Slann
Bowser
Third Spawning
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Chapter One
The ground started rumbling and began to crack. The dwarfs nearby were scattering and running for cover. It wasn't the first time this day the big rats had come from the ground. Massive rat beasts with heavy plated armour, had emerged from the ground. Two of them with large multi barreled guns mounted on their arms, one with what looked like drills for hands. The rapid booms came from their arm mounted guns as soon as they burst from the ground. Dwarfs and Skaven alike were being gunned down. Red mists of blood spraying over comrades, enemies and dyeing the ground red. Cannons were pivoted to aim at these filthy, mobile war machines. Engineers shouted out calculations and adjustments. The cannons roared as the explosions hurled the shells to their mark. The huge rat, standing out front, firing the ratling gun at nothing in particular, didn't notice the cannon ball until it was in his face. The rat's head exploded and chunks of bone and brain peppered its company. The next shell smashed into the drill armed storm fiend, shattering its pelvis, buckling its legs. The third shell narrowly missed the last rat. It laughed maniacally as it aimed its rattling gun in the general direction of the cannons, obliterating anything in between him and the war machines. Overhead a squadron of copters rained down bombs on the surviving fiend. The bombs exploded around it, blowing off limbs, sending fur and chunks of armour flying.
A streak of green lightning bolted through the sky, making contact with one of the copters. One of the copter engines exploded, raining shrapnel down on the battlefield. The pilot was struggling with the controls to try an emergency landing away from the battle. It was too late, his copter caught the landing gear of another copter. The second pilot attempted to initiate an emergency landing that would save them both. The smoking derelict clinging to his copter was dragging him closer to the grave. The pilot braced for a hard landing. He raised the nose hoping the ground would pull the wreckage off of his tail. The landing was hard but the first pilot had survived. The second pilot took his landing a few hundred meters away, trying to kill as many rats as he could with his spinning rotors. The first pilot surveyed the area around his landing site. Searching for the nearest group of dwarfs. Three hundred meters, the copter that he had taken down and one group of emaciated, poorly armed skaven. These skaven seemed ready to rush the copter. Death seemed to be in every other direction that had to be the safest bet. The pilot slid out of the cockpit and started running towards his brother. His pistol cocked and ready for revenge. Another green bolt streaked through the horizon low to the ground. The bolt shot into the spine of the running pilot. His muscles began to twitch and spasm uncontrollably. His blood began to boil, and the pressure caused it to shoot from his nose and ears. The pain looked excruciating. The corpse hit the ground hard and continued to spasm after death. The emaciated rats looked back, most of them were sure it was a warning shot, a warning to them that the dwarfs will be merciful compared to their own. They rushed forward to the damaged copter in front of them.
Jezzail teams shot gleefully through the slaves at the copter, fifteen shots were fired. Two rats fell over dead, the rest of the shells bounced off of the hull, the pilot ducking inside the cockpit as the bullets clanged like bells. The beasts started clawing their way up the body of the copter toward the cockpit. The pilot pulled the trigger on the Brimstone gun, right as the one creature dumb enough to try to pull itself up from the barrel of the gun put its face in the sight. The foul little monstrosity screeched in pain, the flesh and fur melting clean off of its skull. The burning corpse fell to the ground, the Jezzail teams cheered and laughed. The pilot waited until the canopy was covered in the critters, then dropped his bombs and initiated the ejection function. Rat beasts were scattered as the canopy was jettisoned from the copter. The seat launched the pilot high up into the air, a parachute flew out from the back of the chair and opened. The bombs exploded, killing most of the emaciated rat slaves nearby. Chunks of copter and rat rained down on the Jezzail teams, who hid behind their pavise shields. The pilot’s chair crash landed on a rat, the weight of the chair and dwarf caved in its skull. The dwarf pilot quickly unbuckled himself, hurrying out from under the parachute. Looking down at him were several monstrous ogre-like rats. Disembowelment looked, and sounded, far more painful than anyone deserved.
A deafening thunder pierced the air, the sound came from the dwarven cannons. One of them had backfired, killing the crew. The rats kept coming, the dwarfs were outnumbered, outgunned, and were as good as dead. The Dwarven drums beat out an erratic beat. The signal to fall back. The dwarfs in the front lines new that it was their death sentence. They needed to protect the home. So they spread out and trotted forward to make as many targets and as big of a threat and distraction as they could. The dwarfs closest to the hold started galloping back to seal off the mountain. As the last of the dwarfs got in to the mountain they shut the great doors. Sealing themselves in. A general feeling of dread crept through the halls. It had never been this bad before. It was only a matter of time before those disgusting creatures would break through the door, only a matter of time before the names and family lines in the hold were extinguished. The clamor outside was the only indication of how long they had left to make their final arrangements. Get all the bastards inside and collapse the mountain. The charges were set, the engineers double checked the calculations. The clamor outside grew quieter and closer. The halls started to fill with song, all joining in to the funeral dirge that would guide them to the next life.
