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The sharp wind bit at Strolli's face, even in the pine forests north of Karak Kadrin there was no escape from the elements. He cared not however, for insignificant matters like weather meant nothing to a dwarf. He knew it bothered the goblins, though, for he could see their camp fires down in the valley below. "Fools," he thought to himself. "Have they not learned we watch this pass?" He motioned to his dawi bretheren to go on with the attack. The snow was coming down hard now, which would mask their approach. At the edge of the goblin encampment he signaled to halt. He could see them now, scurrying about in their filthy black robes, talking loudly in that vile language. Although he could not see the other half of his band, across the camp, he knew they were there, concealed in the trees, as he and his boys were now. He pulled out his crossbow, selected the oil-coated signal bolt from his quiver, lit it, and fired. The flaming bolt arched high into the sky, the few goblins who noticed it, stared unaware, just like he thought. Just as the goblins were perplexed by the fire in the sky, a hailstorm of bolts flew out from the trees. Many missing, but many hitting their mark.
The goblins rushed around in panic, some dove into the crude tents to hide from the barrage, others drew weapons and prepared themselves. Calling out individual battle cries, the dwarfs charged into the goblin camp. Using sheer ferocity and anger, the dwarfs cut down all the goblins who had not prepared themselves or were seeking shelter from the previous death storm. The goblins who had prepared themselves, and there were many, began to fight back. The camp was a swirling clash of cries of "Waahg!" or "For Grungni!" Strolli easily made his way through the first few goblins that had dared to oppose him. A goblin quickly jumped in front of him and reached out to strike him, with speed uncanny for a dwarf, Strolli hewed the pathetic creature's head off with a swipe of his Rune Axe. Another one slashed at him, he parried with the butt of his pistol and slashed the creature across the chest. He felt a blunt nudge as a gobbo's spear shattered on his armor. "A beardling craftsman could have made a better weapon with one arm," he exclaimed to himself as he cut his rival down.
Then, time seemed to slow, he felt some sort of mystical force urging him to move left. Not wanting to upset this thing, he took a step to his left. Time returned to its normal state, and as he turned around he saw a goblin had lept off a rock and swung vetically down with one of the largest axes he had ever seen. The mighty axe stuck into the ground right where he had been standing a moment earlier. Thanking his rune inscribed armor, he flipped his pistol around and shot the vile creature in the head. More long minutes of battle folowed, and finally the goblins began to flee in fear of death. Knowing that the dwarfs could not overtake them, he told his messengers to alert the Banshee Legion.
When's the next instalment?
Worshipper of Dice
Last game: Victory Dark Elves vs High Elves & Orcs & Goblins
WDL: Dark Elves:37/6/8 Space Marines:7/3/3
I guess right now...
Gruz shouted at the fleeing gobbo's to stop, but no amount of threats, false promises or speeches would get them to turn and fight the dwarfs. He couldn't deny the fact that he didn't much want to go head to head with the big dwarf in the shiny armor. The goblins fled as fast as they could down the valley. Some tripped in the deep snow, and were trampled as they tried to get up. Suddenly, and much to Gruz's surprise, the goblins ceased running, and started to look around curiously. He was about to punch the closest inferior greenskin when he heard them to.
Drums, only once every five seconds, but they were getting faster. He tried seeing where they were coming from, but with the snow storm, and the valley walls, it was impossible to tell. The goblins started to panic as the drumming became a steady beat that circled around them. Gruz shouted at them, "Idyuts! It's just a warbandz. Prob'ly 'uman!" But the goblins would not listen. "It da ghosties!" one shouted in terror. At that all the goblins started to shriek and run around in circles.
Then came the loudest noise he had ever heard, an ear shattering cry that chilled him to the bone. It was unlike the pathetic shrieks of the gobbo's, or the whimpering sobs of pleading women, it seemed...hollow. Wracked with confusion, Gruz scanned the valley for any signs of where the noise was coming from. Then he saw it.
A giant mouth, with sharp, blood covered teeth hovering ten feet above the earth. The mouth was so enormous it seemed as though it would swallow him whole. The hollow shriek became louder, the drums became faster, the gaping maw of death came closer. The mouth reached the first of the goblins. Small gobbos were flung into the air by mystical forces, their chests shattered by this strange demon. The goblins fled with terror filled hearts, they sprinted past Gruz with fear in their eyes, scrambling over each other to get away from whatever was decimating the remnants. As the beast got closer, he was able to make out horses, with eyes and manes of flame, and only bones to show for their body. He also saw rides, cloaked in shadow, the skull faced warriors the goblins had talked about in their camp fires. The Ghosts of White Pass. The last thing he saw was the hooves of the undead horse as he was trampled by riders of the living death.
The men of Kislev laughed at how easy the goblins had run away to die at the tip of a lance. They lifted their face masks, patted their elaborately painted horses, and rode back to the camp where they knew Strolli was waiting for a report. The Banshee legion had utterly destroyed the remaining goblins, leaving only a few to run back and tell the strongholds of terrible creatures that guard White Pass.