"No, really no! Ironhead Aykhatam only heard it through the grapevine, through the grapevine!"
Even if Ogres were slow-witted, they had noticed the change in atmosphere. Once the competition from the Greenskins was gone, the dwarf, whose cruelty seemed a bit off, bared his fangs at them.
"I'm not lying to you, every Ogre who leaves the Mournful Mountains to make a living down south is told not to provoke your kinsmen who live in the north! Especially Karoka, Kara-what?"
"Karak Kadrin!" Johnson Strongshield corrected him with a voice as loud as the Ogres'.
"Right, that place with a huge shrine. Even though you are not tall, the things you build are bigger than ours! There are guys with orange hair there, and they cut people down even more fiercely than the Chaos Dwarfs in the Dark Lands!"
"Chaos Dwarfs?" Gromril muttered to himself.
Listening to Aihetanmu's words, the Ogres all reacted, swearing that they had never touched a single hair on a dwarf.
"I, I don't like to eat hard things!"
"I'm most afraid of dwarfs! The longer the orange hair, the stronger they are!"
"I swear by the great maw, I only eat Greenskins and Gnoblars!"
Watching the Ogres express themselves one after another, Gromril went with the flow. As they were talking, the main force of the convoy arrived.
Gromril took half of the deposit from the safe and paid Aihetanmu. This kind of risky, capital-free business was different from regular ones; according to the rules, the money had to be paid in full upfront.
By dusk, Gromril slowed down the march. He hoped to reach Karak-Azgaraz at noon the next day, when the sun was strongest. This would maximally weaken the Night Goblins, his hypothetical enemy, and also facilitate the use of artillery.
According to Gromril's observations along the way, most human farmers and commoners still suffered from night blindness, which manifested as difficulty seeing or complete inability to see in dim light or at night, making movement difficult.
This symptom is usually caused by a lack of Vitamin A. Foods rich in Vitamin A mainly include the livers of poultry and livestock, as well as egg yolks. Unfortunately, these are all things that the farmers of Bretonnia cannot afford.
Gromril had heard a joke at a tavern: There was an old Imperial veteran who, when he was young, was captured by Dark Elves but miraculously escaped and settled in the coastal area of Bretonnia.
One day, his grandson asked him, "Grandpa, what is the order you defended?"
The old veteran replied, "When Grandpa was a slave on the Black Ark, those evil Dark Elves only gave us one piece of meat per meal, wanting us to fight over it to divide and control us! But we didn't fall for it. We agreed that today you eat meat, tomorrow I eat meat. This way, we didn't have to fight and bleed, but everyone got to eat meat. That's called order."
The grandson said, "Grandpa, I understand what order is. But I still don't understand what meat is."
This simple joke was enough to show the miserable lives of Bretonnian farmers. Gromril knew that in some parts of this kingdom, tax rates even reached an outrageous nine-tenths.
That evening, Gromril found an abandoned mine shaft to set up camp. He first arranged for his subordinates to clear out a small group of Night Goblins from the mine, then dispatched dozens of sentries.
With the addition of over twenty Ogres, the pressure on the accompanying cook for dinner was immense. Almost every one of these big fellows could eat ten servings of food.
"Mate, are you a Tyrant?" Gromril asked, holding his bowl, looking at the Ogre leader sitting opposite him.
"Tyrant? By the great maw!" Aihetanmu exclaimed. He chugged down the broth in his bowl. Gromril initially thought he wanted to swallow the bowl too, which, of course, wouldn't be difficult given an Ogre's digestive capabilities.
"Although the tribe Aihetanmu comes from isn't the biggest, it still has a good seven or eight thousand people! Our Tyrant, he's strong enough to arm wrestle a Giant! He wouldn't personally come to earn this hard-earned money; he just sits in his tent and waits for Aihetanmu and his mates to return and pay tribute!"
Listening to the Ogre's words, Gromril gasped. The war potential of these fellows was truly terrifying! However, the Ogre Kingdoms were far away, and it would not be easy to utilize them.
"Below the Tyrant are the Maneaters! In terms of pure size and appetite, besides the Tyrant, they are the most formidable guys in my tribe, and they also have a great relationship with the Tyrant! I, Ironhead Aykhatam, also want to be a Maneater!" The Ogre leader tapped the side of the pot, signaling for more food.
"I'm just an Iron Gut, just an Iron Gut!" He started patting his gut-plate again, as if this massive gut-plate, adorned with what Gromril considered bizarre decorations by dwarf standards, was a key distinguishing feature between him and his plain-gut-plated subordinates.
"You can tell, Boss! I have sturdier armor and better gear!" Aihetanmu began to show off his equipment, which Gromril considered akin to junk.
"After this job is done, I want you dwarfs to make me something better! When I'm strong enough, I'm going back to challenge! Gut-plate Deathmatch!" Aihetanmu yelled, waving his weapon, which made Gromril's guards extremely tense.
"Gut-plate Deathmatch! Gut-plate Deathmatch!" The other Ogres also started shouting.
"This is our Ogre tradition! Take off your gut-plates and duel to the death! The victor has the right to eat the defeated fellow and take everything he owned!" Aihetanmu's face glowed with a strange mix of piety and bloodlust.
"Disperse, disperse, get some good rest, tomorrow will be a big battle!" Gromril dismissed the somewhat hot-blooded crowd, but he pulled Maldini aside.
"Young man, do you have the confidence to fly over Undermountain Hold tonight for reconnaissance?" Gromril was still uneasy; he wanted more information about the enemy.
"Of course, no problem! I feel the Lady's gaze! My partner and I are very spirited!" The young man said, patting his chest. "However, I might not be able to see very clearly at night."
"That doesn't matter, here, take this!" Gromril said, taking the scope that Brockson had just removed.
"Hoo! Oh my goodness, my vision is like an eagle's!" Bartini exclaimed immediately after putting on the scope.
"Do well, young man! I'll give it to you after this trip!" Gromril promised. Such an item was not rare in Zhufbar, the engineer City.
Soon, Bartini set off on his Pegasus. Gromril calculated the time he would need. After nearly four hours, he returned at lights out.
"Gromril, your clansmen are still holding on! Rest assured!"
These were Bartini's first words after dismounting from his sweaty steed.
Hearing this, Gromril felt relieved. Although Karak-Azgaraz was not a very large fortress, Gromril believed that with the Dwarf race's resilience and defensive capabilities, it was absolutely impossible for it to fall in ten or eight days.
One must know that famous dwarf strongholds in the Old World, such as Karak Ungor, Karak-Eight-Peaks, and Karak-Azgal, all fell only after decades, or even a century, of protracted warfare.
"And the enemy? What's their situation?" Seeing Maldini's attendant bring him a towel and fresh water, and lead away his Pegasus, Gromril leaned closer and continued to ask.
"I didn't see any orks; there seemed to be only Goblins and the Trolls they drove out!" Maldini said, catching his breath.
"That's very reasonable. orks are originally the last batch of green mushrooms to emerge. If Goblins are the leaders, they wouldn't be able to control orks without enough prestige," Gromril analyzed from the side.
"Yes, from the sky, I saw a group of Night Goblins gathered together. From their attire, they might be the instigators of this Waaagh!" Maldini continued.
"Wonderful! Having the ability to fly is truly great, offering a clear view of the enemy's situation!" Gromril showed an envious look; he knew too well the importance of intelligence in war.
The great man taught that commanders need to use all possible and necessary reconnaissance methods, to refine, verify, infer, and thoroughly analyze the various materials obtained from reconnaissance regarding the enemy's situation. Then, they should add their own situation, study the comparison and relationship between the two sides, thereby forming a judgment, making a decision, and formulating a plan.
This is the entire process of understanding the situation before a strategist makes any strategic, campaign, or tactical plan.
"So, what's their situation?" Gromril continued to ask.
"Hmm, they wore hoods and cloaks that seemed to be innate. I couldn't see clearly, but the one standing in the middle was slightly taller." Bartini gestured with his hands. Gromril felt that the Night Goblin Leader should be about as tall as a normal dwarf.
"He was holding a pointy thing in his hand, not the usual sword and shield of a Night Goblin Leader. Perhaps it was a staff?" Maldini was, after all, still a young man. His combat experience and knowledge were not extensive, so he could only offer uncertain deductions.
