Turn 7

Battle is joined, soldier's blood will flow
Battle is joined, scholar's ink will flow

Monte Castello
Mathi and his men approached the settlement of Monte Castello under the cover of night. Fortunately, the two moons did not shed their light on the open plains leading to the city, providing a darkness in which the would-be liberators could advance with a modicum of stealth.

The feldoberst was pleased to see a large hole in Monte Castello's outer wall. No doubt the greenskins had turned their ships' guns against the fortification, allowing the Waaagh! to enter the city unhindered. None of the primitive orcs or their goblin slaves had bothered to repair the wall, however, and Mathi was more than happy to use the entrance provided by his enemies.

Approaching the ruined section of the wall, the men of the Effort could see the light of a campfire coming from inside the walls. Cursing, Mathi gestured to his men to keep low and stay quiet. The city's liberation would be short-lived indeed, were the orcs to raise the alarm them now. No doubt they were placed here as sentries- apparently the greenskins weren't as stupid as the men had hoped.

Unwilling to risk his men, Mathi decided to scout the situation himself. Slowly he stalked up the slope leading to the ruined wall, dragging himself through the rain-soaked dirt. As he neared the top of the slope, he could see that the gap in the wall was wide enough for five men to fit through, and that there was sufficient rubble left to allow a crouching position, for which he was grateful. Hugging the side of a particularly large piece of debris, Mathi carefully took a glance inside.

Three orcs huddled around the fire, each one lazily chewing on a leg of meat- where they'd found their meal, Mathi'd rather not consider. Instead he motioned for two of his men to follow him up.

After a while the pair reached him- Kareef, one of their slaver allies, and Francesco, who had been with his company for years. The two men took up position beside their commander, careful to stay behind the remains of the ruined wall. At Mathi's unspoken command, they took the crossbows slung around their shoulders and aimed their weapons at the greenskins. The three soldiers took their time, making sure they each covered one of the orcs.

Mathi soundlessly mouthed the words "three, two, one", and then the three fired their bolts almost simultaneously. One of the orcs was struck in the eye, the bolt penetrating into its brain, killing the brute instantly as it was thrown back by the impact. The other two were both hit in the neck, preventing them from screaming long enough for Mathi and his men to dash inside, draw their weapons, and hack the orcs to lifeless pieces.

After making sure the area was clear, Mathi signaled the rest of his men to follow. The men- a mix of Arabyan slavers and Tilean dogs of war- followed their leader as fast as they could without breaking stealth. When all were inside, Mathi made two groups of six each, making sure both groups were composed of more Tileans than Arabyans. The slavers were his allies, yes, but he couldn't be sure they wouldn't sacrifice the mission for a few extra slaves, if the opportunity presented itself. He sent both groups up the nearby stairs, which led to the top of the walls, with instructions to clear the battlements of greenskins. The two groups went to perform their assigned task wordlessly, while Mathi and the remainder of his men waited near the campfire.

A half hour passed in tense silence, but finally the men returned, all twelve accounted for. They reported that no greenskins had been found on the walls- whatever Blacksquig was up to in Monte Castello, defense clearly wasn't on his mind. Mathi didn't like it. He had hoped to pick off a few small groups of greenskins on the walls before attacking the orcs, but apparently he'd have to fight all of them at once.

Drawing his sword, Mathi nodded to his men and moved into the streets- the liberation of Monte Castello had begun. Silent, at first, the few orcs Mathi's men encountered could do little but express confusion before being cut down. Their surprise did not last long, however- an alarm was sounded, and before long the streets of Monte Castello were filled with blood and shouting.

To his surprise, groups of Tileans dressed in commoner's garb and armed with hayforks and cleavers joined Mathi's attack- these were the inhabitants of Monte Castello, who had resisted the Waaagh!'s claim on the city and now fought to free it.

After an hour of fighting, the mercenaries, Tileans and Arabyans came together at the town square. Realizing that every corner of Monte Castello had been cleared of orcs, the men began to cheer. The city had been liberated.

Only Mathi did not celebrate. It had been too easy. Frustrated, he walked up to one of the commoners, grabbing him by the arm. 'Where is their leader,' he demanded in a hoarse voice, ignoring the terrified look in the commoner's eyes. No doubt the gore-covered feldoberst was an imposing sight to any civilian, let alone one who had just endured an orc occupation. 'Where's Kaptain Blacksquig?'

'... G-gone, signor,' the man stammered. 'The orc leader left Monte Castello days ago, sailing north. We thought you knew.'

With a snarl, Mathi released the man, looking at the northern skies. 'I'll find you yet, pirate,' he promised...

