Dark clouds swirled in the sky, and the Black Mountains seemed to tremble as ancient battlefields were engulfed in chaos.
At Black Fire Pass, the inevitable route for greenskin invasions into the Empire, a great battle was unfolding.
The sky crackled with the sounds of magical explosions as Imperial wizards clashed with greenskin shamans and goblin spellcasters in a series of arcane duels. When the Imperial artillery roared, greenskin catapults and goblin throwing machines responded in kind, each volley carving deep trenches into the opposing formations.
"Waaagh!"
"Waaaaagh!"
"Waaaaaaaaaagh!"
Like a surging sea, as vast as mountains, and as endless as the stars, an uncountable tide of greenskins poured forth from beyond Black Fire Pass. How many were there? No one could tell, but all anyone could see was an endless, boundless green tide rushing toward the human lines.
At this moment, Frederik sat atop his purebred elven steed, surrounded by the Nuln Black Guards and Ironclads. The baron held the reins of his horse and turned to Jubal Falk, commander of the Nuln Ironclads, and Theodor Bruckner, the Nuln Supreme Judge, standing behind him. "Truly, the greenskins are the cancer of the world. Look at their numbers—not just the goblins, but even the orc boys are as countless as the sea. We're like grains of sand on the shore."
"We'll be the unyielding cliffs, my baron," Jubal Falk replied. Deep down, as Gelt had predicted, he harbored some resentment toward Frederik's "bootlicking behavior." But, as Gelt had also noted, Frederik's youth and impulsiveness made it somewhat forgivable.
"Rest assured, my baron, I will tear any enemy to shreds," the Nuln Supreme Judge said coldly and calmly.
"Good," Frederik said, turning his gaze to the battlefield. Thousands of orcs had already clashed with the human lines. Halberdiers and spearmen stood shoulder to shoulder in thick formations, holding back the greenskin charge on the narrow path of the pass. Handgunners and crossbowmen fired relentlessly, while artillery barrages swept across the field, reducing hundreds of greenskins to pulp with each salvo. The distinctive sound of steam tank cannons rang out like music, each shot felling a row of orcs.
"Waaagh! Smash dat metal box!" A group of orc boys charged toward a steam tank, braving the fire from its small steam cannons. They swung crude axes at the thick steel plates, only to have their weapons bounce off. The steam tank reversed slightly, then surged forward with a sudden lunge.
Seven or eight orcs were instantly crushed beneath the tank's treads, reduced to a bloody pulp!
"Oi, dat metal box be real scary!" The remaining orc boys quickly backed away.
Imperial scouts and pistoliers did their best to lure all the greenskins toward Black Fire Pass. The Imperial army knew full well that if they didn't hold the line here, the greenskin tide would sweep across all of Averland and beyond.
Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.
"Giants!" Several giants, summoned by a greenskin warlord, charged into the fray. They swung massive clubs, sending rows of halberdiers flying through the air. The provincial troops stared in terror at the towering figures, realizing how fragile humans seemed in comparison.
The giants needed no tactics. They simply raised their clubs and swept them across the battlefield, sending two or three rows of infantry flying with each swing. The human formations began to crumble, and orc boys and goblins seized the opportunity to charge in, forcing the humans to pay a heavy toll.
"Ultimate Alchemy!" Finally, Gelt made his entrance. The Supreme Patriarch raised his staff, Volans, and his pegasus, Silverine, streaked across the sky like a rainbow. A giant was struck by a torrent of molten metal, clutching its legs in terror as the golden flow consumed its knees, severing its body in two. Gelt chanted another spell, summoning golden hounds that tripped the giant. "Forward, soldiers of the Empire! For the Emperor, for Holy Terra!"
"For Holy Terra!" The Eldrad Guard charged bravely, dozens of iron-tipped spears piercing the giant's eyes and skull, killing it. With a wave of his staff, Gelt cast a curtain of light over the battlefield. When the greenskins charged through it...
