairs moving to shield the armourless warriors from a bow wielding goblin group. As the cold ones advanced at a leisurely pace a dark shape swooped low over the cavalry and alighted upon a span of rock near the small patch of woods in the centre of the plains, Morathi, upon her dark pegasus Sulaphet, raised her staff and began chanting, flowing words, at once brutal and subtle, formed a spell as a dark cloud began to entwine about the ancient sorceress’ body. The cloud suddenly dispersed and a bolt of blackest night leapt towards two lumbering stone trolls, the orc shaman raised his staff and the bolt glanced away harmlessly from an insubstantial shield that enveloped the trolls, the only mark of its presence was a shimmering in the air. But Morathi had only just begun, she unleashed another spell, this time thousands of dark wisps formed a boiling cloud like a flurry of hurled daggers which raced towards a group of orcs, the crude standard they bore, bolstered by the efforts of the orc and night goblin shamans attempted to stop the blow, but the powerful magic shattered the ward and plunged into the unit, flaying skin and stripping flesh from bone. Once the nightmarish black cloud passed through the unit the damage was apparent, fully a quarter of the orcs were dead, including a great beast that had been in the front rank and which must have been the unit’s champion. The rest of the orcs were all cut and bleeding from numerous wounds, but their impressive durability allowed the hulking warriors to recollect themselves and march on, trampling over the bodies of their dead comrades. The drain on the enemy shamans was apparent; wrestling with Morathi had weakened them, though they attempted to dispel the magic of the other three sorceresses an icy wind enveloped the goblin archers, three dropped dead, their green skin turned a glassy blue colour. The sorceress who had unleashed the spell began to form another, but failed to contain the magical energies, she began trembling, the dark cloud she had gathered plunged into her own flesh, her back arched, mouth and eyes wide with torment, finally, with a snarl, she dismissed the dark energies and slumped, exhausted. The barrage of spells was finished, the greenskins breathed a sigh of relief, but then a tremendous boom like rolling thunder sounded, and the war machines began firing. The dwarf cannon overshot the enemy lines and the crew began furiously cranking levers and spinning wheels to lower the barrel and reload their charge, but the sharp eyed dark elves and their deadly reaper bolt throwers were far more accurate, a massive bolt punched into the side of the giant, the great beast bellowed in pain and attempted to pull the bolt free, but it stuck fast, so the giant simply bellowed again and carried on marching. A whirl of six smaller bolts from the other bolt thrower flashed towards the trolls, four struck home, one glanced off an arm and did no serious damage, but the other three struck one of the creature’s trunk like body. A long gash disappeared in moments due to the remarkable healing abilities of troll flesh, but the other two wounds were beyond even the famous regeneration skills of the trolls, amazingly the creature stumbled on, but where before it had marched and bellowed curses, now it lurched drunkenly and moaned in animalistic pain. Further along the line, the Dwarf Thane’s ears picked up the twang of bows from the wooded area, expecting to see a rain of arrows emerging from the forest, he raised his shield slightly, when no shots came though, he turned to the armoured executioner marching beside his dwarves.
“Who’s firing?” he asked gruffly. The helmeted head of the executioner turned towards him. “Autarii,” came the harsh whisper.
“Some of your men?” The Executioner nodded. Whoever they were Korgun had to admire their bowmanship, black fletched bolts erupted from the forest, it looked as if every one found their mark and fully half of the goblins targeted fell dead, riddled with crossbow bolts. The dwarf king thought there must be fifty men in the woods with bows to do so much damage, how they could all fit in their without being seen was a mystery, it was only a dozen trees ringed by rocks. The goblins broke and ran under the onslaught; the ogres they sprinted past ignored them, the rest of the horde marched on. A high pitched screech drew the dwarf’s attention to his right, the titanic war hydra reared back, its six heads began snapping and writhing, then one drew back, and gave a ginormous belch, the dwarf burst out laughing. Then the rest of the heads drew back and spurted gouts of flame at the nearest group of greenskins, gnoblars from the ogre kingdoms, the laughter died on Korgun’s lips as he watched four of the little pests baked alive, had they been any nearer the entire unit would have burned. The elves’ little pet was even more formidable than it appeared. Unperturbed, the greenskins marched on.
As one the Druchii marched forth, the witch elves moving to place a group of wolf riders in their sights and the corsairs moving to shield the armourless warriors from a bow wielding goblin group. As the cold ones advanced at a leisurely pace a dark shape swooped low over the cavalry and alighted upon a span of rock near the small patch of woods in the centre of the plains, Morathi, upon her dark pegasus Sulaphet, raised her staff and began chanting, flowing words, at once brutal and subtle, formed a spell as a dark cloud began to entwine about the ancient sorceress’ body. The cloud suddenly dispersed and a bolt of blackest night leapt towards two lumbering stone trolls, the orc shaman raised his staff and the bolt glanced away harmlessly from an insubstantial shield that enveloped the trolls, the only mark of its presence was a shimmering in the air. But Morathi had only just begun, she unleashed another spell, this time thousands of dark wisps formed a boiling cloud like a flurry of hurled daggers which raced towards a group of orcs, the crude standard they bore, bolstered by the efforts of the orc and night goblin shamans attempted to stop the blow, but the powerful magic shattered the ward and plunged into the unit, flaying skin and stripping flesh from bone. Once the nightmarish black cloud passed through the unit the damage was apparent, fully a quarter of the orcs were dead, including a great beast that had been in the front rank and which must have been the unit’s champion. The rest of the orcs were all cut and bleeding from numerous wounds, but their impressive durability allowed the hulking warriors to recollect themselves and march on, trampling over the bodies of their dead comrades. The drain on the enemy shamans was apparent; wrestling with Morathi had weakened them, though they attempted to dispel the magic of the other three sorceresses an icy wind enveloped the goblin archers, three dropped dead, their green skin turned a glassy blue colour. The sorceress who had unleashed the spell began to form another, but failed to contain the magical energies, she began trembling, the dark cloud she had gathered plunged into her own flesh, her back arched, mouth and eyes wide with torment, finally, with a snarl, she dismissed the dark energies and slumped, exhausted. The barrage of spells was finished, the greenskins breathed a sigh of relief, but then a tremendous boom like rolling thunder sounded, and the war machines began firing. The dwarf cannon overshot the enemy lines and the crew began furiously cranking levers and spinning wheels to lower the barrel and reload their charge, but the sharp eyed dark elves and their deadly reaper bolt throwers were far more accurate, a massive bolt punched into the side of the giant, the great beast bellowed in pain and attempted to pull the bolt free, but it stuck fast, so the giant simply bellowed again and carried on marching. A whirl of six smaller bolts from the other bolt thrower flashed towards the trolls, four struck home, one glanced off an arm and did no serious damage, but the other three struck one of the creature’s trunk like body. A long gash disappeared in moments due to the remarkable healing abilities of troll flesh, but the other two wounds were beyond even the famous regeneration skills of the trolls, amazingly the creature stumbled on, but where before it had marched and bellowed curses, now it lurched drunkenly and moaned in animalistic pain. Further along the line, the Dwarf Thane’s ears picked up the twang of bows from the wooded area, expecting to see a rain of arrows emerging from the forest, he raised his shield slightly, when no shots came though, he turned to the armoured executioner marching beside his dwarves.
