Chapter 133 - Morning Dawns

The morning light in Katushir City, with a hint of imperceptible desolation, shone upon the broken city walls.

Nearly a thousand laborers and craftsmen were busy repairing the walls—some carried wicker baskets full of bricks and stones, their backs bent as they climbed steep ladders; some wielded heavy iron hammers, smashing them into reinforced iron frames; others squatted at the base of the wall, carefully filling shell craters and cracks with cement.

The arrow towers on the city walls had been rebuilt, wooden watchtowers pointed to the sky, and hundreds of city militia, clad in shining armor and armed with spears and shields, patrolled back and forth along the walls, their sharp gaze sweeping every corner, fearing to miss any potential threat.

The four city gates had long been opened, but they were heavily guarded by layers of city militia.

Inside the city gates, several officers meticulously checked the identification documents of passersby, repeatedly questioning suspicious individuals, and even opening and inspecting the goods of merchant caravans.

Among the flow of people entering the city were farmers pushing carts, merchants carrying bags, scholars in robes, and many ragged refugees, who stood by with vacant eyes, waiting for the city militia's inspection.

Outside the city gates, the traces of the beastmen's past breach were still clear—the walls were covered with deep claw marks, and the bricks and stones retained black and red bloodstains, as if still recounting the fierce siege battle of a few years ago.

This once prosperous trade city, after several years of reconstruction, had finally gradually regained its former vitality.

On the main street, shops lined both sides, and shouts rose and fell; silk, spices, ironware, grain, and other goods were dazzling, attracting passersby; in the taverns, adventurers loudly discussed strange tales from various places, the clinking of glasses mixing with boisterous laughter; in the square, children chased and played, sunlight shining on their faces, radiating innocent smiles.

But beneath the prosperity, scars of war remained everywhere.

In the wilderness outside the city, countless beastmen skeletons lay scattered, some with cracked skulls, some with broken limbs, glowing a pale white under the wind and sun, reminding people of the fierce battles that had taken place here; in the corners by the roadside, many disabled soldiers sat, some with missing arms, some with missing legs, their old wounds still throbbing, barely surviving on the alms of passersby.

Their eyes were hollow, their faces etched with pain and despair, their former glory long since eroded by cruel reality.

The castle in the city center was the heart of Katushir.

This castle, built of white marble, had withstood the ravages of war, yet still stood magnificent and imposing.

Soaring towers pierced the clouds, and the flags on their spires fluttered in the wind; the castle walls were carved with exquisite patterns and family crests, showcasing the majesty and glory of Escoville, the City Lord.

In a luxurious room deep within the castle, sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, falling upon the velvet-carpeted floor, yet it could not dispel the heavy medicinal scent and the aura of death in the room.

Escoville lay on a large bed, his face as pale as paper, his breath so faint it was almost imperceptible; his once sturdy physique was now emaciated, covered by a thick brocade quilt, yet still unable to ward off the bone-chilling cold.

In the beastmen siege battle a few years ago, Escoville, to protect the city, personally led the knight order in a charge, but was struck in the chest by an axe from a berserk Bull Warrior.

He had been fine until a few years ago, but then, for some unknown reason, chaotic power suddenly invaded his body.

Although he narrowly survived, the chaotic power had deeply corroded his body; countless mages rushed to him, using every magic and potion, but none could dispel the evil force.

Now, everyone knew that the City Lord, who had toiled his entire life for Katushir, had little time left.

The room was crowded with people, divided into two distinct factions.

On the left stood Byarenk, a Seven-Ring Mage; he wore a purple robe embroidered with complex runes, holding a staff inlaid with a sapphire, his face thin, his eyes deep, and a faint smile always played on his lips.

Behind him stood several mages in robes and several municipal officials, all his trusted confidants.

On the right was Escoville's adopted daughter, Kailesel.

She wore silver armor, a sharp longsword at her waist, her golden hair tied back, her face beautiful yet with a hint of firmness.

As the commander of the Five Hundred Knights and the consul of the city militia, she was not only skilled in martial arts but also possessed excellent military talent and leadership abilities.

Behind her were several officers from the knight order and generals from the city militia; their eyes were resolute, tightly guarding Kailesel's side.

Everyone held their breath, quietly listening to Escoville's faint voice.

"By… Byarenk… Kailesel…" Escoville laboriously raised his hand, trying to grasp something, but then let it fall powerlessly. "You… do not fight among yourselves… Katushir… is my life's work… and it is your home…"

His voice was intermittent, each word costing him immense effort, his chest heaving violently, his face showing an expression of pain.

"The beastmen… have retreated… but the greenskins in the Forest of Gloom… are eyeing us greedily… they… are avaricious and brutal… once the city defenses are empty… they will certainly seize the opportunity to attack…"

Byarenk bowed slightly, his face showing an expression of overwhelming gratitude, his voice respectful: "My Lord City Lord, rest assured, I will always remember your teachings, prioritize the future of Katushir, and dare not be negligent in the slightest."

But beneath that respectful mask, Byarenk's heart was unmoved.

He had coveted the position of City Lord for many years; now that Escoville was critically ill, it was his best opportunity to seize power.

Although Kailesel had the support of the knight order and the city militia, in terms of wisdom and cunning, he was confident he far surpassed this young woman.

As for the threat of the greenskins, in his opinion, it was merely Escoville worrying needlessly—as long as he controlled the power of Katushir, with the mages and army in the city, it would be enough to deal with those simple-minded greenskins.

Kailesel, however, clenched her fists tightly, tears welling in her eyes.

She had been raised by Escoville, and deeply understood her adoptive father's feelings for this city.

Over the years, she had personally watched her adoptive father toil day and night for Katushir, even sacrificing his own health.

She truly did not want to see the city her adoptive father had guarded his entire life fall into internal strife, nor did she want to give those greenskins an opportunity.

"Father, rest assured, I will never disappoint you." Kailesel's voice was choked with emotion, yet exceptionally firm. "I will protect Katushir, I will never let internal strife consume the city's strength, and I will certainly not let the greenskins step foot inside the city gates."

Escoville looked at Kailesel, a flicker of relief in his eyes; he opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something more, but was interrupted by a violent cough.

After the cough, his face became even paler, and his breathing grew even weaker.

"Good… good…" He uttered two words with difficulty, then slowly closed his eyes, falling into a coma.

"My Lord City Lord!" The people in the room immediately grew tense; the imperial physician quickly stepped forward to examine him, and a moment later, he shook his head, whispering to the crowd: "My Lords, the City Lord has fallen into a deep coma, I'm afraid… there isn't much time left."

Byarenk's eyes flickered, and an imperceptible curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He nodded to the imperial physician, then turned to Kailesel, his face still bearing that false smile: "Commander Kailesel, the City Lord needs quiet rest, let us go out first, and not disturb his rest."

Kailesel said nothing, only taking a deep look at the unconscious Escoville, her eyes filled with reluctance and determination.

She knew that from this moment on, the burden on her shoulders had become even heavier.

She had to stabilize the situation as quickly as possible, thwart Byarenk's ambitions, and protect everything her adoptive father had left behind.

She nodded and was the first to turn and walk towards the door. Byarenk followed closely, their figures briefly converging at the doorway.

In the corridor, sunlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor.

Kailesel stopped, turned, and looked coldly at Byarenk, her eyes filled with vigilance and hostility: "Lord Byarenk, I hope you will keep Father's words in mind. Katushir cannot withstand internal strife; if you dare to do anything that harms the city, I will not let you off."

Byarenk's smile remained unchanged, but his eyes sharpened: "Commander Kailesel is joking; I have always kept the City Lord's teachings in mind. It is the Commander, holding significant military power, who should not be swayed by power and do anything irrational."

Their gazes collided in the air, sparks flying.

The atmosphere in the corridor instantly became tense; the followers on both sides gripped their weapons, vigilantly watching each other, fearing a conflict.

A moment later, Byarenk was the first to withdraw his gaze, a cold sneer on his lips: "Time will prove everything." With that, he turned and led his people towards the other end of the corridor.

Kailesel watched his retreating figure, tightening her grip on the longsword at her waist.

She knew that a war without smoke and fire had quietly begun.

She would never let the city her adoptive father had guarded his entire life fall into the hands of an ambitious villain like Byarenk.

She took a deep breath, then turned to her subordinates and said: "Let's go, immediately strengthen the city defenses, closely monitor the movements within the city, and absolutely do not give anyone an opportunity. Also, send more men to keep a close watch on Byarenk."

"Yes, Commander!" Her subordinates responded in unison, following closely behind Kailesel as they walked out of the castle.

Silence returned to the corridor, with only the sunlight slowly moving across the floor.

The future of Katushir, like this long corridor, was full of unknowns and uncertainty.

*****

At the edge of the Forest of Gloom, the morning mist had yet to fully dissipate, and the heavy humidity, carrying the scent of rotting leaves, enveloped the entire woodland.

Thousands of figures lurked behind the dense thickets, like a pack of hungry beasts, staring intently at the towering steel fortress nearby

—the Stonewatch of the greenskins .

These people were ragged and motley: there were bandits with scarred faces gripping rusty machetes, hunched bandits carrying shortbows, gaunt vagrants holding sharpened wooden sticks, and deserters wearing tattered armor with broken swords tucked into their belts.

They were the lowest strata of humanity, driven to desperation by war and famine, gathered under the banner of the Red Leaf bandits Guild, forming a disorganized rabble.

At this moment, their eyes burned with a fire woven from greed and despair. The walls of the Stonewatch were not an impregnable defense in their view, but a treasury filled with food , weapons, and wealth.

