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The Campaign Archive => Nemesis Crown Board => Topic started by: wissenlander on July 27, 2007, 01:47:32 PM
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The terrain was rugged, but bare for many miles around. This had been the work done many years before by woodsmen and soldiers, doing their best to keep the road safe and secure. The only conceivable way to do this was to have a large ‘kill zone’ available for passing caravans. Off in the distance to the east began the deep entangled forest. A short distance to the west was a small river, known as the Kaltfluss for it’s abnormally cold water. On the opposite edge of the river bank the trees were sparse; they too seemed to be afraid of getting too close to the icy cold waters of the river.
Ortolf von Brennenburg sat atop his horse and patted her gently. All around him was madness as runners received there orders and rode off in the direction of their commanders. Meanwhile, gun crews readied their guns just in case they were needed. Sitting atop a hill was the command staff of the Talabec region, come together briefly for a quick council of war.
“We are holding well, sir,” stated Simon "Donnerhertz" Rodimutz. “My force has also lost some steam. We can see the giant effigy atop Morr’s Gate, less than leagues away from where our lines have been drawn but the orcs are making one hell of a stand.”
Ortolf said nothing. He pulled out his spyglass and looked off into the distance to see his battleline holding. The attack had lost momentum and the sudden route of the orcs turned into a bitter fight along several miles. The launching of the attack had caught the greenskins by surprise, but only briefly. If not for those Chaos Dwarf engineers that were scouting the area they would have overrun the orcs and destroyed that Port and that massive obscene effigy.
Von Brennenburg closed the spyglass with a harsh smack and stowed it away in a side pouch. Even without the visual aid he could still see the harbor known as ‘Port Maw’ nestled into a crook of the Kaltfluss only a league away. He muttered something quit yet bitterly, but all present knew it was his frustration that he had not yet received support from the gunboats on the river. Looking off to the right slightly he could make out above the treeline the massive effigy that Rodimutz had spoken of. These two points would be destroyed and the back of the orc invasion would be broken in this area.
“Donnerhertz,” Ortolf began. “We have just received reinforcements from one Marshal Fragazzi. Take his men and renew the assault on your sector of the field. We must take down that statue. If we can bring it down it will go a long way in defeating this menace.”
Donnerhertz smiled broadly, saluted and spurred his charger in the direction of his forces.
Ortolf pulled the reigns of his horse to the right and he quickly whipped around to face three men all atop horses themselves. These men commanded the reserve battalions and without support from the river all would be lost soon as the weight of the orcish attack would overwhelm the men of the Empire.
“Gentlemen,” Ortolf started as he steadied his horse. “The orcs are about to launch their fleet from that damned harbor. If we cannot break through their lines and reach it, they will catch us exposed, pouring horrendous fire into our flanks,” the grizzled veteran paused for a moment to clear his throat. “I ask that you three renew the attack so we may regain the advantage.”
The three men nodded warily, understanding that this to be the climax of the campaign.
“Wolfgang, you take your Black Company and act as the spearhead. Concentrate your efforts and punch a hole through their line. You have done a fine job thus far in this campaign and I have every confidence in you to achieve this task.
“Jodas, take your men of Gorim and exploit any gaps that may be presented to you. You have the largest single force that I have and I hope that your weight of numbers will be too much for those greenskins to handle.
“Rufas, your men have had some trouble of keeping themselves from fighting one another, so I trust that they will focus their energy upon the enemy in this fight. Keep a safe distance yourself, however. You are one of my ablest wizards and we shall need you in other areas before this fight is through.”
The men nodded and as they gave their farewells to their commander, a sly smile cracked the face of the old veteran.
“Belay that last order men,” Ortolf smiled broader. “Our help has arrived.”
The men turned hastily to see several dots upon the river. Several gunboats were heading with all haste up river, fighting the swift current as they hurried to enter the fray.
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Nice story there Wissenlander. Good luck to all the Talabec Border players this week, give 'em hell boys.
Oh.. and my army needs to get back to Talabheim after this campaign is over, so try and keep a road open :wink:
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Will do Clausewitz. :wink:
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Rolf Gruberson stood at the base of the bowsprit of his command ship, the Dragon’s Fire. His largely plumed hat and audacious red uniform befitted a pirate more than a newly commissioned Commodore of the Imperial Navy. He looked oddly out of place from the rest of his crew who wore muted and somber old uniforms.
He held tight to riggings about him as the waters tossed his vessel to and fro. He looked up to see the two masts hanging tightly to the bright white sails, a full wind blowing steadily. It always reminded him of his uncle, a rather fat man, after eating at the Great Solstice Feast in Nordland. The current was strong and was fighting against his vessel but the strong wind at his back urged the schooner forward.
Off in the distance could be seen Port Maw, the harbor of the greenskins and Chaos Dwarfs upon the River Kaltfluss. Multiple barges were loosing their sails and began to lumber down the river towards them. Gruberson giggled slightly; he loved combat and the exhilaration more than any normal man should. The Commodore’s playful expression turned quickly to a stone cold gaze of determination and he began to bark orders.
“Herr Untergraf,” belted Gruberson towards a man in the crow’s nest. “What do you see?”