“Who’s firing?” he asked gruffly. The helmeted head of the executioner turned towards him. “Autarii,” came the harsh whisper.
“Some of your men?” The Executioner nodded. Whoever they were Korgun had to admire their bowmanship, black fletched bolts erupted from the forest, it looked as if every one found their mark and fully half of the goblins targeted fell dead, riddled with crossbow bolts. The dwarf king thought there must be fifty men in the woods with bows to do so much damage, how they could all fit in their without being seen was a mystery, it was only a dozen trees ringed by rocks. The goblins broke and ran under the onslaught; the ogres they sprinted past ignored them, the rest of the horde marched on. A high pitched screech drew the dwarf’s attention to his right, the titanic war hydra reared back, its six heads began snapping and writhing, then one drew back, and gave a ginormous belch, the dwarf burst out laughing. Then the rest of the heads drew back and spurted gouts of flame at the nearest group of greenskins, gnoblars from the ogre kingdoms, the laughter died on Korgun’s lips as he watched four of the little pests baked alive, had they been any nearer the entire unit would have burned. The elves’ little pet was even more formidable than it appeared. Unperturbed, the greenskins marched on.
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
Harsh shouts from Grimgore halted the headlong rush of the panicked goblins, as they began to sort themselves out the two dim-witted trolls stumbled in the way of the black orcs, halting their advance, Grimgore bellowed at the hulking creatures but they simply turned and stared at him with confused faces, only making the delay longer. A force of orcs ground to a squabbling halt as accusations, fists and the smaller members of the unit flew. Ten wolf riding goblins on the orc’s right flank kicked and cursed their lupine mounts into a reckless charge at a group of corsairs, the move worried Sirion, light cavalry such as the wolf riders do not charge full frontal into battle, even with the impact of the charge the experienced corsairs were likely to tear the wolf-riders to pieces. Then the shamans gathered themselves for another round of magical engagement with Morathi and her adepts, drawing Sirion’s attention. The orc shaman once again fired emerald lightning into the sky, if anything the bolt looked even more powerful, apparently too powerful for Morathi or her minions to stop because they chose to conserve their energy to cast and dispel later rather than intervene, once more the sorcerous energy streaked towards the cold ones, but thankfully, although the shaman’s magical prowess was impressive, his aim was not and only one knight at the rear of the unit was struck, nevertheless leaving him a crumpled husk on the ground. Two more spells were halted by Morathi and her minions, but a final assault shattered the protective ward around Morathi herself, the streak of fire staggered her momentarily, for an instant Sirion was concerned that she would be overcome by the magic, but with a supreme force of will she banished the spell, though she looked worryingly wounded. Then the doom diver and bolt thrower fired, the goblin missile was even less accurate this time and sailed over the heads of the cold ones, but the bolt thrower once again found its mark, plunging deep into the chest of the war hydra, one of the serpentine heads bit the shaft of the bolt still outside its body and with a convulsive heave, ripped the thing free, black blood gushed out of the would, but once again the incredible regenerating abilities of the hydra healed the wound in seconds, the creature’s restorative powers appeared to be even more potent than most of its kin. The spider riders which were now directly in front of the hydra also loosed shots from their bows, but even at such short range at such a huge target few found their mark, one plunged into the side of one of the beast’s many heads, but the wound appeared to trouble it little, the regenerating flesh would leave quite a job to remove the arrow for the beastmasters after the battle, if they survived. Suddenly a thunderous boom shook the battlefield, and there suddenly seemed to be less druchii. The guttural laughter of the Leadbelcher ogres came in halting grunts, the dwarf advance stalled momentarily as they turned to see the gap in the line where the executioners had been, incredibly, only a bloody smear and body parts were left were a proud regiment of skilled warriors had stood moments earlier, they had been wiped out to the last man before they had even entered combat. Korgun shook his head mournfully, blown to bits by ogre cannon was no way for a warrior to die, then he scowled, irritated by the fact that the pointy eared gits had been considered a greater threat than his closer dwarves, if they had a good set of gromril armour they would have laughed the shots off, he redoubled his pace, eager to wreak vengeance for his fallen allies, even if they were, or rather had been, elves. On the other side of the field the wolf riders crashed into the corsairs, spears swords and wolf fangs tore just one elf asunder, Sirion’s estimate of their ineptitude having been entirely accurate, in return two of the wolf riders fell to wickedly sharp blades, were it not for their armour the entire unit probably would have fallen, as it was the melee still raged. Not for long, thought Sirion, the witch elves were poised on the right flank of the wolves, once they entered the fray the beasts would be dead in seconds.
Sirion felt his blood quicken as his mount fully extended itself beneath him, he raised his fell blade, the sword of ruin, to the heavens and screamed “Charge!” at the top of his lungs, his face worked in a feral grin as his unstoppable cavalry bore down like an arrow from the bow of the hunter on the unit of huge orcs, he saw their fearful expressions as the nauglir and their riders thundered towards them, and screamed like one of the damned. Across the line he saw his warriors advancing, the cowardly gnoblars broke in the face of the terrifying bulk of the hydra charging them, the spider riders also lost their nerve and fled, the hydra continued its charge, careening headlong into the flank of the unit of elite Irongut ogres, led by the ogre general himself. A group of vicious, fleet-footed corsairs flashed across the gap separating them and another unit of orcs in a heartbeat, dancing in between the clumsy brutes, each stroke of blade or dagger bringing death and ruination, scattering wide arcs of blood in all directions, the frenzied witch elves hurtled into the wolf riders, screaming “Khaine” and killing with each poisonous, sinuous stroke of their sleek blades, twisting their lithe bodies through the slaughter, each movement at once graceful and deadly, beautiful and horrific. Sirion was dimly aware of the repeater bolt throwers twanging, the cannon booming and the sorceresses igniting conflagrations and frying greenskins alive, in the seconds before his charge struck home he saw Morathi tear the souls from two helpless goblins to replenish her strength, then stagger a leadbelcher with a bolt of purest darkness, the sorceress in his own unit began chanting, and the shamans, exhausted from trying to best Morathi once more, were helpless to stop her spell, which struck the unit of black orcs, waves of heat began radiating from them, several began writhing on the floor as the metal encasing their bodies superheated, Grimgore bellowed in pain as his magical armour, which had saved his life on so may occasions, began cooking him. Sirion glimpsed another sorceress pull a flaming sword from thin air, and the artillery striking the largest targets in sight, a troll fell, riddled with reaper bolts, the giant took another tremendous shot to the chest and a Dwarven cannonball careened into a group of ogre bulls, the first one struck was pulverised, the bruiser leading them took a heavy glancing blow and a third ogre nearly lost his entire arm to the shot, as it was the shattered limb looked useless. Then the chargers struck home. Sirion beheaded the first orc he saw, he then switched his attack to his left side where he split the skull of another orc from crown to chin, his sword passing through the steel helmet the beast wore as if it were butter, and the head therein with only slightly more difficulty. A third he cleft in twain with a mighty sweep from right shoulder to left hip, beside him Vanaar spitted an orc on his lance, three more orcs had fallen to the same fate on the pointed ends of the other lances the front rank of knights held, and another orc was bitten cleanly in two by the dagger sized, razor sharp teeth of a cold-one. The orcs broke in front of this crazed assault, the knights riding them down like the animals they were. In the brief lull left after the killing frenzy Sirion wheeled his mount about to observe the battlefield, he saw the witch elves fell all bar one of the wolf riders, the last pulled down from his mount by a billhook and hacked apart by the corsairs, instantly he realised why the wolf riders had charged, hidden behind them came a small group of goblins on jumping monstrosities, squig hoppers, the frenzied witch elves had ignored them to chase the closer wolf riders, and now the hoppers were poised on the flank of the witch elves and the corsairs, worse, the Anwyr na Khaine had surged forward after slaying the last goblin in search of more prey, driven by their bloodlust, directly into the sights of the goblin archer unit, the effects of the chill wind enchantment had worn away, leaving the lightly armoured corsairs and armourless witch elves exposed and vulnerable to goblin bows and squigs from either side. There was little Sirion could do however, a horde of goblins and the formidable Grimgore and his scarred retinue were circling the wood, if he didn’t move to support the black guard unit in their path the entire left flank would fall, spurring his mount around, he lined up his unit to assault the rear of the enemy force, intent on heading straight for Grimgore.