"Listen up, all of ya!" a hoarse voice broke the silence of the woods.

Disi stepped out from behind a tree. He was tall but wore only a worn gray shirt covered by a faded red cloak. The hem of the cloak was torn, revealing his muscular calves.

He held a rusty longsword, its blade chipped and nicked. He didn't even have a proper shield, relying only on hunching down and ducking to avoid potential attacks.

"The greenskins in the Stonewatch are simple-minded fools! As long as we break the gate, the food and weapons inside will be ours! Charge in and loot everything!"

Disi's roar was like a shot of adrenaline, igniting the crowd's frenzy.

These people had long since been driven mad by hunger and despair, thinking only of rushing into the Stonewatch and seizing anything that could keep them alive.

"Charge! Loot the greenskins dry!"

"Kill them! There's meat to eat!" Shouts and cries rose in a chaotic wave. Thousands of people, clustered around several rudimentary battering rams, surged out of the woods and aggressively rushed toward the north and east gates of the Stonewatch.

The battering rams were constructed from thick logs, their heads wrapped in heavy iron plating, and were pushed by dozens of strong bandits working together, leaving deep ruts in the ground.

Behind them, hundreds of archers spread out along the edge of the forest, nocking arrows and unleashing covering fire toward the Stonewatch's walls.

Arrows whistled as they flew toward the wall. Some embedded themselves in the hard iron plating, making a crisp clang; others landed near the observation ports on the wall but were easily dodged by the prepared hobgoblin archers.

On the wall, the hobgoblin archers initially returned fire symbolically, launching poisoned arrows with a faint green glow toward the charging humans.

The short distance of a few dozen steps felt like a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, and people constantly fell after being struck by arrows.

Some bandits were hit in the shoulder by poisoned arrows, instantly convulsing as black blood gushed from the wound, and they quickly stopped breathing. Some vagrants were shot through the thigh, screaming as they fell, only to be trampled to death by the charging crowd behind them. Other deserters tried to dodge but were struck in the chest by the dense volley of arrows, their bodies dropping like broken kites, becoming stepping stones on the path of the charge.

Disi hunched his neck and desperately rushed forward, wildly swinging the rusty sword in his hand, praying not to be hit by a poisoned stray arrow.

He could feel the people around him falling one by one, hear the mournful screams and the sound of arrows slicing through the air. His heart hammered in his chest, and fear wrapped around his throat like a vine.

But the greed for wealth and the terror of death drove him, preventing him from stopping, forcing him to sprint toward the Stonewatch's east gate.

Fortunately, Disi managed to rush through the arrow barrage and reached the area outside the east gate.

By now, over a thousand humans had gathered beneath the gate, working together to push the battering rams and launch a fierce assault on the gate.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" The wooden rams repeatedly struck the gate. The immense impact made the gate groan and splinter, sending wood chips flying.

As the number of strikes increased, a crack gradually appeared in the gate. The gap widened until, with a massive crash, the gate was smashed open.

"It's broken! The gate is broken!" A cheer erupted from the crowd. The bandits wore expressions of ecstasy and scrambled to pour inside the gate.

Disi followed the crowd inside, planning to first grab some food and weapons, and then find a safe place to hide.

But the moment he rushed through the gate, the smile on his face instantly froze, replaced by extreme terror.

Behind the gate were not scattering greenskins , but densely packed, heavily muscled orcs.

Each one stood over two meters tall, clad in heavy leather armor, gripping heavy weapons like great axes and Warhammers. They wore cruel, savage grins, forming a solid wall of steel that completely blocked the gate passage.

Sunlight streamed in from behind them, casting monstrous shadows on the ground that made the orcs look like demons from hell.

The humans' morale instantly collapsed.

The faces of the leading bandits bosses turned pale. They spun around and ran, shouting, "Run! It's a trap!" But the gate passage was narrow, and people were still streaming in from behind. Those trying to escape were completely blocked by the surging crowd, leaving them only to struggle and scream where they stood.

"WAAAGH!" The orcs let out a deafening roar and charged like a herd of raging bulls. Glen was at the forefront, swinging his great axe, which whistled as he cleaved into the crowd.

One bandits boss had just turned around when he was struck in the back of the head by the great axe. His skull split open like a watermelon, splashing brains and blood onto the surrounding people. Another deserter tried to resist with a broken sword, but an orc grabbed his wrist and violently tore his arm off, the scream echoing through the gate passage.

Other humans were smashed in the chest by orcs wielding Warhammers; the crisp sound of shattering ribs was accompanied by a spurt of black blood, and their bodies flew backward like rag dolls, colliding with the people behind them and causing chaos.

The narrow doorway instantly became a bloody slaughterhouse. human screams, orc roars, the clash of weapons, and the sound of breaking bones intertwined, and the air was thick with the stench of blood.

The humans were like lambs to the slaughter, completely defenseless, able only to struggle and flee in vain beneath the orcs' cleavers.

Some, desperate to survive, even shoved and trampled one another, trying to climb over the corpses of their comrades, yet ultimately, they could not escape death.

Disi was swept up by the crowd and couldn't escape at all.

Watching the people around him fall one by one, and seeing the savage grins of the orcs, he finally realized the truth—the hobgoblin archers on the wall had stopped firing long ago. It wasn't that they couldn't fight; they had deliberately held back, treating the humans as "toys" for the orcs to play with! The greenskins had set a trap from the beginning, waiting for them to walk right into it!

Regret and terror washed over Disi like ice water. He wanted to scream, he wanted to run, but a thick green arm struck him violently in the chest.

With a loud "Crack," the sharp pain of his broken ribs made his vision blur. His body flew backward like a broken kite, crashing heavily onto the ground, where he completely lost consciousness.

The slaughter in the gate passage lasted less than half an hour.

When the last human fell beneath an orc's axe, the passage was already piled high with corpses. Black blood flowed through the cracks in the ground, forming small streams both inside and outside the gate.

The orcs stood among the piles of bodies, panting heavily, their faces filled with excited grins. Some were licking the blood from their axe blades, while others rummaged through the corpses for valuables—though mostly consisting of broken weapons and a few copper coins, these were still spoils of war in the eyes of the greenskins .

Glen stepped over the corpses and walked to the gateway, looking at the few humans sporadically fleeing along the edge of the forest outside. He spat dismissively, "Dammit, did they really think these scraps could breach the Stonewatch? Pure delusion!" His great axe was still dripping blood, and his eyes were full of contempt.

In his opinion, these humans were even more fragile than skaven, completely unworthy of being opponents for the greenskins .

Several Orc Boyz gathered around, their faces showing dissatisfaction. "Boss Glen, that wasn't nearly enough fun! We haven't fought enough, and these scraps are already all dead!"

"Exactly! Next time we see trash like this, we should charge out and kill them until we're satisfied!" another orc agreed.

Glen laughed heartily. "Don't worry, there will be plenty of fights for you! The boss is still at Cave Fang. Once he returns, we'll go attack that human city, and then you can kill all you want!"

Hearing this, the orcs instantly grew excited, waving their weapons and letting out fervent war cries.

Beneath the Stonewatch gate, the smell of blood was still heavy, but the greenskins' excitement hadn't diminished at all—for them, war and slaughter were the happiest things.

Meanwhile, far away at Cave Fang, Kurzadh was riding Furball, checking the progress of the skaven mining operation.

Suddenly, the system prompt sounded in his mind:

[Assessment: Complete Victory!]

[Congratulations! The host's Stonewatch defenders have crushed the attack by the human bandits gang, gaining WAAAGH! Points × 317]

Kurzadh froze for a moment, confused. "Human bandits gang? Why would the Stonewatch be attacked by humans?" When he left the Stonewatch, he had arranged sufficient defenders, and Glen and Bone Tree were stationed there. How could they suddenly be attacked?

Not long after, a hobgoblin messenger riding a squig rushed over, his face alight with excitement. "Boss! boss! News from the Stonewatch! A few thousand human scraps just attacked the north and east gates, and boss Glen and his crew slaughtered them! They've all been dealt with now!"

Only then did Kurzadh realize what happened, and a cold smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He hadn't expected humans to dare provoke the greenskins and try to attack the Stonewatch; they were simply courting death. "Understood." Kurzadh waved his hand. "Tell Glen and his crew to properly clean up the battlefield and strengthen their defenses. Don't let the comrades of those scraps cause any more trouble. Also, take inventory of the loot and wait for me to return to handle it."

"Yes, boss!" The messenger quickly nodded and hurried back on his squig to report.

Kurzadh looked toward the distant Stonewatch, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

The humans' preemptive attack made him realize that the rise of the greenskins had already attracted the attention of neighboring powers.

However, this was not a bad thing for him—on the contrary, it was exactly what the greenskins wanted.

Only through constant warfare and constant slaughter could enough WAAAGH! energy be accumulated, and only then could the Blackrock Clan grow stronger.

"It seems it's time to speed things up," Kurzadh muttered, patting Furball's head. "Once we finish dealing with Cave Fang, we'll return to the Stonewatch, and then we'll go meet those humans!"

Furball seemed to understand Kurzadh's words and let out a deafening roar, its sound filled with savage energy.

In the caves of Cave Fang, the skaven heard the roar, trembled with fear, and mined even harder.

Deep in the dungeons of Stonewatch, dampness and putridity intertwined, thick stone walls completely blocked out sunlight and clamor, leaving only the clatter of chains dragging on the ground and faint wails.

