The last ray of the setting sun disappeared behind the treetops of the Forest of Gloom, and night quickly spread like ink.
Kadrin crouched behind the bushes in the oak grove, unfolding the parchment map again under the faint starlight.
On the map, the Blackrock Clan's blue-brick walls were drawn as thick black lines, labeled with notes like "Moat width five meters" and "Gate made of elm wood"—this was all intelligence brought back by scouts at the risk of their lives.
"A frontal assault is impossible," Kadrin whispered, surrounded by the Heavy Infantry Captain, the Musketeer Commander, and the Butcher Leader. "The walls are twenty-five meters high, and there's a moat. We don't have battering rams or scaling ladders. Charging straight in is suicide; our chance of success is less than one percent."
The Heavy Infantry Captain gripped his heavy axe and grumbled, "So what do we do? We can't just go back, can we? The honor of the Redbeard Clan forbids us from retreating!"
"Of course we aren't going back." Kadrin traced the western side of the wall on the map. "This is the weak point of the wall. The scouts reported that the mortar between these bricks hasn't fully dried yet, and it's close to the forest, making it easy to conceal ourselves at night. We will launch a night raid at midnight tonight. The Musketeers will first concentrate fire to break the gate, the Heavy Infantry will charge in, and the Butchers and Argali Riders will cover the flanks. As long as we control the gate, the greenskins will surely fall into disarray."
He paused, his eyes full of confidence: "We marched carefully, taking unused paths, and our numbers are small, so the greenskins definitely haven't found us. If they had, given the greenskins' aggressive nature, they would have charged out to surround and annihilate us long ago. Why would they be this quiet?"
The Musketeer Commander nodded in agreement: "The Lord is right! greenskins are simple-minded fools who only know how to fight head-on. They would never think we'd launch a night raid. Tonight, we will surely take the wall and bring glory to the Redbeard Clan!"
The Butcher Leader grinned excitedly, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth: "I can't wait to chop off greenskin heads! Their blood will be perfect for sharpening my axe!"
Kadrin looked at their reactions with satisfaction and began assigning tasks: "The Heavy Infantry will be responsible for the frontal breach. As soon as midnight strikes, use the great hammers to smash the gate.
The Musketeers will be divided into two groups: one to suppress the greenskin archers on the wall, and the other to cover the Heavy Infantry. The Butchers will follow behind; once the gate is open, charge in and slaughter the greenskins . The Argali Riders will be responsible for vigilance, preventing greenskin reinforcements from other directions."
"Remember to be quick! Don't give the greenskins time to react!" Kadrin instructed finally. "After taking the wall, plant the Redbeard Clan flag at the gate and wait for the follow-up forces to arrive!"
Everyone agreed in unison and quietly returned to their respective units.
The dwarves began preparing for the night raid—the Heavy Infantry checked the joints of their armor, the Musketeers loaded their guns with powder and lead shot, the Butchers sharpened their axes, and the Argali Riders calmed their restless mounts.
The night grew deeper. The forest was so quiet that only the rustling of the wind through the leaves remained, as if setting the stage for the bloodbath about to occur.
Meanwhile, on the blue-brick walls of Stonewatch, a different scene unfolded.
The light from the torches illuminated the walls as if it were daytime, and the orange-red firelight reflected on the greenskins' faces, which were filled with fanaticism and vigilance.
The orc nob were bare-chested, revealing solid green muscle, gripping brightly polished iron axes. The hobgoblin archers drew their bows, aiming their arrows toward the forest, while the hobgoblin spearmen stood on the inner side of the wall, ready to provide support at any moment.
The orc ,Glen Waaghmire, stood at the top of the tower, his greenskin covered in scars left by battle. The red-furred squig on his head shone vividly in the firelight. Since being appointed "Watchdog" Hero by Kurzadh and tasked with the wall's defense, he had become the Blackrock Clan's most reliable line of defense.
At this moment, he was giving a pre-battle speech to the greenskins on the wall.
"Boyz! The dwarves' forces are in the forest, and they are definitely coming for a night raid tonight!" Glen's voice was booming, carrying over the wall and across the entire defensive position. "The boss gave me the wall because he trusts me to hold it! Are you scared?"