If it were his father, Viscount Ackerman, who had served in the military for over twenty years, he might have been able to make a rough estimate of the Night Goblin Leader's age and strength.
"It's very common for a spellcaster, larger than an average Night Goblin, to serve as a Warboss!" Gromril affirmed.
"Is there anything else worth noting?" Gromril patiently guided Maldini, who was not a professional scout.
"Uh, that Night Goblin Leader had a very large Cave squig next to him, the kind of pinkish fleshy ball." Maldini spread his hands, trying to illustrate the squig's size.
"Night Goblins are good at taming them, so it's reasonable for the leader to have a larger one next to him!" Gromril suddenly had a strange feeling. He tried to get more information to confirm it.
"And what else? Did this group of Night Goblins have any other distinctive features? Like emblems or banners?" Gromril wanted more information to help him make decisions. This was his first major battle commanding alone, and he hoped to minimize uncertainties.
"A grinning moon, a new moon, or was it a full moon? I'm not very sure. Those leading black Dwarves all had these on their hats!" Maldini used his imagination to try and describe the crude, abstract creations of the Greenskins.
"A grinning moon? Night Goblins? Holding a pointy thing? With a large squig by his side?" Gromril repeated the key information provided by Maldini.
"You... Valaya above!" Gromril finally connected everything. "Skarsnik! Warlord of Eight Peaks Mountain!" He uttered these ten words slowly, as if each letter weighed a thousand pounds.
"Skarsnik? What does that mean, cousin?" This was Balin's voice.
"This is the middle section of the Grey Mountains. Karak-Eight-Peaks is far away in the Badlands, thousands of miles away!" This was Captain Grenson's voice; he had only clearly heard the words Eight Peaks Mountain.
"Right, Skarsnik started his campaign from Karak-Undermountain Hold!" Gromril slapped his forehead; he had connected everything.
"Pass my order, call a pre-battle meeting!" Gromril roared. He attached extremely high importance to Skarsnik, a uniquely cunning Goblin Warlord.
"I will keep him here, beneath the walls of Karak-Azgaraz!" Gromril secretly vowed. He knew that if he truly succeeded, then on the path to reclaiming Karak-Eight-Peaks, the eternal sorrow of the Mountains Kingdom, a huge obstacle would be removed.
Although somewhat puzzled, Gromril's guards quickly dispersed. Ten minutes later, the various leaders of the caravan gathered in Gromril's tent.
Before a temporarily set-up table, Gromril spread out a map. It depicted the terrain of Karak-Undermountain Hold.
"Everyone!" Gromril stood before the main seat, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed the attendees. They were:
Questing Knight Fatis - responsible for commanding the human adventurers recruited by the caravan;
Pegasus Knight Maldini - responsible for commanding the Bretonnia human troops;
engineer Brockson - Gromril authorized him to command the artillery and dwarf ranged firepower other than the Iron Drakes;
Roggof the Manticore Butcher - responsible for commanding the Slayer troops; of course, his formidable martial prowess and battle spirit probably surpassed everyone else's;
Bulkin of Barren Fort - he was the military adjutant arranged by Lord Borok, responsible for commanding the dwarf melee troops supported by Karak Norn;
Eternal Hammer Guard Grenson - Gromril appointed this Longbeard Elder, whose beard and strength were equally respected, as his military adjutant;
Cousin Tomi - by virtue of his status as a wealthy merchant and his kinship with Gromril, he became Gromril's spokesman in the caravan, now responsible for leading the merchants and their guards.
And Aihetanmu, the Ogre Iron Gut, who was too large to enter and squatted outside the tent - undoubtedly responsible for commanding the Ogre mercenaries.
"I called everyone here so late for tomorrow's battle. The Ancestor Goddess has just given me an oracle!" Gromril immediately pushed the reason onto the Mother Goddess without a word.
"She told me that the commander of those sneaky black Dwarves is a great enemy of our Sons of the Mountains! She demands that we slay him on the spot!" Gromril's voice was not loud, but everyone in the tent became solemn upon hearing it.
Gromril's initial loss of composure upon hearing the news was well explained by the Mother Goddess's oracle, and everyone present grew tense. For the Mother Goddess to specifically send down a message, the leader of the Night Goblins must be extraordinary.
"Excellent!" Roggof the Manticore Butcher shouted, pounding the table. "Master Gromril, you must let me and my men lead the charge! To seek death in accordance with the Mother Goddess's oracle is enough to wash away the most deeply etched grudges!" The strong man was practically itching for a fight.
"I represent all the warriors of Karak Norn and will follow your commands!" Bulkin declared, pounding his chest plate. "I swear before Lord Borrok and Queen Therma that this time, we will follow your lead!"
Gromril was very pleased to hear the two dwarves' earnest declarations, but he knew that holding a meeting late at night wasn't just to hear his subordinates shout slogans. He raised a hand to stop the others who were eager to stand up and express their resolve.
"Aihetanmu, Aihetanmu!" Gromril called out, waking the Ogre leader who had started to doze off.
"What's the command, Boss?" he asked, shaking his large head.
"Here's the plan: you and your men will set out now and report to the Greenskins! Tell them you were hired by that Goblin I smashed to death!"
"Huh?" Aihetanmu didn't quite understand.
"When my men launch their general assault, as soon as you hear the cannon fire, you will turn on them and fiercely attack those green mushrooms!" Gromril continued to instruct.
"That, the noseless Gnoblars, you killed him, Ironhead Aykhatam is afraid the green mushroom Boss won't trust me!" The Ogre's iron stomach head seemed to brighten up.
"You just tell him: 'I told your subordinates the location of another Ogre mercenary group, only a day's journey from here. He told me to report to you first, and then he went directly to negotiate with that mercenary group himself!'" Gromril thought for a moment and gave his explanation.
"That Night Goblin Boss, well, he's very clever. He might not fully believe you, but he has no reason not to, especially when he lacks strong siege equipment. He urgently needs your strength!"
Aihetanmu nodded his massive head. Gromril spoke while thinking, reaching for his coffee cup. He needed something to keep him alert during the late-night meeting.
"The Night Goblins might be wary of you, but with careful planning against their unawareness, you and your men will still achieve the desired effect!" Gromril analyzed.
"You… you're cunning, Boss! I think you're not like a dwarf!" Aihetanmu's deep voice echoed in the tent.
"You seem like a Goblin in dwarf skin! You are more cruel and cunning than any dwarf I've ever seen!"
Such a comparison was clearly a great insult to a dwarf, but Gromril stopped his subordinates from reaching for their weapons.
"Hahahaha! How does that saying go? Ignorance is bliss!" Gromril once again used an awkward laugh to ease the atmosphere.
"However, as you know without me saying it, once you take the money, you should do a good job!" Gromril changed his tone, staring at Aihetanmu. "You must have heard of our Sons of the Mountains' book of grudges! Any act of breaking an oath will be settled by our axes and cannonballs!"
Gromril decided to give him a warning before he departed. To be honest, Gromril didn't know if this Ogre would betray him, so he kept Aihetanmu and his troops outside of his plan and did not intend for the Ogre to participate in the upcoming meeting.
"Go, take your comrades and infiltrate the Greenskins! Don't disappoint me!" Gromril, after receiving an affirmative reply, gestured for Aihetanmu to leave.
After watching him swayingly gather his recently fed and watered subordinates and set off, Gromril gestured to Captain Grenson, who was sitting by the entrance, to close the tent flap.
"Karak-Azgaraz's main gate faces the Bretonnia side, its back is to the Mountains, and there are also side gates linked to the geomantic network on both sides!" Gromril said, pointing at the map spread out on the table.
Undermountain Hold was not a very large fortress; it was built primarily as a hub and pivot point for the geomantic network in the Grey Mountains. Of course, like every dwarf Mountain Stronghold, it was built upon a rich vein of ore and served as the center for the surrounding small dwarf settlements.
"Goblins are cunning and cowardly fellows, and Night Goblins are even more so! Once the battle turns against them, they will decisively try to escape. To annihilate them, or rather, to slay their leader, we need some tactics!" Gromril expressed his thoughts.
All the attendees agreed. Through thousands of years of accumulated experience in warfare, they understood that if they were to simply follow the geomantic network directly from west to east to Undermountain Hold,
then even if they successfully defeated the besieging Goblins and completed the relief mission, if the Night Goblin commanders saw the battle turning unfavorable and immediately retreated, it would be almost impossible for the dwarves to catch up given their movement speed.