As the chorus swelled the noise outside grew louder. It sounded like a stampede of magmadroth outside the doors. Had the Slayers come home to help out? Without the promise of ur gold? It seemed impossible. But the shrieking of rats and the fact that they hadn't reached the doors yet suggested that it had to be them. Not that the king wanted help from the Slayers. Old wounds still not healed.
The doors were ordered open, the old women and the children were left with one engineer who would instruct them on how to collapse the hold. Every fighting age man and woman formed up and began to march out lead by King Dargrim Steelbeard. To their surprise the giant lizards outside were not magmadroth. Giant beasts with sharpened horns jutting from their heads. Lizard like men destroying the foul rat beasts. A floating throne seemed to be their king. The dwarfs did not wait for the invitation from their saviors and began fighting alongside them. It felt good to watch the rats get eviscerated. A massive brute lizard was fighting off a unit of the slaves. It had one in its jaws and swept its massive hammer through the crowd. Bone and blood went flying. The emaciated, mangy little monsters began to panic. They started slashing at the brute and each other, they were trampling over each other, pushing each other back towards the monster lizard in their panicked escape. One of the rats was pushed right into the arms of the beast. The rat immediately started stabbing at the massive lizard's hands. The survival instinct had kicked in and the rat went straight for the scaly throat. Teeth sank in deep and tore out the throat. No blood ran. But the hulking beast became a beam of light. Skaven watching the ordeal gave a quick cheer before running to catch up with the slave. Scurrying back to their hidden portals.
The skaven threat had been thwarted, and by legends. These were unmistakably seraphon, but none suspected they were real. They were fireside tales, fables, and myths. Yet, here they were. The throne floated toward the king. The being sitting on this flying chair stared at the king. The king stared back, in awe. A great power seemed to flow forth from this being. Dwarfs knelt down before it. Fear and hope penetrated all of the dwarfs present.
The ground started rumbling and began to crack. The dwarfs nearby were scattering and running for cover. It wasn't the first time this day the big rats had come from the ground. Massive rat beasts with heavy plated armour, had emerged from the ground. Two of them with large multi barreled guns mounted on their arms, one with what looked like drills for hands. The rapid booms came from their arm mounted guns as soon as they burst from the ground. Dwarfs and Skaven alike were being gunned down. Red mists of blood spraying over comrades, enemies and dyeing the ground red. Cannons were pivoted to aim at these filthy, mobile war machines. Engineers shouted out calculations and adjustments. The cannons roared as the explosions hurled the shells to their mark. The huge rat, standing out front, firing the ratling gun at nothing in particular, didn't notice the cannon ball until it was in his face. The rat's head exploded and chunks of bone and brain peppered its company. The next shell smashed into the drill armed storm fiend, shattering its pelvis, buckling its legs. The third shell narrowly missed the last rat. It laughed maniacally as it aimed its rattling gun in the general direction of the cannons, obliterating anything in between him and the war machines. Overhead a squadron of copters rained down bombs on the surviving fiend. The bombs exploded around it, blowing off limbs, sending fur and chunks of armour flying.
A streak of green lightning bolted through the sky, making contact with one of the copters. One of the copter engines exploded, raining shrapnel down on the battlefield. The pilot was struggling with the controls to try an emergency landing away from the battle. It was too late, his copter caught the landing gear of another copter. The second pilot attempted to initiate an emergency landing that would save them both. The smoking derelict clinging to his copter was dragging him closer to the grave. The pilot braced for a hard landing. He raised the nose hoping the ground would pull the wreckage off of his tail. The landing was hard but the first pilot had survived. The second pilot took his landing a few hundred meters away, trying to kill as many rats as he could with his spinning rotors. The first pilot surveyed the area around his landing site. Searching for the nearest group of dwarfs. Three hundred meters, the copter that he had taken down and one group of emaciated, poorly armed skaven. These skaven seemed ready to rush the copter. Death seemed to be in every other direction that had to be the safest bet. The pilot slid out of the cockpit and started running towards his brother. His pistol cocked and ready for revenge. Another green bolt streaked through the horizon low to the ground. The bolt shot into the spine of the running pilot. His muscles began to twitch and spasm uncontrollably. His blood began to boil, and the pressure caused it to shoot from his nose and ears. The pain looked excruciating. The corpse hit the ground hard and continued to spasm after death. The emaciated rats looked back, most of them were sure it was a warning shot, a warning to them that the dwarfs will be merciful compared to their own. They rushed forward to the damaged copter in front of them.