Sirion felt his blood quicken as his mount fully extended itself beneath him, he raised his fell blade, the sword of ruin, to the heavens and screamed “Charge!” at the top of his lungs, his face worked in a feral grin as his unstoppable cavalry bore down like an arrow from the bow of the hunter on the unit of huge orcs, he saw their fearful expressions as the nauglir and their riders thundered towards them, and screamed like one of the damned. Across the line he saw his warriors advancing, the cowardly gnoblars broke in the face of the terrifying bulk of the hydra charging them, the spider riders also lost their nerve and fled, the hydra continued its charge, careening headlong into the flank of the unit of elite Irongut ogres, led by the ogre general himself. A group of vicious, fleet-footed corsairs flashed across the gap separating them and another unit of orcs in a heartbeat, dancing in between the clumsy brutes, each stroke of blade or dagger bringing death and ruination, scattering wide arcs of blood in all directions, the frenzied witch elves hurtled into the wolf riders, screaming “Khaine” and killing with each poisonous, sinuous stroke of their sleek blades, twisting their lithe bodies through the slaughter, each movement at once graceful and deadly, beautiful and horrific. Sirion was dimly aware of the repeater bolt throwers twanging, the cannon booming and the sorceresses igniting conflagrations and frying greenskins alive, in the seconds before his charge struck home he saw Morathi tear the souls from two helpless goblins to replenish her strength, then stagger a leadbelcher with a bolt of purest darkness, the sorceress in his own unit began chanting, and the shamans, exhausted from trying to best Morathi once more, were helpless to stop her spell, which struck the unit of black orcs, waves of heat began radiating from them, several began writhing on the floor as the metal encasing their bodies superheated, Grimgore bellowed in pain as his magical armour, which had saved his life on so may occasions, began cooking him. Sirion glimpsed another sorceress pull a flaming sword from thin air, and the artillery striking the largest targets in sight, a troll fell, riddled with reaper bolts, the giant took another tremendous shot to the chest and a Dwarven cannonball careened into a group of ogre bulls, the first one struck was pulverised, the bruiser leading them took a heavy glancing blow and a third ogre nearly lost his entire arm to the shot, as it was the shattered limb looked useless. Then the chargers struck home. Sirion beheaded the first orc he saw, he then switched his attack to his left side where he split the skull of another orc from crown to chin, his sword passing through the steel helmet the beast wore as if it were butter, and the head therein with only slightly more difficulty. A third he cleft in twain with a mighty sweep from right shoulder to left hip, beside him Vanaar spitted an orc on his lance, three more orcs had fallen to the same fate on the pointed ends of the other lances the front rank of knights held, and another orc was bitten cleanly in two by the dagger sized, razor sharp teeth of a cold-one. The orcs broke in front of this crazed assault, the knights riding them down like the animals they were. In the brief lull left after the killing frenzy Sirion wheeled his mount about to observe the battlefield, he saw the witch elves fell all bar one of the wolf riders, the last pulled down from his mount by a billhook and hacked apart by the corsairs, instantly he realised why the wolf riders had charged, hidden behind them came a small group of goblins on jumping monstrosities, squig hoppers, the frenzied witch elves had ignored them to chase the closer wolf riders, and now the hoppers were poised on the flank of the witch elves and the corsairs, worse, the Anwyr na Khaine had surged forward after slaying the last goblin in search of more prey, driven by their bloodlust, directly into the sights of the goblin archer unit, the effects of the chill wind enchantment had worn away, leaving the lightly armoured corsairs and armourless witch elves exposed and vulnerable to goblin bows and squigs from either side. There was little Sirion could do however, a horde of goblins and the formidable Grimgore and his scarred retinue were circling the wood, if he didn’t move to support the black guard unit in their path the entire left flank would fall, spurring his mount around, he lined up his unit to assault the rear of the enemy force, intent on heading straight for Grimgore.
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
On the other side of the battlefield Korgun watched in awe as the titanic hydra assaulted the elite, hulking ogres. A rain of black death fell once more from the forest; the unseen bowmen targeted the leadbelcher ogres for annihilation this time, dozens of crossbow bolts found their mark, but the bolts did not have the customary punch of a true crossbow, and only a few caused serious wounds, nevertheless one of the towering brutes fell to the floor with no less than six shafts buried to the feathers in him. Meanwhile the hydra was wreaking havoc, three of its serpentine heads were holding a writhing ogre by the arms and head, as Korgun watched a fourth head gripped a leg, then they began to pull. A muffled scream of ogre-ish agony came from inside one of the hydra’s heads as the beast tore the creature limb from limb, there was a sickening moment as muscle, skin and flesh pulled taut, then, with a blood curdling ripping sound, great gashes rent the irongut’s hide, an arm dislocated with a sickening pop, a bone shattered with an awful crackle, the scream trailed off as an arm was ripped off entirely, blood cascaded to the ground, then the head came free of the spine with a wet crunch, whether the crunch came from the spine being pulled apart or the creature crushing the ogre’s head Kurgon was not sure. Then two more heads seized either side of the ogre’s abdomen, and pulled. The ribcage of the dead ogre split down the middle with a great rending sound, and the other arm was pulled free in a welter of flesh; finally, the hydra tore the beast in two down the middle, and tossed the bloody halves to the ground, roaring to the sky in triumph. Kurgon looked at the bloody slabs of meat lying in the grass, which had been a terrifying, awe inspiring engine of destruction moments before, the two meter tall mountain of muscle and gristle, which could single handedly devastate a regiment of dwarf warriors, reduced to scraps in the dirt. Understandably, after seeing their comrade dismembered in a matter of seconds by something they never thought they would face; something bigger and meaner than them, the ogre elite ran like children, the Tyrant attempting to shoulder his way past the giant in his haste to escape. The giant looked down uncomprehendingly at the little figures and shrugged, little things ran away, and most things are little to a giant, even ogres, but not a war hydra, fortunately for the giant the war hydra was rather more concerned with its new meal -now it was in bite size chunks- rather than fighting, leaving the giant only with the problem of the unusually small and vicious, orange haired things marching determinedly towards his toes.