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Mingol Varr
The Morka Lisa's guns thundered, spitting cannonballs , grapeshot and the odd gnoblar at the city of Mingol Varr. Raoring in delight, the orc pirate Kaptain Blacksquig stood at the helm of his new ship. His enthusiasm was only slightly tempered by the aching pain in his right palm, the black spot marking him as the beast's target. He did not know what manner of magic the humans had used to sic a kraken on him, but for now it seemed wiser to go back to krumpin' stunties for a while- and funnier, too.

What little resistance the stunties had provided had now entirely ceased, the dwarven artillery emplacements silent after suffering a barrage not only from the Morka Lisa's guns, but also from the ballistae carried by the two ships following the Kaptain. These were not orcish ships, but ancient human vessels, their sails tattered and wooden hulls rotten. Their crews silently carried out the Kaptains orders, while bony hands clutched the oars. The Nehekharan city of Zandri had aligned itself with the greenskin Waaagh!, and, after an initial moment of confusion in which the orcs sank two other ships manned by the unquiet dead, the Kaptain gleefully accepted the aid of the undead captains.

Roaring with laughter, the orcs lowered their longboats, preparing to make landfall. The skeletal warriors of Zandri simply walked overboard, plunging into the warriors. Funny, most of the greenskins thought, but less funny when they walked ashore minutes later, rising from the water, khopesh ready. While the orcs were sitting ducks in the smaller boats, the undead had the advantage of cover until they reached the shore. Immediately, some of the greenskins jumped after the undead, trying to mimick their strategy- before remembering they could not actually swim.

The trip to shore was rather uneventful- despite two or three of the longboats being blasted apart by the Morka Lisa's gun crew settling some perceived slight, while two more longboats capsized as the bored greenskins began fighting over who got to hold the oars. Nonetheless, most of the boats made it to the shore, the greenskins pouring into Mingol Varr.

As the Kaptain rushed into the city, something dawned on him. After stopping to ponder the gnawing sensation for a moment, he suddenly realized that there actually weren't any dwarves in the city, at all. He looked around the hall he found himself in, several of his own crew muttering and bickering among themselves, as confused as he was. The warriors of Zandri, for their part, silently waited with an uncaring patience only the undead were capable of.

'Boss? Umm, boss?' One of the braver gnoblars began. 'Innit dere supposed to be stunties 'ere? Seems like a bit uv a waste ta boss wot yer doin' with dat aaaAAAGH!'

Tearing a chunk of gnoblar off his choppa with his teeth, Blacksquig chewed on the uppity but tasty underling for a moment, weighing his options. 'Zoggin' stunties, musta fled when dey saw us coming,' he concluded his thoughts. 'Roight den, pick up everyfing dat's not nailed down an' bring it to da Morka Lisa, while I'z figger out where da stunties went. An' none of you lot try an' keep any shinies fer yerself,' he added, taking another bite out of the gnoblar squirming on his blade, 'or I'z gunna have seconds!'

Then suddenly, when the greenskins and Nehekharan undead began to move, a loud warhorn echoed through the halls. With a shout of anger, the defenders of Mingol Varr sprang forward from hidden passages. The gnoblars fled immediately, while the orcs attempted to fight back but, due to their confusion, where steadily driven back to shore. Only the undead did not panic, reacting to this new threat with but a moment's delay to form up new ranks. And Kaptain Blacksquig, of course, simply roared at the dwarves, cutting three down with a single strike of his choppa while felling a fourth with his pistol.

Ultimately, however, dwarven hatred and the element of surprise were all the defenders needed to drive back the greenskins and the undead. Kaptain Blacksquig ordered the dwarven fort shelled by the Morka Lisa's guns and the ballistae of the undead, but for now the dwarves held the city.

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While the battle raged around Ekrund, some factions began to think of a future after the battle. Despite the threat of the greenskins, both the Dalazidrungak Drekaz and the Dragonback Expansion Effort had agreed to momentarily put aside their differences, and instead sit down with one another to discuss possibilities. These deals were far from friendly, for both factions had been given ample reason to mistrust each other. Nonetheless, the seeds of cooperation had been sown. Whether a bountiful harvest would grow from these barren lands, none could say.

The dwarves, meanwhile, struck bargains with their own kin as well. After much deliberation, a trade deal was forged between Ekrund and the eccentric dwarves of Zhufbar. While far away from the front, the Torrent Gate hold was rich and could offer a good price for Ekrund's products, as well as the latest in dwarven engineering. No doubt the somewhat traditionalist forces of the Dalazidrungak Drekaz would benefit greatly from the new-fangled inventions of Zhufbar, even if they placed little trust in them for now.

