Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

Strong-smelling musk rolled up the stairs before them, making Ulgathern-Grimnir light-headed.

‘Give fire!’ he roared.

Rune-empowered magmapikes sang, conjuring gobbets of molten stone into their flared mouths, and spitting them forward with great force. A wave of invigorating heat engulfed the front rank of Fyreslayers. They clashed their weapons on their slingshields and roared at the oncoming horde. The lava bombs smashed into the packed mass of enemy warriors, igniting several and splashing many others with searing molten stone. The Slaaneshi screamed in ecstasy at the pain. Besides the heat of the bombs, the mass of the rock did plenty of damage, knocking them back down the steep stairs where they tangled with their fellows, creating bottlenecks that the duardin were quick to exploit. Axes flashed out, felling dozens of daemons as they scrambled over their wounded fellows. The smell of burning flesh and molten rock drove away the sickening musk of the Chaos horde.

There was time for one more round from the magmapikes, and then the Slaaneshi were into the main duardin line.

Initially the Fyreslayers had the superior position. They swept their massive axes back and forth, hewing down the Slaaneshi methodically. The hearthguard retreated behind the front line, angled their weapons upward, and continued to lob burning stone down upon the Chaos reavers. The stair’s width clogged with butchered tribesmen and cooling rock. Perfumed blood ran down the steps, making them treacherous underfoot.

Ulgathern-Grimnir threw off a lilac-furred thing that grappled with him. It landed on all fours, displayed itself lewdly at him and scampered away. Ulgathern-Grimnir grunted in satisfaction as a glob of lava caught it square in the side as it ran, killing it instantly and setting the corpse ablaze.

‘We might win this yet lads!’ he shouted. ‘Grimnir! Ulgahold! Barakaz-dur!’

The Chaos worshippers retreated down the steps. ‘Yeah, go on, run off back to your silky pavilions! All mouth, the lot of you!’ His crowing faltered. From the corners of his eyes he became aware of the blood of his kin. Fyreslayers kicked the corpses of their foes down the stairs. Their eyes glowed with ragefire. Cinders puffed from the mouths of the angriest.

Ulgavost came to his side from the left flank. ‘Brother, we should retreat while we can, get back to the gate.’ He paused a moment. ‘Were I runefather, that is what I would do.’

‘Aye, well, you’re not runefather, are you,’ said Ulgathern-Grimnir.

‘Fine,’ said Ulgavost coldly. ‘We don’t have enough left to weather another assault like that.’

‘I’m sorry, brother,’ said Ulgathern-Grimnir. ‘We’re better off here, that is all. They’ve a steep climb, and nowhere to organise. It’s the best position.’

‘That’s your decision, I suppose,’ said Ulgavost, and some of the tension left him.

Drumbeats came from the depths of the stairs, the heavy tread of armoured feet behind them.

‘Looks like they’re not done with us yet,’ said Ulgavost. ‘I’ll get back to the left.’

‘Good luck, brother,’ said Ulgathern-Grimnir.

‘You too, runefather,’ said Ulgavost.

The reavers had gone. The Slaaneshi elite came in their stead. Huge armoured figures trod the stair, their helmets blank and armour a riot of gaudy, metallic colours. As they came within a hundred steps, they locked tall shields together, and began to chant.

‘Qualar Vo! Qualar Vo! Qualar Vo!’

‘Let them have it!’ shouted Ulgathern-Grimnir.

Magma pelted down onto the warriors, booming from shields and dripping onto the steps. The warriors came on unaffected, resetting their shields after every strike. They were the champions of Slaanesh, the lost and the damned, and they would not die easily.

They broke into a run at the last few steps and crashed into the duardin with such might the Fyreslayers were forced back. The advantage the duardin possessed was quickly gone, then reversed, for the Chaos warriors were so tall they struck down at the shorter warriors once they were on level ground.

Ulgathern-Grimnir swung his axe, cutting a purple-armoured warrior in two. To an untrained eye the grandaxe might have seemed unwieldy, too massive to be of much use, but the runes in Ulgathern-Grimnir’s body gave him great strength, and he moved the weapon as easily as if it were a willow switch. He stove in breastplates with the heavy knob on the end of the haft, cut heads from shoulders with the broad key-head, and caught sword and axe blades in its slots and broke them into pieces with hard twists. None could stand against the young runefather, and the fire in his eyes was terrible to behold.

In spite of Ulgathern-Grimnir’s best efforts, the Fyreslayers were pushed backwards, past the throne dais, towards the doorway where the vulnerable members of their lodge waited for Drokki to open the gate. Grokkenkir’s warriors barred the entrance, but there were too few of them to hold the Chaos warriors back for long should Ulgathern-Grimnir fall.