Arrow and Plague

This is an account of the first battle against the Wood Elves, and a narrative battle report of the mighty Skaven of Clan Frost Tail!  Enjoy....

The Skaven at War...

Malkk looked through the snow fall coming down and shivered.  The war with the lizards had cost him dearly, and he had to promise half of his next warpstone haul for the slaves and clanrats he hired from other Warlord clans.  They began their march north through the frozen wastes around the secret caves into the Underempire, towards the Chaos wastes in an attempt to gain some of the promised warpstone to pay off the incredible debt that he had created.  Malkk spotted a large tower to the north, along a frozen river surrounded by dark snow covered forest.  He could feel something radiating from he tower, and he could only hope that it would be something to help him crawl and scratch his way out of debt, or at least hire an assassin to kill off his debtors.  

Within the hour, his entire army had assembled along the road to the tower, and were within a few miles of the structure.  Malkk was beginning to feel a nagging sense of being watched.  He did not like the feeling.....

........ The ratmen were moving into the trap with perfect predictability.  They had moved along the path towards the great Tower of Gru’masha like so many before them, drawn in by greed and lust for power.  They advanced with complete enthusiasm, and did not even attempt to cover their approach in any way.  The Spellsingers nodded to their warriors silently, sending in the first wave of warriors.  The rats would pay for their incursion into the forest....

.... Malkk knew that something was wrong, but it wasn’t until the sound of galloping hooves reached his ear that he knew he’d been right.  The plague priest looked across the battlefield and saw the cavalry charging.  Two columns of cavalry advanced along the left flank of his army, spears glittering in the snow fall and sunlight.  Movement across the river caught Malkk’s eye, and he caught a flash of what looked like hooded figures rushing through the forest.  Malkk knew that there was no fleeing from this fight, no matter how much he wanted to, and squeaked out a command for his warriors to attack.  

The Wood Elves of Ariel Lorthen were fast on the attack, with units of Glade Riders advancing at max speed towards the exposed flank of the ratmen.  A quick order and some much needed whipping saw a pack of giant rats shoved in the direction of the incoming cavalry.  They launched a vicious charge against the agile horsemen, and through luck managed to down a few of the riders in a horrible wave of puss covered teeth.  The riders struck back, killing the packmaster outright, which only succeeded in stirring the rats into a great frenzy.  They launched themselves again at the Glade Riders, and managed to envelope the tiny unit of warriors in a clash of rat on horse and teeth on steel.  This diversion gave a regiment of Clanrats time to reform and prepare themselves for an attack that would never come from a second unit of Glade Riders, as the warpfire thrower spat green flaming death at the unit that prepared to charge them.  Volley upon volley of arrows rained down upon the slaves and plague monks, but Malkk’s threats of doom and destruction kept them in line.  

Malkk looked at the trees as they picked themselves up and slowly move forward towards the ratmen.  brought into lurching life by the wizards of the Wood Elves.  Malkk was not amused by this parlor trick of a spell, and launched himself into an incantation of plague.  The power of the Great Horned Rat was coursing through him, but in a freak occurrence, Malkk lost his concentration as an arrow whizzed into a plague monk on his left, and he mispronounced a single word.  His eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen.  A great tear in reality opened up with a great crash and devoured plague monk after plague monk.  Malkk threw himself to the ground and pleaded with the Great Horned Rat for forgiveness, and - feeling the energy of his dented and rusty foul pendant drain - breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up and dusted himself off.  The battle was going in the favor of the Wood Elves now, as they held fast across the bridge in the face of catapult fire, mortar fire, and slings from the slaves as they rushed forward.  Malkk knew that something needed to change and quickly......

...... The Spellsingers communed silently through the forest, observing the battle as it progressed.  They had struck several blows on the rats, but not nearly enough to break them.  The Glade Riders had retreated in the face of the warpfire, and they had only struck minimal casualties on the rats for the loss of life they had just suffered.  The trees were coming alive and aiding the warriors of the glade with whatever they could muster, but it did not seem to be enough.  Something had to be done to press the advantage they had over the bewildered army of rats after the explosion of their wizard.....

