Return of Reckoning

Hi! Gogrim here again, unfortunately the guild uzgul bakraz died, and since it's over I should give my dwarf an end (that does not mean I'll stop playing with him of course: p) so let's start:


The chaos waste
It was late at night, I had received a message from a brigth wizard who was already a close friend of mine, the message said:
"Gogrim, you as a dwarf of respect could please help me in the next battle in Chaos Wastes?
Signed: Franz Marvin ".
The letter was stamped with Franz's family stamp, I got up from my bed and put on my armor, I went through the dark halls of Karak Kadrin, and sharpened my axes, I was ready for war, I soon fixed my gyrocopter and I started To fly while flying over the beautiful mountains I spotted some goblins trying to catch some squigs, I decided not to go down with my gyrocopter, after all, I had more important matters to deal with, I flew a little more and decided to take another look at the beautiful mountains , When I turned to look forward a large blue dragon flew in front of me, on his back a tall, strong man in blue and yellow armor, from what I noticed he was flying to Chaos Wastes.
I continued my journey, slowly the mountains were replaced by a dark sand, the darkness seemed to want to swallow me, nothing very interesting happened besides a sudden change in the coloring of the sky, the clouds crowded and began to get darker than normal, A storm was approaching. I landed close to the empire's war camp, soldiers armed with halberds, pistols, rifles, swords on all sides, some mercenary dwarves were there as well, white stalls with the symbol of midenheim and middenland were dotted around .
Franz was waiting for me in the central tent, along with the general, Franz's clothing seemed to burn, the general's armor was gold, and his cape was decorated with feathers.
"Gogrim!," Franz said as he came to me. "I'm glad he came, we need as many soldiers as possible, after all, Gholan the immortal is coming."
"This Gholan you're talking about is a chosen one with blue and yellow armor?"
"Yes, did you see him?"
"Yes, he was flying to the enemy war camp, because they need more soldiers to face only one chosen?"
Franz went to a bookshelf in the corner of the tent. He picked up an old book with the title written in blood on a black cover: "Lord of Storms" was the name of the book, he placed it on the table and opened it , As soon as the thick pages moved away he began to read:
"Beware of this chosen, in its sheath it carries Storm Bender, a sword that brings the thunder and rain of the north, its dragon Zahragurt has the most powerful bite of the old world, its shield absorbs almost any type of magic"
I felt my legs tremble, but soon I recovered, after all I'm a Slayer, and dying for someone who can master the storms seems like a good death,Before I could say anything the war horn sounded and the general shouted:
"Prepare your weapons !! the chaos is coming, show your value !! for sigamar !!!"


Fire and Death
In a few minutes the imperial army was in its position, on the horizon I saw a sea of men, wearing stout armor and black furry cloaks, black horses with twisted bodies, giants with horns and great clubs, flying demons, minotaurs surrounded by gors and Ungors, mammoths with heavy armor, trolls with bodies that looked as though they had been destroyed and rebuilt by a blind child, ogres beat theirs in great war drums, forsakens trembled and screamed in pain amidst the war cries of the soldiers, chimeras flew by the field of Battle, some alone, others mounted by tall, muscular warriors, dragon ogres carried large hammers ready to crush their enemies.
In front of the army was him, Gholan in his great black dragon, he removed the sword from his sheath and shouted: WAAAAAAAAAR !!!!
All chaos army began to run, but the strong and brave empire did the same, a mortar shot hit the head of a giant that fell on the enemy legions, I kept running with the soldiers, the sound of the shots and cannons They would not let me hear my thoughts, I thought I would faint when suddenly, a deafening sound of swords striking shields took hold of my ears, I looked to the side and saw more than a hundred men being thrown away by a giant's kick, Manticores were buzzing through my head, picking up soldiers with their claws, in a few minutes my beard was soaked with blood, the battle seemed to have no end, I fought over the body of a fallen giant, around me empire soldiers and chaos legions themselves Lay in a sleep that would never end, beside me was Franz burning any bloodthirster approaching, an ogre tried to run over me, grabbed a throwing ax from my belt and threw it towards the Ogre, the ax stuck in his head and he fell among the bodies.
I struggled without stopping until at one point I heard a sword piercing cloth and flesh, I looked back and saw a Marauder thrust his ax into Franz's chest, I ran and jumped and with a precise blow with my axes and almost broke the Marauder In the middle, I crouched and lifted my friend.
"Wait Franz do not die now, you have so much to burn!"
"No ... Gogrim is my time to leave, tell my son that I love him" Franz stretched out his hand and found on my ax "here, keep this, it will help you a lot" A reddish glow appeared and my axes began to burn, but the fire did not hurt my hands, at that moment all my dwarven pride disappeared, I began to cry, Frnaz slowly closed his eyes and life was gone from his body.


