At this moment, snow particles rattled against his helmet.
Kurzadh stood before the cave entrance at the foot of the mountain, clutching the iron axe he had seized from Kess, its blade polished to a gleam, reflecting a cold light in the snow.
Behind him, sixty hobgoblin spearmen and archers were arranged in two lines, their spear tips and arrowheads uniformly pointed towards the cave entrance; further back, fifty hobgoblin Boys held wooden clubs and stones, howling and stomping their feet in excitement; on the outermost perimeter, one hundred fifty goblins crouched in the snow, their small eyes wide, gripping sharpened branches, ready to squeal and report any movement from within.
The skaven are a race of great horned rats that have been mutated into intelligent beings by "warpstone" (a sinister stone capable of causing mutations).
They worship a god called the great horned rat, and their minds are filled with schemes, plague-spreading, and using all sorts of bizarre inventions to secretly expand underground, hoping to one day seize control of the surface world.
Originally just ordinary rats, prolonged exposure to warpstone made them intelligent, and they banded together to build a home called "skavenblight."
They dug countless tunnels underground, like a spiderweb, spanning the entire world.
They once tried to create a "Doomsphere" (a super-bomb for the earth's core), but it exploded, causing earthquakes and volcanoes, harming both themselves and the dwarves.
After that, they scattered and went into hiding, like an underground guerrilla force.
Their highest authority is the "Council of Thirteen," but not one of these thirteen is easy to deal with; they constantly trip each other up.
In reality, the ones with true influence are the heads of the major clans and the magically adept "Grey Seers" (who serve as both shamans and strategists).
The thirteenth seat is empty, supposedly reserved for a statue of the great horned rat, but it's really just a prop to facilitate power struggles among the others.
They believe everything they do is for the great horned rat; whether fighting others or engaging in internal strife, they call it "the will of the great horned rat."
They never fight by rules; they either swarm forward en masse (overwhelming with sheer numbers) or secretly spread plagues, bombard with the Skryre Clan's strange machines, or send Eshin Clan assassins to eliminate enemy leaders first.
In short, they use whatever underhanded tactics they can, relying on numbers and sinister methods to compensate for their individual combat weaknesses.
They once competed with the vampire lord Nagash for a warpstone mine, feigning cooperation only to stab him in the back, then leaving once the mine was depleted.
They also clashed with the lizardman in the southern jungle (Lustria) but lost, leading to internal conflict upon their return, which was only resolved when the Eshin Clan intervened.
These are a numerous, cunning, invention-loving (though often self-destructive), and evil-god-worshipping race of great horned rats, constantly plotting underground to turn the whole world into a rat's nest.
However, don't laugh at them; they have actually succeeded.
"Listen up, all of you!" Kurzadh bellowed, his voice echoing through the valley, "No shouting once we're inside the cave! spearmen lead the way, archers stay alert with arrows notched! hobgoblin Boys follow behind; if anyone dares to run wild, I'll cleave him with my axe!"
"Waaagh!" the greenskins responded in unison, their eyes glinting with greed.
Ever since Dragu mentioned a destroyed greenskin tribe in the cave, they had been coveting it—who knew, they might find iron spears, iron axes, or even good ale left behind by orcs.
Kurzadh nodded in satisfaction and was the first to enter the cave.
The entrance wasn't wide, only allowing two hobgoblins to walk side-by-side, but once inside, the space opened up dramatically.
It was a natural limestone cave, with dense stalactites hanging from the ceiling, and the ground covered with a thick layer of gravel and dirt; the air was filled with a damp, fishy stench, like a mixture of blood and rotting wood.
"Boss, this way!" Dragu squeezed forward from behind, pointing to the left passage. He had sent hobgoblin Boys to scout the path that morning and was somewhat familiar with the area.
The party followed Dragu deeper inside.
The cave was very dark, with only a little light filtering in from the entrance; the greenskins could only feel their way along the rock walls, occasionally bumping into each other, eliciting a chorus of curses.
After about the time it takes to smoke a pipe, the front suddenly brightened—it was a huge underground cavern, with a small skylight at the top, and snow light streamed down from the skylight, illuminating the scene before them.