Jezzail teams shot gleefully through the slaves at the copter, fifteen shots were fired. Two rats fell over dead, the rest of the shells bounced off of the hull, the pilot ducking inside the cockpit as the bullets clanged like bells. The beasts started clawing their way up the body of the copter toward the cockpit. The pilot pulled the trigger on the Brimstone gun, right as the one creature dumb enough to try to pull itself up from the barrel of the gun put its face in the sight. The foul little monstrosity screeched in pain, the flesh and fur melting clean off of its skull. The burning corpse fell to the ground, the Jezzail teams cheered and laughed. The pilot waited until the canopy was covered in the critters, then dropped his bombs and initiated the ejection function. Rat beasts were scattered as the canopy was jettisoned from the copter. The seat launched the pilot high up into the air, a parachute flew out from the back of the chair and opened. The bombs exploded, killing most of the emaciated rat slaves nearby. Chunks of copter and rat rained down on the Jezzail teams, who hid behind their pavise shields. The pilot’s chair crash landed on a rat, the weight of the chair and dwarf caved in its skull. The dwarf pilot quickly unbuckled himself, hurrying out from under the parachute. Looking down at him were several monstrous ogre-like rats. Disembowelment looked, and sounded, far more painful than anyone deserved.
A deafening thunder pierced the air, the sound came from the dwarven cannons. One of them had backfired, killing the crew. The rats kept coming, the dwarfs were outnumbered, outgunned, and were as good as dead. The Dwarven drums beat out an erratic beat. The signal to fall back. The dwarfs in the front lines new that it was their death sentence. They needed to protect the home. So they spread out and trotted forward to make as many targets and as big of a threat and distraction as they could. The dwarfs closest to the hold started galloping back to seal off the mountain. As the last of the dwarfs got in to the mountain they shut the great doors. Sealing themselves in. A general feeling of dread crept through the halls. It had never been this bad before. It was only a matter of time before those disgusting creatures would break through the door, only a matter of time before the names and family lines in the hold were extinguished. The clamor outside was the only indication of how long they had left to make their final arrangements. Get all the bastards inside and collapse the mountain. The charges were set, the engineers double checked the calculations. The clamor outside grew quieter and closer. The halls started to fill with song, all joining in to the funeral dirge that would guide them to the next life.
As the chorus swelled the noise outside grew louder. It sounded like a stampede of magmadroth outside the doors. Had the Slayers come home to help out? Without the promise of ur gold? It seemed impossible. But the shrieking of rats and the fact that they hadn't reached the doors yet suggested that it had to be them. Not that the king wanted help from the Slayers. Old wounds still not healed.
The doors were ordered open, the old women and the children were left with one engineer who would instruct them on how to collapse the hold. Every fighting age man and woman formed up and began to march out lead by King Dargrim Steelbeard. To their surprise the giant lizards outside were not magmadroth. Giant beasts with sharpened horns jutting from their heads. Lizard like men destroying the foul rat beasts. A floating throne seemed to be their king. The dwarfs did not wait for the invitation from their saviors and began fighting alongside them. It felt good to watch the rats get eviscerated. A massive brute lizard was fighting off a unit of the slaves. It had one in its jaws and swept its massive hammer through the crowd. Bone and blood went flying. The emaciated, mangy little monsters began to panic. They started slashing at the brute and each other, they were trampling over each other, pushing each other back towards the monster lizard in their panicked escape. One of the rats was pushed right into the arms of the beast. The rat immediately started stabbing at the massive lizard's hands. The survival instinct had kicked in and the rat went straight for the scaly throat. Teeth sank in deep and tore out the throat. No blood ran. But the hulking beast became a beam of light. Skaven watching the ordeal gave a quick cheer before running to catch up with the slave. Scurrying back to their hidden portals.
The skaven threat had been thwarted, and by legends. These were unmistakably seraphon, but none suspected they were real. They were fireside tales, fables, and myths. Yet, here they were. The throne floated toward the king. The being sitting on this flying chair stared at the king. The king stared back, in awe. A great power seemed to flow forth from this being. Dwarfs knelt down before it. Fear and hope penetrated all of the dwarfs present.