Thunder and Fire
I stood up and looked back, there was Gholan on top of his dragon cutting heads and throwing thunder on the soldiers, I ran towards him, the dragon turned to me and lifted his head, and with a mighty cry threw flames over me , But my body did not burn, with a twist and a powerful blow I snatched the dragon's head with a single blow, the monster fell hard on the ground together with his master, when I thought it was over, Gholan lifted his dragon with just one hand And pulled him away from him he came towards me with a blow of his sword tried to hit me, but I was faster and defended with my ax, the collision of metals made the sound of a thunder, with a quick look around me I noticed that there was no army or battle, all I saw was a sea of bodies, I continued to fight with my enemy, flames and thunder shone during our battle.
With a blow from the bottom up I plucked the Gholan cape, I expected to see a twisted façade like any other chosen, but no, what I saw was the purest darkness, two purple eyes floating over the black flames, I let go My axes, and fell to my knees, felt my soul leave my body, Gholan took my beard and lifted it, and with a blow of his sword opened a ditch in my belly, my guts fell on the dark ground, I looked in his direction and I felt hatred grow in my heart, and I raised my fist closed and punched his belly, felt my bones break and pierce my skin, he took me by the head and lifted me, put his hand inside the hollow of my belly and Started opening it


Memories
At that moment many things went through my mind, I saw all my brothers with their wives and children, soldiers who fought beside me dancing and drinking beer, I saw everyone, Khornigold, Lesti, Garod, Everyone.
So I cried again, and after all this ...
Only darkness ....

Thunder growled on the horizon. The foreboding of a storm to come, and a storm in the Chaos Wastes was something no sane being would endure in the open. Not with at least a mountain over his head thought Lesti Ardisson.

The young Captain of the 3rd Bitterstone Thunderers used the backside of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead not letting his pistol to leave his hand, not here. His gloves were black with sot and grime of black powder fumes and his beard stank like a carpet in an alchemists shop. He smelt fully like a Thunderer should. Also his mouth tasted like it as well. In front of him the Warriors of Ekrund hold a shield wall to keep the chaos scum at bay. In regular intervals they would lower their shields so that the Thunderers in the backline could fire into the underbellies of the Norse raiders.

“Cogwasher!” Lesti barked.
The adjutant stepped next to the Captain and locked puzzled while he continued to load his handgun.

“Aye Sir, Yes Sir?” he asked.

“We are losing the right flank. Use the signal lamp to tell me what the krutt is going on.” Lesti demanded.
Bjarni Cogwasher put his handgun on his back and grabbed a small lantern that dangled from his belt. The small round opening on the side was aimed at the cluster of dwarfs fighting on the right flank. With a small brass lever on the side he opened and closed the front of the lantern; sending a series of longer and shorter light signals.

The lads from Karak Norn where holding the right flank thought Lesti. Hard dwarven Warriors from the Hold of the Grey Mountains. Their armor dyed black and their shields showing the F Rune. Though fighting for the reclaimed Ekrund now Lesti hailed from Karak Azgaraz north of Karak Norn. He had visited Karak Norn in the past. A sturdy folk these Nornians. And they must be like that, as most of the old Karaks from the World Edge Mountains looked down upon them. Not traditional enough was the least offensive word that was used.

Bjarni looked with a wrinkled brow at the returning light signals. Before he could answer Lesti already spoke. “Rik dead … Drakk … ancestor be praised.” He mouthed almost hearable.
“Krutt, and double Krutt.” Lesti spit on the ground. The Dwarfs from Uzgul Bakraz were on a lost position. Ancestors be praised meant that they would be overrun soon and already expect to see their ancestors soon.
“Signal them to advance backwards slowly.” Lesti ordered Bjarni.

"We will support them with our Thunderers. "
While Bjarni began to give the signals Lesti already knew that they would most likely not fall back. Fueled by anger and pride it was more likely they would advance into their doom.
The Horn signal was given and while the Warriors hold the Norsemen at the shield wall the Thunderers began a slow jog and joined their captain while he advanced to the right flank. The black clad dwarfs were almost surrounded. A small detachment of men on horses have ride as fast as they could on their small and shaggy horses and were throwing javelins and axes at dwarven backlines.

“Bitterstone!” Lesti barked, “Halt!”
Heavy leather boots began to stop its thumping and formed a line, two dwarfs deep.

“Upon identified target 2 o’clock independent fire!” he ordered.
The Thunderers opened fire on the light riders, plucking them from their horses. The Longbeards who were more of a practical nature simply shot at the horses. A norse shot dead or crushed by his own horse was the same in the end. After each Thunderer has made two shots the nerves of the horsemen broke and the scurried away to harass the line somewhere else.