Ten Hellstorm Rocket Batteries, operated by Nuln engineers, roared to life. The rotating barrels spat fire like a meat grinder, reducing orc boys to chunks of flesh.
Frederik, having studied in Nuln for years, was well-versed in the doctrines of firepower superiority and crossfire tactics. Using the terrain of the cliffs, he positioned the handgunner regiments in a crossfire formation, deliberately leaving a narrow gap. When the greenskins thought they had found a weak point and rushed in for close combat, they were met with a devastating volley from the Nuln Ironclads. The pride of Nuln fired with such intensity that the greenskins were pinned down, unable to advance.
A massive Arachnarok Queen Spider roared forward, a goblin shaman on its back casting a small Waaagh! spell. A green bolt struck an Imperial captain, causing him to dance uncontrollably as he tried to scratch an unbearable itch through his armor. In that moment of distraction, an orc boy swung its axe, crushing the captain's helmet and sending a spray of blood down his face. The captain fell, only to be gutted and hacked to pieces.
"Give me a handgun!" Frederik grabbed a long-barreled rune handgun from his attendant. The baron raised the weapon, took aim through the scope, and fired two seconds later.
"Boom!" Two hundred meters away, the goblin shaman's head exploded like a watermelon. As cheers erupted from the human lines, the Arachnarok Queen, now leaderless, was engulfed in artillery fire.
"Take it!" Frederik tossed the handgun back to his attendant and immediately turned to a cannon crew. "Shift the barrel eight degrees and twenty minutes to the right, elevation up one degree and eight minutes!"
"Yes, sir!" The engineer adjusted the cannon's aim.
The cannon fired, and a solid shot reduced a goblin dive-bomber launcher to scrap metal.
"Godfather's back!" The aerial duel concluded as a wounded wyvern crashed into the greenskin horde, crushing several orc boys, a dozen goblins, and a wolf chariot. The greenskin warlord fell with it.
But on the other side, Deathclaw, the Empire's largest griffon, was also struggling. It spread its wings to slow its descent, allowing Emperor Karl-Franz to land safely.
"It's Godfather!" Frederik watched as his godfather, amidst the chaos of a battlefield with over a hundred thousand combatants, made a conspicuous landing. The baron's face quickly darkened. "Damn it, Deathclaw's injured!"
The emperor's greatest ally was clearly badly wounded, but under the watchful eyes of all, it managed to land safely. The massive beast created a gust of wind as it twisted in the air above Black Fire Pass before finally touching down among the Reiksguard. Amid the cheers and cries of the loyal Imperial guards, Karl-Franz dismounted and was immediately surrounded by Marshal Kurt Helborg and his standard-bearer, Ludwig Schwarzhelm.
The emperor was drenched in blood, having just slain a greenskin warlord. However, the enemy leader was not the main warboss, so the emperor's efforts only slightly delayed the greenskin advance.
The emperor regretted his decision to personally engage the wyvern-riding greenskin warlord, as it had left Deathclaw severely injured. Even if the griffon survived, the emperor would have to face the rest of the war without his greatest ally.
"Your Majesty, how is Deathclaw?" Marshal Kurt Helborg asked as the griffon was loaded onto a cart to be sent back to Altdorf.
"It will fly again," Karl-Franz tried to smile but quickly realized how ghastly it must look. He abandoned the attempt and instead grabbed a large mug of ale from a servant, downing it in one gulp. He then took the reins of his half-elven steed from a Reiksguard and mounted up. "How's the battle, Kurt?"
"We're holding back tens of thousands of greenskins," Helborg frowned. "The situation is still under control. Our soldiers are battle-hardened veterans, my army's will is as strong as steel, and each of our men can take on five greenskins. The greenskins may never realize that their formations are too dense, making it impossible for us to miss. Our artillery can find the best targets. As long as we hold Black Fire Pass, let the greenskins come!"