“Six barges, sir, varying size” replied the man, cupping his mouth so that the words would carry further. “They’re large hulks, look to be more gun platforms then sailing vessels.”
“Send the signal to the fleet, two lines!” Gruberson marched off as the call echoed about the ship to hoist the signal flags.
To the port side of the Dragon’s Fire came a larger vessel, the largest of the small fleet, the corvette Sigmar’s Strength, commanded by Captain Klaus Egranz. Trailing behind came the warsloops Griffon, Vindicator and Zundap to finish off the first line.
Gruberson moved hurriedly to his command deck, soon followed by his first mate Adolphus Richter. The Commodore checked behind him to see the only other schooner in his fleet, the Indignation, which did a good job at hiding the smaller warsloops, Oberverst, Maria and Pride of the Reik.
Again he smiled. He had waited impatiently for command of his own fleet and now, for the first time he would engage in combat at the helm of a flagship…
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If anyone else has some stories they would like to add to this that would be awesome. You could bring it from your perspective in the fight, whatever that may be. The guys at da Warpath are going to chime in with 'counter fluff.'
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Into the Twilight - The Final Chapters of the Crown
1. Meeting of Da Green Tide
The roaring fire illuminated in the massive cave, filling the cavern with acrid smoke that would have choked a normal man. The ancient wood from the Great Forest seemed to scream as the flames greedily licked at the sturdy bark and softer inner core. None in the cave were concerned with the constant popping and hissing coming from the fire: they were more important issues at hand.
The flickering light reflected the stress and wear of war. Up to this point, the war had not gone as planned: Da Migrashun, Da Cruzade and Da Lootaz had all met with strong resistance from the other races seeking the shiney hat. Stunties, umies and skinnies had managed to contain the greenskin invasion. Even nature had thwarted the greenskins best laid plans to turn the forest into a cinder!
Not all was doom and gloom, however. Gork’s Maw and Port Maw had been constructed and fortified, and Da Big Zoggin Effigy stood high above the trees of the Great Forest as a monument to greenskin and Chaos Dwarf resourcefulness, perseverance and engineering. The greenskins, inspired by their effigy, and Chaos Dwarves, with their massive barrage of rockets, had begun to turn the tide of battle in the last week, and the warlords were in better spirits.
Standing over the assembly was a silent, watchful Goomb. His brow was furrowed as he was lost in thought. Grimgor was on the move and not happy with the rank and file, but even more disturbing was the latest intelligence from the forward scouts. The cursed Fellowship of Light consisting of the stunties, skinnies in the wood and umies were gathering near the Tower of Moonrise. The road and river would soon be choked with enemy scum, and they had one purpose: destroy the greenskins!
Clearing his throat suddenly, he took a deep breath and thundered: “All right, ya zoggin gits! Shod up! All ov ya! Shod up ova there! Iz ben hearin dat dem zogging stunties an umies iz comin up da road an river fer uz. Dey iz sittin at da Tower right now, and soon dey’ll be marhin nort. So, itz up ta uz ta smash em before dey git ere! Git yer boyz an head south ta krump dem. WAAAGH!”
The greenskin warlords howled “WAAAGH” with rage and approval as they moved out of the cavern. With a grunt of satisfaction, Goomb turned to his Aid Warboss BroadPaunch and smirked. With this massive battle approaching, neither boss would be sitting behind in the stronghold.
“Better git yer boyz, BroadPaunch. Dis iz gonna be fun!”
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2. Special Delivery
Goomb’s long strides took him quickly from the cave deep in Gork’s Maw through ramshackle greenskin camp to the edge of the sturdy fortifications and earthworks. Gazing to the east, Goomb cracked a toothy grin as a fresh set of Ruff Riders sprinted up to the main gate. Boss Mox led the pack dressed in khaki robes, blood red leg wraps and leather armor. He held his stikka aloft, and it was adorned with several skulls and a relatively new dark skinned head in a bright turban. Mox skidded to a halt in front of the warlord and stuck his spear into the ground with a dead thud.
“Oi, Lord Goomb!” Mox squeaked. “Mox an ‘is Ruff Riders iz finally ere. Weez ready fer da fight! Oi, dis cursed land iz zoggin cold!”
“Wot took so zoggin long fer youz ta git ere, ya zoggin git?” roared Goomb.
“Eh, et waz da zoggin dark skinnies. Dey didn’t wantz da speshal weapons on board; made em nervous. Weez told em ta give dem weapons some fungus beer an load em up. Zoggin gits didn’t believe uz, but weez got em loaded an dey should be ere soon,” rambled Mox. “Once wez waz loaded, wez set sail. Dat iz wend a sea turned rolly an da sky turned dark. Gork mussive been mad at uz. Anyway, weez got to da umies shores an da dark skinnies had tag it uz upstream. Lots of ships up dat zoggin river.”
Goomb grunted and nodded. The Talabec and Reik Rivers were teaming with ships from all of the races. The corsairs were good pilots, but they seemed to lack a certain sense of urgency when Goomb sent them to the Southern Badlands for more troops and his “speshal weapons.” Nevertheless, the corsairs would be paid at Port Maw, and it was time to unleash the full power of Da Dust Devils upon his enemies.