Sirion took one last look at the battlefield and nodded, content with the course the battle was taking, with the ogre tyrant and what was left of his bodyguard (one still cursing at the deep, bleeding wounds inflicted by the scourge of an opportunistic beastmaster) running for their lives, only the giant and the Leadbelchers were of any concern on the left flank, and aside from the executioners his warriors on that side had taken few casualties, the right flank still hung in the balance though, Sirion frowned at the witches, with the executioners gone, if he lost the brides of Khaine too the temple would be most displeased, he hoped that Tullaris of the executioners had survived, if he hadn’t the Khainites would be very upset, and upset khainites tended to dispatch assassins to voice their displeasure, he made a mental note to increase his guards when he returned. His mind returning to the battle, Sirion judged that a well timed charge could break the right flank, “The Knights will advance at the canter.”
Korgun watched as the greenskins and their hired guns attempted to pull themselves back together on the right flank, the Ironguts stopped just short of the woods, their Tyrant having enough brains to realise that the small copse of trees would be a death trap with the mysterious bowmen, who were still hidden from view. The orcs that had been massacred by druchii corsairs last turn also managed to regain control of themselves and turned to face their enemy, even the cowardly gnoblars who had fled the wrath of the hydra had rallied, although it must be said that the great beast they had fled from was now contending with a suicidal assault by a squig herd from the rear, the hopping impossibilities would be torn to shreds like the ogre, but was probably only a desperate attempt to stall the beast long enough for the other greenskins and ogres on the flank to get themselves in order. The plan was working as well, if the hydra had continued its charge the enemy formation would have fallen apart, as it was the beast turned to face the new threat, giving the tyrant and the orcs time to get back in the battle and salvage something of the situation. The leadbelchers hefted their cannons and, rather than reload and be charged by the dwarves, they rushed forwards, Korgun tightened the grip on his rune encrusted axe, let them come, he thought. On the opposite flank the surviving troll also had enough wits to break into a lumbering charge at the black guard, who stubbornly stood their ground, readying themselves for the assault. And true to Sirion’s predictions the squig hoppers goaded their mounts into a charge on the corsair’s flank, the goblins also loosed their arrows on the witch elves, who were sitting ducks without armour to protect them and standing so close to the archers. Were there a more skilful group of bowmen in the place of the goblins none of the terrible elves would have survived, as it was four of the brides of Khaine fell dead. Grimgore’s trap had worked, the goblins had created an opening on the elven left flank, and with his most elite units lumbering in, the situation was perilous. Then the grizzled orc shaman raised his staff again, but instead of a sorcerous chant or incantation he screamed one word, WAAAAGHHH!!! The black orcs bellowed, even the weedy goblins and the non-greenskin ogres added their voices to the battle cry, every single roaring beast hurled themselves forward, those already engaged struck with incredible speed, the rest charged across the muddied ground at the nearest foe, the Ironguts bulldozed towards Morathi, who laughed contemptuously and spurred her mount into the sky where the ogres could not reach, orcs that had only moments before been fleeing for their lives made an about face and rushed straight at the surprised faces of a dozen corsairs. Sirion’s knights had been in the middle of wheeling their unit about when four ogre bulls lead by a bruiser smashed into the rear of the formation, the ogres struck with supernatural speed, against any other foe they would have torn their enemy to shreds, but the ensorcerelled standard of Hag Graef, the druchii city from whence this army came, worked its own magic on the warriors beneath its banner, the sorcerous energies cancelling each other out, it all boiled down to who was naturally quicker, which was the druchii, by far. The ogres were shocked to see the small elves and their steeds blur before them, then lances were striking their chests and shattering in their guts, Sirion roared a challenge at the bruiser, whose limbs burning with magical power, eagerly accepted. Sirion relished the moment of shock he saw in the eyes of his foe as the dim-witted brute realised that the power of the shamans was not enough, before the sword of ruin began carving into him like a roast. The beast fell dead at the highborn’s feet, an arm conspicuously absent and his head unaccounted for. One of his knights killed another ogre and a third took a deep wound, but replied with a massive blow against the sorceress, she cried out in shocked pain as bones splintered, but her magical armour pulled her lithe body back together. The loss of their leader, the ferocity and skill of their enemies even against the magical powers the ogres had gained and the incredible resilience of the frail looking she elf that should have been splattered across the grassy plains, was too much for the bulls to face, they turned tail and fled, the blood maddened knights chasing after them. The bulls, still benefitting from magically enhanced speed, managed to slightly outpace the slow-to-accelerate cold-ones just enough to reach the relative safety of the other side of a night goblin unit, the knights then promptly careened head first into the astonished greenskins, ready to spill more blood. Across the battlefield things weren’t going quite as well as the orc shaman had hoped, the magic of the night goblin shamans had been dismissed by Morathi and her adepts, the war machine crews, imbued with the magical bloodlust of the shaman’s spell, had charged forwards and abandoned their machines, depriving the greenskins of artillery support. The troll had struck with unimaginable ferocity and pulped two black guard, hurling their broken bodies away like ragdolls, two more black guard retaliated with two massive strikes from their halberds, but the wounds had healed over almost instantly, then Kouran, captain of the black guard, had calmly stepped in, wielding his huge halberd -the crimson death- with speed, power and skill, the magical weapon first bit into the troll’s misshapen shoulder, then a second blow came up underneath its ribcage from the other side, biting deep and releasing a torrent of acidic blood, the halberd’s edge was ripped free again, Kouran pirouetted neatly, bringing his mighty weapon in a tremendous circular arc to add power to the blow, and with all his strength smashed the weapon into the troll’s thick neck, the considerable strength of the aging druchii, backed by the sorcerous power of the deadly halberd, drove the honed edge of the weapon through cable like muscles, arteries, the beasts spine, and finally, in an explosion of gore, out the other side of the monster’s neck. The headless body stayed upright for a moment as the thick skull tumbled to the ground, then it too crashed into the mud. Kouran pulled a white cloth from around his neck and used it to wipe clean the blade; he rolled the fabric into a ball and tossed it to the ground, within moments the cloth had dissolved.