Glen and Bone Tree stood side by side outside a cell, their heavy breaths forming white mist in the dim air, their fierce eyes fixed on the figure curled up inside—Disi.

The once arrogant leader of the Red Leaf bandits, now had long lost his former arrogance in charge.

He was firmly chained to the iron rings on the wall, his wrists and ankles chafed raw, his tattered red cloak stained with mud and blood, his once tall body curled up in pain and fear, his face bruised and swollen, with dried blood foam still at the corners of his mouth.

"Speak! Who sent you to attack Stonewatch?" Glen kicked the cell door, and the heavy wooden door let out a loud bang, making Disi tremble all over.

The giant axe in his hand still had dried bloodstains, its blade gleaming coldly under the dim torchlight, as if it would cleave Disi's head at any second.

Disi looked up, his eyes full of fear, his lips trembling: "I...I don't know...we just...just wanted to steal some things..."

"Bullshit!" Bone Tree stepped forward, his huge fist smashing against the cell door, sending wood chips flying. "Thousands of men with siege weapons, specifically attacking the North and East gates, and you tell me you just wanted to steal things? Do you think we orcs are fools?"

Bone Tree's voice echoed like thunder in the cell, and Disi quickly lowered his head in fright, his body shaking even more violently.

But he knew in his heart that these orcs were extremely brutal, and if he didn't tell the truth, he would surely die a terrible death.

Yet, when he thought of the black-robed men's methods, he couldn't help but shiver—betraying those people would likely lead to an even more terrifying end.

"Not talking, huh?" Glen sneered, then turned and winked at the two Orc Boyz beside him.

The Orc Boyz immediately grinned and walked into the cell, holding spiked iron rods, and swung them hard at Disi's legs.

"Ah!" A shrill scream echoed through the dungeon, Disi's leg bones made a cracking sound, he convulsed in pain, sweat instantly soaked his clothes, and tears and snot streamed down his face.

"Will you speak?" Glen asked again, his tone icy.

Disi gritted his teeth and shook his head. He knew that if he could just endure this, there might still be a glimmer of hope.

But the orcs had plenty of ways to make him talk. The Orc Boyz took turns, iron rods, whips, branding irons, all sorts of torture instruments were used on Disi.

Screams in the cell rose and fell, Disi's body was covered in wounds, some places with flesh turned out, revealing pale bones, blood dripped down the chains, forming a puddle of dark red blood on the ground.

Not long after, Disi completely gave in.

He was never a Hard Bones; his previous arrogance was merely due to having numerical superiority. Now, facing the orcs' brutal torture, all his courage and hope were completely shattered.

"I'll talk! I'll talk!" Disi shrieked with his last ounce of strength, "Stop hitting me...I'll tell you everything..."

Glen and Bone Tree exchanged glances, a hint of satisfaction flashing in their eyes.

Glen waved his hand at the Orc Boyz, who stopped their actions, grinned, and stepped aside, waiting for Disi to confess.

Disi gasped for breath, trembling with pain, and after a while, he spoke haltingly: "We...we are a group of refugees, deserters...and bandits...from various countries and territories...unable to survive, so we gathered together and formed the Red Leaf bandits..."

He paused, licked his chapped lips, and continued: "We usually help some nobles do dirty work...like assassinations, robbing caravans...and then get a little money to live...until a few days ago...a group of black-robed men found me..."

"Black-robed men?" Glen frowned, "Who are they? Why did they want you to attack Stonewatch?"

"I don't know exactly who they are..." Disi shook his head, a trace of fear on his face, "They wore black robes, wrapped themselves tightly, so I couldn't see their faces at all...They gave me a large down payment, and many weapons and siege equipment...and told me to recruit soldiers and horses to attack your fortress..."

"They didn't say why they wanted to attack us?" Bone Tree pressed, his fists clenched. If Disi said "no" again, he wouldn't mind letting this human taste pain once more.

"No...they didn't say..." Disi quickly shook his head, "They just said...if I could break through Stonewatch, they would give me even more money...enough for me to live comfortably my whole life...I was momentarily blinded by greed and agreed..."

Glen clearly didn't believe this explanation. He stepped forward, grabbed Disi's hair, forcefully lifted his head, and said fiercely, "You'd better think carefully before you speak! Those black-robed men must have given you some promise, or have some leverage over you! If you don't tell the truth, I'll chop you down right now!"

Disi's scalp was pulled painfully, and seeing the killing intent in Glen's eyes, he was scared out of his wits and quickly said, "I'll talk! I'll talk! I really don't know their exact identities, but I...I guess they are from Prince Patton's Fiefdom!"

"Prince Patton's Fiefdom?" Glen and Bone Tree were both stunned. They were not unfamiliar with this name.

The orcs had been active in the Forest of Gloom for many years and had heard some rumors from the human world. Prince Patton's Fiefdom was one of the stronger territories in the vicinity, rich in grain and ironware, and had always had trade relations with surrounding forces.

"How do you know they are from Prince Patton's Fiefdom?" Bone Tree asked, his eyes full of suspicion.

"I...I saw the totem on their robes..." Disi recalled, his voice with a hint of uncertainty, "It was a lion...I used to work for a noble in Prince Patton's Fiefdom and saw their territory's totem, it was just like that..."

Glen released Disi's hair, and Disi collapsed to the ground like a pile of mud, gasping for air.

Glen and Bone Tree exchanged glances, both seeing seriousness in each other's eyes.

If Disi was telling the truth, then this attack was not a simple bandits' robbery, but a conspiracy deliberately planned by Prince Patton's Fiefdom.

"Guard him well, don't let him die, and don't let him escape!" Glen instructed the Orc Boyz guarding outside the cell, then turned and left the dungeon with Bone Tree.

The sunlight outside the dungeon was a bit dazzling, and Glen and Bone Tree squinted their eyes.

Without the slightest hesitation, they immediately had squig messengers prepared to send Disi's confession and their conjectures to Cave Fang as quickly as possible, to report to Kurzadh.

At Cave Fang, Kurzadh was standing at the entrance of the warpstone mine, watching the Skaven continuously load the mined warpstone into wooden crates.

Yala stood by, carefully reporting the mining progress, his face full of fawning smiles.

Scarface, on the other hand, stood not far away, arms crossed, his eyes vigilantly watching the Skaven, preventing them from playing tricks.

"Boss! Urgent report from Stonewatch!" An orc messenger rode a squig, rushing over, his face full of seriousness.

Kurzadh turned around, took the letter handed by the messenger, and quickly scanned it.

As the content of the letter unfolded, Kurzadh's brows gradually furrowed, and the smile on his face disappeared, replaced by deep contemplation.

"Prince Patton's Fiefdom..." Kurzadh murmured to himself, his eyes becoming profound.

He hadn't expected that the group of bandits who attacked Stonewatch this time were actually secretly supported by Prince Patton's Fiefdom.

He sat on a large piece of warpstone, his fingers gently tapping the stone, his mind racing, analyzing the reasons for Prince Patton's Fiefdom doing this.

With Antonio's intelligence network, he quickly connected all the clues.

Firstly, the internal turmoil in Katushir City was an important opportunity.

Escoville was critically ill, and the city was divided into two factions, Bialenk and Keleser, with internal strife on the verge of breaking out.

Prince Patton's Fiefdom must have seen this, believing that Katushir City was already too preoccupied to pose a threat to them, which is why they dared to boldly act against the orcs.

Secondly, the internal chaos of the Empire gave Prince Patton's Fiefdom an opportunity.

The old emperor had passed away, and several princes were vying for the throne, constantly clashing and fighting, with no time to spare for the border territories.

It was only natural for Prince Patton's Fiefdom to seize this opportunity to expand its influence.

Furthermore, the disruption of trade with the northern barbarians had a significant impact on Prince Patton's Fiefdom's economy.

Prince Patton's Fiefdom had always maintained close trade relations with the northern barbarians, purchasing furs, minerals, and other materials from them, then reselling them to southern countries and dwarves, earning huge profits in the process.

But now with trade disrupted, Prince Patton's Fiefdom's fiscal revenue sharply declined, and internal conflicts intensified.

To divert internal conflicts, they had to find a new target, and the orcs' Stonewatch happened to block their vital north-south trade route.

Kurzadh stood up and walked to a crude map.

This map was drawn by hobgoblin Tinkerers based on information provided by captured human merchants. Although not precise, it roughly marked the distribution of surrounding forces.

Stonewatch was located on the edge of the Forest of Gloom, precisely wedged between Prince Patton's Fiefdom, Katushir City, and the dwarf fortress, making it a vital passage for north-south trade.

"As long as Stonewatch is captured, Prince Patton's Fiefdom will be able to open a trade route to the dwarves, secure a stable supply of minerals, and simultaneously expand south to annex the turbulent Katushir City." Kurzadh's eyes were sharp, instantly seeing through Prince Patton's Fiefdom's ambition. "What a clever scheme."

Yala stood by, not daring to breathe loudly.

He could feel the anger emanating from Kurzadh, and although he didn't know what had happened, he knew that something big must have occurred.

Scarface also walked over, a ferocious grin on his face: "Boss, are those humans blind, daring to provoke us? We'll go back to Stonewatch right now, take our brothers, smash their territory, and plunder all their food and women!"

Kurzadh shook his head, a cold smile playing on his lips: "No hurry. Since Prince Patton's Fiefdom dared to move against us, they must have made thorough preparations. Now is not the time."

He knew in his heart that although the orcs were formidable in battle, Prince Patton's Fiefdom was, after all, a legitimate human territory, possessing well-trained armies, sturdy castles, and ample supplies.