The emperor felt somewhat reassured and quickly moved to a vantage point to assess the situation.
The left flank, held by Nuln and Solland forces, was relatively stable. Thanks to Nuln's overwhelming firepower, Solland's tenacity, and Gelt's endless Chamon spells, the greenskin advance was firmly checked.
The center, held by the Reikland army, was still holding. Two regiments had lost over half their men, and five others had suffered more than 30% casualties. But thanks to the steam tanks and the relentless efforts of the Franz Guard Corps, Imperial morale remained high.
On the right flank, the star players were a powerful ogre mercenary force—the infamous Mawtribe mercenaries hired by Marius to fight for Averland. The ogre warlord, dressed in an oversized tunic, trousers, and a wide-brimmed feathered hat, swept through the greenskins like a god of war.
"I reckon dis big fella's got some real kick! Lads, follow me!" A greenskin boss rallied a group of orc boys, raising a muscular arm. "We go, we go, we go east, west, north, south, and we ain't stoppin' till we hit a wall!"
"Whoosh~" The Mawlord took a deep breath and exhaled a wave of flame that reduced a group of greenskins to smoldering ash.
"For da Maw God! Eat, eat, eat, eat, eat!"
"For da Maw God!" The ogres charged forward.
Marius Leitdorf's decision to deploy ogre mercenaries as the vanguard was unusual, but it paid off. The greenskins, intimidated by the ogres' strength, hesitated, giving Averland's forces time to reload and regroup. Twenty-eight cannons and fifteen mortars, under Marius's command, fired in unison, wiping out hundreds of greenskins in a single salvo.
"If we can hold like this, we'll surely win in the end," Helborg said with confidence.
The situation seemed favorable for the Imperial army, but the emperor remained troubled. He turned to Helborg. "Something's wrong. Why are we only facing orc boys and goblins? Where are the greenskin elites? A force of a hundred thousand greenskins must have black orcs, boar boys, and other heavy hitters."
"I'm not sure. Perhaps the greenskin elites are still on their way or have diverted to attack elsewhere?" Helborg shook his head, remaining optimistic. "We've sent requests for aid to Karak Kadrin, Karak Azul, Karaz-a-Karak, and Karak Eight Peaks. Perhaps the dwarfs are engaging the greenskin elites."
"I hope so," the emperor said, still uneasy. He quickly turned serious. "Where are my Reiksguard?"
"Right behind you!" Helborg bellowed. Hundreds of Reiksguard stood ready, shouting in unison, "For Sigmar, for the Empire, for Ghal Maraz!"
"And Ivan with his Griffon Knights?" the emperor asked next.
"They're hidden in the forest over there, ready to flank the enemy at your command, my Emperor," Helborg replied.
"Good!" The emperor finally felt reassured. He knew full well that the Empire's heavy cavalry, mounted on inferior horses compared to Bretonnia's, couldn't repeatedly charge and retain their stamina. Thus, his plan was a hammer-and-anvil tactic: the Imperial infantry would hold the line, using ranged firepower to wear down the greenskins, while the Reiksguard would flank and strike the greenskin rear like a hammer. Finally, the Griffon Knights would deliver the decisive blow with a flanking charge.
The next few hours would be the emperor's toughest battle since the Bloodpine Forest. The Imperial army stood like a steel wall, holding back the green tide. The surging greenskins roared with savage war cries, their Waaagh! energy overwhelming even the hymns to Sigmar. Wave after wave of thousands of goblins and orcs fell, but the relentless tide of monstrous brutes battered the disciplined Imperial infantry.
The human forces weren't just passively defending. As the greenskins were held back by the orderly ranks of spearmen, swordsmen, and halberdiers, handgunners behind the lines unleashed volley after volley. The flashes of black powder and the thunderous reports of gunfire sent goblins screaming in retreat, their cowardly nature making them fear the bullets of the "umgi."
