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Sigmarzeit-5-11-2492

"My prince, a group of dawi has arrived outside the camp and they are waiting to meet with your… what was the word again?" said a Reiksguard knight, thinking aloud.

"Dawongi," I answered, without lifting my eyes from the few maps we had of the Grey Mountains.

"That's it, what the general said… they wish to speak with you," the Reiksguard knight added, pointing toward me.

Karl Franz raised an eyebrow at me. "So it's true—you have ties so deep with the dawi that when you need warriors, they send them to you almost like a gift."

"We are allies," I replied. "I protect their lands when needed, and they help me with what only dwarfen skill can accomplish. Remember, your father gave me authority over the Grey Mountains in my own name… technically, the dawi could say they live in my lands. Of course, in practice, they keep their realms and I keep mine. In return, they send me a 'gift' each month for allowing them free mining rights. It would be absurd for either of us to pretend a human lord rules over a dawi lord."

"Then let's go receive them," said the prince, walking toward the tent's exit.

Outside, we saw hundreds of dawi assembled before the camp, perhaps close to a thousand. All armed, bearing their banners, and among them I even noticed the fearsome Slayers: hair dyed orange, bare torsos covered with blue runes painted onto their skin.

"Friends of the Empire, thank you for coming so swiftly," I called out as I walked toward them. "Your aid in this campaign will be the most important of all. We have a task that only the dawi can accomplish, with the skill and patience needed for work well done."

"You have nothing to thank me for, my dawongi," answered a familiar voice. From among the warriors emerged Duran, clad in a new runic armor gleaming with elegance, crowned with a helm that made him seem a few inches taller.

"But if it isn't my good friend Duran!" I exclaimed, extending my hand. He clasped it firmly. "Tell me, is everything well in the mountains? Do your Karaks still hold? I don't want to take your time—I know how busy you must be with so many dawi migrants arriving in your domains."

"My Karaks are in good hands with my kin, dawongi. But I could not turn a deaf ear to this call. As you did for my clan when you helped us against the urk and the grobi, now we return the favor against this plague that troubles our umgi allies."

Karl Franz watched the scene with clear interest, and I could see the surprise written on his face.

"Duran, Karl Franz, son of Sigmar's Chosen. Karl, Duran, thane of the clan allied with my family," I made the introductions.

"Greetings, umgi. I hold no grievance against you," said Duran, raising his shield as a sign of respect.

"Greetings to the honorable warriors of Karak Ankor," replied the prince with poise. "It is an honor to have you at our side in this campaign to cleanse the Grey Mountains of the greenskin clan that has caused such harm to Imperial caravans."

"That said, my friend," I turned to Duran, "your journey must have been long. It would be an honor to host you under my care while we finish our preparations before marching against the greenskins."

"On the contrary," Duran said with pride. "I expect you to sit at my table tonight and tell me the story of your victory against Bretonnia. They say your cunning defeated an entire people, but I want to hear it from you, with the best Bugman's beer I could get." He pointed toward the great wagons piled high with dwarfen food.

"Tempting…" I admitted, remembering with a pang of hunger those dwarfen sausages I had enjoyed so much. "But I must refuse. I cannot grant myself luxuries I deny my men."

Duran's chest swelled with pride. "Then you shall drink with us when the victory against the greenskins is won. There will be a feast, and we will all raise our mugs."

"Count on it," I replied with a smile. "Though remember, I don't drink."

"I know. But at least you'll tell us the stories then."

"Of course, my friend."

I turned to the prince. "For now, let them rest. We march tomorrow. They are welcome within my walls, though they may set up their own camp if they prefer."

Back inside the tent, Karl Franz was still staring at me in surprise.

"Well then…" he finally said. "Will you explain what just happened out there? I've never seen a dawi so respectful or friendly. Not even the dwarfen envoys in Altdorf behave that way—not even with my father."

"It's an honest relationship built on mutual benefit," I answered, shrugging as I looked for a jug of water mixed with vinegar. "I clear their Karaks of greenskins. I've cleared, I think, four of them… killing thousands of orcs and goblins in the tunnels. They return the favor with runic arms."

Karl Franz looked at me in disbelief. "Wait… we knew of one. But four? We never received reports of that. Since when did you recover three more Karaks in the Grey Mountains?"

"Oh… well…" I raised a finger, realizing the detail. "I forgot to mention it." I covered my eyes with my hand, aware that once again I had omitted something important for the Empire.

"Do you do this on purpose, or what?" Franz said, arching an eyebrow. "It's impossible this happens so many times, always 'forgetting' to report your victories. It almost seems like you hate the prestige they bring you."

"No… I literally forgot," I replied with a smile. "I have too many things on my mind, and I completely forgot to say I'd been helping the dawi with their Karaks. I'm surprised the envoys didn't mention it."

"Something tells me they thought we already knew," the prince muttered thoughtfully. "Now that I think about it, there were moments when the dwarfen envoys were unusually cooperative… more than usual. Yes, that must have been it. The timing fits: whatever we asked, they answered with a 'yes' instead of the usual hard bargaining."

"Then it wasn't that bad. I suppose you got plenty of runic armor," I said after taking a drink of water.