If they attacked rashly, the orcs might suffer considerable losses.

"Boss, what do we do now?" Scarface was a bit anxious; it had been a long time since he had fought a major battle, and his hands were itching.

"Return to Stonewatch first," Kurzadh said, a hint of resolve flashing in his eyes. "Here at Cave Fang, let Yala continue leading the Skaven to mine, Scarface, you stay behind and supervise them, ensuring that the ore is continuously transported to Stonewatch. At the same time, have the hobgoblin Tinkerers accelerate the forging of weapons and defensive fortifications, and prepare for war."

"Yes, boss!" Scarface and Yala responded in unison.

Kurzadh turned to Iron Claw and Glen's messenger beside him and said, "Notify Glen and Bone Tree to strengthen Stonewatch's defenses, closely monitor Prince Patton's Fiefdom's movements, and report immediately if they make any new moves. Additionally, tally the tribe's forces and supplies, and be prepared for war at any time."

"Understood, boss!"

Kurzadh looked towards the distant direction of Prince Patton's Fiefdom, his eyes filled with battle intent.

He hadn't expected that before he even actively sought trouble with humans, they would come knocking on his door first.

However, this was exactly what he wanted—the orcs' WAAAGH! never feared a challenge.

"Prince Patton's Fiefdom..." Kurzadh murmured to himself, a cruel smile playing on his lips, "Since you want to play, I'll play with you to the end. Once I'm ready, I'll flatten your territory and plunder everything you have!"

The morning mist over Cagliari, a hundred miles southeast of Katushir, was dispersed by a thick, nauseating stench.

This small town, situated along a vital trade route, was usually filled with the sound of merchant caravans' hooves and the cries of vendors. But now, the streets were empty, save for trash tumbling across the ground, driven by the wind. The air was thick with the pungent smell of rotting flesh mixed with sulfur Nurgle's tentacles had silently wrapped around the town long ago.

A sewer manhole cover was violently pushed open, the rusty iron lid rolling several times on the ground with a grating noise.

Following this, countless hunched figures crawled out from the dark sewer Webway. They wore tattered clothes, their exposed skin covered in suppurating Plague spots. Twisted Nurgle runes, etched onto their bodies with dark red blood, glowed with an eerie, phosphorescent green in the morning light.

These were Nurgle's fanatical followers. Their eyes were wild, drool dripped from their mouths, and they continuously shrieked, "Praise Father! Praise Nurgle!"

"Charge! Seize the Town Hall! A sacrifice for the Father!" one follower shrieked, raising a bone staff covered in filth as he rushed toward the center of the town.

More and more followers surged out of the sewers, like caged beasts unleashed, sprinting toward the Town Hall.

Their weapons were varied: some wielded sharpened wooden sticks, others rusty cleavers, and some were simply bare-handed, the gaps under their fingernails packed with dark brown grime and flesh.

Suddenly, a clattering sound came from the houses lining the street. Doors and windows were violently smashed open, and countless festering corpses staggered out these were townsfolk infected by nurgle's plague, now reduced to mindless Plague zombies.

Their skin was a sickly bluish-black, in places rotting away to reveal stark white bone and wriggling maggots; some had cloudy eyeballs dangling outside their sockets, swinging with every movement; others had distended bellies, as if incubating some horrific creature.

These Plague zombies shrieked, shuffling in the direction of the charging followers, serving as the front-line cannon fodder for Nurgle's army.

Fires began to ignite throughout the town. Wooden houses were set ablaze by the followers, and thick smoke billowed up, obscuring the sky.

One follower tossed a burning torch into a shop. The flames instantly consumed the goods on the shelves, and the crackling sounds of the fire were mixed with the agonizing screams of townsfolk who had failed to escape the premises.

Another follower used a bone staff to lift a burning wooden barrel and violently smashed it into a roadside haystack. The fire spread rapidly, turning the entire street into a sea of flames.

The town's Town Hall was located in the central square. This stone structure, the defensive core of the town, was currently being used by dozens of guards who were fighting back from behind its walls.

They wore simple leather armor, carried spears and shields, and their faces were etched with fear, yet they desperately clung to their courage, attacking the charging followers and zombies.

"Hold fast! Don't let them through!" the guard captain roared, swinging his longsword and felling a Plague zombie that was leading the charge.

The longsword split the zombie's chest open, and dark brown pus gushed out, splashing onto his armor and emitting a sickening stench.

Forcing down his nausea, he swung his sword again, severing another follower's head. Black blood and brain matter splattered across the square's flagstones.

But the sheer number of Nurgle followers and Plague zombies was overwhelming; they surged forward like a tide, impossible to completely slay.

A young guard was tackled to the ground by a Plague zombie, its sharp claws tearing through his leather armor and sinking deep into his chest.

The young guard let out a desperate scream, his body convulsing on the ground. His skin rapidly turned bluish-black before his struggling ceased. The next moment, he violently opened his cloudy eyes, having become a new Plague zombie, and turned to attack his former comrades.

More and more guards fell. Some were beaten to death by the followers, others were torn apart by Plague zombies, and some were infected by nurgle's plague, becoming part of the enemy force.

The Town Hall walls were gradually breached. The followers roared as they rushed into the square, engaging the guards in close-quarters combat. The square became a literal hell on earth, a mix of blood, pus, organs, and burning debris.

Just as the guards were fighting desperately to hold the final line of defense, the back door of the Town Hall suddenly burst open. The mayor, accompanied by a few confidants, rode off on swift horses, galloping toward Katushir without a backward glance.

The mayor, usually so sanctimonious, was now utterly terrified. He was so intent on fleeing that he didn't even notice his mayor's badge, the symbol of his authority, drop to the ground, completely abandoning the town to its fate.

"The mayor ran! The mayor ran away!" one guard shrieked in despair upon seeing the sight.

The mayor's escape completely shattered the guards' last vestiges of morale.

They had been fighting on a shred of hope, but now that their highest Commander had abandoned the town, all courage instantly vanished.

Some guards threw down their weapons and ran, only to be quickly overtaken and beaten to death by the followers behind them. Others dropped their arms and knelt, begging Nurgle for forgiveness, but they were ruthlessly hacked down by the fanatical followers in Nurgle's dogma, cowardly traitors were unworthy of the Father's blessing.

Amidst the chaos, a man draped in a green cloak slowly emerged from the sewers.

He was tall, and the skin beneath his cloak was covered in dense Plague spots, some of them actively oozing pus. He wore a Nurgle mask carved from bone, revealing only a pair of cloudy, fanatical eyes.

Every step he took landed on rotting flesh, yet he seemed completely unaffected. The followers behind him immediately fell to their knees, shouting fanatically, "Praise Father! Praise the Prophet!"

This man was Nurgle's Prophet in Cagliari. He was the one who had led the followers to lurk in the sewers, quietly eroding every corner of the town with the Plague.

He raised his head, looking at the burning town, and a twisted smile curled his lips. His voice was hoarse and low, carrying the scent of decay: "The Father's blessing shall eventually descend upon every inch of land. Cagliari is merely the beginning."

He slowly raised his right hand, pointing his bone staff toward the Town Hall.

The remaining followers roared, launching their final charge as if receiving an explicit command.

The Town Hall doors were smashed open. The guards' resistance completely collapsed, and screams mingled with the followers' fanatical shouts, echoing throughout the entire town.

In the square, a surviving young guard was huddled in a corner, watching the approaching Plague zombies, his eyes filled with despair.

He thought of his family, and of the town's former prosperity, all of which had been reduced to nothing under Nurgle's corruption.

As the zombie's sharp claws were about to touch him, he closed his eyes. The only sounds left in his ears were the followers' shrieks of "Praise Father" and the crackling of the burning flames.

After the bloody storm subsided, Cagliari fell completely silent.

The fires were still burning, and thick smoke billowed, staining the sky dark red.

Corpses littered the streets, the square, and the houses some were townsfolk, some were guards, and some were Nurgle followers and Plague zombies.

These bodies would soon become breeding grounds for nurgle's plague, incubating even more horrific creatures.

The Nurgle Prophet stood on the Town Hall rooftop, draped in his green cloak, looking down upon the town he had conquered.

Followers knelt in a mass beneath him, fanatically shouting Nurgle's name. To them, the stench and the bloody smell in the air were the sacred aura bestowed by the Father.

"Send word: eliminate all uninfected souls and offer them to the Father," the Prophet's voice echoed in the wind with undeniable authority. "Strengthen the defenses and await the Father's further guidance. The next target is Katushir!"

"Praise Father! Praise the Prophet!" the followers answered in unison, their voices deafening.

The fall of Cagliari, like a stone dropped into a lake, caused a massive ripple effect among the surrounding factions.

The green cloak on the Town Hall rooftop looked especially sinister in the burning firelight, like the banner of Death, foretelling the arrival of an even greater catastrophe.

Deep within the Forest of Gloom, the perpetually lingering miasma was dispelled by a faint smell of sulfur.

A caravan consisting of over a dozen heavy iron wagons was slowly moving forward. The wheels of the wagons ground over the gravel-strewn ground, emitting a heavy, grinding sound, and the warpstone fragments inlaid on the wagon bodies glowed with a faint, eerie green light in the dimness.

Each iron wagon was pulled by four heavily armored Chaos War Pigs. Their tusks were stained with dried blood, their eyes were fierce, and white steam puffed from their nostrils.

The caravan's guards were all short, stocky, dark-skinned Chaos dwarf. They wore heavy black iron armor covered in rivets, had thick beards braided with small iron rings, and held battle axes or blunderbusses, vigilantly scanning the surrounding forest.