The blue uniformed dwarfs began again their jog and reached the backline of the dwarfs from Karak Norn. Dead and maimed Dawi lay everywhere. Most of them not more in one piece. Among the dead even lay a smaller dragon. Before Lesti could give any orders a giant roar let the teeth in his mouth rattle. A primal fear that every living being got embedded into its soul was about to take control of his body. The fear of something as old as the world itself, a dragon.
Lesti felt how his legs began to shake and his dongliz about to wet himself, but when the fear tried to get more upwards it hit his stomach and his beard. And both were filled with a lorry full of dwarven pride and beer. One more than the other. And no fear can overcome both of these.

The Dragon was a beast of bad nightmares, these that end with you being shred to pieces. And that shredding part the dragon had obviously done just to a vanguard force of the Nornian Dwarfs. The beast turned his head and locked straight at the formation of the black clad warriors. With far too much speed for its size it moved towards them, trampling fighting men and dwarfs under its claws.

“Kill that drakk!” Lesti shouted forgetting all formal orders.
Handguns barked and hit the dragon at its neck and head but his scales proved to be more than capable of preventing the bullets to pierce its flesh.
We need something different Lesti thought, that won’t stop him. He searched the Thunderers to his left till he saw the white bearded Sergeant Finvjer.
“Sergeant, Kuri grenade!” Lesit barked.
“Aye, Captn!” came the answer of the veteran.
The old norse dwarf dropped his handgun and unslung his backpack. He began to rummage through the backpacks inner life and produced a set of spare socks, his pipe, some rope and a dozen more things a dwarf need when he marches into war.

“Ayntime you are ready Sergeant!” Lesti said calmly while firing his pistol at the dragon. But for all it did was to get the lead ball squatted at the creature’s chest. The Dragon was now directly in front of the warriors. It tilted back its enormous head and inhaled the air like a hungry forge, readying its deadly flame breath.
“Got ya li’ll bugger.” Finvjer exclaimed, stood up, pulled the splint of the small wooden bomb in his fist and threw it directly at the snout of the beast. His muscular arm snapped forward like the rope of a grudgethrower catapult. With a rather small plop sound it exploded in front of the dragon’s snout. The beast wasn’t even bothered by the explosion and was not wounded in the slightest, but the small green cloud was inhaled by it almost in full.
It took the beast almost a second to realize that it just had inhaled the most hot and tear shredding spices known to dwarfkind. It shook its head in a frenzied fury and even began to smash its own snout into the ground to lose the fire which burned in its lungs, eyes and throat. Water, it realized it needs water to clear its head, turned around and trampled through the chaos troops to reach the next sea or river, its lust for battle overruled by its need to breath and see once more clearly.

“This was ‘eh last of’r pepperbombs Cap’n” Finvjer concluded.
“Aye, Seargent. They don’t make em these days.” Lesti answered by reloading his pistol and concluded, “Now let’s finish these buggers.”
Their beasts robbed the Norsemen army were no match for the dwarfs. Methodical and supported by the Handguns they butchered the last of them and send them back to their tribal lands.

When the night was thick around them the dwarfs sat at campfires and told new stories of their bravery, often quite exaggerated, of the recent battle. But no cheers or boastfulness was shown at the campfires of the black clad warriors of Karak Norn.
Lesti and Finvjer approached the fires of these dwarfs. Only a handful of them had survived the battle. The last time he had seen them they were at least thrice the numbers. When he was standing in front of them the Captain began to speak:
“Dwarfs of Karak Norn! Uzgul Bakraz! My name is Captain Lesti Ardisson of the 3rd Bitterstone Thunderers. Today your King Khornigold has gone. For his body has not been found we assume that he is missing or taken as a prisoner. The Ancestors will watch over him wherever he is now.”
They were now all looking at him. Their armor over and over decorated with blood, grime and ichor from deamons and beasts form the wastes. Lesti on the other hand looked like his padded west has been cleaned yesterday. Some of Uzguls veterans who had a longer beard than Lesti chose that pause to spit in the fire to show what they think of this Ufdi in front of them.

Lesti continued: “As the last surviving superior officer I take command of your throng and will use them in the coming fights until further orders from the High King or your Karak.”

A murmur began in the ranks of the black clad dwarfs. Wazzok and Ufdi were the most prominent words in that grumbling.
Lesti gave Sergeant Finvjer a nod and stepped a feet behind.

“Listen up ya dirty Wanazi! Ye ar’ now part of the 3rd Bitterstone Thunderers!” Finvjer began to shout. “In the Thunderers every day is a feast and every Chuff the greatest meal ya ever had! Dwarfs of Ekrund ye are now like we all who wear the blue with pride. Clean yer gear, we march in the morning!”