"Then what should we do?" Tomi, participating in a military meeting for the first time, was the most impatient.
"We must divide our forces into three routes and block every escape path for those black dwarves!" Gromril gave his decision.
"Think twice, esteemed Chosen of the Goddess!"
"Grimnir above!"
"Gromril is indeed as skilled as he is bold!"
The people in the tent reacted differently upon hearing this statement.
"This is a bit too risky! Our available forces are limited!" Captain Grenson spoke up. Among these men, he was the oldest and most experienced.
"I know, I know! That's why we need some strategy." Gromril raised a hand to calm them.
"Let me explain my plan!" Gromril said, tapping the map with a pointer.
"First, the first route: our caravan!" Gromril looked at the dwarves sitting to his left.
"I want the merchants to unload the goods from their wagons, and then they themselves will stay here at the camp to protect their cargo. The enemies on the way here have all been cleared out, so there shouldn't be too much risk!" Gromril took a sip of coffee.
"Our warriors will hide inside the wagon compartments covered with tarpaulins. The caravan guards will remain outside, making it look like a normal caravan. The cannons naturally don't need to be unloaded, but they also need some camouflage."
"Lure those dwarf-devils out and then eliminate them! Brilliant, don't they love to attack caravans? Let them attack to their heart's content!" Bulkin exclaimed, pounding the table, as if he and his family had a related grudge.
"Yes, although it's daytime, there's no reason for the Night Goblin leader to sit by and watch the convoy reach Karak-Azgaraz. He will definitely send troops to intercept it!"
Gromril took over, analyzing further. "However, that Night Goblin Boss, Skarsnik, he is an intelligent Goblin, and he would never let his subordinates rush the caravan all at once."
Gromril tapped the table, mentally rehearsing, imagining Skarsnik's reaction upon learning that a dwarf caravan was approaching Karak-Azgaraz.
"Intelligent? Does that mean he is particularly cunning?"
"Is this why the Mother Goddess bestowed her divine favor?"
The clansmen present understood Gromril's words to some extent, but Gromril decided to elaborate.
"Simply put, we all know that green mushrooms are born to fight; they find it exhilarating, very 'waaagh'."
"What does 'exhilarating' mean?" engineer Brockson asked. This word came from Gromril's previous life, and none of the clansmen present had heard it before.
"Tsk, tsk! It means, ah, very comfortable, happy, joyful, understand?" Gromril suddenly felt his vocabulary was a bit lacking.
"Respected Chosen of the Goddess, your statement sounds very Slaanesh, doesn't it?" It was the Butcher Rogov who spoke.
"My dear Cousin, this wouldn't be the feeling after taking hallucinogenic mushrooms, would it?" Cousin Tomi asked with a mischievous grin.
"These aren't important!" Gromril saw that meeting discipline was about to be broken by the dwarves' nature, so he raised his voice slightly.
"What's important is that the other greenskins, they have no strategy! No plan that considers the overall situation to achieve overall goals. Simply put, they don't know where they are going to fight, nor do they know what to do after finishing a fight."
"Therefore, we often see them invade a human city, slaughter the defenders, then start infighting, eventually splitting into small groups and leaving, or even not venturing deep into the city because there are no more fights to be had and enough loot has been plundered."
After hearing Gromril's analysis, the clansmen gained some understanding of the word 'strategy'.
"Wasn't Gobbard Ironclaw like that? His waaagh army killed Human Emperor Sigismund, and completely wiped the Imperial province of Sol from the map. Even now, his claw marks remain on the gates of Karaz-A-Karak."
Captain Grenson took a sip of beer from his bottle. He was the oldest, and thus had interacted with those who had witnessed that series of bloody battles.
"But what happened? His massive waaagh, due to its failure to conquer the Human Imperium's capital, Altdorf, suffered a collapse in morale and eventually disintegrated. The towering, brutal greenskin himself was cornered and killed by the then High King Kendrak-Gryxson at Black Fire Pass. The entry concerning him in the great book of grudges was settled!"
"Yes, I heard Gulu, that fat, foolish fellow, has now gone to the west coast of the Human Imperium to build ships. Who knows what he's going to do? But it's foreseeable that not all of his motley crew will follow him!"
Pegasus Knight Maldini had participated in many information exchanges in taverns; he was quite knowledgeable about major events in the Old World. The people present began to mock Gulu's foolishness, but Gromril knew he would be the first greenskin to reach the High Elves' territory on Ulthuan!
"But the one we are about to face, Skarsnik, he has it! Therefore, I can assert that he will assess the strength displayed by the caravan, then deploy what he believes to be sufficient forces to attack us, while the other Goblins will continue to besiege Undermountain Hold, putting pressure on our kin inside the city," Gromril stated his analysis.
"This means that with the troops hidden in the carriages, we can eliminate that greenskin force!" Bulkin understood immediately.
"When Skarsnik realizes something is wrong, it's time for the second step!"
As Gromril spoke, he looked at the two humans sitting on his right.
"Maldini and Fatis, you two will not depart with the caravan tomorrow morning. Instead, you will take a detour from Sanglak Castle, leading all of our human troops to attack Karak-Azgaraz from the side facing Bretonnia. That way, you will strike directly at the greenskins' rear."
The two human knights nodded upon hearing this.
"Once the troops Skarsnik sent engage with the caravan, you will launch a feigned attack, tying up his forces from behind and making him indecisive. As long as he hesitates for a short while, not daring to immediately send reinforcements to the caravan..."
"Then, with the lovely cannons on the wagons, we can quickly annihilate the Night Goblin bastards he sent out!" Brockson interjected, waving his fist.
"I can't wait to incinerate them with the flame cannons! Roasted mushrooms, hmph hmph!" Brockson was full of fighting spirit. He knew the quickest way to achieve enough merit to return to his homeland, Zhufbar, was to eliminate the enemies of the Mountains on the battlefield.
"But there are so many of those dwarf-goblins! Sir Fatis and I only have less than three hundred men!" Maldini, who had a bird's-eye view of the Goblin army's might, felt some fear. He glanced around, his words tinged with timidity.
"In the Lady's name! A true Knight should not fear any challenge! Even if I am alone, I will..." Fatis's weathered face glowed with piety.
"My young friend, don't worry, I have a suggestion!" Gromril showed understanding towards Maldini.
"I suggest you do this: first, have all the Errant Knights with you display their family banners and crests. I know this might be a bit irregular, but it's a matter of expediency; they need to understand, and you'll have to do the work to convince them."
Gromril knew that some Errant Knights would cover their shields, hiding their family crests, and not display identifiable banners, to show that they relied on themselves and not their family background, seeking to improve their abilities through adventure.
"Then, tie some cut branches from the forest to the tails of the mounted squires and your spare warhorses, and then drive those horses to run quickly in circles in the forest. This will kick up a lot of dust!" Gromril offered a brilliant plan.
"That Night Goblin Boss, seeing the dust rising from the forest behind us, might then believe there are a large number of ambushing troops there!" Maldini slapped his thigh, completely captivated by Gromril's wisdom.
"Yes, but that Night Goblin isn't so simple. He will send small units to probe your strength, but that doesn't matter. As long as he hesitates and doesn't immediately send reinforcements towards the caravan, your feigned attack mission will be successfully completed."
"And then? We won't just have this small task, will we?" Fatis suddenly opened his eyes, which had been narrowed.
"Of course not. When the caravan deals with the greenskin detachment and continues forward, entering the plaza before Undermountain Hold, you will attack with them!" Gromril continued.
After Gromril finished explaining the first and second routes but hadn't yet assigned him a task, Roggof the Manticore Butcher couldn't sit still. He drained the beer in front of him in one gulp.
"In Grimnir's name, you aren't planning to assign us death-seekers to guard the rear, are you? If so, I can only say I refuse to comply… "
Rogov began angrily, but Gromril interrupted him: "You and your men will take the third route with me. This will be the most important mission!"
"I, Gromril-az Thorson, will lead the remaining clansmen to detour and block the western part of the Underdark network leading to Karak-Zfirin," Gromril said calmly.
"What does that mean? You won't stay here at Undermountain Hold to command the battle?" Fatis asked.
"That's right, Captain Grenson will be my full representative for the convoy!" Gromril replied to the Knight's question and continued.