“Mox,” Goomb ordered, “Lissen up! Iz got a job fer you an deez ere boyz!”
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Oh, very good.
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Commander Dolohev Stonheim III balanced upon the fallen timber and surveyed the scene before him with his golden spyglass. Smoke, fire and roving bands of greenskins moved about a blasted plain on the banks of the tortured river. The trees were hacked to pieces for miles around and the soil was black with charcoal and ashes. Hulking barges were moored in the crude harbor and debris and oil covered the once fair waters. The land was utterly savaged.
For four days, his army had trodden through the forest en route to the greenskin’s encampment but the reality of his situation now froze his blood. The fortifications were massive; an entire mountainside was corrupted with the vile presence of the greenskins. Watchtowers, crude scaffolding and huge piles of rubbish, decaying corpses and the grotesque shapes of thousands of uprooted trees littered the landscape. Atop the mountain were various obscene idols erected by the filth. Dolohev swore to Sigmar that he would rip them down with his very hands if Sigmar would only grant him the strength of his Unberogen ancestors.
Dolohev jumped from the fallen timber and walked the short distance into the living forest, where his army was encamped. Brothers Thabius, Lucas and Myron were standing at the ready, three statues illuminated by the morning sunrise.
“Sigmar grants us his courage and strength my lord, when we would wish to turn away”. Thabius broke the silence with his rich baritone, comforting Dolohev as it had for many years. Throughout his entire life, Dolohev had always sought the counsel of this great man of Sigmar and through the bloody weeks of this Nemesis War, Thabius had led and rallied the army against unspeakable evil, time and again.
“Yes Brother”, Dolohev replied, “but how are we to know Sigmar’s will? The enemy is great and their fortifications are much stronger than I had ever imagined. We are far from home and I feel that I have already ordered the army beyond their limits; beyond what my family has ever asked of them. How can I order these men to give everything - here on this ground - and risk never again seeing the green fields of Reikland?”
Dolohev glaced away from the Brothers, overcome with conflicting emotions about the course of this war and the role that his men had yet to play. By all accounts, the war was still raging throughout the Great Forest with no clear victor. There was no news of the damned crown and the Brothers had informed him that there was conflict even in the very heart of The Emperor himself about whether the crown was a blessing or a curse.
“To Morr with the damned thing!”, Dolohev spat as he turned back to the Brothers.
“Brothers, pray for Sigmar’s mercy and ready the men. This will be our final assault. We cannot control this crown, but we will be loyal to our Emperor and our Empire – to death if need be. Ready the artillery and prepare all of the men for battle. Order my bodyguard to polish their armor and prepare to take the field. I will be leading them from the front as my sword has yet to drink blood in this campaign. We will unleash vengeance upon the enemy and they will know our fury.”
As the Brothers turned to execute the order, Captain Bottomboot of the Halfling Shortbows and four of his company rushed into the clearing with a battered and exhausted soldier. The man was dirty and bleeding from a wound on his right shoulder but managed a toothless smile upon seeing Dolohev and his retinue.
“Sir, Sigmar be praised…I am a herald of Commander Rodimutz and I have been searching for you for days! I have been chased up and down this forest by goblins and have barely escaped with my life! I bring you news – our forces are mustering near the Tower of Moonrise and are preparing for the assault on the greenskins from the Sothwest. Commander Rodimutz hasn’t heard from you for days and feared that your army was lost. He sent me personally to see if you were alive or dead and has prayed to Sigmar that you would be able to assist in the assault”.
Dolohev burned with excitement as his spirits were lifted on Griffon’s wings. He spun around and caught a hint of a grin on Thabius’s face.
“Of you of little faith…”, Thabius scolded as he smiled broadly and turned, his voice beginning the familiar hymn of “Sigmar Hammer of Mine Foe” with enough thunder to wake a sleeping army.
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Kaptain Blacksquig adjusted the range of his spyglass with a gentle twist. The Dwarven fleet jumped into view, strung out in a long line across the treacherous waters of the swiftly flowing River Kaltfluss. He could easily make out the giant shape of an Ironclad and several Monitors moving upriver at full steam, great clouds of smoke trailing behind them. Last evenings previous storms had faded just after dawn, the winds diminished now to a strong breeze that carried the telltale stench of coal boilers across the deck of the Blacksquig. The Orcs were sitting idel in the cold waters, waiting to catch the wind if it shifted. The Kaltfluss estuary here was perhaps three miles wide, with sweeping bends and forest covered islands that could hide enemies from view. The Orc naval base, Port Maw, was located further upriver, and the Kaptain was keenly aware that his fleet was the first line of defense against any river borne attacks.
Pausing for a moment to empty his stomach of its contents over the side of the forecastle , Blacksquig sucked in great gulping breaths of air while steadying his legs. He decided he shouldnt have had that final helping of Elvenstew. He knew better than to eat something his sailors used daily in lubricating the cannon greives! ! But his guests last night, Warboss BroadPaunch of Da Irongnashaz clan and his Big Un's, had insisted on a grand feast and an all night bout of drinking until the wee hours. But the Boss's orderz were made clear as well...