If any skaven were to jump down from above, it would certainly be like divine soldiers descending from heaven.
Kurzadh stopped, his brows furrowed.
Before him lay the ruins of a greenskin tribe.
Dozens of crooked wooden huts and lean-tos stood there, many roofs already collapsed, and the wooden walls covered with claw marks and bite marks.
Broken rags, bones, and snapped stone spears were scattered on the ground, but most striking were several enormous skeletons—orc skeletons, their ribs gnawed clean, two tusks broken from their skulls, and their eye sockets pitch black, looking particularly chilling.
"Damn, they really were gnawed to the bone." Wreelx approached an orc skeleton and poked its skull with an iron spear. "These tooth marks, definitely rats."
Kurzadh knelt down and picked up a bone with tooth marks.
The tooth marks were small and neatly arranged, indeed the bite marks of rodents.
He stood up and scanned the surroundings—the bloodstains on the ground had turned black; it looked like the skaven had withdrawn some time ago.
Anything valuable had surely been taken; there wasn't a trace of weapons like iron spears or iron axes, only broken rags and stones remained.
"Good thing we didn't run into them." Kurzadh breathed a sigh of relief.
To gnaw a greenskin tribe with orcs so clean, the number of skaven must have been immense, conservatively estimated in the thousands.
Although the Blackrock Clan had sixty elites, facing thousands of skaven would likely not end well, and they might even be completely annihilated.
He kicked at a broken rag on the ground and shouted to the greenskins behind him: "Spread out! Search carefully! Whether it's wood, stone, or broken rags, anything that can be carried, take it all!"
"Waaagh!" The greenskins , who had been waiting impatiently, scattered and rushed into the ruins to search.
The hobgoblin spearmen kicked open the doors of the wooden huts, using their spear tips to poke through piles of dry grass on the ground; the archers climbed onto half-collapsed roofs, peering at the beams; the hobgoblin Boys were the wildest, directly kicking and digging with their hands, turning over the gravel and bones on the ground in a chaotic mess.
"Here's a piece of iron!" A hobgoblin boy shouted, holding up a rusty iron plate, and immediately several Boyz rushed over to grab it, pushing and shoving each other, even swinging their wooden clubs.
"There's a wooden chest over there!" Wreelx pointed to an intact wooden hut and charged over.
He pried open the chest lid with his iron spear; it was empty except for a few rotten straws, which infuriated him so much that he kicked the chest over.
Kurzadh stood still, not bothering with the greenskins fighting over loot.
This was typical greenskin behavior; seizing spoils was always a top priority, no matter the situation.
He was more concerned about whether the skaven would return.
He looked up at the skylight—snow was still falling, snowflakes drifting in through the skylight and melting into water on the ground.
If the skaven wanted to return, they could easily slip in through the skylight, making it impossible to defend against.
"Scarface!" Kurzadh called out.
A short, stout goblin immediately squeezed out from the crowd and ran to Kurzadh.
Ever since following Kurzadh to fight the Giant Wood tribe, Scarface had been bestowed the title "Loyal Hound" by the system; he could not only understand complex commands but also speak a few simple greenskin words now.
"Boss... what is it?" Scarface's voice was high-pitched, with a slight tremor.
"Take five spearmen and five archers, and go guard the skylight," Kurzadh said, pointing upwards. "If you see rat-like monsters coming through the skylight, shout immediately! Shoot them with arrows!"
"Got it!" Scarface nodded, then turned to gather ten greenskins and headed towards the ruins beneath the skylight.
They climbed onto the roof of a relatively intact wooden hut, the spearmen holding their spears, the archers nocking arrows, all staring intently at the skylight.
Kurzadh walked deeper into the ruins.
He entered the largest wooden hut—by its size, it should have been the tribal leader's residence.
A beast hide lay on the floor inside, already tattered from gnawing; in a corner was a stone jar, empty except for some black residue, like wine stains; a broken iron axe hung on the wall, its handle gnawed full of pits and hollows.
"This must have been the orc leader's hut." Kurzadh touched the blade of the broken axe, feeling a little regretful.
If this axe hadn't been broken, it would have been a fine weapon.