"Everyone, imagine this: our enemies, those black goblins, are attacked from the east and south. To their north are the walls of Karak-Azgaraz. What will they do?" Gromril didn't say directly but posed a question.
"They'll break through to the west! Then we can intercept them and cut them down on the spot!" Rogov was very excited.
"Yes, Skarsnik shouldn't be foolish enough to charge the city walls like his kin did in front of Sanglak Castle, especially since that small town was at the bottom of a valley then, with no way for them to retreat!"
Fatis frowned, his lips moved slightly but he ultimately didn't speak. Gromril probably knew what this experienced veteran was worried about, but the situation on the battlefield changes rapidly. No matter how excellent a general, it's impossible to plan for every contingency. The rest would be left to their warhammers and sharp swords!
"In principle, I shouldn't interfere with your decision, but the oath my team and I made before the High King is to be responsible to you alone!" Captain Grenson stroked his beard and spoke as the other attendees were about to leave to convey orders.
"Bulkin is a strong warrior and an excellent commander. His title of 'Heavy Axe' is spread throughout the southern Mountains."
"You flatter me!" Although Bulkin spoke humbly, his puffed-up chest and belly showed no trace of modesty.
"The venerable Grimnir teaches His children that an army should ideally not have two commanders! That only leads to confusion in orders, even if they are true blood brothers." Captain Grenson lit his pipe and gave Gromril an impromptu lesson, as he was older and less energetic.
"Therefore, I think it's enough to leave the convoy entirely in his charge. My team and I will go with you to block that Skarsnik fellow!"
Gromril nodded. This was indeed an oversight on his part. "Then, those who will go with me on the interception mission will be my Anvil Guards, the Eternal Hammer Guard. I'll also take ten Iron Hammer Guards, ten Iron Drakes, all the Butchers, plus twenty Rangers!"
Gromril listed the troops he needed. He was taking only elites, hoping to melt Skarsnik on the spot with a swift attack right from the first encounter.
At the same time, if the battles on the other two routes didn't go as expected, he and the hundred or so dwarves with him could also serve as reserves for subsequent attacks.
"Go back and rest! Our route will depart at dawn tomorrow!" Gromril said to Captain Grenson and Rogov the Butcher. From the map, they would have to detour for more than an hour longer than the convoy.
As the dwarves gradually fell asleep, preparing for the big battle tomorrow, the fighting below Karak-Azgaraz's walls raged fiercely.
"It's infuriating me, infuriating me! These useless scraps!" Skarsnik paced anxiously under a battle banner, holding his staff.
On this banner, a vicious, sneering, crescent-shaped yellow face was drawn in a greenskin style. It was called the Evil Moon Banner, a treasured heirloom of the Evil Moon clan that occupied Karak-Eight-Peaks.
Under the combined immersion of the intense Waaagh! energy and 'I fink' power of successive Goblin leaders, it gained a strange, mighty power that made the surrounding Goblins incredibly fierce and violent. Skarsnik stole it after feeding Snotruk to Gobbla and annexing the Post-Boyz tribe.
"I fink, even though I arranged for the lads to ambush the dwarven messengers seeking aid, it's been so many days, the dwarves and other things in the surrounding settlements should have noticed something is wrong!"
Skarsnik seemed to be talking to himself, or perhaps giving orders to a few subordinates around him, or perhaps, wanting to report something to Mork among the Big 'Uns.
"Tell me! Laosha, why can't my lads get in yet? Why can't I plant the Moon Banner on the Dwarves's throne!" He suddenly turned around, glaring at the Night Goblin Shaman on his left with bloodshot eyes.
"Respected Boss, I, I fink these newly grown lads aren't big enough, and not cunning enough… they haven't learned how to avoid the dwarf holds' 'bang-bangs', and they're not good at sticking their 'chop-chops' into the gaps in their shells!" The Night Goblin Shaman explained softly, somewhat fearfully.
"Mozhetian, raise the banner for me!" Skarsnik thumped the base of his staff on the ground. He spoke to a strong Night Goblin beside him, who was half a head taller than his kin and could even compare to a skinny ork boy.
"Take my personal guard and charge once! You're bigger, stronger! I want to see results, hack those dwarves in their iron shells for me!"
The tall Goblin grunted in agreement. Soon, he gathered a group of larger, darker-skinned Night Goblins. Their equipment was no longer tattered scraps; at least they were complete gear. These lads were elites who had followed Skarsnik all the way from the Badlands.
Amidst the rising and falling "Waaagh!" battle cries and "Gak gak!" strange laughs, the Night Goblin personal guards, carrying ladders, launched a new round of assault on Undermountain Hold's walls under the cover of the 'bang-bangs'.
"Boss, I, we can't break down the dwarf holds' gate! That place is built too strong!" After a moment, Mozhetian ran back to Skarsnik, with several crossbow bolts stuck in his back.
"Get lost. If you're this useless again next time, you'll be waiting for a beating!" Skarsnik controlled his anger with his wisdom. He swung his staff and poked Mozhetian's thigh, signaling him to scram.
"Laosha! The big lad I sent out to find and hire Ogres, the new one, has there been any news back?"
Skarsnik had dealt with Ogre mercenaries when he was plundering with the Wolf Rider tribe. He knew how much strength these guys, who were even stronger and larger than the biggest and greenest ork Big 'Uns, possessed.
Listening to Night Goblin Leader Skarsnik's angry questioning, Night Goblin Shaman Laosha's already hunched back bent even lower.
"Respected Leader, not yet! I'll send the lads to look again, to look!" Even as one of Skarsnik's original trusted subordinates, his voice still trembled slightly when facing his leader's wrath.
"The new lads aren't green enough, not big enough! The new big lads aren't cunning enough, not wicked enough!" Skarsnik poked the lads in front of him twice with his staff, urging them to attack more fiercely.
Perhaps due to Mork's extra care, or Skarsnik's own skill at identifying and training promising Goblins, the proportion of Night Goblin Leaders and Shamans under his command was far higher than that of other Greenskin Warbosses.
However, like every Greenskin, Skarsnik would limit the development of these subordinates to prevent them from threatening his position one day.
When absolutely necessary, ensure you are not the one who is "absolutely necessary" to be removed! This was Skarsnik's Greenskin creed.
Gromril was unaware of all this. He worked hard to fall asleep, and a few hours later, before the winter sun had fully risen, Gromril had already donned his armor.
"Cousin, be careful on your journey! The Ancestor Goddess blesses you!" Balin adjusted the strap of Gromril's helmet. Although he longed to join the army and achieve great deeds, this civil advisor was ordered to remain at the encampment with the merchants.
After a simple breakfast, Gromril and the interception force he had selected last night set off with two rations of dry food. This time, Gromril hadn't had time to prepare a new Rune telegraph machine, so he and the leaders of the other two routes could only rely on experience to control the timing and ensure the coordination of the three forces.
According to the plan, Gromril and his men had to reach the designated ambush position at least before the caravan and the Night Goblins engaged in battle.
In November, the Grey Mountains were already covered in heavy snow. Gromril and his clansmen, wearing white fur cloaks with hoods, trudged with difficulty along the small paths used by hunters and smugglers.
The white cloaks, besides providing warmth in the ice and snow, also served as necessary camouflage. In contrast to the dwarves, the dark bodies of the Night Goblins had nowhere to hide in the snow. The few stray lads along the way were all pinned down by arrows from the scouting Rangers.
Gromril and his group, not carrying provisions, supplies, or heavy artillery, moved at a very fast pace by dwarf standards. With their innate dwarf resilience, they barely rested, circling to the west side of Karak-Azgaraz around noon.
Guided by the local dwarf Rangers of the Grey Mountains, Gromril and his group found a disused Geomantic Web rest point and hunkered down.
"Master Gromril, how do we do this? With this many people, shoulder to shoulder, we can barely form six or seven rows of queues in the Geomantic Web!" Johnson Strongshield reported after returning from a reconnaissance mission with a few Anvil Guards.
dwarf architecture, since the time of the Ancestor Gods, has always favored grandeur. The gates of large fortresses are often dozens of meters high, and the Geomantic Web is built wide enough to accommodate several carriages side-by-side. This undoubtedly added some trouble to Gromril's interception plan.
"If the man is not capable, he cannot blame the road for being uneven!" Gromril said, breathing slightly. "If it's wide, then we'll make it narrow! Nothing can stop the determination of us Sons of the Mountains!"
