Post
by job » Fri Mar 14, 2014 11:29 am
An account of battle at
The Bay of Rats
The stool was rickety on the knobby field, but Kragg grumbled and made due. He put his weight down and together he and the stool groaned. The weight of gromril and arms was exhausting. Much of the afternoon had been wasted facing the cold wind off the sea. The guns were sighted and the ground measured. The scouts were out and units stationed watching the coast. Now all they could do was wait for the reports.
He pulled out his heavily tarnished pipe from under his hauberk and began working tobacco into the mouth. Kragg kept an eye on his brother from time to time. Theodrick's fingers nervously picked the leather grip on his axe.
"You shouldn't pick the grip before battle," Kragg admonished.
"Don't scold me. I'm your older brother."
Kragg puffed on his pipe and nodded. "You are right, sir. It wasn't my place to tell an older brother or lord."
Theodrick shot an annoyed look at his younger brother. "Don't call me that either."
"You have been hailed so by the others. You might as well get used to it, my Lord brother."
"I own no hold nor any hearth."
"And yet our father can claim blood from Oesir. The title is much more yours than any other dwarf."
Theodrick wasn't swayed. "Not so long as he breaths."
Kragg gave a wry smile. "Well he doesn't. You saw him as much as me. Balin has been turned to rock no matter what Argyle may say."
Theodrick grunted, but proudly refused to concede anything to his brother. "It still isn't mine, so you may give up calling me 'sir'."
"Father would have wanted you to take the title, not wait for it."
"What did father know?" Theodrick spat vehemently. "He spent years an outcast in the wilderness waiting for his chance for revenge. It never came. He never seized anything. His name was laughed at by every dwarf. He died cold and in the wilderness without ever knowing the satisfaction of a hearth he could call his own."
Kragg could see his brother's blood was worked into a furor. With serendipitous timing a young ranger came through the hedge beside the road. The bearding was panting and worked up into a sweat. For a moment he might have sat down and rested, but looking up he saw his captains waiting for him to report and he bolted to them with a message.
"My Lord Fimursson, the enemy has been sighted and engaged. They are numerous and they've been coming at us disregarding the quarrels we send their way. Their master barks at them from some palanquin and they drag two siege weapons behind them," the bearding reported dutifully between breaths.
Kragg now watched his brother's nervousness give way to energy and vigor at the knowledge of a battle. Theodrick began barking orders at the rangers that began to pour through the gap in the hedgerows. "There will be no more retreating! This is where we give battle. Anchor the flank on the swine farm and protect the heavy guns!"
The youthful rangers heard him and began to array themselves into a firing line. Messengers were dispatched to the dispersed forces with the call to assemble. The Red Glaives, each a loyal hammerer and hauskarl, formed up about their liege and Kragg for his part gave up his stool and leisure.
"Well, it is a bit chilly, but it seems a fine time for these rats to arrive, Lord brother." Kragg stuffed his prized pipe again below the hauberk.
"By Grimnir, I told you to stop saying that!. Give it up!" Theodrick irritably replied. "Anyway, I don't give a damn for the weather. It could be a driving rainstorm for all I care."
"The guns should have clear sights." the brother mused. Then the war banner appeared with the familiar figure of Trude under it. The thanes made way for her as she passed to their front.
"And she would make you a fine wife, Theo. " Kragg whispered to his brother's ear. "Her claim to the Hold would compliment yours."
"Enough! " Theodrick would have no more of his brother's schemes.
Trude approached the two in the front rank, clasping the banner upon her shoulder. She acknowledged them. "Good morning, captains. I hear the enemy are to make an appearance soon."
Theodrick bashfully nodded and Kragg grinned in response.
The sound of drums became audible over the wind. Soon shrill yells, high-pitched screams and the rhythmic splash of oars found its way through the fog before the vision of crocked masts and pitch drenched hulls. As the ships made sight of the shore, several crews began outdoing each other, beating their drums at furious paces and beating their slaves ever harder, while other more wily captains had their crews let off, calling for their oar-rats to hold water and allow their more battle eager brethren first place before the dwarf cannon.