“All right, ya zoggin gits! Shod up! All ov ya! Iz ben hearin dat dem zogging stunties and 'umies iz comin up da road an river fer uz. Dey iz sittin at da Tower right now, and soon dey’ll be marhin nort. So, itz up ta uz ta smash em before dey git ere! Git yer boyz an head south ta krump dem. Make sure der zoggin ships dont make it to da Port!" So the Blacksquig had set sail at dawn, floating downriver to intercept the Dwarven vanguard.
"Sumfink up Boss?" queried One Eyed Badtoof, one of his mates, who to the constant aggravation of Blacksquig, had found his sealegs as soon as the galleon took to the waters. So much so that Blacksquig spun round and delivered an iron-shod headbutt that left Skrunch sliding down the bulkhead in a semi coma. Adjusting his great black Kaptain's hat to the correct angel, jaunty was the word he liked to use, Blacksquig turned to the assembled crew.
"Not at all Badtoof, not at all. Listen up gitz! We gotz kompany. Bandits. Stunties. Der, der, der, and der. Coming in from da sun and wif da wind. Weze got orderz to stop em, and stop em ded! So dat is wot weze is gonna do. Yose uuver Kaptains, I wantz yose to spread out and wait fer da wind, trim yer sails and use yer oarz to hold here. I wantz dem Stunties to 'ave to come to us. Den weze can open up wif da kannons and send dem Stunties to sleep wif der fishes. Weze is Orcs, aint we? And we dont lose. Not to da Stunties! Not ever! Waaaaaaaaaaagh!"
A sea of upraised arms were lifted in unison, weapons thrust high and animalistic yells and bellows lifted in fellwoship.
"Def to da Stunties. Curse der ironboats! Burn der beards! Boil der fatz! Let da iron of der ships fill der pants and drag em down into da depths! Waaaaaaaaagh!"
Satisfied that his troops were motivated, Blacksquig felt a tug at his greatcoat. Looking down he saw his kabingrot Slapnutz pulling on the hem and pointing starboard. Glancing in that direction, Blacksquig saw one of the Orc sloops, Gork's Pride, leaving the armada and moving swiftly towards the Dwarven ships.
"A pox on you Ugbaz!", shouted Blacksquig. "Yose aint followin da plan again!"
Kaptain Ugbaz, pilot of the Gork's Pride, had a nasty reputation for being foolhardy and reckless. Mountains of teef were needed every time the fleet went to battle, mostly to repair Gork's Pride. Ugbaz was always taking chances with his refitted Bretonnian Buccaneer, always the first to reach the enemy and always getting the ship blasted to bitz. Metal patches adorned the craft, and it sported a large ironshod ram fashioned in the likeness of a leering Orc face. And his crew was just as reckless and they most certainly enjoyed some sort of bleesing from Gork, as the ship always made it through the scarp, though rarely in one piece. Ugbaz could be seen grinning manically back at Blacksquig, all sanity gone from his face as his ship sped downstream. All on deck of Grok's Pride were reading kannon and boarding planks, intent on hitting the Stunties head-on. The other ships of the fleet cheered Gork's Pride while its crew jeered back at them!
Several Monitors took up point in front of the Ironclad, moving to intercept the crazed Orc craft. Turrets ground into firing postions and deckguns were unfurled from their leather sheaths. Soon enough, the morning air was split by the roar of cannon fire. Shots hit the water in fron of Gork's Pride as she tacked back and forth to avoid the incoming shots. A massive cannonball hit the prow of the ship, denting the ram and breaking off one of its ears. Several more hit the ram and bounced off, sending balls rolling across the deck. Many Orcs were bowled over as the balls rolled through their ranks, some losing legs, some other more needed appendages. A direct hit smashed into the main mast and splintered wood onto the poopdeck, causing several Goblins to scatter for cover. A sickening groan of wood accompanied the hit, and the mast was starting to sway as the weigh of sails started to pull it down. Orcs scrambled forwards to try and brace the mast with wooden beams, barrels and even Goblins!
" Fire da zoggin Bombard!!!!!", barked Ugbaz, ducking for cover behind the wheel as another cannonball hit the water to port and exploded. "Fire da zoggin fing now!" The near miss forced the ship to starboard and it almost rolled over before righting itself. Even as it did, the Orc ship was bracketed by more cannon fire, with shots hitting the water to both sides and throwing chilled water onto the decks. Small fires strated as tapers and braizers spilled due to the violent rocking of the ship.
Then a vast explosion erupted from the forecastle of Gork's Pride as the looted Imperial bombard fired towards the stunty vessels. The gigantic ball travelled in a sharp arc, falling from the sky and striking the lead Monitor below the waterline. The ensuing explosion blocked out sight of the ship as gouts of water were blasted high into the air following the direct hit. The shearing sound of metal was soon accompanied by groaning sounds as bulkheads collapsed and the Dwarf ship took on water through the gaping whole below her waterline. Secondary explosions erupted from here portholes as powder stores blew and the ship listed to port, rapidly sinking into the Kaltfluss.
Cheers went up from Gork's Pride as the Orc weapon had found its mark. The crew moved with all speed to roll the broadside kannons back into position before the stunties ships got too close.