He peered into the stone jar and scraped the residue at the bottom with his iron axe—it was indeed wine, and a very potent greenskin liquor. skaven don't drink alcohol, otherwise, even this Kurzadh jar would have been gnawed.
Just then, a sudden clamor erupted outside.
Kurzadh frowned and walked out of the wooden hut—only to see a group of greenskins fighting around an orc skeleton; hobgoblin spearmen, archers, and Boyz were all mixed together, wooden clubs, spear tips, and stones flying everywhere, all howling, fighting over who knows what.
"Damn it, what are you doing?" Kurzadh walked over and chopped his axe into a nearby piece of wood, which snapped in two with a "crack."
The greenskins immediately stopped and retreated. A hobgoblin boy held up a long beast tooth and stammered, "Bo-boss, this tooth ... it can be made into a weapon..."
Kurzadh eyed the beast tooth —it was half a foot long, thick and sharp, indeed a good find.
He said nothing, just held out his hand.
The hobgoblin boy hesitated, then reluctantly handed over the beast tooth .
"Stop it, all of you!" Kurzadh raised the beast tooth and shouted at the greenskins , "What are you fighting for? The ruins are so big, can't you find your own? If you dare to fight again, I'll confiscate all your weapons!"
The greenskins dared not utter a sound, scattering to continue searching the ruins.
Only this time, no one fought over anything; even if they found something good, they just proudly showed it off, then quickly stuffed it into their bosoms.
Kurzadh held the beast tooth and walked to the orc skeleton. The skeleton's lower jawbone was missing, likely carried off by the skaven.
He held the beast tooth against the skeleton's gum line—it fit perfectly.
It seemed this tooth had indeed fallen from this orc skeleton.
"Interesting." Kurzadh weighed the beast tooth , pondering.
This tooth was hard and sharp; if tied to a wooden stick, it would make a decent short spear.
He called over a hobgoblin boy and told him to find a straight wooden stick.
Not long after, the hobgoblin boy ran back, carrying a wooden stick.
Kurzadh used his iron axe to sharpen one end of the wooden stick, then tied the beast tooth to it with a piece of rag—a beast tooth short spear was made.
He tried swinging it; the feel was good, much sharper than a stone spear.
"Boss, look what we found!" Wreelx ran out from behind a wooden hut, dragging a large cloth bag that was bulging and dropping things.
Kurzadh walked over and opened the bag—it was full of broken iron pieces, snapped wooden arrows, and a few well-rounded stones.
Although none of it was particularly valuable, it was better than nothing. "Good," Kurzadh said. "Take it all to the cave entrance."
Seeing this, the greenskins also began to carry their finds to the cave entrance.
Broken wood, rags, iron pieces, stones... soon a small pile formed at the cave entrance.
The goblins also ran in, helping the hobgoblins carry things, their short legs moving quickly.
Kurzadh stood in the center of the ruins, watching the busy greenskins , then looked up at the skylight.
Snow was still falling, there was no movement from the skylight, and Scarface and his group were vigilantly watching outside.
He touched the beast tooth short spear in his bosom, feeling much more at ease.
Although the skaven were fearsome, at least they had withdrawn for now.
While this abandoned tribe hadn't left behind anything truly valuable, it had at least given the greenskins some practice and they had found some usable scraps.
Most importantly, they had familiarized themselves with the cave's situation, so if they encountered skaven again, they wouldn't be caught off guard.
"That's enough," Kurzadh said, looking at the sky; the light from the skylight had already dimmed. "Tell everyone to pack up; we're going back!"
"Waaagh!" the greenskins responded, beginning to gather at the cave entrance.
Although they hadn't found the imagined iron spears and strong liquor, bringing back a pile of scraps was still a gain.
Kurzadh took one last look at the orc skeletons in the ruins, then turned to follow the main group towards the cave entrance.
The fishy smell in the cave seemed to have faded a bit, leaving only the greenskins' footsteps and shouts.
He knew that although this trip to the cave hadn't encountered danger, the threat of the skaven still remained.
For the Blackrock Clan to establish itself in this forest, they would need to be even more careful.