The Long March South

From IKwiki

It was cold. Not the razor shard winds that had ripped Madrak Ironhides skin amongst the Scarsfell but it was still harsh enough to remind him that he find safety and quick. His small cohort had a grown greatly since living the comforts of a the Beer hall with Borka Kegslayer. Word of the mighty war shamans migration south had gathered hundreds of inspired warriors to the mighty shaman's side. It was comforting, but they would need more than just a great army to make the treacherous return home. They would need great will.

The Iron Kingdoms, infamous for the wars and fueding human nations had intensified along the path Madrak had crossed previous and the massive gathering of beasts and warriors were sure to draw the attention of either Khadors great cannons or the entrenched and concealed foxholes filled with forward Cygnar scouts and enough heavy chain guns to reap a costly toll on the marching Trollkin.

Madrak looked back, six ranks of striding bison with heavy armored warriors strolled, the Longriders were attentive and battle ready, the perfect vanguard for the marching force, there discipline and near sycronized marching was disrupted by the sounds of shrieking and laughing from a large rable of Trollkin warriors near the middle of the army. All attempts for Madrak to convince Borka's following to cease there revillry had only resulted in slurred drunken insults and a barrage of thrown mud and stones. "Be calm, chieftan." Borka strided up to Madrak as he agrily stormed back to the front of the column where the Longriders and Champions marched. These kin at least knew what it was to feel loss, and there wordless stroll towards fate always reminded Madrak how strong his people could be, in battle they would slay scores of lesser enemies despite grevious wounds and he believed through there example could all Trollkin fight and be free. Borka staggered his massive mace missing he instead carried in one mighty hand a massive wooden keg, and a intoxicated Pyg crushed in between it and his fingers. "Come join the party, nobody will come. These humans are cowards!" Borka declared, his confidence and arrogance only irrated Madrak furthur. If just one life was lost because of Borkas reckless and untimely party them Madrak would throttle Borka to an inch of his life.

"You waste time! The trail I took has been crossed recently, you bought few beasts to deal with there weapons of war." Madrak spoke angrily back to Borka who didnt show any concern. "What is there Iron to our muscle? I have broken one of there toys before it can be..." BOOM!

A large explosion broke his concentration and did wonders to sober up his men who went scrambling into the snowy ground and dashed to cover behind rocks. The riders at the front lazily spun toward the source of the blast, a black smoking crater, a near miss to a few Pygmies carrying large pilfered slug guns, they were already heading underground. Borka hiccuped and looked back on the army as another shell fell down upon the group. This one landed in the back among the beasts that the Troll warlocks had bought along. Brom and Jor had been getting along poorly with three strange new wintery beasts that Borka had taken from a village, the Winter trolls were tough and easy to anger and they resented Brom and Jor for the bare restraint they held on there animal insticts. However the cacophany snapped them to attention and they furiously readied themselves, checking every facing for enemies. Madrak wasted no time, he mentally commanded his beasts to his side and gathered nearby champions alongside him. Unleashing a burst of powerful shamanistic powers the earth itself rose behind every warrior and creature and a incoming shell was deflected by its power. Borka was still having difficulties gathering his thoughts. "This is good Chieftan!," he roared at once and he rushed back towards where his men were gathered and dug his mace from the snow. A hapless warrior must have discarded it when the first shell came down. "We can get a warm up on some soft southern cowards and there machines before we get to see our real enemy!" Madrak felt less assured. For one, by their current location there attacker would be Khadoran, as they were still well within the nations boarders. Nobody had died yet are at least wounded by a shell, but the intensity of there fire was increasing, along with the uncertaintly in his men as they ran from tree to stone trying to find some cover. He had to act quickly, a rout here would undermine the spirits of his men and sully all gains from coming to the Scarsfel.

Jor hustled up to Madraks side and growled hefting his spear to the right along a distant ridge, the Impaler had a good eye for targets and so Madrak wasnt surprised that he was the first to spot the faint bursts of fire from the Bombards. He grunted approval and began barking orders. "There are our enemies!" Madrak exclaimed, some Trollkin who were previously hiding now stood up eagar to take revenge on the crashing of there party. "Those with rifles and rides, come with me! We will take there fire while the rest of you make down the hills" Madraks order was loud and clear over his men and the Riders and warriors immediately clamoured to his side. Borka looked only angry ",And What of me great leader? Do you think I will run like a whelp!" Madraks cry was not meant as a slight to Borka at all but still somewhat intoxicated and feeling as though Madrak would cut in on his fight and chance for glory Borka. "Hold this," Borka said and tossed his keg a few metres to a straggling Pygmie who startled and barely caught the massive barrel before being knocked over by the throw. "Remeber our deal, I come to this battle with you Ironhide." Madrak might have concidered arguing with Borka right their. Borka for all his might, standing before Madrak, he looked a little bit silly, the serious chieftan would have scowled at another younger warrior but Borka was a force unto himself, and arguing while under fire would achieve nothing. The next barrage of shells exploded alongside Brom sending him off to the side, the explosion burning his flesh and breaking off parts of his armor. His body quickly began to heal but Madrak could see he risked losing the initative if he lingered any longer. "Charge!" he bellowed. "We must make quick work of them before we die here!"

