Erik and his men had successfully warded off the first reckless attack from the Beastmen, but the following attacks wouldn’t be as easy.
For the rest of the day the Beastmen sent in small groups of Ungors in probing attacks and feints. No serious large scale assaults were made, but the Frost Wolves and Sarls’ vigilance could not slack off.
The true test of endurance began when night fell. Beastmen did not have nightvision but they nonetheless could see better in the dark than most humans. Using this to their advantage, the Beastmen started sending in small groups of Gors mixed in with the Ungors I hopes of catching Erik’s men unawares and capturing a foothold for the rest of the army to flood in through.
Having foreseen this with the help of Wulfrik’s prior experience, Erik had not allowed his men to light any torches. This way they could see better and further in the dim light of the moons.
He had also ordered his men not to waste their javelins on the small groups of Ungors. It was too easy to miss the fast moving goat men and waste their limited supply of javelins. Besides, the Marauders had no trouble dispatching those Ungors that made it up the wall. Large roundshields and strong axes made short work of them.
When the pattern was established, Erik had ordered a rotation for the men on the walls. Part of the men would take rest a small distance from the walls, eat some warm food, take a nap and sharpen their weapons, while others vigilantly kept watch and pushed back any small attacks.
During the night, a group of Gors had managed to momentarily get a foothold on the wall, killing over 10 of the Norscans guarding it. But the wall was quickly retaken by a hail of javelins and a swift charge personally led by Erik.
This was Erik’s first altercation with a Gor and he estimated them to be roughly on par in strength with the average Norscan, but their inability to reason in battle made them inferior in skill but no less dangerous in combat.
‘Makes me wonder what the power of a Bestigor or a Beastmen Chosen is like…’
The next day Erik’s men were still in good shape. One night of bad sleep was not enough to impact their spirits or effectiveness. But if this repeated for multiple nights, even the sturdy Norscans would start to fray at the edges.
“What can we do to force their hand?” – Was Erik’s first and only question at the morning’s Captains meeting.
“We could charge out and force a field battle, but that would put us in a clear disadvantage.” – Sven helpfully cut off that chain of discussion.
“Maybe if we can somehow make their current tactic of sapping our strength unusable or not worth the cost, they could commit to a large attack again?” – Another Captain spoke up. To which the Captains nodded, but no one had an answer on how to do that.
“Hmm, that’s probably our best bet. But how do we do that?” – Wulfrik asked. “Previously we also hoped to force their hand, but we didn’t have the slightest idea on how to achieve it.”
Unlike most Norscans, Erik was unable to grow large amounts of facial hair in a short time and he personally preferred to be clean shaven anyway, but as he gently stroked the growing fuzz on his face he carefully formulated a plan.
“What if…” – He started speaking before hesitating momentarily.
“No, it could work. What if we just opened the gate and invite them in?”
Seeing the odd faces of his Captains, Erik quickly continued:
“I don’t mean to just swing the gates wide open, it’d be too obvious. But if we could trick them into attacking the gate and they find out it was weaker than they expected… we could achieve our goal of trapping them.”
Wulfrik, Sven and a couple of others now had a light of understanding shining in their eyes as they nodded and Sven then took over from Erik:
“Yes! We can weaken just one side of the gates to make it seem fragile, put our ‘phalanx’ behind it and the throwers on top of the pathway. Like the first wave yesterday, they’ll just continue piling in and pushing from behind while we just slaughter them from the front.”
Discussing more of the details for a short while, they then quickly set to work. If they wanted to inflict heavy casualties to the Beastmen and force them to fully commit later, the fight had to be as soon as possible.
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The Gor and Ungor skirmishing continued throughout the morning and most of the afternoon, but around 5 in the afternoon, when the sun was starting to rapidly lower towards the horizon, the Beastmen finally made their move.
The Norscans had gradually weakened the gate as the attacks continued, adding a little bit of extra damage every time a group of Beastmen made a swift strike at them. Now it seemed the Beastmen were satisfied and prepared for an assault.
The entire Beastmen army surged forth from the treeline, slowly advancing until just outside the range of Erik’s javelins.
There, two Beastmen walked out in front of the Warherd. One was conspicuously clad in thick, red painted armour while the other had one arm mutated into a purple coloured, crab-like, chitinous pincer. A low keening noise emanated from Erik’s waist when he looked at the duo, his Messer felt and wanted something.
~Bleep! Encyclopaedia entry added: Khorngor. A Khorngor is a Gor or Bestigor blessed by Khorne and infused with great strength, power and bloodlust. The best warriors to be found among Beastmen, facing these bloodcrazed killers is an encounter few survive.