"Well it appears we won't have time for lunch today," a long beard grumbled in the ranks.
"Then better defend your supper from those vermin," Kragg responded.
Then the woods beyond the fold of land before them resounded with new beats of drum. Two wire entangled contraptions came first, seizing with barely contained green energy and surrounded by furry muscle enslaved to its keeping. The masters shrieked and whipped the slaves to further effort and speed. Behind them came two regiments of clan rats, one armored with rusty plate and each with halberds of cheap but battle worthy iron. With no enemies yet at hand, they found use for their weapons egging on their slavish vanguard.
Above them all came their warlord standing aboard a palanquin burdened by his plated clan-rats. The name Scurvius was known in the dwarfish host and now his voice could be heard,
"Forward-Advance! Bring me glory-triumph!"
His lackey-herald next to the palanquin reiterated, "Advance-Forward!" He received a whack from his master for his impertinent
word mix up.
The dwarves watched the rabble form up. The warp cannon contraptions went to the flanks on favorable ground.
"Well, it is a good a time as ever. Let us settle this thing early for I'm getting cold," Theodrick muttered to his brother. Hollering to have his gunners hear he gave the command to join the battle, "Fire."
The veteran engineers had foreseen the position of the enemy artillery, and despite the whirlwind of shadows the enemy's magic kicked up their shots struck true. Plumes of raw green energy vaporized the air and crew about them. The wave of heat was felt across the field. The vermin squealed and scampered about as their chieftains and drivers beat them back into formation. The Skaven advance began again as a desperate attempt to escape Dwarven shot and their masters' whips.
Suddenly rocks thunked and knocked about the weapons and armor of the dwarves as sneaky skirmishers began to harry the hammerers. In response several warriors raced out of the formation to drive off the foes.
"Halt and return to formation!" Theodrick barked once the skirmishers had been chased off. "Wheel the formation to right. Watch the spacing in the ranks!"
A swarm of fuzz and tails poured through the hedge line before them. Manically a spinning contraption raced across the shoreline to their flank. A cannonball tore through it, wrenching out several spokes but the machine rotated relentlessly. The galleys beached themselves and their clamoring crews of slaves and rat ogres poured over the gunwales and onto the sand and surf.
"No sight of dinner now," Kragg chuckled.
The long beard grumbled without losing step as they wheeled, "Speak for yourself! I don't expect to lose a second meal to this sad lot."
The young quarrelers were visibly doing their best by their weapons, launching darts into the gathering mass of flesh. Those less familiar with battle could be seen fumbling their strings and shooting glances to their extended flank. The toll of this war was evident to Kragg's eyes, as so many veteran rangers had either departed for the east with Argyle's company or had fallen over the campaign of the past year. Now only youthful energy and a faint string of old hands held the quarreler line together.
A horn suddenly resounded over the squeal of vermin and Dwarven grunts. The company of Erikur's Slayers, Ulther One-Hand at their van, appeared roaring their lust for the fight. This was followed shortly by the arrival of miners with their picks and the faint tone of Elvish horns on the wind.
Now confidence soared as the armored clanrats bore down on the young rangers. Scurvius' palanquin first dipped forward and the line of rats crashed into line of axe-wielding rangers. Then the palanquin pitched back as the line of young rangers didn't buckle. Scurvius lashed out with hell-born sword and the beards and noses of a half dozen beardlings were trimmed. But the fine Dwarven axes did their business well and the anguished squeals were heard over the crack of brittle iron.
More rats poured into the field before the dwarves and the sounds of drums were ever closer as they beat a rapid march to the rushing reinforcements from the boats. Theodrick scanned the field mulling the decision.
"Well?" Kragg impatiently broke into his brothers thoughts. His brother often needed to be needled into a decision.
Annoyed, Theodrick gave the order, "Sound the charge!"