Sirion took one last look at the battlefield and nodded, content with the course the battle was taking, with the ogre tyrant and what was left of his bodyguard (one still cursing at the deep, bleeding wounds inflicted by the scourge of an opportunistic beastmaster) running for their lives, only the giant and the Leadbelchers were of any concern on the left flank, and aside from the executioners his warriors on that side had taken few casualties, the right flank still hung in the balance though, Sirion frowned at the witches, with the executioners gone, if he lost the brides of Khaine too the temple would be most displeased, he hoped that Tullaris of the executioners had survived, if he hadn’t the Khainites would be very upset, and upset khainites tended to dispatch assassins to voice their displeasure, he made a mental note to increase his guards when he returned. His mind returning to the battle, Sirion judged that a well timed charge could break the right flank, “The Knights will advance at the canter.”
Korgun watched as the greenskins and their hired guns attempted to pull themselves back together on the right flank, the Ironguts stopped just short of the woods, their Tyrant having enough brains to realise that the small copse of trees would be a death trap with the mysterious bowmen, who were still hidden from view. The orcs that had been massacred by druchii corsairs last turn also managed to regain control of themselves and turned to face their enemy, even the cowardly gnoblars who had fled the wrath of the hydra had rallied, although it must be said that the great beast they had fled from was now contending with a suicidal assault by a squig herd from the rear, the hopping impossibilities would be torn to shreds like the ogre, but was probably only a desperate attempt to stall the beast long enough for the other greenskins and ogres on the flank to get themselves in order. The plan was working as well, if the hydra had continued its charge the enemy formation would have fallen apart, as it was the beast turned to face the new threat, giving the tyrant and the orcs time to get back in the battle and salvage something of the situation. The leadbelchers hefted their cannons and, rather than reload and be charged by the dwarves, they rushed forwards, Korgun tightened the grip on his rune encrusted axe, let them come, he thought. On the opposite flank the surviving troll also had enough wits to break into a lumbering charge at the black guard, who stubbornly stood their ground, readying themselves for the assault. And true to Sirion’s predictions the squig hoppers goaded their mounts into a charge on the corsair’s flank, the goblins also loosed their arrows on the witch elves, who were sitting ducks without armour to protect them and standing so close to the archers. Were there a more skilful group of bowmen in the place of the goblins none of the terrible elves would have survived, as it was four of the brides of Khaine fell dead. Grimgore’s trap had worked, the goblins had created an opening on the elven left flank, and with his most elite units lumbering in, the situation was perilous. Then the grizzled orc shaman raised his staff again, but instead of a sorcerous chant or incantation he screamed one word, WAAAAGHHH!!! The black orcs bellowed, even the weedy goblins and the non-greenskin ogres added their voices to the battle cry, every single roaring beast hurled themselves forward, those already engaged struck with incredible speed, the rest charged across the muddied ground at the nearest foe, the Ironguts bulldozed towards Morathi, who laughed contemptuously and spurred her mount into the sky where the ogres could not reach, orcs that had only moments before been fleeing for their lives made an about face and rushed straight at the surprised faces of a dozen corsairs. Sirion’s knights had been in the middle of wheeling their unit about when four ogre bulls lead by a bruiser smashed into the rear of the formation, the ogres struck with supernatural speed, against any other foe they would have torn their enemy to shreds, but the ensorcerelled standard of Hag Graef, the druchii city from whence this army came, worked its own magic on the warriors beneath its banner, the sorcerous energies cancelling each other out, it all boiled down to who was naturally quicker, which was the druchii, by far. The ogres were shocked to see the small elves and their steeds blur before them, then lances were striking their chests and shattering in their guts, Sirion roared a challenge at the bruiser, whose limbs burning with magical power, eagerly accepted. Sirion relished the moment of shock he saw in the eyes of his foe as the dim-witted brute realised that the power of the shamans was not enough, before the sword of ruin began carving into him like a roast. The beast fell dead at the highborn’s feet, an arm conspicuously absent and his head unaccounted for. One of his knights killed another ogre and a third took a deep wound, but replied with a massive blow against the sorceress, she cried out in shocked pain as bones splintered, but her magical armour pulled her lithe body back together. The loss of their leader, the ferocity and skill of their enemies even against the magical powers the ogres had gained and the incredible resilience of the frail looking she elf that should have been splattered across the grassy plains, was too much for the bulls to face, they turned tail and fled, the blood maddened knights chasing after them. The bulls, still benefitting from magically enhanced speed, managed to slightly outpace the slow-to-accelerate cold-ones just enough to reach the relative safety of the other side of a night goblin unit, the knights then promptly careened head first into the astonished greenskins, ready to spill more blood. Across the battlefield things weren’t going quite as well as the orc shaman had hoped, the magic of the night goblin shamans had been dismissed by Morathi and her adepts, the war machine crews, imbued with the magical bloodlust of the shaman’s spell, had charged forwards and abandoned their machines, depriving the greenskins of artillery support. The troll had struck with unimaginable ferocity and pulped two black guard, hurling their broken bodies away like ragdolls, two more black guard retaliated with two massive strikes from their halberds, but the wounds had healed over almost instantly, then Kouran, captain of the black guard, had calmly stepped in, wielding his huge halberd -the crimson death- with speed, power and skill, the magical weapon first bit into the troll’s misshapen shoulder, then a second blow came up underneath its ribcage from the other side, biting deep and releasing a torrent of acidic blood, the halberd’s edge was ripped free again, Kouran pirouetted neatly, bringing his mighty weapon in a tremendous circular arc to add power to the blow, and with all his strength smashed the weapon into the troll’s thick neck, the considerable strength of the aging druchii, backed by the sorcerous power of the deadly halberd, drove the honed edge of the weapon through cable like muscles, arteries, the beasts spine, and finally, in an explosion of gore, out the other side of the monster’s neck. The headless body stayed upright for a moment as the thick skull tumbled to the ground, then it too crashed into the mud. Kouran pulled a white cloth from around his neck and used it to wipe clean the blade; he rolled the fabric into a ball and tossed it to the ground, within moments the cloth had dissolved.