Sterl, the leader of the caravan, walked at the very front. He was half a head taller than the other Chaos dwarf, carried a massive axe inlaid with warpstone on his shoulder, its blade engraved with twisted Chaos runes, and a scar running from his forehead to his chin made him look particularly ferocious.

"Stay alert! There are greenskins and skaven in this forest, don't get careless!" Sterl's voice was low and hoarse, like two stones grinding together.

As a veteran leader of the Chaos dwarf Merchant Guild, he had traveled constantly between various Chaos factions and was well aware of the dangers of the Forest of Gloom.

Having been ordered to establish trade relations with the legendary Blackrock Clan this time, his heart was filled with caution

greenskins were notoriously savage and chaotic, and trading with them carried the constant risk of being robbed or even slaughtered.

Just then, steady footsteps sounded from the forest ahead.

Sterl immediately raised his hand, the caravan instantly halted, and the guards gripped their weapons, staring vigilantly ahead.

A tall female Chaos dwarf emerged from the woods. She wore custom-fitted black iron light armor, the plate engraved with exquisite flame runes, and two short-handled Warhammers hung at her waist. Her long black hair was loosely draped over her shoulders, her face was unadorned, and her gaze was sharp as a knife.

"I am Guzhana of the Blackrock Clan, sent by Chief Kurzadh to welcome Leader Sterl." Guzhana's voice was clear yet carried undeniable authority, and her eyes swept over the caravan guards without the slightest trace of fear.

Sterl was momentarily stunned, and the wariness in his eyes gradually lessened.

He had not expected his greeter to be a Chaos dwarf, let alone a female Chaos dwarf.

Among the Chaos dwarf race, females were mostly responsible for forging or logistics and rarely participated in external negotiations, which piqued his curiosity about the Blackrock Clan.

"Chaos dwarf Merchant Guild, Sterl." Sterl put down his great axe, his tone softening slightly. "I didn't expect to find our kin in the Blackrock Clan. It seems your tribe is quite different from those savage greenskins ."

"The order of the Blackrock Clan was established personally by Chief Kurzadh." Guzhana curved her lips into a faint smile. "Please follow me; the Chief has already prepared accommodations for everyone."

After speaking, Guzhana turned and led the way, and Sterl waved his hand, signaling the caravan to follow.

As they went deeper into the forest, the surroundings gradually changed. The formerly chaotic trees had been neatly cleared, simple stone slab paths were laid on the ground, and along the roadside, there were even road signs made of animal bones, crudely carved with greenskin script.

"These greenskins , they actually know how to build roads?" a guard whispered to Sterl, his voice full of surprise.

In his impression, greenskins only ever destroyed things and understood nothing of order.

Sterl did not speak, but he was also filled with surprise.

He could feel that this Blackrock Clan was indeed completely different from the greenskin tribe he had encountered before.

After walking for about half an hour, the view ahead suddenly opened up.

A massive fortress appeared before their eyes

Blackrock Spire, the core stronghold of the Blackrock Clan.

After nearly ten years of transformation by Kurzadh, Blackrock Spire was no longer the crude orc camp it once was, but a rock-solid, well-ordered military fortress.

The perimeter of Blackrock Spire was a ten-meter-high stone wall, constructed of massive flagstones and covered with firing ports and watchtowers. orc sentries on the towers held bows and arrows, vigilantly watching the distance.

The gate in the stone wall was forged from thick black iron, inlaid with a massive squig skull, making it look both ferocious and imposing.

Walking into Blackrock Spire, Sterl was even more stunned by the sight before him.

The formerly haphazard orc stone houses had been reorganized and neatly lined the streets. The roof of each stone house was covered with thick animal hides, and the walls were smoothly plastered with cement, making them look sturdy and clean.

On the streets, the Orc Boyz wore uniform leather armor and patrolled with weapons. Although still meaty-faced, they lacked the usual greenskin chaos and frenzy, appearing instead well-ordered.

To the left of the street was the designated orc trading area, where dozens of stalls were neatly arranged, displaying various goods: tanned hides, fresh meat, finely forged weapons, rough but durable clothing, and even warpstone fragments mined by skaven.

Several hobgoblin merchants were haggling with the trading skaven in broken Common Tongue. Although they occasionally argued over prices, no fighting broke out, which astonished Sterl.

"This way, please. All foreign caravans stay at the green mushroom tavern," Guzhana said, pointing to a tall building at the end of the street.

Following her direction, Sterl saw a six-story building standing prominently in the western district of Blackrock Spire, which was particularly noticeable among the generally one or two-story orc structures.

The exterior walls of the building were built from sturdy stone with cement joints, exhibiting a strong dwarf architectural style, but the decorations were distinctly greenskin

the roof was inlaid with massive Mammoth skulls, and the walls were covered with the skulls of skaven and beastmen. Glowing ores were embedded in the eye sockets of every skull, casting an eerie light in the dimness.

"This is the only tavern in the tribe, and the only accommodation for visiting caravans," Guzhana introduced. "The Chief said that since you are guests, we must make sure you are comfortable."

Sterl nodded, his favorable impression of the Blackrock Clan increasing once more.

He directed the caravan to store the goods from the iron wagons

mainly weapons, armor, and gunpowder forged by Chaos dwarf, along with a small amount of dwarf strong liquor

in the warehouse next to the tavern, and assigned four guards to watch them in shifts.

After all this was done, Sterl followed Guzhana into the green mushroom tavern.

Upon entering, a scent combining mushroom aroma, roasted meat, and alcohol wafted over him, instantly making him relax.

The first floor of the tavern was the main hall. The floor was laid with smooth flagstones and swept spotlessly clean, completely lacking the filth and stench typical of previous greenskin camps.

Dozens of tables and chairs made from thick logs were placed in the hall. Both the tables and chairs had been finely polished; though simple in style, they were extremely sturdy.

Several large animal hides hung on the walls, along with a few painted murals depicting scenes of greenskins fighting and hunting. Although the brushwork was crude, it was full of savage power.

What surprised Sterl the most was that two restrooms had actually been built in the corner of the tavern. The doorways were covered with curtains made of animal hides, the floors were paved with stone slabs, and dry grass and water for cleaning were provided inside.

In every tribe he had visited previously, including some human territories, the restrooms were either rudimentary or non-existent, yet this greenskin tribe had established such clean facilities even within their tavern.

"Please sit down, I will call the Bartender." Guzhana motioned for Sterl to sit, then turned and walked toward the bar.

Sterl found a seat by the window and surveyed the tavern's environment.

Several orcs were sitting in the corner drinking. They were laughing loudly and chatting, but there was no boisterous shouting, and certainly no fighting.

A hobgoblin Bartender was busy wiping down mugs. The mugs were made of black iron; though not delicate, they were very clean.

Soon, Guzhana returned with the Bartender.

The Bartender held a menu made of animal hide and respectfully handed it to Sterl: "Guest, please look at the menu. We have various mushroom dishes and meats, as well as the finest liquor."

Sterl took the menu and examined it carefully. The menu was written in both greenskin script and Common Tongue, listing a variety of dishes: Roasted squig Meat, Stewed Mammoth Leg, Fried Spider Eggs, and various mushroom dishes, such as mushroom soup, grilled mushrooms, and mushroom pies. Besides these greenskin specialties, the menu also featured common meats like lamb, beef, and chicken, clearly prepared for foreign guests.

What interested Sterl the most was the liquor list at the end of the menu.

It included not only the greenskin specialty mushroom wine, but also grain-brewed beer, fruit wine, and even several strong liquors favored by dwarf, among which was the Chaos dwarf-brewed "Blackblood spirits."

"You actually have blackblood spirits here?" Sterl couldn't help but ask, his voice filled with astonishment.

Blackblood spirits was a Chaos dwarf specialty, complex to brew, and rarely sold externally. He hadn't expected to see it in this greenskin tribe's tavern.

"The Chief said that to treat guests well, we must have the liquor they enjoy," the Bartender said with a smile. "These strong liquors were purchased from the Chaos dwarf Merchant Guild, guaranteed authentic."

Sterl's favorable impression was completely ignited.

He had originally assumed this trade with the greenskins would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, yet he hadn't expected the Blackrock Clan to be so unique.

They had order, maintained hygiene, and even knew how to entertain guests

this completely overturned his understanding of greenskins .

"Bring me a serving of roasted beef, a mushroom soup, and a jug of blackblood spirits," Sterl said, closing the menu and handing it to the Bartender.

"Very well, guest, please wait a moment," the Bartender replied respectfully, turning to prepare the food .

Guzhana sat across from Sterl, watching his satisfied expression, and smiled slightly: "What do you think, Leader Sterl? Our place isn't bad, is it?"

"It's excellent, far exceeding my expectations," Sterl said sincerely. "To be honest, I didn't have high hopes for a greenskin tribe, but the Blackrock Clan has changed my mind. Your Chief must be a truly remarkable individual."

"Of course he is!" A look of pride appeared on Guzhana's face. "Chief Kurzadh is the strongest greenskin. Not only has he led us to countless victories, but he has also established the tribe's order, allowing us to live a life with both liquor and meat."

Sterl nodded, already calculating the possibility of establishing long-term trade relations with the Blackrock Clan.

This tribe not only possessed formidable fighting strength but also good order and development potential. Cooperating with them would definitely be a profitable deal for the Chaos dwarf Merchant Guild.

