Gatehammer Fantasy Battles (Warhammer Fantasy Battles/Gate- Thus the JSDF Fought There)

Dwarfen Camp

“There is a way through the woods, used by my people for centuries.” Dolvana explained as she took out a map and set it in front of Kregan, “These secret paths have kept us hidden from our enemies, and have allowed us to operate in secret.”

Cato looked over Kregan’s shoulder and studied the nomad’s map. It was of the forest, that much was certain, but there were red lines that connected with one another, and which almost seemed to flow like quicksilver. Clearly, this map was magical in nature.

“And you’re trusting us with the knowledge of these paths?” Kregan asked.

“I am, though without me to guide you, they would be useless to non-dwarves.”

“We are dwarfs.” Kregan said, slightly defensively.

“That remains to be seen.” Dolvana replied, “You’re from another world, after all.”

Kregan grunted, but said nothing; he was feeling a sense of what the Bretonnians called ‘déjà vu’ however.

Cato, on the other hand, was using all his willpower not to ask the nomad a host of questions; about her tribe, her people, herself. It was difficult, having to subdue his natural curiosity, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Not to mention the all too convenient timing of Dolvana. Cato was not a suspicious man by nature; but her arrival was too convenient to be ignored.

He would have to keep an eye on her, lest she lead their entire surviving company out of the immediate danger, only into a trap.

“The paths go deep within the woods, and are wide enough for two dwarves to pass through shoulder to shoulder.” Dolvana explained, “They will lead us to my village; to safety. However, we would have to leave your war machines behind; there is simply no room for them.”

“Then we give the enemy what he wants; what he killed over a thousand dwarfs to claim” Kregan noted, “To say nothing of the fact that we would also have to leave the bodies of our kinsmen behind. Engineer Greti!”

“Yes, my Thane?” Cato saw a dwarf wearing a pair of mechanical eyeglasses approach Kregan, “How may I serve?”

“We need to leave the cannons behind, that is the unfortunate truth of the matter.”

“I gathered as much my Thane. Though I know you well enough to understand you will not simply leave them behind for our enemy to claim.”

“You do know me. I want you and your crew to destroy the cannons; leave them beyond repair for the Saderan umgi.”

“That… may take a while, to properly dismantle all of them.” Greti explained, “The organ guns alone… we’ll have to detonate them, along with the ammunition.”

“Thane Kregan,” Cato interjected, and all the dwarfs turned to the Elder Sage, “If I may make a suggestion.”

“Speak Mage.” Kregan said, “At this point, I am open to any and all suggestions.”

“We need to destroy the cannons; we also need to cover our tracks, lest the Saderans track us and hunt us down.”

“No Saderan manling can track our paths.” Dolvana boasted.

“I’m sure they are a well-kept secret Miss, but all the same, I would rather not take any chances. Which brings me to my point; I may have a way to render the guns to be beyond repair, and to keep the Saderans from properly tracking us, though it will take a lot out of me..”

“You have my attention…” Kregan said.

===

An hour later

“Keep your eyes and ears open!” a centurion said, and the legionaries obeyed, “This whole thing reeks of an ambush.”

It had taken several hours, but the General had regrouped the legion, and had sent them back through the woods, and into the camp.

They came expecting another battle.

Instead, they found only corpses.

The entire camp was completely devoid of life; the only dwarves there were the ones slain in the prior battle, as well as the Saderan’s own dead. There was no living angry bearded demihumans to be found though.

As the cavalry ran a perimeter around the camp, and the dragons searched from the air, the legionaries did a sweep of the camp itself, looking for any still living dwarves, or for the invaluable cannons; the weapons that Crown Prince Zorzal had died trying to claim for Sadera.

“Sir!” a legionary shouted, “I think I found the guns!”

The man pointed his gladius towards the center of camp, and sure enough, behind dozens of crates, were the unmistakable shapes of cannons.

“Well, how do you like that?” the Centurion said as he walked towards them, “The demis left them behind for us. You!” he pointed towards a soldier, “Run back to camp and tell the general we have what we came here for. Double time it!”

“At once sir!”

As the legionary took off, the centurion turned back to the guns, admiring the craftsmanship, and gingerly setting his hand on the barrel of one huge cannon in particular.

A split second later, a glowing orange rune appeared on the metal, burning the color of flame.

“What in the-” the centurion began, but was cut off when a dozen other similar runes appeared on the other cannons, the wooden crates surrounding the cannons, and upon the bodies of several dead dwarves.