The Dragonback Expansion Effort struck a similar deal with the city of Cophers, promising to sell the lion's share of what they mined and produced to the Arabyan city. After establishing ties with Lashiek earlier, strengthening ties with Cophers clearly signalled a strong alliance between the Effort and Araby. This alliance grew more and more pronounced as an increasing number of Arabyan corsairs, slavers and now even household janissaries replaced casualties among the dogs of war.

Whispered rumours among both the dwarves and the humans spoke of the possiblity of prince Mario da Gama of Myrmidens joining the negotiations between the two factions. If true, it would be most interesting to see what mark the fiercely independent prince would leave on the negotiations, and whether he would cement or break the accord...

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Battle of First Delve
Kaspar van Gelding ventured deeper into Ekrund at the head of his army, flanked by lady Anya and the mercenary general Atlas. Their armies marched in perfect unison, despite being made up of soldiers with a wide variety of backgrounds- Lashiek slavers, Tilean dogs of war, Marienburg household guards, Arabyan corsairs and Janissaries of Cophers. Nonetheless, all these men and women were soldiers, and they followed their commanders gladly- whether out of loyalty or for promised of riches made little difference.

The dwarven halls were wide enough for the three armies to march beside each other, flanked by the ancient and defaced statues of dwarven warriors, scholars and politicians. Despite the ruin visited upon these halls by goblins and the passage of time, it was evident that these halls were built to impress foreign visitors. Now, four thousand years after being chiseled from the walls, those visitors had finally come, but the statues inspired dread rather than awe.

The columns marched in silence, until they finally arrived at what the ancient maps indicated was the First Delve. Legend had it that these deep and dark mines were rich in iron, gold, copper and, above all, coal, upon which the economy of Ekrund had been built. Now, however, the mines were infested with greenskins, and the entrance blocked- however poorly- by crude goblinoid barricades and traps placed by the cruel Skirgit Crowbait. Reports indicated that the pale goblin himself had left the First Delve, but in his place both the Defless Shaman Borag and Sneaky Nabba awaited the human armies.

The armies of Marienburg, Tilea and Araby did not have to wait long before the first goblins announced themselves. Crazed beings, thick blue veins spread across their heads, charged at them with a wild abandon one did not expect from goblins- at least not unless they outnumbered their opponent six to one. Which was not the case here. In fact, the number of greenskins was rather limited, and they ran at the humans in small groups rather than coordinated waves. But the most un-goblinoid aspect of this attack was that the goblins seemed to be entirely fearless. Indeed, their eyes seemed to lack any emotion whatsoever.

Borag allowed himself a mischievous grin as the shroom-infested goblins ran to their doom. It was good that he had found the formula created by the late Gobzag Grotwrangler, with which he had ensured the loyalty of his underlings. With the hypnotizing properties of the Blueblot shroom, getting the remaining Dragonback goblins to do as they were told was child's play. Already the mercenaries had begun giving away their firing positions by mowing down the Blueblot slaves.

After the strange, blue-veined goblins had been laid low, Kaspar ordered his men forward, as did lady Anya and Atlas. Shouting their warcries the men surged forward, only to walk into trap after trap. Bearclaws, spore mines, buried mounds of squigs lying in wait and old-fashioned spike pits- what had seemed clear ground moments before had become a killing ground.

Frustrated, Kaspar began to weave Chamon, the golden wind, hoping to imbue the iron armour of his soldiers with the strength of dwarf-forged steel. Silently he mouthed the words of power behind his golden mask, while his hands traced the sigils of the Order he had abandoned. The golden wind began to seep into the metal worn by his soldiers- and then dissipated, accompanied by the spectral laughter of the Defless shaman. Kaspar cursed loudly- between the lack of magical winds so far from the polar gates and the meddling countermagicks of the goblin shaman, he was hard-pressed to realize even the simplest of his Order's cantrips!

As the soldiers neared the barricades, hordes of goblins jumped up from behind the debris which formed the greenskin's defenses. Some of the greenskins fired their shortbows, while others jabbed at the soldiers with spears and swords. For their part the human soldiers held their ground bravely, but the goblins knowledge of the tunnels and its defenses prevented them from overtaking the barricades.

Then, just as the bulk of the human soldiers had begun to press forward, countless goblins sprang from holes and crevices in the walls, accompanied by their enraged squigs. These newcomers must've been lying in ambush, waiting for the humans to move too far forward. Now the soldiers found themselves flanked. Unable to hold out against three sides, Kaspar could do nothing but sound the retreat.

Chased by the mocking shouts of the goblins, the men of the Effort were forced back to Barak Urbar. And meanwhile, in the First Delve, the goblins cheered and celebrated their victory, under the leering Face of Gork...