Forced marching all the way on the snowy mountain paths, Gromril would not have been able to endure it without the help of his legendary starli boots.
"Find a narrower spot, and roll some stones down from the hillside to block part of the path!" Gromril ordered. "You, and you, come with me to find a high point, a vantage point where we can see the plaza in front of Undermountain Hold!" Gromril said to the Rangers and Eternal Hammer Guards.
After a short rest, the dwarves sprang into action. A group of people in meteorite iron armor began preparing to block the road, the Slayers went to clear out any hidden Goblins in the vicinity, and Gromril led some men once again up the hillside.
The Rangers of the Grey Mountains were almost all experienced hunters. Catching Pegasus foals or even adult Pegasi to sell to the Bretonnian knights was a good way to earn money. A few particularly brave ones even dared to hunt beasts like Hippogriffs.
Hippogriffs have the head and wing characteristics of a raptor, sharp forelimbs, the lower body of a horse, and a full horse's tail. Their unusual appearance indicates that they are also beasts created by Chaos mutation.
Some Bretonnian knights, renowned for their bravery, liked them because they wanted a more ferocious creature than the docile Pegasus as a mount.
To capture these winged monsters, the Rangers built semi-underground shelters in hidden places in the mountains, used for hiding while waiting for the right moment to strike, and when necessary, also serving as a hiding place to escape enraged mothers whose young had been stolen, and a place to set traps.
Soon, Gromril followed the Rangers, turning and twisting, and then descended by rope from a cliff to a hidden shelter. This was almost a natural windbreak, large enough to squeeze in over a dozen dwarves.
"Valaya above! How did you ever find a place like this?" Gromril cautiously looked around. This windbreak was located on the southwest side of Karak-Azgaraz, offering an unobstructed view of the entire plaza in front of the fortress.
The area in front of Undermountain Hold was now a mess, but also utterly silent. Piles of Night Goblin corpses were scattered across the plaza, interspersed with many Trolls that had been disemboweled or had their heads smashed in.
Of course, the arrows that killed them and the spears fired from the ballistas were also stuck in the ground, along with the crooked and damaged siege engines.
Greenskins had no habit of clearing the battlefield after a fight. These remnants of the previous night's bloody battle would be used in tonight's fighting.
Gromril saw no Night Goblins at the moment, only the mountain wind blowing, causing the filth on the ground to slowly swirl.
Although Gromril saw no Night Goblins, he knew that endless dangers lurked beneath this silence. Those dark fellows, though they disliked sunlight and rested underground or in the shade at noon, had absolutely not let down their guard.
In the unseen darkness, countless glowing red eyes watched every move of Undermountain Hold.
"Binoculars!" Gromril said to the Ranger beside him. This body, due to years of squinting in dim light while carving runes, had become somewhat nearsighted.
Pressing the monocular to his right eye, Gromril saw a long line in the distance.
Gromril watched the distant convoy gradually approach, and with the aid of his telescope, he could get a rough idea from three thousand meters away.
Just as he hadn't noticed any movement from the Night Goblins and was worried his decoy plan had been seen through, he felt the ground suddenly tremble.
As if a dark green fungal carpet was slowly spreading, groups of Night Goblins emerged from their previously dim hiding places, forming somewhat disorganized ranks and swarming towards the convoy.
"Can you see approximately how many Black dwarves there are?" Gromril handed the telescope to Captain Grenson, who had been constantly leaning forward beside him; the elder warrior's eyesight wasn't as good anymore.
"Hmm, I estimate, over a thousand? But less than two thousand!" Captain Grenson rarely fought Night Goblins on the surface, but with centuries of experience, he quickly made his judgment.
"That Night Goblin Leader is indeed as intelligent as you said!" Captain Grenson seemed captivated by the sight.
"If it were a typical Greenskin army, they would have swarmed the caravan upon seeing it. Attacking convoys in the wild is far more appealing than trying to crack city walls! But it's clear that only a portion of the Greenskins have appeared on the surface now! That Leader judged that these forces would be enough to overwhelm the strength the convoy has revealed!" Captain Grenson was lost in thought.
Gromril took the telescope from his hand to observe for himself. The old dwarf's voice rang out. "I've never seen Greenskins capable of such a thing before! We must fulfill the Mother God's oracle and leave him here forever!"
Once a race born for war like the Greenskins acquired such a Leader, the consequences would be unimaginable.
Gromril saw the fungal carpet sweep towards the dwarf army. A leading dwarf seemed to suddenly grow taller. Gromril blinked before realizing it was Bulkin standing on his Shieldbearer platform.
Immediately after, Brockson directed the artillery crew to remove the covers from the cannons. The pre-loaded artillery unleashed its power almost instantly.
Fireballs, cannonballs, and crossbow bolts fired simultaneously, and the rapidly spreading fungal carpet seemed to be suddenly paused. The Night Goblins were stunned by the death raining down from above.
However, this was not enough to break their morale. Soon, under the shouts of a leader wielding a long weapon, they charged forward once more.
"What's happening? What's happening?" Captain Grenson, who couldn't see clearly but had heard the cannon roar, wanted to take the telescope from Gromril's hand again.
"When we return to Everpeak, I'm going to equip every captain-level individual under me with a telescope!" Gromril thought to himself as he handed the telescope to the old dwarf.
"Good, well done!" Captain Grenson swung his free right hand.
"Come on, let me see too!" Gromril took the telescope back.
"Ouch!"
He cried out as his eyes were sharply dazzled by the sunlight reflected by the mirror-like armor of the Brass Guards as soon as he looked through.
"The strange things Karak Izor comes up with are quite interesting!" Captain Grenson exclaimed. "I imagine those fighting them in the glaciers wouldn't dare open their eyes at noon!"
Gromril saw that, in the brief time gained by the artillery volley, the dwarf melee units emerging from the wagons quickly formed their ranks.
He couldn't see the exact casualties clearly, but the dark green fungal carpet stopped abruptly, like a wave hitting a reef! It even showed a tendency to be gradually pushed back.
The two commanding leaders of the armies didn't seem to have the lung capacity for bagpipes or loud voices. Gromril couldn't hear their commands, only vaguely hearing "waaagh" sounds and the dwarves' alternating battle cries.
"Let me see!" Captain Grenson took the telescope again. "By Grungni's beard! Bulkin's formation is too dense!" he exclaimed with some tension.
Before Gromril could ask what had happened, "That engineer you found from Zhufbar! That young'un is really good!" Captain Grenson pulled out his hip flask and took a swig.
"Excellent marksmanship! Although I don't like to admit it, sometimes taking out those filthy things from a distance is a good option!"
"Listen to me, young man!" Captain Grenson slapped away Gromril's right hand, which was reaching for the telescope.
"Just now, the Dwarves's leader sent out a few Fanatics who had taken mad mushrooms. They were swinging their meteor hammers, trying to tear through the convoy's defenses, but before they could even reach our clansmen, that young'un shot them dead with a few shots!"
"By Mogrim! Didn't that mean they killed quite a few of their own Night Goblins during the warm-up phase?" Gromril laughed.
Before engaging the heavily armored dwarf units, those Fanatics needed to spin a few times within their own ranks to build up the momentum of their hammers. Given the dense formations on the battlefield, it was inevitable that some Night Goblins near them would get caught in the spin.
At this moment, Gromril heard another sound of hooves coming from below and to his side. He looked down and saw that his second contingent, the humans, had also begun to move.
"Leader! Leader! I reckon that Dwarves's convoy ain't right!" Meanwhile, a Night Goblin Leader stumbled into the cave in the forest.
"Eat slowly, Gobbla! There'll be fresh beard-meat soon!" Skarsnik was squatting, feeding his companion.
"By the Evil Moon! Under Mork, I, Skarsnik, am the greatest!" He lifted his head. The recent failed attack on Undermountain Hold had made his eyes even redder.
Looking at the two red glows in the dim cave and hearing the huge squig's swallowing and chewing sounds, the messenger Night Goblin grew afraid. "Respected Leader, there are more dwarves in the wagons, and they have boom-booms! We, we are no match!"
"Oh? Interesting, interesting! Who dares to play tricks in front of me, Skarsnik! I'll cut off his beard and tie it around Gobbla's neck!"