Another bracket of cannon fire hit the midships at that point, pinwheeling Orcs and Goblins high into the air and destroying several of the kannons. With a final groan of protest, the main mast finally collasped under another hit and it pitched downwards onto the main deck. Orcs scrambled to get out of the way as two tons of wood and sail smashed onto the wooden deck. Many greenskins could not get out of the way and were pulped, while others were forced overboard to save themselves. Gork's Pride pitched quickly to port and started to spin out of control in the swift current, even as she began to take on water through a hole in the bottom of the ship. A large, pointed peice of the mast had speared through the maindeck and peirced the bottom of the ship. The doomed vessel still swept downstream, right towards the guns of the Dwarf fleet!
From under a pile of sails, Kaptain Uzbag extracated himself from the heavy cloth and looked about. His sails were gone, many of his crew were dead or dying and he was taking on water. Fires were burning all across the ship, billowing smoke drifting back into his blackened face. The acrid smoke casued his eyes to water and he angrily swiped the water from his face with the back of his hand.
"Nufink new", he shouted. "Weze got dem Stunties roit where we wants em! Da ship is still floating and da kannons are ready to fire. Ladz, prepare fer boarding!"
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A pillar of smoke was clearly visable in the sky to the west. BroadPaunch squinted in the morning light, having just emerged from his tent a short time after noon. He was in a foul mood, nursing an aching head and a hangover even an Ogre would be hard pressed to overcome. The sour grog he had consumed aboard the Blacksquig last night had done a number on his usually tolerant pallet, and all the remedies Spooktalker had given him only seemed to make it worst. He had clouted the Shaman the last time he had seen him and wondered if this was some sort of revenge. He would have to have a talk with the git at a later date. But for now it looked as if the Blacksquig had found some sort of scrap, and he dey were sortin it out.
All around, the kamp was being hastily packed up by Snotlings and Goblins, under the watchful eye of the Black Orcs. With a little over six hours more travel, the army would be back in the sheltered valley containing Gork's Maw where the Orcs had established a heavily defended fort. Gazing to the east while chewing on a piece of Dwarf gristle, BraodPaunch could not help but be impressed with Da Big Zoggin Effigy. It had finally been completed and even now the Shamans were blessing it with power and infusing the wooden giant with potent spells of Mork. The Eye of Mork was something on the minds of all the Orcs in the Nemesis War, the Shamans having bored its coming into the heads of the Orcs over and over again during the entire campaign. Better git 'ere soon if it knows wotz good fer it, thought BroadPaunch, whatever it is.
"Boss! Boss! chittered a weedy little Snotling that was suddenly at his heels. BroadPaunch looked down in disgust at the little creature, not understanding what had made him consider wagering his loyal Goblin servant Slapnutz against this minimus in a game of bonez with Kaptain Blacksquig. A game he had lost.
"Wot is it Spudz? Me 'ead is 'urtin and I aint in da mood fer yer yelpin and grovlin."
" Maggot sent me to tellz yose Boss."
"Tell me wot!", the Paunch shouted, regretting it right away as his head seemed to split in two!
"Da 'Umies Boss. Dey is massin to der south and lookin like dey is ready fer a scrappin."
"Umies ready fer a scrappin? I doubt it git. Dey aint got da stomach fer it. We been burnin der landz and killin der mates, eating der kattle and stealin der gold. If dey were about somfink, dey would have done it already."
However, gazing to the south, using his hand to shield his eyes, BroadPaunch did see a mass of humans rolling into the valley with purpose. Ranks of gleaming knights could be seen reflecting the bright sun, leading battalions of soldiers along the road.
"Well I'll be. Dey IS lookin fer a fight! Spudz, yose go tellz Maggot to send out da Howlers fer a little scoutin mission. I wantz to nose if der is any sign of da Big Boss 'At wif dese gitz before weze gather up da ladz and git to krumpin."
"Gotz yose Boss," shouted the Snotling as he sped off to deliver the Warboss's orders. Behind him BroadPaunch moaned in pain and fell tot he ground as if poleaxed, grinding his hands into his head to keep it from falling off his shoulders.
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Squinting through the polished brass viewing port with his one good eye, Captain Thurgrun Grunsonn watched the ruined husk of Gork's Pride spin off to port, carried swiftly on the current. Smoke from the burning vessel obscured the distant Orc fleet, causing the Captain some concern as he lost his targets in the cloughing mists. His own vessel, Gromil's Hammer, surged forward on its steam boilers, leaving the destroyed Orc vessel to be carried downstream by the current.
"Mister Mate! Go forward and see if ye can spy yon Orc ships. The flames from the jetsum to port is masking their approach! Gunner's Mates, reload and prepare to fire on my command. Yon Orc ships should be in range soon enough!"
Below decks, the sweating guncrews worked with Dwarven efficiency in their reloading of the prized bronzed cannons. Stores of powder kegs were rolled forth from their bins, iron cannonballs were loaded into their cradles while the Engineers measured the rounds of powder into the barrels and the length of the tapers inserted into the firing ports. In a matter of minutes the Monitor's guns were reloaded, ready to smite the Orcs again.
"Captain! All cannons primed and awaiting your pleasure," bellowed Grungi Firebeard, Gunners Mate, through the brass voicetube.