A heartbeat later, the runes exploded, and the cannons, as well as the gunpowder and ammunition stored in the wooden crates, were all engulfed in a massive inferno. The whole camp was consumed by the flames, killing hundreds of men and horses, and even erupting high enough into the sky to engulf several dragon riders in the blaze.

The whole camp was gone, destroyed by magic exploding runes. Through this immense destruction, courtesy of Cato’s magic, half of the surviving legion was killed in an instant, and the dawi took some small measure of revenge.

===

Several Hours later

“Pointless…” Aurelias, Zorzal’s replacement, said as he and his surviving men walked through the blasted remains of the camp, “All this pointless… two and a half thousand men, dead, all because of these… these stunted freaks! So many dead, and nothing to show for it!”

“That’s not entirely true General.” Tyuule said as she walked behind him, followed closely by her own bodyguards, “Yes, we lost many-”

“An understatement if there ever was one Tyuule.” The General interrupted, “I’ve known most of these men for years; so many campaigns, so many battles… so many families left behind, and we failed to achieve our primary objective; seizing the dwarven guns. To top it all off, Crown Prince Zorzal is dead! So please, tell me, how can this be anything except a total failure?”

“For starters, that fool Zorzal is dead; already a blessing from the gods. Secondly, you and the late Prince focus too much on the big prize, that you neglect to take into consideration the small victory.”

Tyuule snapped her fingers, and several of her warriors stepped forward, carrying long bundles. With a nod from the former queen, they began to unwrap the bundles. Aurelias raised an eyebrow, but then gasped in shock when he saw what they were carrying.

The rabbits were holding the handheld guns used by the dwarves.

“Many of the dwarves were carrying these weapons,” Tyuule explained, “I instructed my warriors to retrieve as many as they could from the fallen, as well as the black powder and round lead balls that the dwarves carried on their belts. They may not be the great cannons that the Emperor asked for, but I do believe they will be a start.”

===

Nomad Forest Paths

Three days later

It was dark; darker than night, though Cato knew it to be the daytime hours. It was a testament to how thick the trees were in this part of the woods, that it was impossible to tell day from night.

For the past few days now, the nomad, Dolvana, had led them through the path, away from the Saderans, and towards the safety of her village. It was slow going. True to Dolvana’s word, the path was too narrow for the artillery pieces the dawi had brought with them. Between the narrowness of the path, as well as carrying the wounded and what supplies they could take with them, Dolvana had said that they were lucky to be making the time that they were.

“How much longer until we get there?” Kregan asked their guide, “I fear that my wounded do not have much time left.”

“Soon.” Dolvana replied, “Do not fear Thane; my tribe is well versed in the medicinal arts. We will keep your people from dying.

The nomad was as mysterious as ever; she said she would answer questions about her tribe once they reached her village, but all the same, Cato found it hard to trust her. He had met few dwarves in his time, but they were never as tight lipped as her. Perhaps it was because they were going to her village? Perhaps it was because they were fleeing the Saderan legions?

In any case, Cato kept his mouth shut. Walking close behind Kregan and Dolvana, he trudged along the dirt path, always keeping a watchful eye on the woods, ready to use his magic to defend them should danger come. So far, his magic was not needed, thank the gods. Though it was necessary, casting that many explosive runes had taken a lot out of him. Thankfully, he was recovered enough to be useful in case danger struck.

The only light came from the tip of his staff, and he used it to illuminate the area around him, and he looked approvingly upon the sights. For a secret dwarf path, there was a surprising amount of natural beauty to be found. From the twisting roots of the trees, the bright green of the leaves, the thick bark of the trunks, the smoothness of the stone, the intricate carvings of old dwarves, to the soft glow of the torches-

Wait a minute.

Cato looked around, and he gasped sharply.

Where once they were walking down the narrow forest path, now the entire remaining dwarf throng was within some sort of huge stone corridor, wide enough for twenty dwarfs standing side by side. Smooth stone walls were covered with sculptures of dwarves, some dressed as warriors, and others in long flowing robes. Brass torches burned throughout the hall, illuminating everything. At the end of the hall was a large door

“What magecraft is this?” Kregan asked, on edge at the sudden change in scenery.

“The paths are old ones,” Dolvana explained, “But as narrow as they are, they take us directly to where we need to go. Follow me.”

Dolvana walked to the doors, and rapped her knuckles against them.