....... Malkk goaded the Slaves on and demanded that they make it into the battle.  Little did Malkk know that there was an extra warrior amongst the ranks of his slaves.  Vassk Squeal-Stab was an assassin of Clan Eshin, but he had trained in the far west, in secret enclaves under the Dark Elves cities and realms.  He had returned to Skavenblight and been ordered to hunt down the fugitive Malkk by his debtors.  He had witnessed the Plague Priests defeat at the hands of the Lizardmen, but watched in astonishment as he crawled out of a creator the size of a watchtower.  He had stayed his blade at that time in sheer respect for the survival instinct of the Priest.  Now he would continue to stay his blade until the Priest proved that he was incapable of producing results.  He marched in the ranks of the Skavenslaves in an attempt to remain as far away from the plague priest as possible, but still in the realm of observing him.  He was amazed by this plague priest, and his uncanny ability to survive the worst of disasters and still continue to keep his head about him where other lesser rats would have fled.  It was interesting to see a brave rat, but sooner or later Vassk would have to kill him.  However, it might be later if he kept this string of bravery up.  But all of that would have to wait as the Slaves finally got the courage up to run across the bridge in a wave of mutilated flesh and matted fur.  They charged right into the ranks of a unit of massive forest spirits - known as Dryads.  They clashed into each other with an explosion of sound.  Vassk launched himself into the fray, spinning and flourishing with a flurry of movements, hacking and slashing, parrying, poisoning, cutting, ripping, tearing, and gouging his way through the Dryads.  Before he could blink twice, he was alone in the midst of the Dryad regiments - the Skaven Slaves having all died in the first few moments of the combat.  Vassk could here the sounds of a pack of giant rats entering the fray, but he couldn’t tell where they were, so he simply kept on the attack against the seemingly endless horde of Dryads......

...... Malkk shook his head at the Slaves valiant effort to do something useful.  They had bought him time to bring the rest of the army back into formation and prepare to take them across the bridge into the fray.  However, Malkk was determined to soften up some of the opposition before he launched himself into an attack.  Malkk closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.  He began the incantations.  He opened his eyes, green witch fire pouring out.  With rage pouring through him and the energies of the Great Horned Rat coursing through his veins, Malkk let loose a mighty blast from his staff......

...... The Spellsingers both collapsed for a moment under the amount of magical discharge emanating from the Skaven Sorcerer.  Then they saw what the spell was capable of.  All throughout the ranks of the Wood Elves, there were casualties, as soldiers and Dryad alike fell to the ground with puss oozing from every opening, and black sores appearing almost instantaneously from the plague that the wizard had unleashed.  The Spellsinger looked at her sister, and with horror realized that she had fallen to her knees, blood dripping from both ears, and her eyes turning a dark yellow.  “Sister...” she gasped as she slumped over, her life giving out under the sorcerous magics of the Skaven wizard.  The remaining Spellsinger turned in anger, but quickly regained her composure.  She was in a better place now, we must save what we can, she thought.........

........ Malkk cackled with glee as he glutted on the magical powers he had just unleashed.  With great pleasure he watched as the remaining Wood Elves slunk back into the dark forest from whence they came, and rallied his remaining rats to push on towards the wizard’s tower and claim his prize.  Many rats had died today, but many more could be bought with the spoils of his adventures.  Malkk allowed himself a rare snaggle-toothed smile under his puss and dirt encrusted robes......

....... Vasst wiped the blood from his twin blades and sheathed them, observing the carnage around him.  Nothing but dying green lights and broken branches surrounded him, but he felt no pride or pleasure, he simply nodded, and moved into one of the regiments of Clanrats marching past him.  He had work to do still..........