Soon, the Bartender brought over the food and liquor. The roasted beef was crispy outside and tender inside, emitting an enticing aroma; the mushroom soup was rich and mellow, with a unique savory flavor; the blackblood spirits, poured into the black iron mug, glowed with a dark red sheen, and the rich scent of alcohol filled the air.

Sterl picked up the mug and took a sip of the blackblood spirits. The spicy liquor slid down his throat, bringing a burning sensation

it was exactly the flavor he was familiar with.

He nodded in satisfaction and began to eat heartily.

In the tavern, the hearty laughter of orcs, the clinking of mugs, and the busy footsteps of the Bartender intertwined, forming a vibrant scene.

Sterl looked at everything before him, and the last of his wariness gradually faded away.

He knew that this trip to the Forest of Gloom might mark the beginning of cooperation between the Chaos dwarf Merchant Guild and the Blackrock Clan, and this unique greenskin tribe was highly likely to stir up a massive storm in this land in the future.

Outside the window, the streets of Blackrock Spire were still bustling with people. orcs, hobgoblins, and skaven were performing their duties, maintaining perfect order.

From the distant forge came the clang of hammering metal; the hobgoblin Tinkerers were busy forging new weapons for the tribe.

He raised his mug and gestured toward Guzhana: "To the Blackrock Clan, and to your Chief Kurzadh, cheers!"

"Cheers!" Guzhana also raised her mug and clinked it against his.

Stonewatch's parade ground was the core of the Blackrock Clan's power. The massive stone slab ground had been trodden incredibly firm by countless orcs' hooves, with dried bloodstains and weapon clash marks still lingering in the cracks.

The morning sun pierced through the canopy of the Forest of Gloom, scattering across the center of this open field, but it was obscured by dense green figures, forming a surging green tide.

Eight hundred Orc Boyz stood in neat formation, wearing lightweight black training vests that tautly covered their bulging muscles, every line filled with explosive power.

Their skin was a healthy dark green, their faces still showed traces of youth, yet their eyes were fierce, their hands tightly gripping crude wooden axes, their breathing heavy and synchronized, like a pack of young beasts poised to strike.

In front of the Orc Boyz' formation were one hundred and fifty orc nob.

They were nearly half a head taller than regular Orc Boyz, with even more robust and muscular physiques, their muscles bulging like small mountains, almost tearing through their vests.

Some orc nob carried door-sized great axes on their shoulders, while others wielded spiked Warhammers in both hands, with short blades tucked into their waists, exuding a savage aura; just standing there, they were like an insurmountable wall of steel.

Green figures covered more than half of the parade ground, and from a high vantage point, it looked like a rolling green wave, incredibly visually impactful.

At the very front of the formation, Glen and Bone Tree stood side by side, both wearing heavy leather armor, playing with their beloved weapons, and conversing in low voices.

"What move do you think would be most satisfying to kill humans with this time?" Glen grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp fangs. "Those bandits last time were too weak; my great axe hadn't even warmed up before they were all dead!"

Bone Tree grumbled in response, "Humans are very cunning, unlike the Skaven who just charge in a mob. I think we should let the hobgoblin archers wear them down from a distance first, then we'll lead the orc nob in a frontal charge to break their formation, and the Boyz can follow up to harvest. That way, it'll be both fast and satisfying!"

"I don't think so!" Glen shook his head. "Humans have those weapons that shoot iron bullets, just as annoying as the Skaven's ratling guns. We have to destroy those things first, or our brothers will just be sent to their deaths!"

The two of them talked back and forth, discussing only how to kill enemies faster and more efficiently, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

For greenskins , war was not a burden but the ultimate pleasure, and discussing killing tactics was the best pre-battle pastime.

Just then, a neat marching sound came from the edge of the parade ground.

Kurzadh, riding Furball, followed by Iron Claw and several orc guards, slowly walked towards the high platform in the center of the parade ground.

Furball's hooves struck the stone slabs, making a resounding "thump-thump," like war drums beating in every greenskin's heart.

Glen and Bone Tree immediately stopped talking and respectfully bowed their heads to Kurzadh.

The eight hundred Orc Boyz and one hundred and fifty orc nob also instantly fell silent, turning around and staring intently at the figure on the high platform—that was their leader, the hero who led the Blackrock Clan to strength, the most formidable and most WAAAGH!-savvy greenskin!

Kurzadh dismounted Furball and strode onto the high platform.

He wore a suit of heavy black iron armor inlaid with warpstone fragments, with the short axe that had accompanied him through countless battles hanging at his waist, and his cloak flapped in the wind behind him, exuding an aura of majesty and savagery.

He stood at the edge of the high platform, his gaze sweeping over the greenskins below, his voice booming like thunder, carrying the oppressive power of WAAAGH!, echoing throughout the entire parade ground: "Brothers! I know you've all been itching for a fight, eager to find a worthy opponent for a good brawl!"

The greenskins' eyes grew even more fervent, and many Orc Boyz couldn't help but clench their fists, emitting low growls from their throats, like volcanoes about to erupt.

"Not long ago, a group of humans, not knowing their place, dared to eye our Stonewatch!" Kurzadh's voice suddenly turned fierce. "They sent thousands of rabble, with shoddy weapons and siege engines, wanting to steal our food and occupy our territory! They thought we greenskins were easy to bully, thought that with those ragtag mobs, they could break through Stonewatch!"

"Dream on!" Glen couldn't help but roar, and the greenskins below also erupted, curses rising and falling.

"That's right, dream on!" Kurzadh waved his hand, signaling for everyone to quiet down. "Glen and Bone Tree led our brothers and utterly crushed those rabble; not a single one escaped! But do you know? Those rabble were sent by the humans of Prince Patton's Fiefdom!"

"Prince Patton's Fiefdom!" Kurzadh emphasized. "These humans, seeing our Blackrock Clan grow stronger and stronger, got scared! They wanted to take advantage of our inattention and launch a sneak attack! They thought that by killing us, they could seize the Forest of Gloom, open up trade routes, and bully the weak like before!"

"But they forgot!" Kurzadh's voice was filled with arrogance and savagery. "We greenskins are the only ones who take from others; no one takes from us! Whoever dares to scheme against us will pay a heavy price!"

The greenskins' emotions were completely ignited; the Orc Boyz waved their wooden axes, and the orc nob let out deafening roars, the entire parade ground seemingly transforming into a raging ocean.

"Kill! Kill the humans!"

"Plunder all their food ! Occupy their territory!"

"WAAAGH! WAAAGH!"

Kurzadh looked at the fervent greenskins below with satisfaction and continued, "I also heard that the humans of Prince Patton's Fiefdom all think they're great fighters, saying we greenskins are just stupid brutes who only use brute force! I want to see how long their so-called 'great fighting' can last under the iron hooves of our Blackrock Clan!"

"Now, I have good news for you!" Kurzadh changed his tone, a cruel smile appearing on his face. "To deal with these humans who don't know their place, I've prepared even better gear for you! Sharper weapons! Stronger armor! More fighting! More WAAAGH!"

As soon as his voice fell, several orc guards pushed several heavy iron carts onto the high platform.

The iron carts were covered with thick animal hides, obscuring their contents, but the "Creaking" sounds they made as they moved were enough to indicate the substantial weight of what was inside.

The greenskins instantly fell silent, curiously staring at the iron carts on the high platform, their eyes gleaming with greed.

For greenskins , nothing excited them more than stronger weapons.

Kurzadh stepped forward and ripped off the animal hide from one of the iron carts.

In an instant, streams of eerie green light burst forth from the iron carts, illuminating the entire high platform and every greenskin's face.

On the iron carts, rows of weapons and armor were neatly arranged.

Longswords, great axes, Warhammers, spears—each weapon was forged from black iron, with incredibly sharp edges, inlaid with tiny warpstone fragments, emitting a bizarre, eerie green glow, faintly radiating savage energy; the armor consisted of custom-made heavy black iron plates, engraved with twisted WAAAGH! runes, also inlaid with warpstone, looking both sturdy and menacing.

"These are weapons and armor forged with the warpstone we dug ourselves!" Kurzadh picked up a great axe inlaid with a large piece of warpstone and swung it, the air whistling. "The power of warpstone will make you stronger! Cut people harder! Kill people faster! Wear this armor, and human iron bullets won't even pierce it!"

The greenskins' breathing instantly became ragged, their eyes filled with desire.

They could clearly feel the savage energy emanating from those weapons and armor—it was a power that made their blood surge, a power that would allow them to kill more satisfyingly on the battlefield!

"These weapons and armor will be distributed to the strongest brothers!" Kurzadh slammed the great axe heavily onto the high platform, making a loud "Clank." "Whoever kills the most humans will get the best gear! Whoever is the first to charge into Prince Patton's Fiefdom's castle will get the most spoils!"

"Kill! Kill the humans! Get the best weapons!" An orc Big Guy couldn't help but roar, raising his Warhammer.

"Kill! Plunder them all! WAAAGH!" More and more greenskins followed suit, roaring deafeningly, their voices piercing the sky.

The atmosphere on the parade ground completely boiled over, the greenskins' battle intent pushed to its peak.

They looked at the warpstone weapons and armor on the high platform, as if they could already see themselves wielding these weapons on the battlefield, slaughtering humans; as if they could already see Prince Patton's Fiefdom's castle breached, food , wealth, and women continuously plundered and brought back.

Glen and Bone Tree were also incredibly excited, staring at a great axe and a suit of heavy armor on the high platform, their eyes filled with a look of determination to obtain them.

That great axe was even larger and sharper than the one Glen currently used, and the warpstone inlaid in its blade emitted a rich energy, clearly a deadly weapon; the heavy armor was covered in spikes and runes, looking indestructible.

