"Squeak, squeak —Press forward! Press forward, all of you!"
A sharp roar came from deep within the cave, the sound like fingernails scraping against rusted metal, shrill and hoarse, carrying the unique viciousness of the skaven.
The one shouting was Skrittik, the leader of the clanrat group. He stood at the very front of the clanrat formation, his deep brown fur stained with dried blood, clad in blackish-brown leather armor, and gripping a bronze scimitar with a chipped edge —something he had looted years ago while attacking humans with the Patriarch.
A greedy light flashed in Skrittik's small eyes.
When the Patriarch led the main force to wipe out this greenskin tribe yesterday, he was lagging behind and only managed to get some greenskin bones.
Today, he secretly brought his slave rat and clanrat subordinates over, initially hoping to pick up some scraps —maybe finding an iron spear the Patriarch hadn't noticed, or dried mushrooms hidden in a nest.
But unexpectedly, they ran into another group of greenskins !
These greenskins were all carrying tattered belongings, clearly having thoroughly looted all the good items from the ruins.
Skrittik's fury instantly overwhelmed his greed —Daring to steal from the skaven? Seeking death! He licked the sharp fangs at the corner of his mouth, a hint of cruelty flashing in his small eyes: Perfect, kill all these greenskins and drag them back as emergency rations! food is hard to find in winter, and although greenskin meat is a bit tough, it's better than chewing on rocks.
"Squeak! Kill! Kill them! Drag them back!" Skrittik shrieked again, brandishing his bronze scimitar.
"Squeak! Squeak!"
Five or six hundred slave rat immediately went mad.
They howled, raising bone clubs, rusted iron scraps, and sharp stones, surging toward the greenskin shield wall like a black tide.
The few slave rat running at the front even tripped over each other because they were moving too fast. The skaven behind them simply trampled over their companions' backs, charging forward regardless of life or death.
"Block them! All of you, block them for me!" Kurzadh stood on the flank of the shield wall, roaring as he brandished his iron axe.
At the very front of the shield wall, fifty hobgoblin Boys held up wooden boards tightly.
The boards groaned under the impact of the skaven charge, and some even cracked.
One hobgoblin boy lost his footing and stumbled back two steps, only to be immediately shoved back by the boy next to him: "Damn it! Hold steady! If you fall, I'll beat you to death!"
"Pfft! Pfft!"
Just as the slave rat rushed up to the boards, the hobgoblin spearmen behind the boards moved.
Thirty spearmen exerted all their strength, thrusting their iron-tipped spears fiercely through the gaps in the wooden boards —the spear tips accurately piercing the bellies, throats, or eyes of the slave rat.
The slave rat running at the very front, just as it raised its bone club to strike, had its throat pierced by an iron-tipped spear.
Its "Squeak" abruptly stopped. Its eyes were wide and round, and its limbs kicked futilely before it slumped to the ground. Blood flowed down the spear tip, dripping onto the snow and spreading into a patch of dark red.
The second, the third followed... The slave rat, like flies hitting a wall, were successively stabbed to death by the spear tips.
Some were pierced through the belly, their intestines spilling out of the wound; some were stabbed through the eye, their brains splattering onto the boards; and others were struck by several spears simultaneously, pinned directly to the ground without even the strength to struggle.
"Well done!" Kurzadh watched, his blood boiling, a fierce light flashing in his green eyes. "Keep stabbing! Turn these rats into sieves!"
Behind the shield wall, thirty hobgoblin archers were not idle either.
They drew their bows and nocked arrows, iron arrows flying "whoosh, whoosh" toward the mass of skaven.
Wreelx stood among the archers. His archery was the best among the greenskins . One arrow he shot hit a slave rat's head perfectly —the iron arrow went in through the left eye and out through the right. The slave rat let out a single "Squeak" before collapsing motionless onto the ground.
"Hahaha! I hit it!" Wreelx boasted proudly, quickly nocking another arrow.
The other archers were not to be outdone.
Some arrows went wide, sticking into the rock wall of the passage; some struck the backs of the slave rat, not fatally, but causing them to shriek and fall; and others pierced through the body of a slave rat in front and then lodged into the leg of a skaven behind, taking down two at once.
The dense rain of arrows fell upon the skaven horde, and every volley knocked down over a dozen slave rat.
But the number of skaven was simply too great —five or six hundred slave rat were squeezed into the narrow passage. When those in front fell, those behind immediately trampled over their companions' corpses and charged forward, completely disregarding life or death.
It was like a torrential downpour hitting a water vat; although it created splashes, it could never fill the vat.
"Damn it, why are there so many of these rats!" An archer's quiver was empty. He cursed, picked up a stone from the ground, and threw it into the mass of skaven.
Kurzadh's expression also darkened.
He could see that although the greenskin shield wall was holding back the skaven for now, the pressure was growing immense.
The wooden boards were increasingly battered by the skaven's bone clubs, with large gaps starting to appear in some places; the arms of the hobgoblin spearmen were growing tired, and their thrusts were slowing down; the quivers of the archers were emptying one by one, and usable weapons were dwindling.
"Squeak!"
Suddenly, an exceptionally robust slave rat squeezed through a crack in the wooden boards, opening its mouth to bite the hobgoblin boy holding the board.
The boy was unprepared and got his arm bitten, screaming in pain as the wooden board in his hand clattered to the ground.
"Damn it!" Seeing this, the nearby hobgoblin boy raised his wooden club and smashed it onto the slave rat's head.
With a "crack," the slave rat's skull split open. It released its bite and fell to the ground, twitching.
