Skarsnik was well aware that although his army was vast, it lacked elite forces. If he dared to face the expedition head-on in an open field battle, the knights' massed cavalry charge would crush him. Therefore, the cunning Warlord of Eight Peaks devised a strategy of guerrilla warfare—using hit-and-run tactics, ambushes, and a war of attrition to wear down the expeditionary army.
However, after multiple encounters, Belgar Ironhammer had grown familiar with Skarsnik's ambushes and tricks. Skarsnik's traps had failed to yield decisive results, though the expedition had been harassed to the point of exhaustion. Skarsnik's plan had only partially succeeded.
Now, as they retreated to Valaya's Heart, Skarsnik realized he had no choice but to stand his ground. The Goblin Warlord knew the complexity of the dwarven underground network and prepared to make his final stand here, ready to face Belgar and his knightly allies.
Although the dwarves were masters of underground warfare, Valaya's Heart was not a place where Bretonnian cavalry could unleash their full strength. So, when the vanguard reached the gates and the great sound of their approach echoed through the tunnels, Skarsnik sensed his opportunity.
Now, waves of goblins surged forward, their numbers overwhelming. The banners of the Moon Clan fluttered deep within the tunnels, covered in the skulls and beards of fallen dwarves. Skarsnik, wielding his Skarsnik Sword, led his army into battle, with his beloved pet squig, Gobbla, at his side.
The sheer number of goblins seemed endless. Supported by several Arachnarok Spiders, they poured into the ancestral hall, filling the air with the stench of death. Even after the entire battlefield was covered with goblin bodies, more greenskins continued to flood through the distant entrance.
"Prepare for battle! Knights, dismount!" Ryan ordered decisively. In the narrow underground passages, knights would be far more effective fighting on foot than on horseback.
"For Belgar! For Eight Peaks! For Grungni and Valaya!" Belgar shouted, rallying his dwarves for the battle to come. Behind them lay the legendary ancestral tunnels, and Belgar could already feel the presence of the gods. Valaya's power resonated through the ancient corridors, with master runes glowing brightly. Every dwarf could hear the distant whisper of their ancestral mother.
Dwarven morale surged.
At the same time, Ryan turned to Veronica. "Send word to Calard—tell him to break camp and bring all the reinforcements immediately!"
"I'm on it," Veronica replied as she began her incantation to send the message.
With their backs to Valaya's Gate, Belgar's dwarven forces held the center, while Ryan's left flank consisted of three peasant infantry regiments, a ranger unit, three Old Guard battalions, and several knight units. The right flank was held by Blackheart Rep's Independent Regiment, Kislev's Seaguard, Leonardo's Leopard Company, and General Ivan's Ungol horse archers, with Federmond leading a contingent of Sea God Knights.
The battle began.
Thousands of goblins charged to their deaths. Dressed in tattered clothes or crude armor, armed with nothing more than short swords or spears, they surged forward in uncountable numbers. As dwarf cannons roared and peasant crossbowmen and dwarf quarrelers rained arrows, goblin bodies piled high. The musketeers unleashed devastating volleys, yet the greenskin tide, urged on by Skarsnik's merciless orders, pressed on.
The goblins were slaughtered en masse, but they advanced nonetheless. Behind them, Skarsnik held his elite units—Arachnarok Spiders, Black Orcs, and his personal guard of Eight Peaks Night Goblin fanatics—waiting for the right moment to strike.
"Today, all these beard-lovers and tin-cans will die here!" Skarsnik's twisted grin spread across his face. "Go, my minions! Waaaagh!"
"Waaaaagh!" The goblins screamed as they rushed forward, knowing they were marching to their deaths.
But not charging forward meant facing a fate worse than death: being torn apart by squigs.
Amidst the gunfire and arrow storms, Aestel, the ranger commander, was preparing to lead his Green Wind archers into battle, but Ryan quickly shouted, "Aestel, conserve your ammo!"
"Alright," Aestel reluctantly lowered his Starfire Bow, anxiously waiting for the right moment.
The volleys of musket and bowfire were devastating, killing thousands of goblins before they even reached the frontline. The road from the entrance of the ancestral hall to the expedition's battle lines, over a kilometer long, was littered with goblin corpses.
But this did nothing to stop Skarsnik and his Moon Clan horde. When the first goblin reached the dwarven lines, it was met by Beric Northstar, one of Belgar's dwarven thanes, who crushed its skull with a single blow from his axe. More goblins charged into the fray, only to be cut down by the grim-faced dwarves and their human allies.
The battle turned bloody. Goblins surged in endless waves, crashing against the combined forces of men and dwarves, who stood side by side in the face of the greenskin onslaught.
"Die, you filthy green scum!" Beric Northstar fought on the front lines, wielding an axe in one hand and a shield in the other. His Ironbreaker warriors, masters of underground combat, stood firm, clad in meteorite plate armor and wielding heavy round shields. Their runic armor absorbed the goblins' crude attacks, while their axes cleaved through the weak greenskins with ease.