~Bleep! Encyclopaedia entry added: Slaangor. A Slaangor is a Gor or Bestigor blessed by Slaanesh and often sport mutated arms, additional nipples or other mutations. Infused by the gifts of Slaanesh, Slaangors are usually responsible for a Warherd’s replenishment, since their incredibly libido and ability to crossbreed with anything (humans, animals, elves and even dwarfs) make them the perfect breeding-studs.
´Ah, Skadi’s Messer must have reacted to the Slaangor… Will something happen when I kill it?’
Nudging Wulfrik standing next to him, Erik asked confirmation for what he already knew.
“The red one, the Khorngor. You wanted to kill him personally, correct?”
Intently staring at his nemesis, Wulfrik gruffly grunted and nodded in assent.
“Good, I’ll count on you to deal with it then. And I’ll take care of the Slaangor. We’re probably the only ones capable of facing them one-on-one and we can’t let them leave here alive.
It’s pretty obvious they are the leaders of this Warherd. If we kill them, the rest of them should scatter, allowing us to charge out and rip them apart.”
Then, upon seeing the hulking masses of the Minotaurs coming to the front, Erik quickly added another note to that.
“Though I suppose we’ll want to deal with those giant bulls first…”
When the three Minotaurs stood at the front, decked out in heavy plate armour and carrying enormous two-handed axes, the Khorngor surveyed its troops before letting loose a mighty bellowing scream to begin the charge.
The Minotaurs were incredibly fast despite their size, rapidly closing the gap between the ‘javelin-line’ and the gates.
“Quick, throw your spears at them! Kill them, hurry!” – Erik hurriedly ordered for the most dangerous opponents to be dealt with quickly, but the blur of javelins missed entirely. The Minotaurs were simply that fast in their charge.
It was also now that Erik realised a fatal flaw in their gate design: The gatehouse itself made it hard to target enemies attacking the gate.
There were slits and angles through which to attack, but that was only good enough to deal with smaller enemies like Ice Wolves or Gors. The enormous Minotaurs were so large and tough that it would be impossible to deal meaningful damage to them from the gatehouse.
Swiftly taking up one of his own javelins, Erik put all his trust in his high Throwing proficiency as well as his STR & DEX stats before quickly taking aim at the leading bull and throwing with all his might.
Perhaps the bull felt the danger approaching, but it swung its massive head and its mighty horns swept the javelin out of the air.
“Shit!” – Erik cursed before taking a second javelin, this time aiming at a different Minotaur. This one was actually far bigger than the others and had a metallic hue to its hide. Was this the Minotaurs’ leader?
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Erik lined up his shot before punching his arm forward and flinging the sharp javelin towards the target.
This Minotaur too reflexively swung its horns, but this time Erik had anticipated the move and aimed lower and to the side.
“Muohoooooh!”
The javelin struck true, entering straight through the eye and into the Minotaurs brain, killing it near instantly. A spray of snow and dirt flew up in the air as the spasming body convulsed on the ground.
By then, the distance was less than 20 meters and before Erik could take out a third javelin, the two remaining Minotaurs were at the gates and swinging their monstrous axes.
Their blows were so mighty that an entire section of the wall at both sides of the gatehouse shook with each blow, sending a chill down the Marauders’ spines as they thought of what such blows would do to them.
And as the Minotaurs relentlessly worked on the gates, the swarm of Ungors and Gors also made their attack on the other sections of the fortress.
The defenders were rapidly throwing their javelins into the mass of horns and hooves, thrusting their long spears and swinging their axes at every Beastman that came in range.
It soon became apparent that the first attack yesterday had only been a test. A bloody and wasteful test, but a test nonetheless. Because this time there were large groups of Gors mixed in and even fully armoured Bestigors appeared here and there.
Soon the long spears began to break, ripped out of their hands or otherwise rendered useless while the javelins slowly ran out and the amount of enemies making it up to the battlements grew ever larger.
Then, with a final, mighty blow from their axes, the Minotaurs broke through the gates. Now the true fight would commence where the Norscan Winter Hunters defended two sections of wall and the funnel leading from the gate into the camp.
Seeing their plan succeed made Erik feel both relieved and apprehensive. So, to calm his growing nerves, he simply gave the signature warcry of the frozen North together with his final orders before throwing himself into a group of Bestigors that had broken through onto the walls:
“This is it men! Fight! Kill! Spill their blood and make cups and trophies from their skulls and corpses!”
“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!”
Why is no one commenting, shout with me.
FOR DEM TITTIES !!!!!
Ah yes, every cultured man's true motivation & ambition!
Ngl, i had forgotten about slaangors completely and i would have been happier if i hadnt been reminded of them
Also, just noticed, but you might want to edit the 6 chapters/week thing
Yeah, Slaangors are a thing of horror... Honestly unsure if Slaangors or Pestigors are more foul.
@CastePlays25 And Scribblehub does the Chapters/week thing by itself. Since I did a month of daily chapters, it'll take some time to tick down to 3 chaps a week.