Kurzadh looked at the fervent greenskins below, a satisfied smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

He knew that these greenskins were ready for war, and their bloodlust and savagery would become Prince Patton's Fiefdom's most terrifying nightmare.

"Brothers!" Kurzadh raised his arm and roared loudly, "Prepare your weapons! Sharpen your axes! We're setting off now to meet those arrogant humans! Trample Prince Patton's Fiefdom! Plunder everything they have! WAAAGH!"

"WAAAGH! WAAAGH! WAAAGH!"

The greenskins' roars shook the heavens and the earth, as if they would shatter the entire Forest of Gloom.

Eight hundred Orc Boyz and one hundred and fifty orc nob stood in neat formation, their eyes burning as they stared at Kurzadh, awaiting the command to march.

Above the high platform, the eerie green glow of the warpstone weapons and armor intertwined with the bloodthirsty glint in the greenskins' eyes, forming a scene full of wildness and savagery.

A greenskin tide, sweeping across Prince Patton's Fiefdom, was about to begin.

And those arrogant humans still didn't know that what they were about to face was a terrifying army empowered by warpstone and ignited by the belief in WAAAGH!.

At the westernmost end of the Forest of Gloom lay a land forgotten by the Imperium of Man—Prince Patton's Fiefdom.

The soil here was so barren that almost no crops could grow, and fierce winds constantly swept up grit, carving grotesque marks into the exposed rocks; only sparse, withered trees stubbornly rooted themselves in the crevices, their branches twisted like ghostly claws.

Yet, it was precisely this seemingly desolate land that, through the astute political maneuvering of successive Lords and its natural advantage of being by the sea, transformed into the most prosperous trade hub in the entire eastern continent.

Secret trade routes extending from the Forest of Gloom terminated here; barbarian caravans from the north arrived with precious furs and ores, human city-states from the south transported silk and grain, and even High elves' silver-sailed warships sliced through the waves, docking at the coastal port with magic crystals and refined silk; Dark elves' black ships stealthily arrived under the cover of night, trading poisoned weapons and forbidden scrolls.

Caravans of different races converged here, making Blackrock City, the main city of Prince Patton's Fiefdom, a melting pot of wealth and intrigue.

Blackrock City's architecture was distinctly Gothic, with towering spires piercing the sky, their tips embedded with glowing minerals that refracted eerie light as day turned to night; the walls of the houses were built from dark gray stone, windows narrow like eyes, and window frames carved with intricate patterns, displaying both human rigor and a subtle elven delicacy.

The streets were paved with smooth flagstones, polished by the hooves and wheels of passing traffic; shops lined both sides, their signs displaying product information in Common, elvish, and even barbarian runes, with shouts, haggling, and the clash of metal intertwining to form a bustling and noisy symphony of prosperity.

In the center of the city, a majestic castle stood atop the highest hill—the ancestral home of House Patton.

The castle was built from a mixture of obsidian and granite, its walls thick and sturdy, riddled with arrow slits and watchtowers; at the castle's summit flew a banner embroidered with a golden lion—the totem of House Patton, symbolizing power and majesty.

The interior of the castle, however, was in stark contrast to the rugged exterior walls; corridors were carpeted with soft rugs, portraits of past Lords and valuable oil paintings hung on the walls, and crystal chandeliers on the vaulted ceilings cast a soft glow, illuminating every exquisite decoration.

The study deep within the castle was the private space of the current Lord, George Patton.

The study walls were dominated by massive bookshelves, packed with thick books and scrolls, covering everything from commercial law and military strategy to records of various races.

In the center of the room was a large mahogany desk, on which lay an elaborate map marking Prince Patton's Fiefdom and its surrounding power distribution, with several sealed dispatches scattered nearby.

George Patton sat in a velvet chair behind the desk; he was the eleventh Lord of House Patton, about forty years old, with a handsome face and a perpetual, subtle smile, his eyes as deep as a pool, as if he could see through everything.

He wore an exceptionally luxurious robe made of silk from the East, embroidered with intricate patterns in gold thread, with tiny sapphires set into the collar and cuffs; every detail highlighted his status and wealth.

His fingers lightly tapped the desktop, his gaze fixed on the dispatch in his hand, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

The dispatch came from a spy lurking on the edge of the Forest of Gloom, clearly stating: the greenskin of the Blackrock Clan had confirmed that the bandits who previously attacked Stonewatch were secretly supported by Prince Patton's Fiefdom, and now the greenskin Army had assembled, seemingly preparing to launch an attack on Prince Patton's Fiefdom.

"I didn't expect these greenskin to be smarter than I imagined," George murmured, a hint of surprise in his tone, but no trace of fear.

In his view, the greenskin had always been synonymous with savagery and stupidity, only capable of brute-force charges, utterly devoid of strategy and planning.

He had originally thought that even if the bandits were defeated, the greenskin would merely attribute it to bad luck, or vent their anger on weaker neighboring factions; he never imagined they could uncover the truth so quickly, or even see through the deeper scheme behind it.

He put down the dispatch, rose, and walked to the window, his gaze passing through the narrow pane to the distant Forest of Gloom.

The miasma at the forest's edge was like a black mist, subtly exuding a dangerous aura, but in George's eyes, it was merely a nest of beasts.

"Just a bunch of locusts who rely solely on brute force," George's lips curled into a disdainful smile, "They were, they are, and they always will be."

He recalled the teachings of his ancestors: House Patton was able to establish itself in this barren land not through military might, but through wisdom and cunning.

In the past, the ancestors of House Patton had exploited the conflict between the greenskin and the Skaven, profiting from it to accumulate their first fortune; later, they leveraged the trade disputes between the Imperium of Man and the elves to open up sea trade routes, transforming Prince Patton's Fiefdom into a trade hub overnight.

In George's view, the greenskin were like a plague—annoying, but not to be feared.

They lacked unified command, a complete logistics system, and long-term planning; they only knew how to plunder and destroy.

Previously, the reason they hadn't been completely eradicated was simply that the existence of the greenskin served as leverage for Prince Patton's Fiefdom in negotiations with surrounding factions, and could also be used to divert internal conflicts.

"If ordinary 'pesticides' can't wipe you out, then we'll just kill you a few more times," George's eyes turned cold, his tone carrying an undeniable authority.

The "ordinary pesticides" he referred to was that group of bandits.

He had originally believed that the harassment by the bandits would be enough to keep the greenskin preoccupied, perhaps even sparking a conflict between the greenskin and Katushir, allowing Prince Patton's Fiefdom to reap the benefits.

But he hadn't expected the greenskin to be so formidable; the several-thousand-strong group of bandits was instantly crushed, which instead gave the greenskin an excuse to attack.

However, in George's opinion, this was not necessarily a bad thing.

"Perfect, let's seize this opportunity to thoroughly eliminate these hidden dangers." George walked to the map, his finger landing on the location of Stonewatch, "The greenskin's Stonewatch is blocking a vital trade route; it's been an annoyance for too long. Once Stonewatch is breached, we can not only open up trade routes to the dwarves but also take advantage of the turmoil to annex Katushir. At that point, the influence of Prince Patton's Fiefdom will undoubtedly reach a new level."

He had already planned everything in his mind: the Emperor of the Imperium of Man was gravely ill, and the princes were vying for the throne, leaving them no time to attend to border territories; Katushir was in internal turmoil, preoccupied with its own affairs; the dwarf tribe was embroiled in civil war, unable to intervene in external matters; the High elves and Dark elves were too busy with their infighting, indifferent to human territorial disputes.

Now was the optimal time for Prince Patton's Fiefdom to expand.

As for the combat strength of the greenskin, while George had some reservations, he did not take it seriously.

He had already ordered the assembly of all elite troops of Prince Patton's Fiefdom, including five thousand well-trained infantry, one thousand cavalry, and a special force of five thousand men comprising two hundred elite Musketeers.

Furthermore, he had purchased a large quantity of poisoned weapons and crossbow bolts from the Dark elves, and ordered ten siege cannons from the dwarves, which would be sufficient to counter the greenskin's charge.

"Send word down, have the army prepare for battle, and strengthen border defenses, especially the vital route leading to Stonewatch," George called out to the door.

"Yes, Lord!" the guard outside the door respectfully replied.

George sat back in his chair and picked up a dispatch from the desk, which contained intelligence about Katushir.

The dispatch stated that Escoville of Katushir was gravely ill, and the city was divided into two factions, clashing with each other, making the situation unstable.

"Katushir..." George's lips curved into a triumphant smile, "Once the greenskin are dealt with, you're next."

He picked up a quill and wrote a line on the paper: "The greenskin attack presents an excellent opportunity to annex Katushir. Instruct the spies to closely monitor developments in Katushir, and act immediately once the time is ripe."

After writing, he sealed the dispatch and handed it to the messenger outside the door: "Deliver this dispatch to the spy in Katushir immediately, without fail."

"Understood, Lord!"

After the messenger left, silence once again filled the study. George looked at the sky outside the window, his eyes deep, filled with ambition and arrogance.

He firmly believed that with his wisdom and the strength of Prince Patton's Fiefdom, both the greenskin and Katushir would become stepping stones on his path to expansion.

The Khyprian road is one of the hidden trade routes that cuts through Forest of Gloom.

This narrow path is obscured by dense trees, allowing only two carriages to pass abreast. The ground is covered with slippery moss and fallen branches, and the air is filled with the foul stench of decaying leaves and animal droppings.

Sunlight struggles to penetrate the canopy, casting mottled shadows on the ground, adding to the eerie and sinister atmosphere.