Dozens of goblins were slaughtered within minutes, but more came to take their place. Beric glanced up.
Skarsnik stood just outside of the dwarven artillery's range.
"Damn it!" Beric cursed. He knew it was impossible to launch a countercharge against Skarsnik's position. He continued fighting, his axe cutting down greenskin after greenskin.
Belgar's center held firm, resisting the greenskin advance. Empowered by Valaya's blessing and Belgar's leadership, the dwarves stood like an unbreakable wall, repelling the greenskins at every turn.
"Hold the line! For the Lady, for Bretonnia!" Ryan led the left flank, fighting at the very front with Thor's Hammer. Each swing sent goblins flying or crushed them into pulp. Veronica and Olica followed closely behind, casting spells—black lightning and firestorms erupted among the goblin ranks, turning them into charred corpses. The peasant spearmen began to suffer casualties, but Ryan refused to call in the Old Guard. Instead, he sternly commanded the peasant infantry to hold their ground, declaring, "Fight, soldiers! Who among you seeks promotion, who wants to become an Honored Freemen or join the Old Guard?"
"Ahhh! For the Lady!" Spurred by the King's presence, the peasant soldiers cheered, their morale bolstered, and the line stabilized.
On the right flank, Leonardo's Leopard Company and the Kislev Seaguard also held firm, managing to push back the greenskin tide. Federmond ordered the troops not to overextend, much to the disappointment of the mercenaries, who were eager to chase after the retreating goblins. But they quickly realized there was no need to pursue, as endless waves of goblins continued to charge into their weapons.
Despite the heavy losses, Skarsnik remained calm. Watching his goblins fall by the thousands, the Warlord of Eight Peaks even smiled.
Just five more waves, Skarsnik calculated in his mind.
The bloody battle dragged on for hours. The expedition had the upper hand at first, but as time wore on, the tide began to turn. The goblins of the Moon Clan were endless, while every human or dwarf casualty further weakened the expedition.
After hours of relentless fighting, the flames of fury burning in the dwarves' hearts began to dim. They fought in grim silence, their weapons swinging tirelessly. Under Belgar's leadership, the dwarves stood like immovable rocks before Valaya's Gate, weathering every assault.
"Hehe, the tin-cans are about to break," Skarsnik observed with a twisted grin.
But the human forces were different. After hours of battle, the human flanks had suffered heavy casualties. Their formations began to break apart.
On the left flank, the Old Guard was forced to enter the fray, reinforcing the battered peasant infantry. Ryan personally led the dismounted knights, struggling to hold the line. Only a few Grail Knights remained fresh, while most of the human soldiers were gasping for breath. Hours of fighting had left them exhausted, hungry, and on the verge of collapse.
On the right flank, the mercenaries were also nearing their limit. Leonardo had already given his desperate command: "Going to the Triarii!"
The third line of veteran soldiers from the Leopard Company entered the battlefield. The fighting continued, blood flowing freely. Blackheart Rep and Durant fought side by side, both legendary warriors now panting with exhaustion. As they watched their Independent Regiment suffer heavy losses, Blackheart Rep could feel his heart bleeding.
"It's time," Skarsnik raised his Skarsnik Sword high. "Prepare!"
Bwoooom! The war horns of the greenskins echoed across the battlefield. Five Arachnarok Spiders, loaded with Night Goblin warbands, marched into the fray. Massive groups of Black Orcs and larger groups of common
orc boyz, led by their champions, were ready to join the fight.
"Not yet... not yet..." Skarsnik carefully observed the battlefield. "Wait for them to start retreating. Then, we'll strike!"
Suddenly, chaos erupted!
Boom!
Boom! Boom!
Accompanied by crackling black lightning and eerie green light, the entire eastern wall of the ancestral hall exploded in a deafening blast. As smoke filled the air, five towering Stormfiends burst through the breach, charging into battle. Wielding warpstone flamethrowers and warpstone machine guns, they opened fire on the human and dwarf armies.
Following behind the Stormfiends was a tidal wave of Clanrats and Skavenslaves! Warp lightning cannons aimed at both the greenskin and human formations, obliterating entire sections of the battlefield with each shot, leaving craters and melting bodies in their wake.
The Warlord of Eight Peaks, Queek Headtaker, Right Claw of Clan Mors, stormed into battle with his twin blades, leading his elite bodyguard, the Crimson Hunters Stormvermin!
"Yes, yes!" Queek squealed in delight.
"Beard-things, tin-cans, green-things—all, diedie!"
"Skaven are the true rulers of the world!"
"Everyone will know the name of Queek the Mighty!"
At the same time, the sound of trumpets echoed from the western side of the hall.
Another army had arrived!
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