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
Though the trolls and bulls had not fared so well, the squig hoppers, led by a night goblin big boss on an enormous, balloon shaped great cave squig, had smashed aside the corsairs, five were struck down by wickedly sharp blades or eaten alive by the bloated, orange beasts the goblins rode, the rest fled for their lives, the unit scattered and a good proportion dead or dying. The squigs continued on into the flanks of a unit of druchii spearmen, looking for more fresh meat. The dwarf warriors received the charge of the leadbelchers with grim determination; three of the valiant warriors were bludgeoned into the dirt by the massive cannons wielded by the ogres, in return the Thane and the captain of the unit dealt two horrific wounds back to one of the ogres, who somehow managed to stay standing, barely. The two sides continued to hack and batter away at each other grimly. Just a few yards away the enormous giant pulled back its club made from the skull of an enormous carnivore (possibly the head of a hydra or dragon) affixed to the bough of a tree and swung it with all its might at the orange haired daemon slayer at his feet, the blow connected with a sickening crunch and the heroic dwarf was hurled through the air to land in a crumpled heap a dozen yards away, for a moment it looked as if he was dead, but impossibly, the slayer heaved himself upright, pulling a sword-length tooth from his arm. Roaring a war cry of his ancestors, the slayer sprinted across the ground between him and his foe, the giant tried another swing, the speed of the giant (due to the spell of the WAAGH!) had surprised the experienced warrior first time round, but this time he was ready, the dwarf evaded the blow with deceptive agility and ducked behind the creature’s tree-sized legs, then swung his mighty axe into the cable-like tendons behind the giant’s knee, the rune carved axe bit deep, and hamstrung, the giant fell to the floor, bellowing in pain. Whilst giant and dwarf faced off, the suicidal charge of the gnoblars and their squig allies hit home, but neither of these types of creatures had the skill nor strength of a slayer, and paid for it dearly. What few attacks managed to score deep wounds healed over leaving the hydra no worse for wear, but in retaliation the titan scattered the squigs with its two barbed tails and then swallowed the wriggling little multi-hued treats whole, the unoccupied heads snapped at the gnoblars, and the beastmasters wrapped their terrible scourges around the tiny greenskins and skinned them alive, the magic having well and truly worn off, the gnoblars had enough sense to run for their lives, the squigs probably would have done the same if there had been any left of them. The war hydra pursued the gnoblars and scattered them to the seven winds, then set its sights on the war machine crew that had been compelled by the call of the WAAGH to abandon their weapon and charge out into the field, still fuelled by the frenzy of the incantation, these three goblins did not have the sense to run from the enormous beast thundering their way, instead they sprinted on to greet it, and would fight it head on, but only very, very briefly. Fuelled by the power of the WAAGH! The orcs that a minute before had been running for their lives from the corsairs turned and hurled themselves at their foes, but this time the orcs were given strength by their shaman, and their strength and newfound speed laid waste to the druchii slavers. The corsairs were killed to the last man, dumbfounded shock written o each of their cruel faces, the orcs carried their charge on straight into the flanks of the last unit of druchii spearmen. The Shaman’s well timed spell had tipped the balance of power on the right elven flank back towards the orcs, though not necessarily in their favour entirely, the war hydra still ran amok and the dwarves were still going strong, nevertheless, it was a better situation than moments before. On the left flank it was still anyone’s battle, if the cold ones reached the black orcs and the combat went favourably the greenskin army might very well collapse, but combat seldom goes in your favour when your opponent is as skilled and vicious as Grimgore Ironhide, but then again Sirion the vicious was an exceptionally skilled noble himself and he was not without his magical wards and weapons, only one thing was certain, and that was that the fight between these two warriors would be to the death.
The battle was truly joined now, the black guard charged into the opposite flank of the night goblin regiment Sirion and his knights were assaulting, the dragon slayer, confident that the more experienced and skilled daemon slayer could handle the giant on his own or fulfil his oath of death in battle with honour, turned to aid the dwarf warriors, brandishing his twin axes, he roared an oath and threw himself against the nearest ogre. During a moments respite the Thane glimpsed the shadowy bowmen break cover to engage a group of night goblins that had strayed too close, to his immense surprise only ten elves emerged, perhaps the rest were waiting to provide covering fire from in the woods, but no more black fletched bolts came. Then the Thane saw the slim crossbows slung across their backs and the magazine of bolts affixed to the weapons and realized what, or rather who, the Autarii were. Shades, the feared Druchii scouts with their repeater crossbows, their reputation was well deserved, ten times their number in men could not wreak so much havoc with bows or swords, the shades emerged silently from within the trees and glided across the ground to strike the goblins, they moved so swiftly and stealthily, even out in the open, that the greenskins did not realize their approach until the first sword stroke beheaded their champion, the shades danced among their foes, moving with precise grace and annihilating the vicious, cave dwelling pests with ease. The Thane also glimpsed the witch elves hurl themselves, screaming obscenities, at the ogre bulls that had been defeated by the cold ones. He saw the pincer of the black guard and the cold ones hit the largest unit of night goblins, which contained the greenskin shamans, and realised that the battle on the elven left flank would be decided upon this move, if the goblins broke, the cold ones could strike the black orcs from behind, and having seen the thunderous charge of the cold ones, Korgun realised that not even Grimgore’s best men could withstand. If the goblins broke and the black orcs fell, the heart of the greenskin army would have been cut out and the druchii and dwarves would have victory, but if the goblins managed to hold on, the knights would be mired in a melee with the impetus of their charge spent, and Grimgore would run amok, the battle would turn on this combat. Just then a lumbering leadbelcher swung its cannon at Korgun, and all thoughts of the wider battle dissolved as the Thane concentrated fully on besting this new foe.
The battle was truly joined now, the black guard charged into the opposite flank of the night goblin regiment Sirion and his knights were assaulting, the dragon slayer, confident that the more experienced and skilled daemon slayer could handle the giant on his own or fulfil his oath of death in battle with honour, turned to aid the dwarf warriors, brandishing his twin axes, he roared an oath and threw himself against the nearest ogre. During a moments respite the Thane glimpsed the shadowy bowmen break cover to engage a group of night goblins that had strayed too close, to his immense surprise only ten elves emerged, perhaps the rest were waiting to provide covering fire from in the woods, but no more black fletched bolts came. Then the Thane saw the slim crossbows slung across their backs and the magazine of bolts affixed to the weapons and realized what, or rather who, the Autarii were. Shades, the feared Druchii scouts with their repeater crossbows, their reputation was well deserved, ten times their number in men could not wreak so much havoc with bows or swords, the shades emerged silently from within the trees and glided across the ground to strike the goblins, they moved so swiftly and stealthily, even out in the open, that the greenskins did not realize their approach until the first sword stroke beheaded their champion, the shades danced among their foes, moving with precise grace and annihilating the vicious, cave dwelling pests with ease. The Thane also glimpsed the witch elves hurl themselves, screaming obscenities, at the ogre bulls that had been defeated by the cold ones. He saw the pincer of the black guard and the cold ones hit the largest unit of night goblins, which contained the greenskin shamans, and realised that the battle on the elven left flank would be decided upon this move, if the goblins broke, the cold ones could strike the black orcs from behind, and having seen the thunderous charge of the cold ones, Korgun realised that not even Grimgore’s best men could withstand. If the goblins broke and the black orcs fell, the heart of the greenskin army would have been cut out and the druchii and dwarves would have victory, but if the goblins managed to hold on, the knights would be mired in a melee with the impetus of their charge spent, and Grimgore would run amok, the battle would turn on this combat. Just then a lumbering leadbelcher swung its cannon at Korgun, and all thoughts of the wider battle dissolved as the Thane concentrated fully on besting this new foe.
