Gronok Ironclaw, the greenskin warlord of Iron Rock, always prided himself on his status and rank. He was extremely proud to be the successor of the famous Gorbadd Ironclaw. Every one of his actions and decorations imitated Gorbadd, though Gronok often had no idea what the real "Gorbadd style" or "Gorbadd power" truly meant. To him, it could all be summed up in one phrase: "badass."
Iron Rock was the fortress and birthplace of the Ironclaw tribe, once the site of Gorbadd's rise to power. It had been the most Waaagh-filled fortress in the Old World. Although Black Crag's rise later eclipsed Iron Rock's glory, with Black Crag's destruction by the dwarfs, Iron Rock had returned to its former Waaagh glory.
Waaagh!
Despite all this, Gronok knew he wasn't Gorbadd. Gorbadd could take on entire armies by himself and conquer other tribes without breaking a sweat. When Gorbadd's roar had united all the greenskins in the Badlands, they waged a legendary war against the Empire.
Gorbadd's legend ended before the gates of Altdorf. After failing to breach the city and suffering from a wound caused by a Runefang that never healed, Gorbadd retreated, only to be ambushed by the dwarfs in the Black Mountains. Gorbadd vanished after that, and no one knew what became of him.
Some say he was killed by the dwarfs, though that seems unlikely, as the dwarfs would have boasted about such a victory. Others say he escaped, but if that were true, he would have returned to Iron Rock to rebuild his Waaagh and strike again.
Whatever the truth, Gorbadd has been missing for over eight hundred years. Without question, he is long dead. What exactly happened is something only Gorbadd and the dwarfs may know.
Though Gorbadd is gone, his tribe endures. The Ironclaw tribe remains strong, known for producing powerful orc boar boy riders. Gronok Ironclaw inherited Gorbadd's proud traditions, and the tribe was never known for siege weapons or ranged attacks. Gronok reveled in this heritage, so when Skarsnik, the warlord of Eight Peaks, sent emissaries to form an alliance against the Bretonnian expedition, Gronok flatly refused. The proud Ironclaw tribe would never bow to goblins. Gorbadd had said goblins were either to be enslaved or killed.
Likewise, Gorbadd's tactical genius guided Gronok. Gorbadd was not just a brute; he excelled at battlefield tactics, especially ambushes and cavalry charges. His war boar cavalry's flank charges were legendary, and this strategy remained strong within the tribe.
However, the ambush of the giant spiders had failed. The enemy was too strong. The spiders and goblins were dead, and there wasn't enough time to organize a flank charge by the war boars and wolf riders!
Gronok Ironclaw showed no fear. He mounted his war boar and raised his axe high. "Waaagh!"
"Waaaagh!"
"Waaaaaaaaaaaagh!"
The greenskins' war cries echoed like thunder across the battlefield, as if ancient Gorbadd himself were calling to his kin. The orcs and goblins, large and small, roared in unison as they charged on their war boars and wolves, surging toward the enemy.
The battle resumed. The Bretonnian knights, with their unparalleled momentum, galloped forward, their lances bristling like a forest of steel.
The orc boars and goblin wolves raced across the field, their riders wildly swinging axes and swords. Goblins screamed their names as the two forces clashed with immense force. In the blink of an eye, several knights and dozens of greenskin boar riders were thrown to the ground. A chaotic melee ensued on the plains, with lances piercing heads, swords cutting through armor, and axes severing limbs. Many orcs and goblins fell to the knights' devastating charge.
Ryan swung his sword, Vengeance Goddess, guiding his army forward with the silver flames and pale blue light illuminating the way. With a mighty swing, he cleaved through two charging orc boar boys. The king's roar, filled with the wrath of the Lady of the Lake, echoed across the battlefield. For a thousand years, Bretonnia had nearly fallen to greenskin invasions, but now they were back for revenge, more furious and savage than ever!
Ryan's valor greatly boosted the morale of his knights. They seized the opportunity like a hammer smashing into the greenskin cavalry or a sword cutting through their ranks. Following Ryan, the lance formation cut down the enemy. When their lances broke, many knights shouted the names of the Lady, Ryan, and Bretonnia as they drew their swords and continued the fight.
In the chaos of battle, Ryan and Gronok Ironclaw finally met, each immediately recognizing the other as their enemy. Filled with cold fury, Ryan swung the Vengeance Goddess down.
Gronok blocked the blow with his axe. While the Vengeance Goddess was sharp and empowered by psychic energy, Gronok's axe was no ordinary weapon. Said to have once been wielded by Gorbadd himself, the axe's obsidian blade and handle radiated a red-black aura of Waaagh energy. Sparks flew as the Vengeance Goddess met the axe, and Ryan's powerful strike only left a small nick in the axe's blade. Still, this was enough to enrage Gronok. The greenskin warlord let out a terrifying howl as both warriors were carried forward by the momentum of their charges.
"Waaaagh!" Gronok roared in pain as he stared at the peanut-sized chip in his axe. His fury turned into raw power. The greenskin warlord swung his axe, slicing through an approaching Bretonnian knight, cutting him in half. Blood sprayed as the knight's head and torso were separated from his body. Gronok then raised his fist and punched a ranger knight in the chest, the blow denting the knight's armor and sending him crashing to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth.
"For Gorbadd! For da Waaagh!" Gronok roared as he slaughtered his way through the Bretonnian ranks. Yet a nagging unease gnawed at him. He sensed that the Bretonnian knight king, the grey-armored human, possessed a strength beyond his own, a power that made even his Waaagh energy falter.