“It’s me!” she shouted, “Brother, open up. I have dwarves in need of healing!”

The massive doors swung open, and revealed what was upon the other side.

It was a huge chamber, large enough to fit half of Italica. Within the chamber was a large town, constructed out of timber and tents. It was filled with dwarves, all dressed similarly to Dolvana; well-worn leathers, and rustic furs. Several dwarves rode atop giant rams, and carried spears made of oak.

Most remarkable of all, however, was a large crystal, suspended from the ceiling, which glowed with the light of the sun, illuminating the entire chamber, and making it seem as if it were daylight.

Most frightening of all, however, was on the other end of the chamber; it was a massive gate, taller than the tallest tower in Rondel, and each door was twice as wide. On the right door was an image of a dwarf in full armor, armed with an ornate bow and arrow. On the other door was a demon, whose body seemed to be made of solid gold.

All across the gate were glowing runes, in a language unknown to Cato, but he knew in his gut what they were meant for; to keep the gate closed, and to keep whatever was on the other side from getting out.

“Well dawi,” Dolvana said, stretching out her arms as several of her people walked up behind her, “Welcome to my village; the home of the Storm Ram Tribe.”

 

The Duchy of L’Anguille, one month after the Chaos Moon event

The moon was full, and its light shone upon the open-air shrine to the Lady, illuminating the oak table that sat in its center, as well as the four knights who sat around it.

Sir Robert Le Rouen, a young knight errant, wearing his family’s heraldry, three red owls, upon his chest, dismounted his horse and slowly walked towards the shrine, trying to keep his breathing under control. He was going to be in august company; Lady help him if he embarrassed himself.

“You’re not Earl Roger.” One of the knights, Sir Fulk Le L’Anguille, a large mountain of a man, dressed in bull heraldry, stated when Robert approached the table.

“No Sir,” Robert said, “I’m his son, Sir Robert, sent on his behalf. My father has taken ill in his old age, and is unable to attend this meeting, and since my eldest brother is questing for the Grail, I was sent in his stead.”

“I’m sorry to hear of your father.” Another knight, Sir Turalt Le Lieur, whose heraldry was a knight’s helmet, flanked by purple swans, said, “He is a valued friend to us all. It is a pity that he could not come hear this day. Still, I bid you welcome to our brotherhood. Come, have a seat.”

“I thank you Sir.” Robert said as he gave a respectful nod to Turalt, before taking his seat at the table. No sooner had he sat down than Turalt began to address the assembled knights.

“Now that young Robert has arrived,” Turalt began, “All that remains is for our final brother to arrive.”

“Where is Jerome?” Fulk asked, “He’s the one who called us here again, after all these years.”

“Fashionably late no doubt, as usual.” Another knight, Sir Goderic, said, “For a Knight of the Grail, I dare say that man would be late to his own funeral.”

“Yes, only he would keep Morr waiting!” Sir Hubert, the last knight of their number, laughed, “When one takes his tardiness into account, it is amazing that the Lad ever appeared before him!”

Robert said nothing. How could such noble knights mock one that the Lady Herself blessed with the Grail? Even if he was late.

“Such unkind words from men I once called brother!”

All the knights turned their heads to the sound of the voice. Standing in the moonlight was a knight with a glowing grail emblazoned on his heraldry, with his great helm under his left arm. His face glowed with holy power, and one could instantly tell that this man was no mere mortal. Indeed, as a Grail Knight, a chivalrous individual who had drunk of the Grail, he was among the most valiant, and most famed knights in the land.

The image of holy knight was broken, however, by the jovial grin he wore as he approached the table, slammed his plumed helmet down on top of it, and let loose a boisterous laugh as he heartily slapped Hubert’s shoulder.

“Oh, my brothers!” Sir Gerome, Knight of the Grail, all but shouted in happiness, “It has been too long! When was the last time we saw one another? Was it when we slew Warboss Gitshivver of the Grey Mountains, or when we threw back the Norscan Queen, Aslaugen?”

“They attacked the duchy at the same time brother.” Turalt said as he embraced Jerome, “Almost twelve years ago.”

“Twelve? Dear Lady, it has been too long since we have all been together.” Jerome stated as he took his own seat, “Time goes by far too quickly for my liking.”

Jerome then rested his gaze upon Robert, taking in the much younger knight.

“You’re Roger’s boy, aren’t you?” he asked. Robert nodded.