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
The sorceresses began weaving their enchantments, Morathi attempted to sap the strength of the shamans by hurling bolts of raw power at the ironguts, which were dispelled by magical scrolls which crumbled into dust after their use, the sorceresses turned their attentions from wounding their enemies to hampering their combat effectiveness in a desperate bid to save those units the orcs and squig hoppers had charged with the WAAGH! ringing in their ears. The most powerful of Morathi’s adepts rose above the heads of her spearmen on a twisting pillar of tormented souls and dark energy, she attempted to summon a torrent of blades to strip the flesh from the bones of her attackers, but the spell was intercepted by the power of the shamans. Then she began chanting, in a language so foul that the very syllables caused pain to those in earshot, a dark aura surrounded her, she was gathering so much dark energy about her that slight tears could be seen in the air surrounding her body, gibbering, gobbling cries emanated from the breach into chaos, with all of the gathered energy, she hurled a single, terrifying spell at the squig hoppers to suffuse them with such agony that their minds would break and their souls fragment, the shamans raised their staffs and began a chant of their own, drawing power from the energies the sorceress had called upon themselves to bolster their strength, the air shimmered around the squig hoppers, the riders began to howl in pain, clawing at their flesh in their desperation to halt the blinding pain, but then the spell began to waver, and with a rumble of thunder the aura of agony that had engulfed the squigs and their riders disappeared. The breaches into the realm of chaos sealed with a blinding flash of light, the pillar of magic that had held the sorceress aloft vanished as she passed out and fell to the ground unconscious. The shamans dropped to their knees, exhausted by the struggle, the squig hoppers prepared to exact their revenge, but found that they could not lift their blades. Whilst the shamans had wrestled with the supreme sorceress the adept upon a cold one in Sirion’s unit had seized her chance and cast the spell of the transmutation of lead, turning all of the metal the squig hoppers bore to weighty lead. The change from fuelled by the power of the WAAGH to debilitating agony to their normal abilities to leaden weapons left the hoppers disorientated and confused, the change in sensations from wielding their weapons like willow switches to barely being able to lift them from their sides left the blows from the goblins weak and inaccurate, the spearmen seized their chance and both sides took heavy losses, the druchii commander of the unit, one of Sirion’s lieutenants, roared a challenge which the big boss astride his enormous squig was happy to meet, but when he swung his tremendous weapon he found that the blade passed through the air as if it was trailing through treacle, the druchii contemptuously dodged the blade and the lunge of the squig and delivered three swift strikes with his twin swords, the blades slipped around the goblin’s shield and through his armour, the creature fell from his mount, blood bubbling from his mouth and hit the floor, dead. The great cave squig regarded its dead master with a beady yellow eye, it turned to the druchii commander, and roared. Whilst the rest of the squig hoppers fought grimly on the beast tore and snapped at its foes with feral hatred and a stunning ferocity, the Druchii fought on. Behind the main battle the artillery of the elves and dwarves, deprived of their usual targets because the giant and the ogre bulls were in combat with friendlies, turned their attention to the Tyrant and his irongut bodyguard who had stumbled into their overlapping sights when chasing Morathi, the WAAGH had left them out in the open, with no cover, and they paid dearly for it. First an Irongut fell to the ground riddled with bolts from the reapers, a cannonball glanced off the shoulder of the Tyrant, but he seemed unharmed, then the thunderers-dwarf warriors with handguns- unleashed a volley, the standard bearer, the last remaining Irongut, fell with half a dozen bullets having punctured his skull and chest cavity, shredding vital organs and his brain (which really isn’t so vital for an ogre), leaving only the Tyrant, who contemptuously pulled free a reaper bolt and threw it to the ground. Across the battlefield the witch elves tore into the demoralised ogre bulls, vicious blades carved deep wounds into the ogres and spread paralytic agents and even more unpleasant poisons through the bloodstreams of the brutes, two of the three fell to the ground with their life flowing out of them into the dirt, incapable of such simple things as breathing as the poison took hold. The last fled for his life, the other spearmen unit grimly fought for their lives as a mass of orcs slammed into their left flank, an orc fell to stabbing spears and the repeated strikes of the hydra blade wielded by Sirion’s other lieutenant felled another, in return an orc stove in the head of a spearman and another inflicted a deep wound on the master, the two sides continued to batter away at each other. The hydra dispatched its three foes in two seconds, the first was crushed by the monster’s foot, the second had his head snipped neatly off by the fangs of one of the numerous hydra heads and then the body was split in two by the blades attatched to one of the hydra’s two tails as it swung its bulk around, the third was swallowed whole by the hydra, the bolt thrower they had manned might have been some match for the titanic beast, but they certainly weren’t, or rather hadn’t been. The shades slaughtered their foes with contemptuous ease, they scythed the front rank down like wheat, the goblins fled from their fury, scattering to the seven winds. The daemon slayer swung his mighty axe at the giant in great, shimmering arcs, inflicting deep wounds on his kneeling and hamstrung opponent, finally, a great sweep opened the giants belly like an insanely lolling mouth, as his guts spilled out the giant keeled over to his right, the unfortunate dragon slayer was smashed to the floor by the dead beast’s flailing arm, and the leadbelcher the slayer had been duelling had his leg broken by the falling beast’s head which also smashed into an unfortunate goblin who, as it was rather smaller than the ogre’s leg and the giant’s head, was simply squashed flat. The dwarves hacked the leadbelchers into pieces with the aid of the dragon slayer, the three ogres, two heavily wounded, never stood a chance. Then a resounding crash shook the battlefield, Korgun turned towards the sound, the cold ones had struck home. Sirion laughed maniacally, his magical blade cleaving bloody ruin through the ranks of the goblins, still more fell to lances, razor sharp fangs and the vicious claws of his fellow knights and their mounts. From the other side the black guard grimly hacked and slashed at the greenskins with their halberds, Kouran wielded the crimson death with vicious precision and power, leaving nothing but corpses in his wake. The cold one knights and the black guard ground their foe to a paste between them, the morale of the goblins shattered, but there was nowhere to run for most of them, with the shades behind, the black orcs barring their front and with druchii on either side most were slaughtered as they desperately sought an escape route, the merciless pincer having destroyed their enemies mercilessly. Somehow Skarsnik, night goblin warlord of the eight peaks and leader of the unit had disappeared in the confusion with his enormous pet squig gobbla, but the shamans were not gifted with the power to disappear practically, instead they placed their faith in the arcane power of the WAAGH, which tended to aid running towards, rather than away from the enemy. The chief orc shaman was not given the dignified (in comparison) death of a sword stroke, instead he was run down by Sirion’s colossal nauglir, which ripped and tore at the orc’s aged skin, shredding the beast with its massive claws and turning the powerful magic wielder into a lump of crudely butchered and pulverised meat, dribbling black blood. Sirion drove his knights further into the press and a little to the right until they thundered out the other side, and were confronted with the backsides of the oblivious black orcs, “Charge!” screamed Sirion, a black orc turned at the sound, the last thing it saw was the dreadlord’s face twisted into a daemonic snarl before it was hurled into black oblivion by the sword of ruin, screaming like one of the damned, Sirion angled his mount at the largest orc in sight, Grimgore.