"Very good Mister Firebeard. A little slow werent we? Perhaps a bit too much brew last night?", joked the Captain.
"Not so much as I cannot still take down yon Orc vessels and beat you again at Cups!"
"Well, we might have to test.......
"Captain! Captain! Yon Orc vessel is heading right at us!" bellowed the Mate in the lookout port.
Looking through his port, the Captain saw in horror that the Gork's Pride had straightened out its course from spinning in the current and had set itself on a collision course! It was impposible that the vessel had righted itself but the Captain could clearly see now the sets of oars sticking out of the damaged hulk and they were being pulled hard by deranged Orc crewmen!
"Snurri's Beard! Yon Orcs mean to ram us! Sound the alarms, we are about to be rammed! Full power, wheel to starboard! Wheel to starboard! Belay that! Brace for impact!"
The words were barely out of the tube when the Orc ship crashed into the port side of Gromil's Hammer. The shrieking sounds of metal shredding metal were accompanied by the crunching sound of wood crushing as the Orc ship sideswiped the Dwarf ship, her barbed ram opening a hole along the port side and grinding to a stop on her bow. The crews from both ships were thrown to the ground as the impact knocked lose all items that were not nialed down and even some that were! The Dwarven cannons on the port side were thrown off their rails and pitched sideways, spilling powder across the decks. Smoke and alarms ripped through the Dwarf vessel as fire crews sprinted into action to contain blazes while the Dwarven Longbeards moved towards the upper decks to pop the hatches. Dwarven Marines grabbed handgun from their racks and moved to repel boarders.
On Gork's Pride, the decks were littered with Orc bodies, some crushed, some burned, others killed in the collision or by the cannon fire. Pirate Kaptain Ugbaz pulled himself up onto the wheel with his one good hand, the other ended in an iron hook that wasnt much good for climbing, and looked at the karnage. From here, Gork's Pride had tilted to starboard and was firmly imbedded in the upper deck of the Dwarf ship by virtue of their ram. The port side of the Dwarf ship was scarred by a huge rent caused by the ram and the interior of the Dwarf ship could be seen clearing through the gaping hole. The broken mast of Gork's Pride had twisted and embedded itself in the muddy soil of the river bottom, trapping both ships in a deadly embrace. Even as the Orcs on deck stumbled to their feet, the top hatches on Gromil's Hammer and the first Dwarven Marines emerged into the smoke-filled air.
"Here come da Stunties ladz! Letz have at 'em me hearties!"
As the Dwarves readied their handguns, the Orcs on deck, the ones that until now had been playing dead, lept to their feet and opened fire themselves. Handgun fire was meant with pistol shot and swivel guns. Smoke soon filled the air from the powder discharge and many of the Dwarves had been layed low by the swivel guns, their blasted bodies burned and bloodied laying around the open hatches. Several of them staggered to their feet, drawing the axes even as the Orcs surged forth, leaping from the ruined deck of Gork's Pride, swinging on ropes or just dropping down with arms spread, knowing the Dwarves would break their fall.
Looking back at the Orc fleet behind him, Ugbaz ripped the Jolly Orc from his ruined mast and tied it to the handle of his hook. Raising it in salute to the Orcs behind him, he uttered a blood curling waaaaaaaaaaaagh!
The Orcs watching were filled with pride at the display of Orciness being shown by the crew of Gork's Pride and threw the arms and weapons high in a waaaaaaagh! of their own! Snarling to the slower Orcs, Ugbaz drew his pistol and charged forth with his boyz!
Below him, in the hole created by the ram, Engineer Firebeard drew his pistol and moved to the hole to block any wayward greenskins, even as a Cave Squig appeared in the hole rent in the side of the Orc ship. Its teeth glistened with saliva and it leapt through the breach into the Dwarf ship.
"Come then beastie! Come taste the shot of my pistol and the steel of my blade!", roared the Dwarf.
But as he fired at the Squig, he saw too late that an avalanche of Squigs bounded through the opening behind the lead Squig and into the Dwarf ship. Firebeard was mauled by the weight of the monsters and was devoured in a crunching welter of bones and blood, his screams drowned out by the growling and snarls of the feasting Squigs. The dim interior of the Dwarf ship was like home to the Squigs who lived in dark caves and they went bounding off into the depths of the vessel. Soon screams were heard coming up from the depths of the ship as the monsters found a ready supply of meat!
On deck the Orcs werent gaining any ground, the Dwarves having rebounded form the attack and started digging in for a prolonged combat. Thier armor and shields stopped the slower, weaker weapons of the Orcs, but here and there the Orcs gained some measure of satisfaction. A Longbeard turned from dispatching a Goblin only to be bowled over by a mass of Snotlings. Getting to his feet, he stomped some of the voracious monsters, satisified as they went squish, while hacking others with his blade. Several of the creatures moved in between his legs with a length of chain and managed to tangle it between his legs. Falling over to his left, he was borne into the river by the Snotlings, disappearing into the depths of the cold river, ridden down by a swarm of Snotlings!