“I’m Earl Roger’s second born son, Sir Robert, sent in his place due to his illness, and his advancing age.”

“Ah, poor Roger. He was always the eldest of us.” Jerome said mournfully, “I welcome your blade to our table Sir Robert, but I must express my sadness that your lord father cannot join us.”

“I understand, no offense is taken.” Robert said, for what else could he say otherwise? It would be wrong to take offense at a Grail Knight after all.

“If you don’t mind Jerome,” Fulk started, “What is the purpose of this meeting? Our brotherhood has not had cause to band together in over a decade, not since the summer of the Greenskin and the Queen. Has some new monster or threat come to bring ruin to the Duchy?”

“Not exactly.” Jerome explained, “Tell me, what do you all know of the Gate that lays within the Empire?”

That was an odd question to ask.

“It is magical in nature,” Robert answered, “And it serves as a portal between the Old World, and a new world, called Falmart. Another empire, one that makes use of mutant slave soldiers, tried to invade, only for the Sigmarites to chase them back through the Gate.”

“They say there’s also a way to get the land of the High Elves through there.” Goderic stated, “Much to the collective anger of the merchant lords of Marienburg, who no doubt feel threatened that they may lose their monopoly on trade goods with the fae folk.”

“There is more to it than that.” Jerome said, “For the past few months, I have been having vivid dreams… dreams of the Gate, and a sense of foreboding. There is something on the other side of that Gate… something that could one day, threaten not just our Duchy, but the entirety of Bretonnia.

“It was not, however, until Winter’s Eve, when the Chaos Moon was full, when I received clarity to my dream, no, my vision. I dreamt that I was walking through the fields of the Duchy. It was day, and the peasants were bringing in a bountiful harvest. Then, all of a sudden, the crops began to die, right before my eyes, and the peasants turned to ash. The sky changed from blue to blood red, the villages set aflame, and the great castles collapsed. To say that I was frightened by the death and decay around me would be an understatement. Then, emerging from the smoke, untouched by the devastation surrounding him, he came.

“The Green Knight.”

It was then Robert heard the other knights hold their breath at the mention of the Green Knight. Robert himself felt goosebumps go down his spine. The Green Knight! Few figures were as popular in the Kingdom’s folklore, or as dreaded to the forces of evil, as that being. The final challenge all Grail Knights must face, for the Green Knight to appear in the dreams of Sir Jerome… this must be of grave importance.

“He was seated upon his horse, and, looking at me with glowing eyes, drew the Dolores Blade, and pointed it at my chest, before he turned it towards the east, towards the Empire. Then, it was as if the land itself flew past us, though we ourselves stood still. Finally, we came to a stop before the Gate itself, with the Green Knight pointing the Dolores Blade at it. It was then that I knew what the Lady wished of me. Great evil dwells on the other side of the Gate, and it falls upon us, the knights of Bretonnia, to vanquish it.”

“Why us though?” Goderic asked, “The Empire is already there.”

“The Empire cares only for expanding their territory. They are blind to the true darkness that dwells there.”

“What is this darkness Jerome?” Turalt inquired.

“I know not, only that it dwells beyond the Gate, and that even as we speak, it festers there, and soon, it will consume all that we hold dear. That is why I ask you, my brother knights, to join me in this quest. To slay this evil, before it has a chance to take root, and spread to our world. Will you join me?”

“We are always with you brother.” Fulk said, “But an evil that you describe… surely it will take more than six of us; it would take an army, and to even pass through the Gate to begin with, we would need the permission of the Empire.”

“Leave the army, and our passage, to me Fulk.” Jerome assured, “I will go to Altdorf, and seek an audience with the Emperor. All I require is your word that you will join me.”

“We are with you brother.” Hugh said, and he drew his sword, “I swear on my sword, and before the Blessed Lady of the Lake, that I will follow you to hell itself.”

The rest of the assembled knights all drew their swords, and swore the same thing.

All but one.

“Sir Robert,” Jerome said, addressing the youngest knight there, “Though your father is a dear friend, I would extend my offer to you as well.”

“Me?” Robert asked, “Sir, I am but a young man, barely a boy. I am not worthy of such an honor…” Robert then drew his sword as well, “Though I humbly accept it, in the name of Liege and Lady.”

“Excellent. Then the Brotherhood of L’Anguille is whole once again. Wait for my word; until then, try and gather as many knights and men as you can, for I fear that our quest may become an Errantry War.”