With the strength of the orcs on the elven left flank shattered, most lay dead in the grass, but a few were still on their feet, most having the common sense to run for the hills, the group of night goblins who had been mauled by the crossbows of the shades so early in the battle charged the dragonslayer in a desperate bid to save the Tyrant, the last ogre on the field as the final bull disappeared from sight into the woods, fleeing for his life, the shades would probably hunt the beast down later. The night goblin archers, incapable of firing their shortbows after the chillwind spell froze their fingers and coated their weapons in a rime of frost, also charged forwards to aid the squig hoppers in their battle against the spearmen, with no archers, the crew of the bolt thrower consumed and the crew of the doom diver frantically trying to return to their machine as the grim black guard advanced upon them, there was no shooting from the greenskin army, their war machines deprived of operators by the WAAGH and anyone bearing a bow incapable of using it, because they were either dead, fleeing or fighting. The orcs that had engaged the spearmen unit on the right flank broke and ran after a vicious druchii counterattack, though they managed to outpace the dark elves for the moment. The dragonslayer whirled in with his axe raised high, the first blow caught the tyrant unawares and hacked into his side, the second was deflected by the haft of the thundermace, the huge magical weapon wielded by the ogre general, a third blow was aimed directly at the beast’s neck but the glowing necklace around the ogre’s throat flashed and the axe glanced from a protective ward inches from his throat, the fourth blow was caught on the head of the thundermace by the tyrant, the dragonslayer was just about to launch another blistering attack when the tiniest flicker of movement to his right caused him to turn, his axe describing a defensive figure of eight, and hack the head off a spear from a charging night goblin with his blade. His axe flashed this way and that, wildly deflecting blows so that not a single one pricked his skin, the slayer was just about to launch a furious counterattack when a tremendous blow clipped his shoulder and sent him flying. The Tyrant had steadied himself whilst the greenskins attacked, then swung his tremendous mace at the orange haired dwarf, the slayer ducked aside from a spear thrust just as the blow came down, so instead of his head exploding like a watermelon his left shoulder was shattered and his collarbone was fractured. Grunting, the dwarf picked himself up from the ground and rolled aside, stifling a scream as his shoulder impacted the grass, just before another tremendous strike hit the ground with a rumble like thunder and sent dirt flying everywhere, the concussive force was tremendous, but the dwarf stood his ground, the tyrant lurched in, swinging his enormous weapon, the slayer nimbly dodged each blow, waiting for the right moment to strike.
With the strength of the orcs on the elven left flank shattered, most lay dead in the grass, but a few were still on their feet, most having the common sense to run for the hills, the group of night goblins who had been mauled by the crossbows of the shades so early in the battle charged the dragonslayer in a desperate bid to save the Tyrant, the last ogre on the field as the final bull disappeared from sight into the woods, fleeing for his life, the shades would probably hunt the beast down later. The night goblin archers, incapable of firing their shortbows after the chillwind spell froze their fingers and coated their weapons in a rime of frost, also charged forwards to aid the squig hoppers in their battle against the spearmen, with no archers, the crew of the bolt thrower consumed and the crew of the doom diver frantically trying to return to their machine as the grim black guard advanced upon them, there was no shooting from the greenskin army, their war machines deprived of operators by the WAAGH and anyone bearing a bow incapable of using it, because they were either dead, fleeing or fighting. The orcs that had engaged the spearmen unit on the right flank broke and ran after a vicious druchii counterattack, though they managed to outpace the dark elves for the moment. The dragonslayer whirled in with his axe raised high, the first blow caught the tyrant unawares and hacked into his side, the second was deflected by the haft of the thundermace, the huge magical weapon wielded by the ogre general, a third blow was aimed directly at the beast’s neck but the glowing necklace around the ogre’s throat flashed and the axe glanced from a protective ward inches from his throat, the fourth blow was caught on the head of the thundermace by the tyrant, the dragonslayer was just about to launch another blistering attack when the tiniest flicker of movement to his right caused him to turn, his axe describing a defensive figure of eight, and hack the head off a spear from a charging night goblin with his blade. His axe flashed this way and that, wildly deflecting blows so that not a single one pricked his skin, the slayer was just about to launch a furious counterattack when a tremendous blow clipped his shoulder and sent him flying. The Tyrant had steadied himself whilst the greenskins attacked, then swung his tremendous mace at the orange haired dwarf, the slayer ducked aside from a spear thrust just as the blow came down, so instead of his head exploding like a watermelon his left shoulder was shattered and his collarbone was fractured. Grunting, the dwarf picked himself up from the ground and rolled aside, stifling a scream as his shoulder impacted the grass, just before another tremendous strike hit the ground with a rumble like thunder and sent dirt flying everywhere, the concussive force was tremendous, but the dwarf stood his ground, the tyrant lurched in, swinging his enormous weapon, the slayer nimbly dodged each blow, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
The cold one charge struck home with a crash of metal as first armour buckled, then bones shattered and through it all blood flew everywhere. Grimgore turned to face the dreadlord, Gitsnik, Grimgore’s magical axe, blurred, but Sirion and the sword of ruin were faster with the banner of the hag lending them speed, they came together in a frenzy of sword and axe sweeps so fast that the eye could not track them, each creature parrying and hacking, each trying to overpower their mighty opponent. Sirion drew first blood, his sword passed through Grimgore’s armour as if it wasn’t even there but the orc’s incredibly tough skin resisted the blows, even so the cut seemed to trouble Grimgore little and it wasn’t very deep, Grimgore launched himself into a ferocious counterattack, the first strike battered aside the sword of ruin, Sirion tried to re-establish his guard but Grimgore was too skilled and powerful, one blow glanced of the elf’s armour, the next inflicted a shallow cut on the dreadlord’s cheek, another cut deeply into his side, then the pendant of Khaleth emitted an ear piercing shriek and a glowing purple ward sprang up around Sirion, three further blows from Grimgore were deflected by the magic of the pendant. The two warriors proceeded to hack away at each other, testing the magical and physical defences of the other. The other knights had made a good account of themselves against Grimgore’s bodyguard, three of the brutes had been skewered by lances and another was being savaged by a cold one, pinned under the one tonne warbeast, the orc’s savage bellows turned to terrible screams of agony as the nauglir clawed and bit at him, after a dozen seconds the orc was dead. In return the orcs hefted massive cudgels and axes and swung wildly with their huge weapons, but what few blows connected glanced aside from the heavy armour born by the knights. Grimgore and Sirion eyed each other warily, their blows unable to pass the armour and magical wards of their opponent. Ironhide, for the first time since the duel had begun, looked up to see the course of the battle, there was not a single greenskin left on the field bar himself and his guard, whose numbers had been cut in half, the tyrant had bee set upon by the dwarfs and was being cut to pieces by his short foes. The witch elves and black guard had charged in to save the spearmen from the goblin archers and squig hoppers, the few that survived the deadly attentions of the druchii elite and fled were picked off by the shades. Grimgore took all of this in, and bellowed with rage, for the first time since Crom, the orc general had been defeated, and, just as it was when Grimgore had faced the conqueror, Archaon’s herald, he had not fallen, but his army had failed him. Grimgore and his elite extricated themselves from the druchii knights and said, in guttural druhiir, “There will be a reckoning”. Then, the black orcs slowly backed away, withdrawing from the field, the exhausted dark elves and dwarves cheered, the orcs were beaten.
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
Malekii wrote:O M G
that was awesome you should write more
thankyou very much, I will see what I can come up with in the future, I like to write so it depends on when my next warhammer game is, sadly I don't get to play as much as I would like.Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.
All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.