[@Rekaigan] The rats were persistent in their pursuit. Fear had been replaced by anger as the archer made short work of the clan rats that had tried to swarm her. Three more rats charged in with some semblance of order, their gear was shoddy like the rest but the biggest one pulling the back end held a halberd crafted for dwarf hands. A shining steel piece of weaponry that could cut through leather and flesh with ease. Something the shrieking rat was apparently eager to do! The two clan rats leaped to either side and pressed at the archer from two directions, leading with a rusted hatchet and dagger while the other attacked with a long slender rapier with a broken tip. The third charged the middle with an overhead strike that could cleave the elf in half. [@berd] As one skaven fell into the gorge with nothing more than the sound of whistling air, another rat folk seized the opportunity to press forward against a downed enemy. Broadsword in hand, the beast creature angled the weapons tip down and thrust with what little strength it could in an attempt to skewer the annoying fire wizard. A second rat was raising its arm to join the fight. Ignorant of anything but a downed enemy to kill. [@eemmtt] The axe swing hit hard and two beasts were felled with ease, the poison on their weapons would be ineffective against the greenskin until his rage had subsided. Something that was unlikely to happen any time soon if they knew right. For them, faced with a lycan and an Orc, their numbers were dwindling fast. A few of the skaven, a half dozen perhaps, hissed and threw their crude spears at the charging warrior. Coated in sludge and slimes unknown, they might yet bring him down if enough found their mark. But rats had such poor aim. Grabbing a weapon from nearby corpses, they scattered and avoided the swings nimbly. It was wiser to retreat and strike again later! [@Roughdragon1] [color=fdc68a][i]Raka was a fighter! A warrior! Him best! No can lose to man flesh. Dwarveses fall before you![/i][/color] The Skaven was confident in its skills, in the way it had slaughtered the dwarves and even a few elves. It was ready to kill again! With a shrieking war cry it lunged forward with a straight thrust, retracting the knife and thrusting with the opposite. Two more thrusts followed as it began to alternate between left and right slashes as it attempted to dodge any retaliation from the weaker and slower enemy. Raka who had slain and eaten the dead dwarves, Raka who had claimed the head of commander, Raka who had earned his meal! Raka who felt the thrum of its bulk ever so subtly under its fear. Executing a fast backstep into a double thrust at the enemies chest, it attempted to finish the fight before something else could claim the kill for itself. [@ManoftheNorth][@Renny] The Dwarf commander saw the shot hit and braced himself, tossing the crossbow away when the shot had not killed the beast. His boys had noticed as well, two of them holding heavy steel shields to guard their leader. Taking out his own two handed axe, they awaited the charge stoically. When the lycan turned and continued after the rats, they all got a better picture of the scene. Skaven fell to blade and arrow, flame and claw, swarmed by insects mercilessly. One of the shield dwarves turned to Commander Ironheel. [color=7ea7d8]"Sir?"[/color] Ironheel didn't have the time to dwell on the what-ifs. His king would be in trouble if they didn't return to fortify the lower levels. [color=2e3192]"Forget it, lads! You know what they say?" [/color] Both Dwarves echoed his thoughts. [color=7ea7d8]"Aye! It takes a beast to KILL a beast!"[/color] They roared in unison. Shields at the ready the group of survivors linked up in a wedge and charged at the force of skaven. On their lips was a war cry to the gods under the mountain. For glory and honor they would join. The wave of skaven seeking to overrun or skirt around the boy had been cut off as they fell to blade and claw alike. With only a dozen or so rat men left out of their initial advantage, the realization of utter defeat had sunk in to their bones. As a whole they abandoned their stolen weapons and sprinted on all fours in a frenzied rush. Rather than going to the bridge they ran to the far edges of the chasm and leaped. They would sooner deal with the lake far below. Only one such rat ever got close as the forgotten dwarves behind them made good use of the distraction. Panting and bleeding, but nowhere near finished, the last of the bearded folk fanned out and began looking for wounded allies while they killed off the struggling forms of the rat infestation laying upon their doorstep. Others went to help finish off the other rats still interested in the fight, or unaware of how it had ended. Keeping a respectful distance from the long pouncing range of the lycanthrope, Stokely Ironheel approached Grendrick and Nove with furrowed eyebrows and grim expressions. [color=8882be]"You got my thanks.. fer what'cha did. For me and me boys.. But open arms ain't a custom o' tha Dwarves at war! You had be-"[/color] Stokely almost choked on his own words as the first rumble shook the ground ever so slightly. But it continued on with each pounding step. Something big. Something angry. [color=8882be]"HUG EM CLOSE LADS! REGROUP!"[/color] He shouted, turning to the others of the group. "Business later! You wanna prove something, now is your moment!" There was no fear in the brave dwarfs eyes as they watched a sickly green shimmer slowly rising from the far left side of the chasm. That could only mean one thing. Shaman. Skaven followed a shallow hierarchy derived entirely by power. Clan rats were the lowest of them all. Slaves to the sadistic whims of the upper levels of their crude society. They were weak, ill tempered, and numerous. Above them came the Slavers. Those who had scavenged equipment and from the fields of battle and claimed the scalps of their victims. They were powerful and given a taste of twisted magic. At the very top stood the Shamans. Spiritual leaders of the rat men, armed with terrifying magic that embodied their whole races barbaric nature in full. They were always followed by their personal guard. The rat ogre. Nobody could explain where these hulking beasts came to existence, but it is easy to assume they were not a natural creation. Bloated with muscles and a shrunken brain, the titans of the rat society were walking battering rams. Utterly void of intelligence but brimming with strength. Thick skinned, dim witted, brutal beyond words. These were the conquerors of their filthy race. One gigantic hand crested the upper ridge of the plateau of the dwarven fortress and steadily raised up to its full height. Nearly 10 feet off the ground of corded muscle and fury. Atop its back was a white furred rat adorned with skulls and dirty robes. A long weathered staff held a pulsating green orb, the sickening light was emanating from it. [color=8dc73f]"NOW YOU DIE DIE!"[/color] It shrieked, point its staff at the dwarves and the other fights before striking its ogre companion hard in the snout as it leapt to the ground. Less a shriek and more a roar, the hulking beast rushed on all fours with enough force to shake the ground. Siph leaned on the wall near the bridge and smiled. The group had been fairly decent when it came to fighting the beastmen. Not a lot of group tactic thrown in, but their result had been the same with only a single potential injury if he ignored the Orc. But a shaman and a rat ogre were nothing to joke about. The big man watched quietly but was waiting for it. An opportunity where he could do some good for the group against a heavy disadvantage. While he was supposed to be just a guide, a bystander, he held his reservations about watching a companion die. He would not allow such a thing. He called out clearly over the deafening roar of the Ogre. [color=ed1c24]"If it is up high, you should aim low!"[/color] It was a fairly common tactic when faced with a giant of any kind. The axe takes the beast in the knees till it hits the ground, then the hammer cracks open its skull.