"We could have taken greater advantage of that situation," said the prince, his reply curt.

"You want to take advantage of the honorable dawi people?" I asked, feigning surprise.

"No, no, no. I never said that! Don't put words in my mouth," the prince replied, clearly unsettled.

"Unthinkable… that the future Emperor would want to exploit the dawi. Who would have thought," I continued, keeping up my mock surprise.

"You know very well what I meant. Stop saying things like that—I would never do such a thing," he shot back, nervousness showing.

I shook my head, laughing. "I think I heard exactly what you meant, Franzi."

"You are a…" he clenched his teeth.

"Go on, say it… a son of a bitch? My mother was a terrible woman, and I don't care if people say it. But be careful with my father… for that I will break faces with my fists," I said with a grin.

The prince exhaled heavily, steadying his breath to rein in his temper. "Fine. So what is your plan for the mountains?" he asked at last, calmer now.

"Oh, come on, you're no fun. I wanted to amuse myself a little longer," I replied with a broad smile.

"This is neither the place nor the time. What matters is crushing the greenskins and hunting down that necromancer roaming the Grey Mountains before he raises another army of the dead," he said, composed again.

"Well then," I nodded, leaning over the maps. "We have a general idea of where they are. Several trails show signs of recent movement, which means they must be nearby. Likely an underground clan using an abandoned karak… or perhaps they have a camp above ground. If it's the first, the fight will be brutal, with the risk of cave-ins if we use cannon fire. If it's the second, even worse: ambushes, attacks from every direction. And there's still lingering snow from winter—a landslide could be fatal."

"If you give me a few days, I can get pegasi from the Altdorf zoo, with expert riders as scouts," the prince proposed.

"An excellent idea," I answered immediately. "That would save us much time. If they don't see a large camp, it means they're underground, and then we can search for hidden entrances beneath the rocks."

We finally agreed to wait a couple of days. There was no rush; after the last campaign, we were ahead of schedule, and we could afford to better prepare the troops and gather proper clothing for the mountains.

During that time, I met with the dawi, who demanded to hear from my own lips how I had outwitted the Bretonnians. I told them the story, exaggerating a few parts to keep them entertained, and they used the occasion to drink in honor of the victory. As always, I drank only water with vinegar while they filled themselves with beer.

The days passed as we stockpiled gunpowder and supplies. I handed out extra clothing I had secured for the soldiers, so that the march through the mountains would not be sheer torment in the cold.

At last, the promised pegasus riders arrived. They took to the skies of the Grey Mountains, scouting every valley and ridge, taking turns so that the watch never ceased.

News came swiftly: the greenskin clan was encamped on the surface, in the mountains. Bad news—it would have been better to find them underground, where cannons in the narrow tunnels would have annihilated them. In open ground, on rough terrain, the battle would be far more dangerous.

Yet there was one advantage: the camp was poorly placed. There were hills and ravines where we could set up musketeers and cannons, and narrow passes that would force the orcs to attack head-on. If we moved quickly, we would be the ones choosing the field of battle.

In just two days, we hauled all the heavy equipment up the steep trails, bringing Imperial soldiers and the thousand dawi eager to slit orc throats. We positioned our cannons and stationed the troops between two hills, leaving a narrow pass as the only viable route for the greenskins to charge. And knowing that enemy well, I knew they would not hesitate.

With the army in position, I ordered noise to be made: a few gunshots echoed through the mountains. It didn't take long. Dozens of orcs appeared at the edge of their camp and, upon seeing us, began to charge immediately, roaring and swinging their massive crude axes in the air.

The first musketeers fired at once. Several orcs fell face-first into the dirt, but it was only a fleeting victory. Within seconds, more and more came. First hundreds of gleaming eyes in the gloom, then thousands, until an endless tide of goblins and orcs poured from their camp, flooding every access.

Just as I had planned, most threw themselves down the few narrow paths, seeking the most direct clash. It was exactly what I wanted. They piled up in the choke point—right as the rotary cannons roared to life. Twenty of these machines thundered together, spewing fire and lead in unrelenting torrents. The greenskin vanguard was shredded like straw, mowed down by the inhuman cadence of the shots. Every second, dozens of orcs fell, and the deeper they pushed, the more they entered the killing field of our weapons.

As the pressure grew stronger, the dawi organ guns opened fire. A storm of shot and shrapnel tore through the greenskins, turning their advance into a bloodbath. Still, they kept coming—thousands upon thousands of green bodies shoving each other forward, dropping like flies under the disciplined volleys of our musketeers.

The volleys never ceased. Shot after shot, the smoke of gunpowder mixed with the screams, while the cannons of Nuln thundered with each blast, ripping away hundreds of foes at once and leaving crimson craters in the midst of the horde.

Everything was going well, until I saw something odd. A group of goblins seemed to fly above us, propelled by crude metallic harnesses that launched them gliding toward our artillery.

"Damn it… flying goblins!" one of the gunners shouted.

I felt the metal in their harnesses. With a simple push of my power, I sent them veering off course, crashing into the slopes or plummeting to the ground, far from our guns. The artillery was safe, and the massacre continued.

The green tide kept growing, but the mountain of corpses before our lines was higher still.

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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.

Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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