Warhorns blared from the regiments of slayers, hammerers and miners. Side by side the slayers, Theodrick's dwarves pushed into the mass of halberd heads. The blades were shouldered and pushed aside by sheets of mail and iron caps. A few poor dwarves grunted as the blades wrecked havoc, but once inside the blades the dwarves set about avenging themselves. Kragg spotting the enemy banner-bearer stabbed a finger at the opponent.
"You! Filth!"
The large skaven turned in hurt astonishment, "Filth-What? I'm Drek!"
Kragg ignored its indignant protest and charged. The oversized rat brought his blade down upon the dwarf's shoulder. The heavy iron cut down rending though mail, cutting flesh and bruising bone. In turn Kragg placed the head of his hammer across the snarling face, crushing its eye and knocking it unconscious.
All about watched the storm banner fall.
Clanrats panicked. Fuzz went hither with dwarves in pursuit. Dwarves hacked with weapons at the fear-struck vermin and stumbled over others scampering through their intervals. There was a sudden loud squeal as the rat ogres entered the fray with slaves forced before them. The slayers set about their task grimly watching their numbers buried under the crush of flesh, claws and teeth.
Kragg watched, leaning over his captive and nursing his bleeding shoulder as one of the rat ogres was hewn at the knees like a tree and came crashing down. The slaves panicked and scampered over the violent scene.
"Wheel! Wheel on me!" His brother was yelling at the head of the remaining hammerers who rallied to Trude's banner. "Form up! Form up tight! I don't want rats between our files."
Scurvius had reformed his clan rats and they came again thundering down upon the ranks of miners this time. The stout Pinehelms, miner-folk of the Greyhills, held their own as the rat chieftain's vile sword slashed and cut down their kin. In turn, there were distinct pops as the well served picks cracked the iron helms and plates of the rats.
Now the hammerers piled into the flank. Rats and plate were crushed together. From the far side of the fight the elvish horns were heard again. A flash of hooves and mane swept into the unsuspecting Skaven. Clan rats milled in circles as blades and panic disordered them. Scurvius squealed ineffectual orders as his palanquin spun around and spilled him.
Theodrick gave a final yell and the remaining hammers and miners about him pushed into the broken rats. The enemy fled and rout ensued.
Kragg watched his comrades pursue their foe to the beaches. The pain of his wound had begun to subside as the shock overcame it, but he was in no shape to join the pursuit watched over his captive. The sound of pursuit drifted from the beach. Dwarves and mounted elves had harassed the numerous slaves and rat ogres back to their decks. A few hopeless stragglers were left ashore hunted by the vengeful quarrelers and elvish stradiots. As evening descended, the Skaven topmasts were descending over the horizon seen by the two brothers as they sat beside the swine farm.
Kragg nursed his wound and winced noticeably as he packed his pipe.
"Do you want me to do that, little brother?" Theodrick asked with concern for his injured brother.
"Don't worry. I can pack my own pipe even now." Kragg brushed away the offer.
The sun was setting now and the red glow filled the sty they sat by. A winter evening chill had begun to claim the world from the day. Every breath and word now left a puff of steam before their faces. Theodrick insisted to his younger brother, "Let me do it. You are going to screw up your forging-arm and then I'll be left without a good smith."
Kragg shielded the pipe from his brother's grasping arm. He wasn't about to let his brother have the pipe or his dignity. "It wouldn't serve to have his lordship's fingers dirtied, sir."
Theodrick immediately furrowed his brow in annoyance and turned his face from his brother. "You can't listen to your older brother, can you? And by Grimnir, drop the title and honors when you talk to me."
The two watched the sails and sun disappear over the horizon. Mailed dwarves picked over the former battlefield in the half-light of dusk. From time to time a beardling came and reported to Theodrick, bowing and hailing him as Lord. Even the elf-maid Vanyiel and her riders came to show their respects. The matter of the pipe was quite forgotten between the brothers and soon the glow from its mouth was all that illuminated Kragg's face. He could feel the weight of arms again in his exhaustion and injury, but he couldn't recall where he'd dropped the old stool so many hours before.
Models Painted, 2020
70 28mm miniatureS