Despite his doubts, Gronok pressed on. He raised his axe and rallied his troops. "Get over 'ere, boys!"
"Waaaagh!" The remaining greenskin cavalry, now fewer than five hundred, began regrouping.
Bellegar and his dwarf army had no intention of letting the greenskins recover. The King of Eight Peaks took a runic crossbow from one of his oath-bound guards. Hundreds of dwarf crossbowmen leveled their weapons and pulled the triggers. "Fire!"
"Fire!" General Ivan gave the same order to his Ugol archers, their shortbows drawn taut.
"Fire!" Bertrand, the commander of the old guard, ordered as well.
A swarm of arrows and bullets rained down on the greenskin cavalry. Gronok desperately swung his axe, trying to rally his forces, but he suddenly felt a cold sensation in his chest, a faint, stinging pain.
Two small smoking holes appeared in his chest—he had been shot!
Enduring the pain, Gronok kept moving. He ordered his boar riders to charge the human infantry. To win, he had to crush their foot soldiers!
"Form ranks!" The old guard pikemen stepped forward, forming a tight formation. Screaming greenskin riders crashed into the gleaming pike wall. Several boars and wolves were instantly impaled, their riders tumbling to the ground. Though the first line of old guard fell, the second and third lines held firm, cutting down the greenskin riders in turn. The old guard fought with blood and steel, defending their ranks with their lives.
Gronok swung his axe madly, his war boar trampling a fallen old guard. The soldier tried to stand, but Gronok didn't give him a chance. One swing of the axe, and the old guard's head was gone.
"Kill! Kill! Kill!" Gronok's chest pain drove him into a frenzy. He turned to face another old guard, who was aiming a finely crafted dwarven pike at the greenskin warlord. But such a challenge didn't faze Gronok. Withdrawing his axe, he swung again at the human soldier before him. "Gronok's gonna kill ya! For Gorbadd!"
Captain Raymond of the old guard stood his ground, roaring as he tried to parry Gronok's blow with his pike. The blade deflected the axe just enough to miss its target. Enraged, Gronok threw a punch at Raymond's head.
The punch would have crushed Raymond's skull, but he ducked just in time. Gronok's fist only knocked off his bearskin hat, grazing his scalp.
His head stung, but Raymond knew it wasn't a fatal injury. He had to keep fighting. He swung his pike, but Gronok kicked it away with one powerful blow. The sheer force knocked Raymond to the ground. Without hesitation, he drew his pistol from his belt. "Die, monster!"
"Boom!" The dwarven-made pistol fired.
A new hole appeared in Gronok's chest, and the greenskin warlord let out a howl of pain, yet still, he didn't fall. Nothing could
stop him from killing this human soldier!
"Die! Die!" Despite his wounds and exhaustion, Gronok raised his axe again. "Human, die!!!"
But his shout was cut short. The Vengeance Goddess pierced through Gronok's chest from behind, its silver flames blazing brightly, illuminating the battlefield in pale blue light.
Their king, Ryan, had returned with the knights for a second charge!
Now under attack from both sides, the greenskins began to falter. Kalad led the knights in a relentless assault, cutting down orc boar boys and larger orcs alike. Goblin wolf riders had already begun fleeing, and seeing the tide turning, Gronok let out a desperate roar: "Waaaagh!"
From the depths of the Warp, a violent and terrifying energy responded, keeping the greenskin warlord standing. Gronok swung his axe at Ryan's steed, Grape, the blade cutting through the air with a sickly yellow-green glow.
"Damn it!" Ryan cursed as he pulled the Vengeance Goddess from Gronok's body just in time to parry a series of frenzied blows. The skilled knight king countered with a swift strike, slicing a deep gash from Gronok's arm to his wrist, the silver flames continuing to burn the greenskin warlord.
Despite his wounds—three gunshot holes and being impaled by the Vengeance Goddess—Gronok refused to fall. In the brief moment of respite, the twenty elite orc boar boys protecting Gronok rushed forward, desperate to hold off Ryan, Kalad, and the others. Meanwhile, Gronok bellowed for a retreat.
"That bastard!" Bertrand, the commander of the old guard, drew his composite bow, nocked an arrow, and took aim at the fleeing greenskin warlord. "Take this!"
With a sharp twang, the starfire-imbued arrow flew through the air, striking Gronok in the back. The greenskin warlord howled in pain but still didn't fall. Instead, he quickened his escape, heading toward Iron Rock.
Veronica, her magic nearly depleted after casting large spells like Flame Storm and Explosion, attempted to cast a fireball at Gronok, but it exploded mid-air, failing to reach him.
With their warlord gone, the remaining greenskin cavalry was slaughtered by the knights and dwarfs. Within a kilometer of the battlefield, it was littered with greenskin corpses, along with a few humans. Bretonnia had lost over thirty knights, but the greenskins had lost three giant Araknar spiders and more than a thousand riders. It was a stunning victory.
"That disgusting green bastard! How is he still alive?" one knight cursed, frustrated by the loss of his comrades and Gronok's escape.
"It's not wise to pursue them further, knights," Ryan said as he dismounted, reaching out to help Raymond up. "Well done, soldier. That's twice now."
"Fighting for the king is the old guard's honor!" Raymond's forehead was slick with blood. He tried to salute, but the pain made him wince, and another old guard hurried over to bandage him.
"We're too few, and we're deep in the Badlands, near Iron Rock. It's not the time for a chase." Ryan said firmly. "Tend to the wounded, clear the battlefield, bury the dead, and prepare to retreat."
"Yes, sire!"
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