"Send out the squig riders! Don't they always complain about not eating enough? Now, food has been delivered under the light of the Evil Moon!" Skarsnik grinned as he made his decision, but before he could finish speaking, another Night Goblin rushed in.
"Mozhetian, why are you running around instead of finding a place to rest? When the Evil Moon rises, you'll need to lead the lads to climb the iron shells!" Looking at the tall Goblin who had to duck to enter the cave, Skarsnik uncharacteristically showed some patience.
"The Grot sentries report that a bunch of horse-riding things are coming from the south!" It panted, running under the scorching midday sun clearly made it uncomfortable.
"Horse-riding things? Didn't they all go east? It took us a lot of effort to avoid them on our way here!" Skarsnik stroked Gobbla's back and fell into thought.
"How many of those shrimps are there? Mork told me there wouldn't be many more than those big-bellied things that just arrived!" Skarsnik asked, yet it also sounded like he was talking to himself.
Mozhetian was already used to his Boss's way of speaking. He lowered his head and reported what he knew.
"Those grot just popped out of the ground; they can't speak clearly!" This tall Goblin seemed to have injured his mouth during yesterday's siege, and his speech was a bit airy.
"They shouted that there were many floating cloths, and many patterns on the cloths!"
"Many banners?" Skarsnik began to stroke his chin. "Let me go take a look! I'll bring my personal guards with me!"
Skarsnik had given up hope on his subordinates' stupidity. He kicked Gobbla to help his pet squeeze out of the cave, then tightened his sun-shading hood and walked towards the forest at the southern foothills.
"Let me take a look!" Skarsnik used his scepter as a climbing stick to ascend a protruding rock.
The Grey Mountains were rocky with thin soil, so the trees were relatively short and sparse. Skarsnik shaded his eyes from the glaring sun and looked down. He saw a large cluster of banners, with dust rising behind them, and the sounds of human and horse cries filled his ears.
"Something's not right, I feel something's not right!" Skarsnik thumped his scepter on the rock, making crisp "bang! bang!" sounds. Besides its sharp, trident-shaped head, the scepter's tail was also sharpened for stabbing.
"There aren't that many shrimps, they shouldn't have that many!" Skarsnik muttered to himself.
"Laosha! You go! Take a few teams of lads to probe them! If you can overturn them, strip everything off their bodies for me; those are all good things! If there are too many shrimps, retreat. Although our lads die in waves and emerge in waves, it still takes some time!"
Skarsnik looked at the several Night Goblin Leaders behind him, and finally decided to entrust this task, which required some intelligence and judgment, to the Shaman who had followed him the longest.
"Don't let my lads all die, otherwise, forget Pillar City, we won't even be able to take the Dwarves fortress in front of us! Mork told me I would return to the Badlands and become the Boss of Pillar City!"
Skarsnik's wisdom backfired at this moment. If it had been an ordinary Greenskin Warlord who simply charged with his entire army, this second human force would undoubtedly have been routed. But his caution allowed the humans to successfully gain time.
When Laosha gathered a few teams of lads and quietly snuck down the mountain, he discovered that there were only over two hundred humans, with only a handful of true Knights. The Night Goblin Shaman sent a personal guard to report to his Boss, then immediately joined the battle.
However, in the short ten-odd minutes from Skarsnik's high vantage point observation to sending his subordinates to scout and receiving their report, Bulkin had already commanded the dwarves of the convoy to rout the Greenskin interception force under the suppression of artillery fire, continuing their advance towards Karak-Azgaraz!
After the eastern convoy first broke the stalemate and made progress, before Skarsnik, who had not yet ascertained the true strength of the humans to the south, could respond, the battle situation changed again.
First, the besieged dwarves in Undermountain Hold, seeing their kinsmen and Bretonnia human friends coming to their aid from the city walls, naturally would not sit idly by and wait for the reinforcements to reach the city gates.
After all, from a high vantage point with an open view, and with dedicated lookouts routinely stationed in the Mountain Stronghold, the lord here was aware of the limited strength of the reinforcements.
The dwarves in the city knew that if they missed this opportunity for support, whether they could hold out until the next wave of reinforcements arrived was an unknown.
This group of Night Goblins in front of them was terrifyingly evil and equally adept at underground tunnel warfare. Once the city walls were breached, whether they could successfully break out, and how many clansmen could break out, was truly unbearable to imagine.
Soon, a small gap opened in the city gate of Karak-Azgaraz, and one after another, Sons of the Mountains streamed out.
Gromril's ranger hideout was closer to Undermountain Hold, and he could see that many of his clansmen's armor was covered in scratches and scrapes, clearly having endured battle after battle.
On the other hand, the Ogre mercenaries, who had been silent until now, sensed the tide of victory shifting, and they also made their move.
Ironhead Aykhatam did not, as agreed, turn on the surrounding Greenskins the moment he heard cannon fire, but his actions were within Gromril's expectations.
To successfully travel south from the Ogre Kingdoms in the northeast to the middle section of the Grey Mountains, Aihetanmu was clearly not as simple-minded as he appeared.
If he didn't have some strength and wisdom, his and his subordinates' heads would have long been hanging in the Demon Hunter's Conclave hall or used as trophies by dwarf Slayers and Questing Knights.
Gromril saw those tall, big-bellied men charge out of a hidden cave. They bent over, using their clubs to sweep at the Night Goblins, whose height didn't reach their knees, directly sending swathes of Goblins flying into the air.
Periodically, they would stop attacking with their weapons and grab one or two Night Goblins with their bare hands, without even cleaning or skinning them, directly stuffing them into their mouths, chewing a couple of times, and then continuing to attack. It was clear that Skarsnik had not provided enough food for these big-bellied men.
For the already timid Night Goblins, this behavior was a massive blow to morale. These short creatures had to fight these enormous beings amidst the flying flesh, blood, and fungal tissues of their fallen comrades. Even more terrifying was that these bloody monsters were also commenting on the taste of their own kind.
The humans to the south, with the help of the Ogres, were also gradually breaking through the lines organized by Laosha. This Night Goblin Shaman continuously cast two or three small Waaagh! spells.
Gromril recognized the Evil Moon Curse he had seen before and a missile-type spell called Gaze of Vengeance, which condensed the grievances of surrounding clansmen into green missiles to shoot at enemies.
But these little tricks had very little effect on the tall and corpulent Ogres; they were barely disturbed.
"Boss, should we, should we move to another place to continue the Waaagh!?" a Night Goblin Leader standing beside Skarsnik asked upon seeing the situation.
"These damned fat guys! I knew it! That new lad not coming back with them probably meant he was chewed up!" Skarsnik yelled.
After hearing the Ogres' explanation this morning, he realized something was wrong, but because he desperately needed these big guys who could attack city walls, he couldn't just drive them away based on a gut feeling.
Skarsnik had originally planned to test the Ogres' mettle tonight, with some precautions in place, but unexpectedly, these guys turned on him at noon.
Listening to his subordinates' suggestion to retreat, Skarsnik fell into analysis.
Seeing that the strategic goal of capturing Karak-Azgaraz was difficult to achieve, this intelligent green-skinned Warboss did not want to consume his already insufficient forces in a chaotic battle without a clear objective, purely for the thrill of violence.
In his opinion, although his troops still had reserves and were sufficient to overwhelm the cunning dwarf convoy that had hidden its strength and the small, mostly ragtag army of Humans, what was the point?
Once such a consumption occurred, his already not-so-abundant forces would be unable to completely seal off the communication channels between Undermountain Hold and the outside world. As long as the dwarfs inside the hold could send out a message and pay a sufficient price, then reinforcements from nearby Humans and dwarfs would arrive in droves.
At that time, the plaza before him would become a true meat grinder, operating continuously until the green-skins' fighting spirit was completely worn down and their army finally collapsed.
For most green-skin bosses, having such a glorious and exhilarating Waaagh! before reporting to Gork and Mork would be considered a life well-lived in the mortal realm, but Skarsnik was different; he still had an unfinished cause to complete.
"Let us redeploy! I know the Old World is too big for a single map; we have plenty of places to Waaagh!" Skarsnik shook his cloak and turned to descend from the rock.
"Pass the Boss's order! We're Waaagh-ing to the west!" The Night Goblin Leader Mozhetian shouted loudly.
"Idiot! Shut your stinking mouth! What comes out of your mouth is more disgusting than a Troll's stomach acid!" Skarsnik was angry. He poked the tall Night Goblin's backside with the end of his scepter.