But orc boys were harder to scare. They forced their way into the Imperial lines, hacking through breastplates and flesh even as they were impaled by multiple spears. The Imperial soldiers had to hold firm, waiting for the hammer-and-anvil tactic to take effect. When Hellstorm Rocket Batteries and Helblaster Volley Guns fired in unison, when cannons, mortars, and Marius's squealing commands rang out, the greenskin advance would falter.
At that moment, the emperor would give the order, and foot knights and greatswords would swiftly flank and annihilate the greenskins still entangled with the Imperial lines.
The arrival of Nuln's forces gave the Empire a clear firepower advantage. Hours into the battle, all of the greenskins' ranged war machines had been destroyed.
Frederik's artillery genius shone brightly in this battle. The terrifying baron could calculate firing angles and issue commands on the spot, using nothing but his eyes and mental math. The Nuln Elder Cannon, "Emmanuelle's Fist," fired under Frederik's direct command, obliterating a river troll's head with a single shot.
"For the Golden Throne! For Holy Terra!" Gelt and his apprentices roamed the battlefield, unleashing torrents of molten metal, fire, meteors, and lightning upon the greenskin hordes. Imperial wizards cast dangerous spells, and though many Imperial soldiers fell victim to friendly fire, turning to ash, charred remains, or mangled corpses, the greenskins suffered far greater losses. The decreasing frequency of large and small Waaagh! spells indicated that Gelt had gained the upper hand, at least in the magical duel.
Hours later, the greenskin assault continued, and the Imperial army grew exhausted. The soldiers who had marched so far felt as though their legs were filled with lead, and their weapons grew too heavy to lift.
Regiment after regiment fell, swallowed by the greenskin tide. Entire formations were wiped out, and the bodies of humans and greenskins piled up, forming a gruesome barricade.
Only the emperor, riding through the ranks, kept morale high, reminding the soldiers that no matter how vast the Empire was, behind them lay Altdorf. They had nowhere to retreat—only a fight to the death!
*Leadership +8!*
The Imperial army teetered on the brink but held firm.
Yet the greenskins' morale also began to waver. The frenzied beasts had already left tens of thousands of corpses at Black Fire Pass. After hours of brutal combat, the goblins grew fearful and refused to advance, while the orc boys grew bored. They had been promised the riches of the plains, but hours of fighting had yielded no plunder.
Perhaps Gork and Mork had not blessed this war?
The emperor, with his keen observation, sensed an opportunity for victory. He felt the time was right. At his command, over five hundred Reiksguard mounted up, followed by a thousand Imperial knights. As the emperor hesitated over whether to unleash the Griffon Knights hidden in the nearby woods to deliver the final blow...
From the eastern end of Black Fire Pass, louder war horns sounded.
A deafening roar rose from the east.
Led by over eight hundred boar-riding orc bosses, five orc boss regiments and three black orc regiments charged into the fray at incredible speed.
Behind them, two massive stone idols, each twenty to thirty meters tall, defied logic as they strode into Black Fire Pass.
The legendary Idols of Gork and Mork!
Before the emperor could even gasp, the greenskin warlord leading this massive Waaagh! finally appeared at the head of the boar-riding horde. Towering even over Angron, the Primarch, this was the largest warboss the emperor had ever seen. Mounted on a massive boar, the warlord brandished a colossal axe, the severed head of a Stirland general dangling from his saddle. With a roar, the warboss charged ahead, leading the charge.
"Waaagh!"
"Waaaaaaaaaagh!"
"Boyz! Yer boss is here! I'm Wargaz Ironjaw! Follow me! Crush dese humies! Let's break through!"
"Break through! Break through! Break through!"
The entire battlefield was engulfed in a green energy. All the greenskins roared with renewed frenzy.
Morale restored!
Gork and Mork are watching us!
"For Gork and Mork, Waaagh!"
This was the greenskins' counterattack!
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