I watched in disbelief through the mirror. The Norscan are actually retreating. Not exactly a good thing as this means that the leader of this Norscan warband is not completely retarded like most. Nor are they a zealous glory hound that would choose victory or death mentality. The only good thing is the fact that this means that the warband is not led by a Greater Daemon. Because as far as I know, the warband would not be retreating no matter the mortal casualties before the Greater Daemon were banished. If they are level headed enough to issue a retreat, there might be a chance for me to convince them on my side. At least partially or for some time. Would not consider this if the warband’s leader is a follower of Tzeentch.

We watched the clean up of the battle. Kal splitting his warherd. Half sent to chase after the retreating Norscan. The other half is further split to reinforce the Eonirs on each side of the cliffs. Then I noticed that Kal brought none of his Tuskgors and Razorgos chariots and cavalries, making the chase not that effective even with the guns. I can’t think of a reason why he didn’t take them, I will need to ask this later. Then I can see from the mirror how Laurelorn visibly recoils as the Nurglite chaos spawn climbs the cliffs. The Eonirs finally switch to their guns to shoot the chaos spawns as their arrows are ineffective. But they switched a little too late. Only downing some from the dozens that finally reached the top of the cliffs. Oh well, looks like there will still be casualties in this battle. Hmm. I would need to make something to get the Eonirs to be more effective. Considering they are very averse to using guns, maybe I can just give them exploding arrows or something along the line. The Eonirs took some casualties before Kal and his beastmen arrived. Their bigger caliber guns and weapons are much more effective against the chaos spawns. Looks like things are resolved here, only need to wait for the post battle loot report and see if Kal can still sacrifice the dead souls from the battle to me.

What? What the fuck!? Did I see that correctly?

—

Araloth’s archers loosed volleys to harry their flight, but the Norscans unleashed a final horror: dozens of Nurglite Chaos Spawn, bloated monstrosities of oozing flesh and writhing limbs, clambered up the cliffs to cover their escape. At least a hundred, spread unevenly to the two cliffs. The Eonir’s arrows sank uselessly into the spawns’ pestilent hides. Again she holds back another curse as she commands her kithband warriors to target the climbing chaos spawns. If only she had starfire shafts arrows. But the queen has relegated almost all the craftsmen and priests of Vaul to the daemon where they are commanded to make the guns in exchange for everything else. With gritted teeth, she issued her command.

“Get the guns!” She shouted and her command was relayed by the farthest Kithband who heard her voice. The other side of the cliffs can only follow suit when they hear the gunshots.

Araloth sling her longbow to her shoulder as one of her captains gives her her rifle. Swift in their movement, a line of guns formed in less than a minute. Then she pulled the trigger. Dozens of gunfire roars. Unbearably loud to her ears. Louder than even the guns she knows the humans used. She pulls the lever on the rifle’s side and fires again. Followed by her kithbands. The sound overwhelms everything and the smell of metals and sulfur assaults her nose. The gunfire blasts through the Nurglite Chaos Spawns. Sending the hulking spawns hurtling back to the ground dead. But it is already too late to kill all of them.

As she saw the chaos spawns only have a few paces left to climb, she commands a retreating skirmish. This time however, her command is relayed much slower than before. The chain of command of the Wood Elves and subsequently the Eonirs, primarily rely on direct leadership and some degree of independence of each kithband warriors. Without a spellsinger to help her relay her command through magic to dispersed or isolated warriors, the command spread through individuals to individuals. Something that was not exactly a problem due to their heightened hearing and the independence of each warrior. However, the sound of the gunfire became a disadvantage to their heightened senses. Making the spread of command significantly slower between deafened kithbands. Then the guns with its ease of use and rapid fire, makes the kithband more singularly focused on whats in front of them. The Eonir’s chain of command broke down immediately. Some are already retreating from expending their ammunition or that the chaos spawns already climbed to the cliff. While those some distance beside them stays in position and continue firing as they cannot rely on their hearing for cues when those beside them retreat and too late to hear the lumbering Chaos Spawns that are charging at them.

Warriors fell, torn apart by diseased claws and teeth. Araloth’s heart sank as her kin died, their screams fueling her rage as she fired her rifle, covering any warriors that were slow in their retreat, leaving herself in the open. Downing two chaos spawns with her last magazine. Dropping her rifle, she unslung her longbow and continued firing again. Struggling to down the sole Chaos Spawn charging at her. A bright red streak flashed from behind her just as she unsheathed her blade. The chaos spawn dropped dead with a huge circular hole on its body. Through her deafened ears she heard the golden beastmen roar and gunfire as they charged past her. Then an even worse sound filtered through her deafened ears. That her kin cheered as the beastmen arrived. In weapons and armors meant for her kin. Araloth felt shame burn within her. The Eonir, once proud, now leaned on the golden beastmen for protection. Even when the beastmen have occupied their kingdom and their traitorous queen has consigned her people as the beastmen’s breeding stock. And that many have accepted their new place in… whatever nightmare this is. Her rage boiled over, fixating on the beastmen’s commander. A towering bestigor, his golden fur shimmering with scales that gleamed in the moonlight with his blood red jagged and spiked spear and in an armor meant for a Glade Lord. One of the daemon’s eldest spawns. Seizing her longbow, Araloth loosed an arrow at the creature’s exposed neck. The shaft struck true but bounced harmlessly off its scales, the bestigor’s yellow eyes locking onto hers. Its guttural growl confirmed it knew her shot was no misfire. A deliberate act of defiance. And she has no regrets.