"What's wrong, my respected Boss?" Mozhetian was a bit confused.
"Why did you say we're going west?" Skarsnik asked.
"Boss, didn't you say we're pulling out? So aren't we going to sneak away in that direction?" Mozhetian thought he had misspoken the direction, not knowing east from west. He stood on tiptoes to observe the sun's position and gestured with his hands in front of him, seemingly determining the cardinal points.
"I reckon that's west! There are no rumbling dwarfs there, no mounted Humans, and no big-bellied guys wielding big clubs!" Mozhetian said, looking at the quiet and peaceful entrance to the western under-realm network.
The Night Goblin bodyguards around Skarsnik all nodded. In the eyes of these green-skins, with enemies on three sides, why wouldn't they run to the uninhabited west? Would they charge into the dwarf fortress to the north?
"You brats! Do you all want to slip to the west?" Skarsnik scanned his subordinates; their affirmative reactions further solidified his judgment.
"Then we absolutely cannot slip to the west! The enemy is very, very cunning!" Skarsnik paced in place. "I reckon the leader over there is a dwarf, the kind with a white beard dragging on the ground!"
Skarsnik did not have flying units like Pegasus Knights for aerial reconnaissance. He could only rely on long-term combat experience and his imagination to analyze the enemy, who had most likely not yet appeared.
"He could think of having his dwarfs hide in carriages to lure us, and he could think of having the Humans wave rags around, creating a bunch of dusty things to scare us. There's no reason he wouldn't think we'd try to slip to the west!"
Skarsnik displayed his military wisdom. "I reckon that white-bearded bastard is waiting for us in the tunnels with a bunch of dwarfs whose weapons are shiny and whose armor is hard!"
"Then what should we do, wise Boss?" The Night Goblins all whispered to each other upon hearing this. It was clear that Skarsnik was adept at seizing opportunities to display his extraordinary wisdom; for a Goblin of less-than-massive stature, wisdom was his greatest reliance.
"We, I reckon we should go south!" Skarsnik quickly made his decision.
"Why, my Boss? I don't want to touch those big-bellied guys!" Mozhetian watched from afar as the Ogres slaughtered his boys, his mind awestruck by such pure, bloody violence.
"Listen to me!" Skarsnik raised his voice. He knew that to get his Night Goblin Leaders to lead a charge against those Ogre mercenaries, he needed to give them a reasonable explanation.
"Boys, tell me, your wise Boss! What are those being hammered in the battlements?" Skarsnik asked.
"dwarfs!"
"dwarfs!"
The Night Goblins shouted in unison.
"Right, I reckon, given those dwarfs' habit of keeping their book of grudges, they'll fight us to the bitter end!" Skarsnik knew about the dwarfs' book of grudges; he was not stingy with his time to understand his opponents.
"But those Humans and big-bellied guys to the south are different! They're either here for some damn alliance, or they're simply opposing us for shiny, glittering gold!"
Skarsnik pulled out a handful of strangely brightly colored mushrooms from his pocket and began to chew them.
"They won't die for the dwarfs' affairs! We just need to hit them hard, and they'll run away with their tails between their legs in front of the great Skarsnik!"
The Night Goblins all shrieked upon hearing their Boss's analysis. No race willingly clashes head-on with the well-equipped, highly motivated, and tenacious Dwarf race; if there's a better option, they'd rather avoid the dwarf lines.
"Waaagh! We're heading south! The mounted Humans followed their leader to the east, leaving behind only a group of truly pathetic looking creatures in their territory, who can't even beat the scrawniest of our boys!"
While Skarsnik delivered his morale-boosting speech, Gromril, hidden in his vantage point, continuously observed the battlefield situation.
Seeing that the forces on the east and south fronts had made progress, and the clansmen who charged out of Karak-Azgaraz had also formed up and were steadily advancing south, Gromril realized that the turning point of the battle was imminent.
"Let's go, let's go down and see how well the Ironbreakers have blocked the path!" Gromril instructed the surrounding Rangers and Eternal Hammer Guards.
At the same time, Skarsnik's order was passed down, and the Night Goblins became excited. As he waved his scepter and pointed, countless Night Goblins emerged from the underground tunnels, tree hollows, and other shady spots in the forest.
Wielding either well-made or dilapidated weapons, some even riding ferocious Cave Squigs, these guys, organized by several leaders, surged towards the combined forces of Humans and Ogres!
"Oh no!" Gromril had not yet managed to descend the steps; seeing this scene, he cried out in alarm.
"What should I do? What should I do?" Gromril began to think rapidly. He realized that he had ultimately underestimated the wisdom of Skarsnik, the legendary Night Goblins warlord.
Currently, he had two choices. One was to signal the southern forces to retreat, clearing a path for the Green Skin forces. The advantage of this was to minimize losses while still accomplishing the mission of relieving Karak-Azgaraz.
The other option was to ask the Bretonnian humans and Ogres to hold off the desperate Night Goblins for a while, waiting for the other three forces to complete their encirclement and annihilate the enemy.
Yes, this would give Gromril a chance to kill Skarsnik, a great enemy in the future. Of course, the negative consequences were also obvious.
Gromril clenched his fists and looked around at his clansmen. How he wished someone would step forward to make a decision for him at this moment! Even a little advice would do!
But unfortunately, no one spoke in the suffocating atmosphere. Every loyal dwarf entrusted the right to decide to the one they served – Gromril-az Thorson.
"What did I come here for?" Gromril's mind suddenly recalled his initial oath, "To reclaim the lost Mountain Stronghold, to recover the lost artifacts, and to restore the glory of the Mountains Kingdom!"
Yes, his goal was so grand, and along this path, Skarsnik was undoubtedly a huge obstacle! Perhaps to this world, he was not yet a true scourge, but to the Sons of the Mountains, he was enough to occupy a separate page in the great book of grudges!
Karak-Eight-Peaks, an eternal pain in every dwarf's heart. Gromril knew that the Angrund Clan, descended from the era of the Ancestor Gods, would shed its last drop of blood for her, even if Thorgrim Grudgebearer personally led an army of ten thousand dwarves, he could not successfully reclaim it!
If she, Valaya Azril Ungor, was controlled by this Goblin with extraordinary wisdom, as she originally was, how many clansmen's lives would it take to reclaim her?
Gromril was now experiencing Skarsnik's military wisdom. With his amateur military capabilities, could he really contend with this Goblin in the future? He had no answer in his heart.
But he knew that changing the original destiny of this world was not like inviting guests to dinner, nor like writing an essay! It was not a fantasy that could be achieved by sitting back, coming up with a few ideas, and shouting a few slogans!
Such elegance, such composure, gentleness, and humility might bring small changes, but it was far from enough to pull a carriage that was gradually sliding into the abyss!
To change the predetermined doomsday destiny would inevitably be a riot, a riot where the forces of order overthrow the forces of chaos. Besides relying on iron and blood, what else could they rely on?
"I must seize this precious opportunity!" Gromril made up his mind! "You, go inform Johnson Strongshield. Our plan has fallen through. Tell him to abandon the ambush and command his troops to move south at full speed!" Gromril pointed to the Ranger closest to the steps.
"The rest of you, there's no time to go back the way we came! Prepare ropes and rappel down from here! Our human friends need support!"
Gromril glanced down. Below the platform where he stood was a slope. By rappelling down less than fifty meters, they could charge directly from the slope to the front lines of the Night Goblins and Ogres.
"I'll lead the charge!" Gromril said. He knew that with his Rune magic and skills, he could instantly clear an area of Goblins to ensure the deployment of his subsequent subordinates.
"May the Ancestor Goddess bless you!" Captain Grenson said no more. He calmly used the warhammer in his hand to drive an iron spike into the rock for Gromril, and securely tied a long rope to it.
"Please!" He tugged on the rope, and after confirming its sturdiness, he said to Gromril.
Time was short, and Gromril didn't waste words. He adjusted his gloves, gripped the rope with his left hand, placing it behind his body near his hip, using it as a "brake" for descent.
As Gromril bent his knees and pushed off with his legs, he rapidly descended along the rope.
Gromril landed, rolled to dissipate the impact, and then crouched down beside it.
Soon, one Eternal Hammer Guard after another descended. By the seventh person, the Night Goblins finally noticed them.
