The Shieldwall of the Rangers held against the many volleys of the Asrai before their own return fire was let loose. It wasn't accurate with the Dawi forced to protect themselves with their shields, but it didn't have to be. A war of attrition was exactly where they excelled, and the day would be their's. Though only one of ten of their crossbow bolts hit the nimble Wood folk, the Rangers had each brought dozens while holding fast themselves, armour stopping the arrows their shields could not. They cheered as they lowered their shields to find the corpses of the elves strewn across the battlefield, archers and war dancers alike looking as porcupines full of bolts. 

But they raised their crossbows in cheers and celebration far too early as upon a green dragon descended one of their Spellweavers. In a single burst of flame almost half of the Dwarfen formation evaporated, and the rest that launched bolts had them harmlessly clatter off of the foe. 

Though prideful, Dwarfs know well when to retreat and this was a clear case when that was advisable as the Rangers scattered as fast as their stumpy legs would take them. But though faster than most Dwarfs, Rangers were not faster than a dragon. It swept across the battlefield causing a true carnage. Only a small pack of the original Dawi remained running, heading towards the cave they had emerged from. They had nearly come to safety when the dragon again descended, the Elf upon it smiling smugly upon the Dwarfs. She began a taunt in the Khazalid she had mastered thousands of years ago to helpless Dwarfs, but she paused half way through it noticing their shite-eating grins. She turned to look back far too late to see the Shard Dragon coming, her only warning being a feint glow of the runes that the midgets had carved into it. 

The ugly, misshapen and enslaved dragon crashed into her glorious beast, its thousands of dark spines impaling her green mount. The Rangers wasted no time getting in close to hack at the stricken foe with their axes, the Shard Dragon wasted no time in gobbling up the mage herself to satisfy its unending gluttony. But the woman knew she could not end it like this, and so as the venom running through the organism of the monster began to destroy he she released all the power she could muster from the winds of magic. 

A horrible explosion happened within the throat of the Shard Dragon, and the runic collar that bounded it to the will of the Dawi burst half-broken. Though of free will, its mind was still broken by the remaining pieces of runic gromril biting into its flesh. It roared, spasming momentarily before burrowing into the ground. 

The Dwarfs looked between each other grimly. "Shit." One of them said.

[hr]

"I challenge you to a duel then, Sir Roderick!"

"So it shall be!"

The drunken Imperial and Brettonnian Lords both drew their own longswords. Neither could remember exactly what had started their argument but by now it hadn't mattered. Their duel was a pitiful sight with swords clanging seamlessly flat to flat and edge to edge. But gasps erupted when Sir Roderick after parrying punched his counterpart. [i]This was not allowed.[/i] 

Roderick was very surprised to find two arms grasp his shoulders. Sobriety hit him like a truck when he was informed he would be taken into the local stockade for his most horrible trespass. Kuno Wolfenburg - the only other Imperial guest present at the party - kept quiet. An outburst now would serve nobody. Most likely Roderick would not be set free, but by Sigmar when he would return home and explain what happened he would make sure that the frogs paid for applying this silly and indeed local rule to a man who knew it not.