A caravan of ten carriages slowly advances, their wheels creaking over dry branches, a grating sound that is particularly harsh in the silent forest.

This is a caravan from Prince Patton's Fiefdom, laden with magic crystals and refined silks traded from High elves, as well as excellent weapons purchased from mountain dwarves. Each item is a priceless treasure.

The caravan's escort consists of fifty guards, all wearing gleaming iron armor, holding spears and shields, with sharp longswords at their waists, their eyes vigilantly scanning the surrounding forest.

The leader is an experienced knight, riding a tall warhorse, with the House Patton crest hanging from his waist. His face is solemn—he knows the dangers of Forest of Gloom, especially with recent rumors of frequent green-skin activity, so he dares not relax his vigilance in the slightest.

"Stay alert, everyone! Keep a close eye on your surroundings, don't let the greenskins slip through!" The knight's voice is loud, piercing the silence of the forest.

The guards respond in unison, gripping their weapons tighter, their steps becoming more cautious.

They know that greenskins are always ferocious; an encounter would surely be a bloody battle.

But what they don't know is that the shadow of death is already waiting in the dense woods ahead.

On the large trees lining both sides of the road, dozens of small figures lurk among the thick branches and leaves.

They are night hobgoblins, with dark greenskin, shorter and sturdier than ordinary hobgoblins, their eyes glowing with an eerie green light, and their faces painted with grotesque war paint.

They hold short spears and daggers coated in poison, and carry crude bows on their backs, moving as lightly as cats, making no sound whatsoever.

Even more unsettling is that beneath each night hobgoblin, a huge Death Crawler crouches.

These Death Crawlers are enormous, with iron-hard carapaces covered in fine fur. Their eight sharp claws grip the tree trunks tightly, and they spew long strands of venomous silk, their crimson eyes fixed on the caravan below, radiating greed and bloodlust.

These Death Crawlers, inheriting the cunning and cruelty of night hobgoblins, and possessing the speed and toxicity of Death Crawlers, are the forest's deadliest hunters.

Behind the Death Crawlers, hundreds of Orc Boyz crouch in the grass, wearing light leather armor, wielding battle axes inlaid with warpstone fragments. Their eyes are fierce, their breathing heavy and synchronized, waiting for the signal to attack.

As all the caravan's carriages entered the ambush zone, a sharp whistle pierced the silence of the forest.

"Kill!"

With a low Damn, the Death Crawlers in the trees launched their attack first.

The night hobgoblins released their short spears; the poisoned spears whistled through the air, accurately striking the caravan guards.

At the same time, the Death Crawlers rapidly descended the tree trunks like black lightning bolts, pouncing on the guards next to the carriages.

"Ambush! To arms!" The knight shouted, drawing the longsword from his waist and deflecting an incoming short spear.

But it was all too late.

The poisoned short spears instantly felled over a dozen guards; the areas where they were struck quickly blackened and swelled. They screamed and collapsed to the ground, soon losing their breath.

The Death Crawlers pounced on the guards, their sharp claws tearing through iron armor, their pointed venomous fangs biting into the guards' throats. Black blood gushed out, creating a gruesome scene.

"greenskins! It's the greenskins!" a guard screamed in terror, his face filled with despair.

Just then, the Orc Boyz in the grass charged.

They were like a pack of rabid beasts, brandishing their battle axes and roaring as they rushed towards the caravan.

One Orc Boyz cleaved a guard's shield with an axe, then split him in half, black blood and organs splattering the ground; another Orc Boyz leapt onto a carriage, chopped off the driver's neck with an axe, threw the body off the carriage, and began to plunder the goods.

Although the caravan guards fought desperately, under the pincer attack of the Death Crawlers and Orc Boyz, they were no match.

The knight, on his warhorse, swung his longsword, cutting down several Orc Boyz, but a Death Crawler entangled his warhorse's leg.

The warhorse neighed, crashing to the ground and throwing the knight off.

Before the knight could get up, several night hobgoblins pounced on him, their sharp daggers piercing his chest.

The knight looked at the greenskins before him, his eyes filled with unwillingness and fear. He tried to say something, but could only spit out a mouthful of black blood, slowly closing his eyes.

The battle ended quickly.

All the caravan guards were killed, not a single one left alive.

The Death Crawlers and Orc Boyz began to frantically plunder the goods from the carriages. Magic crystals were carefully packed into cloth bags, silks were carelessly thrown on the ground, and weapons were wielded by the Orc Boyz as toys.

A night hobgoblins leader walked up to a Death Crawler and said in crude green-skin language, "Check if there are any stragglers!"

The Death Crawlers made Hissing sounds and meticulously searched along the road. Whenever they found any human still breathing, they immediately pounced and ended his life with their venomous fangs.

"Boss, everyone's killed! All the goods are plundered too!" An Orc Boyz ran over, his face full of excited smiles.

The night hobgoblins leader nodded, his eyes glinting with cruelty: "Excellent! Spread the word, retreat! Back to Stonewatch!"

The Death Crawlers and Orc Boyz carried the plundered goods and retreated along the same path, quickly disappearing into the dense forest.

Only scattered corpses, burnt carriages, and bloodstains remained on the ground, narrating the tragedy that had just occurred in the silent forest.

And such scenes were playing out in various corners of Forest of Gloom.

On another trade route leading to Prince Patton's Fiefdom, a grain transport caravan was ambushed by the Blackrock Clan.

This time, the attackers were a group of orc nob, wielding massive Warhammers. Like a wall of steel, they directly broke through the caravan's defenses.

The guards' shields were no match for the orc nob' Warhammers; the crisp sound of breaking bones and screams intertwined. The grain was completely plundered by the greenskins, and no caravan members survived.

At a relay station on the edge of the forest, a dozen messengers from Prince Patton's Fiefdom were preparing to send intelligence to Blackrock City but were discovered by a group of hobgoblin archers.

The hobgoblins hid in the shadows, firing poisoned arrows. The messengers fell one after another, their intelligence seized by the greenskins, and then the relay station was burned to ashes.

Along the border separating Forest of Gloom and Prince Patton's Fiefdom, the greenskins divided into countless small teams, like a swarm of hungry locusts, relentlessly hunting passing caravans, messengers, and patrol teams.

Whether it was a caravan laden with goods or a lightly equipped messenger, anyone who entered the greenskins' hunting range could not escape death.

Inside Blackrock City's Lord's Mansion, George Patton looked at the intelligence in his hand, his face ashen.

In just three days, seven caravans, twelve messengers, and three patrol teams had disappeared in Forest of Gloom. According to survivors who managed to escape, these people were all attacked by greenskins; caravans were plundered clean, and all personnel were killed.

"These damned greenskins!" George slammed the intelligence in his hand to the ground, his eyes filled with anger and murderous intent, "How dare they be so arrogant! Do they really think my Prince Patton's Fiefdom is easy to bully?"

The generals beside him lowered their heads, not daring to speak.

They all knew that the greenskins' retaliation had begun, and it was fierce.

"Pass down the order! Strengthen border defenses, send more patrol teams! All caravans must be escorted by heavily armed forces. Without my command, no one is allowed to enter Forest of Gloom on their own!" George's voice was cold, carrying an undeniable authority.

"Yes, Lord!" The generals responded in unison, then turned and left.

George walked to the window, looking at the distant Forest of Gloom, his eyes deep.

He hadn't expected the greenskins' retaliation to be so swift and so brutal.

This made him realize that he might have underestimated the strength and determination of these greenskins.

But he did not back down.

In his opinion, these actions by the greenskins were merely the struggles of a cornered beast.

As long as he assembled a large army and thoroughly cleared the greenskins from Forest of Gloom, this hidden danger could be resolved once and for all.

"Blackrock Clan..." George muttered softly, a cruel smile playing on his lips, "Your retaliation will only hasten your demise."

Meanwhile, deep within Forest of Gloom, Stonewatch was filled with jubilation.

The greenskins carried the looted goods, shouting excitedly.

Magic crystals were used to inlay weapons, silks were casually spread on the ground as carpets, grain was piled into small mountains, and fine wine was drunk heartily.

Kurzadh stood on the high platform, watching the reveling greenskins below, a satisfied smile on his face.

He knew this was just the beginning of the retaliation.

"George Patton... Hmph, what a ridiculous name. Do you think sending bandits to attack my Stonewatch means you'll be safe and sound?" Kurzadh muttered, his eyes filled with cold murderous intent, "My greenskins' revenge has just begun. Soon, your Blackrock City, your Prince Patton's Fiefdom, will all turn to ashes!"

Glen and Bone Tree walked up to Kurzadh, their faces full of excited smiles: "Boss, what do we do next? Should we just charge into Blackrock City and take everything they have!"

"Not yet." Kurzadh shook his head, "It's not the right time.

Let's continue to harass them, cut off their trade routes, make them short on food and supplies, and create panic internally.

When they are exhausted, we will then gather a large army and flatten Blackrock City in one fell swoop!"

"Good! We'll listen to boss!" Glen and Bone Tree responded in unison, their eyes full of anticipation.

The roars of the greenskins shook the heavens and echoed through Forest of Gloom.

The Blackrock Clan's retaliation, like a black storm, was sweeping towards Prince Patton's Fiefdom. And this storm would only grow fiercer, eventually consuming everything.

The trees of Forest of Gloom swayed in the wind, as if mourning the impending bloody battle.

And the scattered human corpses would soon become food for the forest's beasts, or be taken as trophies by the greenskins to adorn their Stonewatch.