"Lads, shoot those floating dwarves hard for me!" Gromril saw a leader-like fellow jumping up and down, directing the Goblin archers to prepare to attack the dwarves who were rappelling down.
"Oh, Earth, release your fury!" Gromril pointed his warhammer to the sky, activating the Rune of Fury and Destruction he had previously inscribed.
As the Rune flashed, the ground beneath the Goblin archers' feet cracked open, spewing sulfur and flames. These dwarf Goblins, lacking armor protection, were immediately thrown into the air by the impact of the explosion.
Those who took the direct hit died on the spot, while those who suffered splash damage cried out in agony and fled.
"Speed it up!" Gromril shouted to his subordinates above. This sudden Rune magic, though it solved an urgent problem, also attracted the attention of both enemy and friendly forces on the entire southern battlefield.
"Brothers! Hold on, Gromril and our dwarf friends are here!" Fatis yelled. Gromril and he exchanged glances, both seeing a hint of tension in the other's eyes.
"Ironhead Aykhatam was just taking a nap! He didn't hear the cannons! Boss, your cannons are far inferior to our iron spray cannons! That thing can't be pulled by a pony, it needs the strongest woolly rhinoceros from the ice plains!"
Aihetanmu quickened his movements, clearing away a few groups of Goblins, then approached Gromril, offering a slightly strained explanation.
Gromril had no time to criticize the wavering Ogre mercenary in front of him. To hold back the Night Goblins' breakout, he couldn't rely on the Bretonnian peasants and adventurers. These big guys would be the main fighting force.
"I understand, pal! Soon, soon, a large wave of Goblins will surge over, and I need you and your men to hold them back! I'll pay more!" Gromril said quickly.
"More money?" Aihetanmu perked up at the words. "Lads! New mushrooms are on the shelves again, hit them hard for me, the Boss said more money!"
Gromril, with the ten Eternal Hammer Guards and four Rangers who had rappelled down, quickly dealt with a few Goblins along the way who had no will to fight, and rushed to Fatis and Maldini.
He believed that these two leading Knights had ample fighting spirit. Fatis was determined to seek the Holy Grail, and Maldini was currently filled with chivalrous spirit. Moreover, they had a group of Pegasus mounts, so if the battle turned unfavorable, the Goblins' weak ranged firepower wouldn't be able to stop them from leaving.
The real key was the morale of the human adventurers, infantry regiments, and peasant archers.
"Brave warriors, listen to me!" Without a Shieldbearer's combat platform and his rock ram, Gromril wasn't tall enough in front of the humans. He could only try his best to raise his voice so it could be heard above the noisy battlefield.
"I saw from the Mountains that those filthy greenskins will break through here! The foot of the Grey Mountains is your homeland, your territory! I believe no noble Knight would want to see them rampage through the farms and forests of the Knight Kingdom!"
These words were directed at the Errant Knights and their squires. During the rappelling process, Gromril's brain, stimulated by the cold wind, worked rapidly, and he analyzed the different needs of these two hundred-odd humans.
The Errant Knights sought honor, glory, and the protection of their homeland. They were all locals of Viscount Ackerman's domain, and it was their duty to protect the farms and people of their fathers and brothers.
"Friends, I tell you truthfully, the greenskins are numerous, and they are very determined to escape and continue their Waaagh! elsewhere."
Gromril employed a rhetorical technique of initial restraint followed by emphasis, "But, I must also tell you, we Sons of the Mountains have more gold, and our will to settle grudges and exact blood for blood is even stronger than theirs!"
Seeing that Skarsnik's main force was not far from the front line, Gromril quickened his pace and tried to amplify his voice.
"I promise here and now, as long as you can hold the line until my clansmen arrive, each of you will receive a full twenty dwarf gold coins! Even a serf will be paid ten!"
Gromril offered a very high price. dwarf gold coins, due to their superior gold content and craftsmanship, could often be exchanged for more human gold coins. For ordinary adventurers and farmers who worked hard all year and didn't save much, this was undoubtedly a windfall.
But that wasn't all. Gromril then gave them another reassurance: "For those who bravely fall in battle, the promised amount will be delivered by my clansmen, not a single coin less, to your families. I swear this in the name of the High King's envoy!"
Before his words had fully faded, the most eager Night Goblins, charging forward, reached Gromril. He twisted his body and smashed the Goblin's head with his warhammer, throwing himself into battle without time to observe the effect of his pre-battle mobilization speech.
In the blink of an eye, a group of pink fleshy masses bounced over, some with crazily shrieking Night Goblins clinging to them.
"Shields up!" Maldini yelled, directing the infantry and adventurers to set up a flimsy defensive line.
These humans were not equipped with large shields specifically designed to resist cavalry; they only had small round shields used with one-handed swords. These were somewhat effective against Goblin archers, but they were still insufficient against the rampaging squigs.
Seeing the front-line humans in a panic from the squigs' bites and the Night Goblins' sneak attacks, and the line beginning to waver, Gromril shook his head and directly used Thunder Strike.
Gromril's body seemed to have an innate mastery of this skill. He swung his warhammer and slammed it hard into the ground, a shockwave with arcs of electricity radiating outwards from him.
A dozen or so squigs close to Gromril were directly stunned and collapsed to the ground. The Night Goblins on them were even more fragile, turning directly into a puddle of flesh. Those a little further away also stumbled, their charge impeded.
"Brothers in the back, lend a hand!" Maldini commanded, as he and his mounted comrades were circling back, giving their mounts space to accelerate.
The dismounted humans in the back, hearing this, all stepped forward, forming a dense formation, attempting to collectively resist the subsequent charge.
"Little ones, whose fur hasn't even grown in yet, don't do that!" Captain Grenson, seeing this, swung his long hammer sideways, shattering two Night Goblins along with their broken shields at the waist.
Before the old dwarf's words finished, Gromril saw several Fanatics spinning their meteor hammers approaching.
"Scatter! Quickly scatter!" Gromril yelled anxiously. The scrawny Night Goblins wielding these huge hammers, after eating mad mushrooms, were clearly no longer subject to Sir Newton's laws. If these things touched even the lightly armored human infantry, let alone fully plate-armored official Knights, they might not be able to withstand it!
The humans were neither deaf nor blind. Even the Bretonnian infantry had relatively rich combat experience, and they quickly dispersed, not being swept by the hammers immediately.
"Shoot, shoot them!" Maldini was also directing his peasant archers. Being able to survive war after war with only cloth clothing, these seemingly unremarkable old farmers were all, every single one, incredibly perceptive on the local battlefield.
As soon as they saw those terrifying Fanatics, they wanted to flee. Although called back by the Knight Lord, these part-time archers, due to nervousness and being busy nocking arrows, had very poor accuracy!
Out of fifty arrows, less than thirty managed to fly over the Night Goblins' heads. Night Goblins were already small, and with the high-speed spinning of the hammers, they were even harder to hit. Only two of the five Fanatics were hit, and one of them was not directly killed; the pain only stimulated its innate ferocity.
"WAAAGH!" It roared with an intensity that seemed to squeeze its lungs out of its chest. Due to his height, Gromril couldn't help but notice the slight trembling in the legs of the humans around him, intimidated by the enemy's madness.
"In the name of the Ancestor Gods! Die!" Gromril spun his warhammer twice, twisted his waist slightly, and flung it out. With the lock-on ability of the Stormhammer skill, the Night Goblin's next roar didn't even have a chance to escape its throat before it was utterly turned into a pile of minced flesh!
"Hmph! Dwarves, just trash!" Gromril extended his hand, and the runes on the warhammer flashed as it flew back into his palm. Losing their controllers, the two meteor iron balls began to spin erratically, changing their direction of movement and getting tangled with the other three Fanatics.
"Well fought!"
"That was splendid!"
Seeing this wave of Night Goblin attacks nullified, the comrades around praised Gromril's skill while regrouping.
At the same time, the Goblins were also regrouping. Due to the narrow mountain path, to avoid too many of their own being killed by the indiscriminate Fanatics, these guys also retreated a little, leaving space for the hammers to spin.
"Look! Gobbla, what does the great Skarsnik see? dwarves! A dozen or so dwarves dare to stand in front of us?"
Skarsnik, in the middle of the formation, saw Gromril's heroic posture. He let out a cackling laugh.
"Come, bring out those things! Let this dwarf, whose beard hasn't even fully grown, not dare to oppose us even in hell!"