But in that momentary gap, two more slave rat squeezed through, one from the left and one from the right, pouncing on the hobgoblin boy holding the board.
"Fill the gap quickly!" Kurzadh roared.
Two hobgoblin Boys immediately rushed over, picked up the dropped board, and desperately sealed the breach.
However, the two slave rat had already lunged into the shield wall, opening their mouths to bite the nearest hobgoblin spearman.
One spearman reacted quickly, pushing the slave rat away with his spear shaft, but the other spearman was bitten on the leg —the slave rat's sharp fangs were like knives, instantly tearing through the animal hide armor, and blood immediately gushed out.
"Aow!" The spearman roared in pain, wildly thrusting the iron-tipped spear in his hand, which coincidentally stabbed the slave rat in the belly.
But another slave rat leaped up and bit his neck.
"Save him!" Kurzadh grew anxious, charging forward with his iron axe raised.
But after only two steps, he was blocked by the greenskins in front —the shield wall was packed tight, making it impossible to move.
Just then, an iron arrow flew over with a "whoosh," hitting the slave rat directly in the head.
It was Wreelx! Seeing the chaos in the shield wall, he immediately redirected his aim and saved the spearman's life.
The spearman took the opportunity to push the slave rat's corpse away, retreating while clutching his bleeding neck. Another hobgoblin boy immediately stepped up, raising a wooden board to continue blocking.
"Don't panic! Nobody panic!" Kurzadh roared. "Spearmen, push forward! archers, aim for the gaps! Boyz, watch the boards!"
Although the greenskins were panicked, they still obeyed Kurzadh's command.
The hobgoblin spearmen exerted themselves, thrusting their iron-tipped spears forward, stabbing the slave rat surging toward the shield wall; the archers concentrated their fire, shooting arrows at the cracks in the boards to prevent the skaven from squeezing through; the hobgoblin Boys held the wooden boards tightly. Some had arms swollen and red from being struck, and others had hands bitten by skaven fangs, yet no one dared to let go —they knew that if the board fell, they would be torn apart by the skaven.
Fortunately, the passage at the cave entrance was very narrow, allowing a maximum of only seventeen or eighteen slave rat to rush forward simultaneously.
The greenskin shield wall was like a hard reef, firmly wedged in the passage entrance, holding back the tide of skaven.
The battle grew increasingly bloody.
A thick layer of skaven corpses quickly piled up in front of the shield wall. Some corpses were trampled into pulp, blood and organs mixing together, emitting a nauseating stench.
The greenskins were also covered in blood —some skaven, some their own.
One hobgoblin spearman's iron-tipped spear broke. He simply threw away the shaft, picked up a stone from the ground, and smashed it onto a skaven's head; an archer's wooden bow broke, so he picked up a broken spear from the ground and thrust it forward through the gaps in the boards; the hobgoblin Boys were even more frantic, some biting the skaven's claws with their teeth, others headbutting the skaven's bellies. Even when bitten, they desperately clung to the boards without letting go.
A few hobgoblins were dragged out of the shield wall by the skaven and instantly submerged in the rat horde. Only a few shrill screams could be heard before the noise quickly subsided.
But the greenskins behind immediately filled the gaps, and the shield wall never suffered a major breach.
The slave rat were still charging forward madly.
They trampled over their companions' corpses, some even climbing onto the pile of bodies, attempting to get over the wooden boards.
But as soon as they poked their heads out, they were either stabbed through the skull by a hobgoblin spearman's iron-tipped spear or shot down by an archer's iron arrow.
Blood flowed down the pile of corpses, collecting into small streams on the passage floor, making a "Squish-squish" sound when stepped on.
The greenskins' eyes were red, and they howled "Aow, aow," like cornered beasts with only one thought —kill these rats!
Skrittik stood behind the skaven horde, a hint of impatience flashing in his small eyes.
He hadn't expected these greenskins to be so formidable —he originally thought that a single charge by the slave rat would tear the greenskins to shreds. But now, hundreds of slave rat had nearly been thrown into the fight, yet they still hadn't broken through that broken wooden board formation!
"Squeak! Rubbish! All of you are rubbish!" Skrittik roared at the clanrat in front, brandishing his bronze scimitar. "You go! Tear the bones out of those greenskins !"
Dozens of clanrat exchanged glances, a flicker of fear in their eyes —the slave rat corpses piled up like a small mountain in front, and the cold gleam of the greenskin spear tips and arrowheads showed they were not to be trifled with. They had only come to find food , not to fight to the death.
But they dared not disobey Skrittik's command, so they slowly shuffled forward, holding up their short spears and scimitars.
The battle at the cave entrance continued.
Sunlight from the snowy ground shone through the entrance, illuminating the bloody scene in the passage —the greenskin shield wall was like a blood-soaked reef, and the tide of skaven continued to crash against it. Every second, a life fell, and every inch of ground was stained red with blood.
Kurzadh gripped his iron axe tightly, his green eyes fixed intently on the skaven in front.
His arm had been scratched by a skaven claw. Blood flowed down his arm, dripping into the blood pooling on the ground.
But he felt no pain, only one thought in his mind: Hold the line! They must hold the line!
This was the cruelest battle since the founding of the Blackrock Clan.
Either they killed all these skaven, or they would be dragged back by the skaven as emergency rations.
Greenskins never chose the latter.
"Aow aow aow!"
Kurzadh let out a furious, savage roar toward the skaven deep inside the cave.
The greenskins in the shield wall followed suit, roaring back, their voices shaking the rock walls of the passage.