"No!" The greenskins shouted in unison, their voices shaking the wall slightly. "Kill the dwarves! Hold the wall!"
"Good!" Glen nodded with satisfaction. "I've made arrangements. The archers on the wall will keep watch over the forest. As soon as you see a dwarf shadow, shoot! The spearmen guard the gate; don't let a dwarf axe touch the door! The orcs will follow me. If the dwarves charge hard, we'll go down and fight them!"
He had already received news from the Death Crawler that five hundred dwarves were heading towards the wall. Based on his understanding of greenskins , the dwarves would certainly choose a night raid—after all, a frontal assault offered no chance of victory.
Furthermore, he had specifically reinforced the defense on the west side of the wall, where the mortar between the bricks hadn't completely dried and was the easiest point to breach.
"Keep your spirits up! Don't let those dwarves with their little beards look down on us!" Glen slapped the shoulder of a young orc next to him. "Remember, hold the wall, and the boss will give us the best Fungus Strongbrew!"
The greenskins' morale soared. Every one of them stared intently toward the forest, unwilling to even blink—the temptation of Fungus Strongbrew was more effective than any command.
The night deepened, and midnight drew closer. Kadrin stood up in the forest, drew the short axe from his waist, and made a gesture to attack the dwarf forces behind him.
The Heavy Infantry carried their great hammers and moved stealthily toward the west side of the wall. The Musketeers held their guns, following cautiously behind, while the Butchers licked their lips, their eyes filled with the desire for slaughter.
Just as Kadrin was about to give the order to attack, a slight tremor suddenly came from the ground beneath his feet.
"Hmm? What's going on?" Kadrin frowned and looked down at the ground.
The tremor grew stronger. Small cracks began to appear in the ground, and dirt crumbled downwards.
The dwarves immediately stopped, expressions of panic on their faces—they had never encountered a situation like this.
"Oh no! The ground is collapsing!" the Heavy Infantry Captain shouted loudly.
As soon as he spoke, with a massive "Boom," the ground beneath Kadrin suddenly split open into a huge chasm, and dirt and stones poured down like a waterfall.
The entire area began to sink rapidly. The dwarves had no time to react before they were swept away into the collapsing earth.
The Heavy Infantry, burdened by their armor, fell first. The Musketeers tried to run but were tripped by the chaotic crowd. Although the Butchers were agile, they could not resist the ground collapsing. The Argali Riders' mounts were startled, whinnying as they tried to retreat, but they were still dragged down by the sinking earth.
Kadrin felt the world spin, lost his balance, and fell heavily into the dirt.
He tried to grab a nearby tree, but only managed to grasp a handful of loose soil, and he was quickly swallowed by the collapsing ground.
In just a few breaths, the forest floor where five hundred dwarves had been gathered turned into a massive pit several dozen meters in diameter. The bottom of the pit was pitch black, no sounds could be heard, and only dirt continued to fall.
Hearing the loud noise, the greenskins on the wall poked their heads out and looked toward the forest.
Glen also frowned and raised his spyglass—only to see a huge hole appearing in the distant forest. It was pitch black inside; no dwarf figures could be seen, nor could any movement be heard.
"Wot's goin' on?" a hobgoblin archer scratched his head and asked confusedly. "Where are the dwarves? Why did a big pit suddenly show up?"
Glen was stunned. He had guessed the dwarves would launch a night raid, but he hadn't guessed that this would happen.
He lowered his spyglass, staring at the huge hole, his heart filled with confusion: Did the Gork and Mork, two warboss gods in warhammer fantasy appear and swallow the dwarves? Or was there some kind of monster in the forest?
Under the cover of night, the huge hole lay silently in the forest like a black mouth.
The greenskins on the wall looked at each other, unsure whether they should be happy or vigilant. Meanwhile, in the darkness at the bottom of the pit, the skaven Snitch irritably kicked away a dwarf corpse next to him and shouted at a nearby clanrat:
"Squeak-screech! Where do all these stunties come from?!"
"They smash-ruin our tunnel-burrow! Drag-pull them out, quick-quick—no slow-delay! Dig-dig must continue, yes-yes!"