(Hello 'Burtx' - you'll have to tell me how to pronounce that when we next meet. Good to have you here.)
Part 4
Maybe so, because as one Bull fell on the Ogres’ left flank, the other two fled in panic. At that same moment on the other side of the field the Skinks let loose umpteen darts at the fleeing Leadbelchers to sting them further and ensure their flight from the field of battle!
With a cry of rage, the Hunter threw himself and his brace of faithful pets at the Kroxigors, slaying the champion with three vicious blows. As the Sabretusks dragged another Kroxigor down, the last surviving Lizard took to its heels and fled away from almost certain slaughter.
Elsewhere the Ogres unleashed more charges. One Butcher broke from the Maneaters to launch himself at the Chameleon Skinks to his left, though frustratingly his blade could not find purchase on the little dancing warriors!
Unable to restrain himself any longer, no matter his promise to his brother to keep the line, Bufbar led his Ironguts in an impetuous charge against the Saurus warriors ahead of him. And failed to reach them! More cautiously, several units of Leadbelchers, Maneaters and a pair of Butchers all manoeuvred in an effort to find some way to deal with the Razordons lurking dangerously in the rocks. When their subsequent magical and missile assault came, however, even though spells a plenty and bullets galore were let loose, only one lone handler was killed. Every Ogre by those rocks now knew they would be receiving another hail of viciously barbed spines, and none was particularly happy at the prospect.
The Scraplauncher now proved itself as unreliable as it had done on several previous occasions. The Rhinox, annoyed by something that a careless Gnoblar crewman did (I won’t go into anatomical details), turned and ran away from the battle. The crew now spent precious time simply trying to regain control of the irksome beast!
It was becoming clear to Lord Actyrix that he must commit his real warriors to the fight, and fast. Giving the command with the slightest motion of one finger, and utilising the power of his Blessed Totem, he caused his Temple Guard to launch themselves unnaturally fast at Agrobog and his own Ironguts, who were quite surprised by the unexpected onslaught.
But although the Slann Lord was happy to try such a bold charge himself, the rest of the Lizardmen simply shifted their positions hither and thither. Even the Cold One Riders could still find no opportunity to charge. If their mounts had not refused to act sensibly a little while before, they might have been able to commit to the battle. But the beasts were contrary creatures, and had proved less than helpful so far!
The Slann Lord found the act of entering combat, a deed he had not done for hundreds of years, more than a little distracting. As a consequence he fumbled his conjurations and failed miserably to bring about any sort of magical effect. His skirmishing skinks were not so unlucky, however, for they took down another Maneater, while the Skinks near the Hunter dispatched one of his pets as well as weakening him with their poison. The Stegadon tried once more to skewer the Giant but missed, whilst its ancient cousin released an impressive cloud of lethally tipped darts at more Ogres. Better yet, the Razordons flicked even more spines into the air, felling an Ogre and wounding a Butcher.
At last the Lizardmen’s missiles were beginning to inflict noticeable damage on the foe. Whether this came too late to swing the battle was yet to be seen, though it became clear that the hand to hand fighting was not to go easily the Lizards’ way, as the Skinks fighting the Butcher broke and fled from him (only to be cut down in pursuit) and in the centre of the field Agrobog cut a Scar Veteran to pieces in the challenge and as a consequence the Slann’s unit failed to break the Ogres. At least the Saurus themselves were not yet disheartened and they fought stubbornly on.
Suddenly reinforcements arrived, Bufbar’s Gorger appearing to hurtle towards the rear of the Jungle army. At the same moment the Ogres began to pick up the pace a little, with the Maneaters finally raising their weapons in anger and smashing into a body of blue Skinks and the Giant stumbling his way into the flank of the Templeguard regiment engaged with his master.
Bufbar threw himself and his last Irongut at the weakened regiment of Saurus, whilst on the left three Leadbelchers charged some skinks, and off to the far right the Hunter and his remaining Sabretusk leapt at the Skinks before them.
Starting to feel the joy of bloody battle surging through them, the Butchers began to throw some truly harmful magic around them, magically crunching the bones of umpteen enemies. A Cold One collapsed, as well as three Saurus warriors and even a Skink Priest. Best of all (for the Butcher’s future survival) they wove the spell Braingobbler into being, and thus sent the Razordons fleeing away, smashing into the impassable rocks behind them.
Whilst a Leadbelcher perished as his own weapon exploded in his hands, and a Maneater cursed at the inaccuracy of his brace of pistols, the gnoblars regained control of the Rhinox, turned it around once more and sent a third rain of death at the foe, bringing down a Cold One Rider and two Saurus warriors. The little goblins were really beginning to enjoy themselves.
As for the fighting, it was going the Ogres’ way. The Leadbelchers on the far left of the line sent the Skinks fleeing away from them after killing umpteen, whilst Bufbar, his rage boiling over, tore the Saurus champion to pieces and smattered all the warriors nearby with bright scarlet blood. Even though an Irongut fell, the Ogres were clearly doing better. In their stubborn manner, however, the cold-blooded Saurus fought on.
In the very centre of the field, Lord Actyrix once again felt his stubborn warriors’ resolve tested. The Slave Giant grabbed at one of the Saurus warriors, who in turn hacked off the Giant’s hand. The wound proved fatal to the already badly wounded Giant, who now fell forwards to crush and kill four Saurus warriors beneath his corpse. As every warrior in the fight struggled to maintain their footing with the crashing impact of the Giant’s fall, the tyrant Agrobog bloodily dispatched the Templeguard champion. The Tyrant was glad when the enemy refused to flee – like his gnoblar slaves on the Rhinox to the rear, he too as beginning to enjoy himself!
Worry began to cloud Lord Actyrix’s mind. It was not like him to miscast his spells, and the way in which the Ogres swarmed all around, their shouting and roaring almost deafening, was not helping him to regain his balance. Perhaps the great Slann’s uncertainty was contagious, because once again the Cold Ones proved troublesome and distracted, and it was all that the Oldblood and his warriors could do to shuffle forwards a little and maintain their ranks and files.
Luckily, the confusion was not shared by the Stegadon, which now launched itself into Maneaters with a roar loud enough to momentarily outdo all the Ogre’s cries together.
Not to be outdone by its kin, the Ancient Stegadon also galloped forwards, but the Ogre Bulls it aimed itself at felt such fear that they fled away, surprisingly nimble, leaving the giant creature stumbling around breathless with no foe to fight.
Upon the Lizardmen’s left flank, seeing the Cold One Riders’ uncertainty, the Saurus Warriors decided that they could no longer hope to back up their master in the centre of the field, and turned to face the Gorger threatening both them and the Cold One Riders in the rear.
The Slann’s magic was now truly fizzling out, for nothing could be done to harm the foe. The battle had become a trail of strength and fighting skill, and of that there was good and bad on both sides. The Hunter brushed the Skinks away as the Stegadon did the very same thing to the Maneaters. Neither could catch their fleeing foes, however. And while Bufbar found himself wounded and having to summon courage enough to fight rather than flee, his brother Agrobog now dispatched a third hero in a row, cutting a Scar Veteran in two. Hardly any Templeguard remained, barely enough to shield their master, but they felt their duty keenly and fought on.
Lord Actyrix was already preparing himself for the inevitable. Death, that which he had cheated for centuries, was close. He was wise enough to be under no illusions.
Final part to follow soon (and won't be a lengthy piece!)