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Battle of Barak Ongazi
Rakam Ironhammer and Luthor stood beside each other, at the head of their combined throngs, looking out over the desert lands east of the Dragonback mountains. In the distance a great cloud of dust heralded the coming of the Waaagh!, a horde of greenskins supposedly led by warlord Dularg himself. The pair had been charged with holding Barak Ongazi, the first gate. It seemed their ability to do so was about to be tested.

Normally the dwarves would have used the benefit provided by the gate- when closed, the solid stone gate could hold the orcs back for hours while the dwarves whittled down their numbers from the parapets and murder holes, with crossbow, cannon and burning oil. Sadly, the gate was in disrepair- the damage it had sustained during the fall of Ekrund four thousand years ago was too great to rely on its mechanisms to hold the Waaagh! at bay.

Nonetheless, the dwarves felt no fear, only pride. For this is where the defenses of Ekrund faltered, so long ago- and this is where the deaths of its defenders would be avenged. The Dawi had come home, and this time, the line would hold.

The greenskins drew closer now, close enough to discern their banners and totems. The banner of Dularg Ironnose Spinesnappa was prominently displayed by much of the horde, as was that of Skirgit Crowbait, the pale goblin who had lorded over the First Delve for so long.

Rakam raised his fist, and in respone the cannons roared upon the parapets. Inscribed with runes of vengeance, the cannonballs smashed into the greenskins, tearing bloody streaks through their ranks. Yet there were too many to fall to cannonfire alone. Luthor, too, raised a fist, and in respone the crossbows of the Dawi sang, putting down many more of the orcs.

The dwarves could manage two more volleys before the orcs reached their ranks, and the fighting began. Among the orcish hordes and swarms of goblins, skeletal warriors joined the fray, hacking the the dwarven shield wall with their khopesh and spear. The arrival of these terrifying new enemies startled the dwarves somewhat, but they held the line, regardless.

Just as the impetuous of wave after wave of orc began to take its toll on the stalwart defenders, slowly driving them back by sheer brute force, the ranks of the dwarves opened up to make way for the Irondrakes. Spouts of flame arced over the greenskin hordes and their undead allies, bathing them in liquid fire. Even the mindless aggression of the orcs gave way to the searing pain these dwarves inflicted with their Zhufbar-sent weaponry.

As the front lines of the orcs laid smoldering on the desert ground, the Dragonback goblins made their presence known. Enslaved or willingly recruited into the Waaagh!, these cruel yet cowardly creatures did not fight themselves- instead they released a pack of squigs, forcing the dwarves to bring their shield wall back up. Even with the dwarves taking up defensive positions, many brave dwarves who shielded those behind them were torn down by the avalanche of squigs, suffering a gruesome death between the voracious beasts' vicious teeth.

Again the dwarves retaliated, this time by tossing blasting charges amid the mass of squigs. The explosives, provided by the miner's guilds, turned the ignorant squigs to mulch and brought one final mercy on the beasts' victims. When the dust settled, the dwarves were already running forward again, over the remains of squig, orc, undead and fellow dwarf.

For hours, the battle hung in the balance. The dwarves did not give in, yet Dularg's hordes seemed endless. In the end, the throngs of Rakam Ironhammer and Luthor began to falter against the sheer numbers of the orcs and their allies.

Then a powerful horn rang out over the fields, and as one, the dwarves sidestepped, creating an opening in their center. Behind that opening, on the steps of Barak Ongazi, stood clan Alpsbane. The dour warriors of Kraka Drak looked upon their enemies, fresh and full of hate, and determined to exact vengeance on the hordes for the deaths of Barak Ongazi's defenders. As one the mad berserkers surged forward, their mad battlelust forming a stark contrast against the discipline of Rakam and Luthor's throngs, but no less effective.

Finally the orcs were broken, driven back by the indomitable resolve of the dwarves and the bloodlust of clan Alpsbane. The dwarves were quick to pursue, driving them back to the Bitterstone mines. While Rakam and Luthor returned to Barak Ongazi, adamant in their duty to safeguard the First Gate, Luca Alpsbane's thirst for battle was not yet sated, and her vengeance for the death of Brask Alpsbane yet unfulfilled. Strengthened by the recent arrival of dwarves from the north, the Dawi of Kraka Drak threw themselves at the Bitterstone mines, driving the goblins positioned there out of the mines. A bloody toll had been reaped among the greenskins, and the north was secure.

Both Dularg and Skirgit are unaccounted for. It is unknown whether they were slain, driven back to the safety of the southern hordes, or simply hiding, waiting, in the shadows of Barak Ongazi...