Across the river, the Monitor Smite of Valaya, adjusted her course to come in and aid the beached Gromil's Hammer. As they got close, the port hatches of Gork's Pride flung open and the Orc gunners pushed forward their kannons! A volley of fire erupted, raking the deck of Smite of Valaya. Several dents appeared in the hull and a rent was torn form its conning tower. A chorus of jeers erupted from the Orc gunners as they taunted the Dwarves to come along side the damaged ship!
"Grumbi's Beard! That ship is still armed. Prepare to return fire! We will gain a measure of revenge by blowing that junk out of the water!"
"Captain, we cannot fire on yon Orc ship, lest we strike our good ship Gromil's Hammer. We have to hold our shot!"
Grinding his teeth in frustration, the Captain barked into his voicetube.
"Marines to the deck! We go to the aid of our brothers! Unfurl the deckguns and ready handguns. This ship goes to war!"
-
The din of alarm bells rang in the ears of the Thunderers, as they took up firing positions at the intersection of a series of service tunnels. Burning lanterns lit the area in a hellish red glow, swinging back and forth from the force of the impact between Gromil's Hammer and Gork's Pride. Checking matchprimes, the Dwarves set up behind a series of barrels and crates that had been hastily stacked up to offer some cover. The gentle rocking of the ship felt good under their feet, even though they were wedged into the riverbottom and werent going anywhere!Their wait wasnt long as a group of bloodthristy Goblins rounded the corner and spotted the Dwarves behind their makeshift barracides.
"Zoggin hell ladz! Der is more Stunties! Lets 'ave at 'em!" screamed what passed for their leader. The diminutive greenskins charged the Dwarve's position in a mass of gaggled limbs, each seeking to reach their enemies before their mates.
Suddenly the handguns spoke! And their words were death as a torrent of burning iron shot tore through the tightly packed greenskins, pitching them backwards in a tangle of bloodied limbs and burning cloth. The Goblins that survived the initial blast were cut to pieces as the second rank of Dwarves stepped forth and let loose with their shots. In less than a minute the Goblins were dead and the Dwarves were reloading their handguns. Even as they retook their positions, long dark shadows could be seen on the far corridor wall, evidence that more greenskins must be approaching. The din of high pitched voices clearly revealed there were more Goblins on the way! Sure enough, another group appeared around the corner and had a blink of their red eyes before the Thunderers again discharged their weapons. Several more Goblins were cut down but enough of them were around the corner to have been shielded from the blast.
"Dang Stunties, wese gonna grind yer bones and makes cloaks of yer beards! Best be leggin it before wese getz madz!" yelled their leader, with all the squeaky voiced courage he could muster.
The Thunderers couldnt help but grin at the hollow Goblin threat. Mean little buggers yes, but Goblins had no courage when it came to fighting and the Dwarves knew it was all bluster and no muster! Several of them drew forth their shields and axes though, as what Goblins lacked in courage they made up for in numbers and they knew from countless battles that the greenskins were working their courage up for a charge.
"Yose had yer to chance to leg it gitz. Now weze is mad! Git ready, weze is gonna krump ya real good!"
With that the Goblins again appeared around the corner, charging madly at the ensconed Dwarves. Again a volley of handgun fire cleared the corridorthough this time several Goblins, shielded by their now dead comrades, rushed past the growing mound of corpses and launched an assault on the Dwarves. It didnt last long though. The veteran Dwarves cut down their foes with mechanical ease, then went back to reloading their guns.
If they had dared a look behind them, they might have seen an enormous Squig round the corner behind them, bouncing down the narrow hallway, turning upside down as it bounded off walls at waist height and off the ceiling as well. The dark confines of the ruined Dwarf ship, its narrow halls, heat from its boilers and its dim lighting felt like home to the monster. It was simply enjoying its freedom when it spied the Dwarves ahead and launched itself at them with a large boooooooooing, cutting the distance to feet in an instant,. The Dwarves had finished reloading, watching the corridor from which the Goblins had come. They never knew what hit them.......
Meanwhile, on the bridge of Gromil's Hammer, a massive battle was being played out. The Longbeards were fighting in a skirmish line, their Lord and ships Captain standing with them. Across from them were the unruly mobz of Orcs from Gork's Pride, laying about in a loose formation. Between them was a baricade of furniture, barrels and whatever else had been on hand, including the Captains brass reading lectern and prized sablewood Captains chair. Both sides were exchanging running gunfire, handguns and pistols blazing. Smoke soon filled the cramped bridge, and both races were finding it hard to breath. Nonetheless, the Orcs ran low on ammo and worked up the nerve to charge. Drawing forth all manner of wepaons, not limited to rusty cutlasses, boathooks, belaying pins and clubs, the pirates charges across the baricade, meeting more lead for their efforts! A pile of steaming Orc bodies soon covered the baricade, adding further to height to it and making it harder for the Dwarves to see their enemies. The second wave of Orcs met little resistance as they swarmed across the pile, as the Dwarves sought to reload their guns. Soon a swirling melee was underway as the Orcs hit the Dwarves like a green tide. Choppa crossed blade with axe, club met helmeted head, boat hook ripped shield away from hand and pistol shots discharged into enemy faces at close range. The clamour of battle was deafening as the Orc Boss joined battle. Ugbaz charged a Dwarf warrior that was fighting for his life against two other Orcs. Still sporting the Jolly Orc on his hooked hand, he swung it under the guard of the Dwarf and buried it under his chin. The Dwarve's eyes bulged as the force of the hit lifted him off of his feet and his was flung across the room towards his fellows. The dead Dwarf landed in a heap atop two more of his Clansmen, and they fell into tangled heap. Soon numerous Orcs surrounded the stunned demi humans and blungeoned them to death with their clubs and belaying pins.
"Yaaaaaaaaaaar ladz! Have at 'em and let not a one of 'em live to tell da tale! Shiver der timbers and den weze lotz der larder! Take dat Gitz! And some boot leever too!"
Ugbaz spied the Stunty Captain even as the Dwarf lopped the arm of of one on the crews Big Unz. The Dwarf then turned to face the Orc Kaptain. Each knew the other as their opposite and both silently thanked whomever had brought them together. Ugbaz drew forth his pistol even as Grunsson raised his shield up to fighting level. With a primal yell, Ugbaz charged his foe! The Orc fired his pistol as he charged, reversed the handle to act as a blackjack, and glanced it off of the stout iron-rimmed buckler. Grunsson pushed forth with all his might, forcing the Orc off balance and backwards from his person. Ugbaz stumbled over something and pitched backwards to land on his back. The Dwarf swung his axe in a mighty arc and it descended towards the Orcs unprotected neck even as Ugbaz threw up his hands in a feeble gesture to deflect the killing blow.......
-
Off in the distance, upon the river, loud echoes boomed across the water. The battle was waning and three Imperial ships limped back downstream away from their orcish attackers. They fled from a grotesque scene of warped wood and iron, burning hulks of wreckage and the four remaining orc barges. The gunboats were unsuccessful and repulsed brutally. The flagship Dragon’s Fire exploded unceremoniously in the first salvo, as a well placed mortar shot managed to find the powder store. The explosion scattered the rest of the Imperial vessels and unorganized the orc barges ripped them apart one by one.
It was a horrid image for Ortolf von Brennenburg who had just returned from a quick scouting mission. He had heard reports of orcs to his rear and took a sizeable detachment to investigate, and too late realizing that the orcs were in fact Lizardmen of Lustria. A quick engagement took place in the confusion, but both sides withdrew after a brief fight.
While he was gone the battle had turned horribly. The small fleet in the river was beat back and the weight of the orc numbers had taken it’s toll. The Imperial line was now giving way and pulling back, in certain spots a route was taking place and the commanders rode up and down the field yelling orders and threatening to shoot cowards that ran. All to no avail.
Ortolf eyed the field thoughtfully. From his vantage point atop the hill he could still see Port Maw and the blasphemous effigy upon Morr’s Gate. Rage filled him. The attack by all rights should have worked. No matter now. Things will not be the same now. For the first time the orcs have stopped him in this campaign and at the worst possible time. He spat on the ground viciously and wheeled his horse hard looking to his Chief of Artillery, Master Engineer Archarius Tulenborg.
“Tulenborg,” Ortolf roared. “Fire into the rear of the orc lines, give our men time to retreat!”
The engineer nodded and began giving final instructions to his gun crews as he, pointed to a messenger boy to relay the message to the remaining batteries.
Ortolf again pulled the reigns of his horse, wheeling the noble beast around quickly. He spurred the flanks and charged off down the hill. He headed to the camp of his personal army, the Wissenland Expeditionary Force. He knew the time had come to lead his men personally. He would buy time for the rest of his army to recover…
-
Holgi Ironfist looked out over the prow of the Imperial Ship. His fellow commanders, Maxamillion von Boerstoel of the Empire, and Hawkdos Beastslayer, an Elgi from Athel Loren stood beside him. Holgi was excited. Finally, a chance to actually do something of consequence to the Dwarven Kingdoms in this cursed war. The ship rounded a bend, and the dwarf saw Port Maw. Beside him, von Boerstoel offered up a prayer to whatever god the human worshipped. Hawkdos cursed quietly in elvish.
The Harbor was massive and well fortified. Towers rose up from either side of the river, and they were bedecked with the same cannons that had been in the Second Great War against Chaos. The same cannons that had destroyed his holds fortifications as Chaos warriors poured in... Holgi shook himself. Now was not the time to lose his head. Still, anger built up inside him at the thought of those dark days. He looked at Maxamillion.
"I will take the Chaos Dwarves. I have a grudge to settle."
Maxamillion clapped the dwarf on the shoulder. "Very well my fried. My men will go up the west flank. Hawkdos, you take your men into the woods. Attack from the rear. The Bretonnians can take the east flank," said Maxamillion. "If all goes well, the battle will be swift, and we can press on into the port."
"It may take awhile for my men to reach you. That forest is swarming with greenskins and chaos dawi," said Hawkdos.
"We can hold off until you arrive. Once we have defeated this force, we can meet up with the main Imperial and Dwarf forces and finish off this port." The imperial wizard coughed. "After that, we can pursue Yarmothgror."
"Aye," said Holgi. "Let the elves disembark here. Hopefully, the greenskins won't notice. We'll continue up river some, then set up a position and start blasting those towers with cannons until they send a force out to meet us. Then the fun can begin."