Atop the hillside Kommander Reaikavon was watching the scattered troll disperse. Tresspassing this close to the rear guard of Kommandant Irusks push into Northguard suggested either a mercenary unit of Trolls or a hidden Cygnar strike force. Either was a risk to great to the plan of gaining ground in Cygnar. They could be allowed to get any closer. Raeikavon had waited until they had entired optimum firing range but the winds were stronger than expected and the first barrage had missed entirely, scattering along there column. The Kommandant commanded his Destroyers to fire in unison with the other Winterguard mortar teams and a large bertha cannon that had been used to shell Cygnar troops on previous engagements, now all turned inwards firing on the enemy. The smoke and concussion made it difficult to see how many of his enemy had been hit but at least they were supressed. Even if they spotted his position in time, a counter attack would be met by a division of Man-of-War shocktrooper and Ironfangs and Winterguard teams. Kossite Huntsmen lay in wait hiding in the scrub to pick harass the enemy and break there morale if they closed within minimum range of the Mortar fire. His spyglass zoomed in on what looked to be the enemy commander, he was shouting and hefting a huge axe glowing red axe. And pointing, pointing... at him! The enemy forces hustled to his side and looked at the hill where Reaikavon stod. They had spotted his position and would probally make a counter attack soon. Reaikavon had read every page of Irusks battle strategy, twice. He knew ever counter and every way which to fight an enemy like this. This rabble was no match for the might and steel of Khadoran Empire. "Make ready the second divison. Tell them to expect an attack soon, Cavalry and enemy skirmishers, some fullblooded troll beasts come as well. Break them on your lances." He directed a pair of sergants. An Ironfang and Winterguard veteran ran down the hill to the awaiting forces to instruct them on the attack. "Adjust firing angle, the enemy is closing along the the mountain path 27 degrees east, make them suffer for crossing that ground. All salvo's fiire.

Borka and Madrak ran. As fast as they could. As they closed with the enemy there fire would likely only get more accurate and it was starting to show. Brom had almost completely recovered from the first blast that hit him before another landed off just to his side. Shrapnel and metal pierced his skin but a trollkin hefting a scattergun to his side was shredded completely. Nearly seventy warriors had joined in Madrak and Borka's rush, the longriders had broken off into the forest, they would then jump out and surprise the enemy on a flank. Even with there mounts they had alot of ground to cover and an unseen cliffside or hill would waste all there efforts. Still Madrak had made the decision and he would have to see his end through. The shells pounded on the dirt infront of him. Borka surged forward as well, his entire body shifting deftly through the snow. He was at home, and he looked far more excited than anyone in his position should ever be. He continued to run forward, another set of screams and he turned to see a small batch of Pygmies blown apart. He had to hurry. His men were running up a hill they were closing, only a bit more. The next group of shots landed far behind the rushing trollkin. Madrak smiled, they were within the enemies gun range, the advantage had switched to them. Alot of his men were covered in soot or sporting some wounded from near misses and blasts. A credit to his peoples endurance, very few had died from the attack. Madrak knew by now the others would have already escaped. It was up to them now to silence this threat. Make them pay for firing on his people. Borka and Madrak slowed a minute to catch there breath, certainly they wouldnt have openly attacked Borka and Madraks men if they didnt have enough firepower to finish the job. Madrak suspected this was only the begining of the fight and soon enough he saw them. A picked line and his enemy arrayed before him. Fifeteen wide and two abreast they held massive pikes with large bulbous ends, they slowed and interpossed shields. Behind them a score of peasant soldiers with large barreled guns who stod ready, waiting. Finally another five massive troopers, dressed in suits that turned them into walking machines. Madrak had heard stories about the Man-of-War. But he had yet to ever fight them. Behind them all he saw his objective. The hillcrest where the artillery had come from. A few men stood at its edge looking down. Probally spotters or other troops looking on the battle. As the armies stared eachother down Borka and Madrak took time to seperate to opposite ends of there line. They waited knowingly out of there enemies range and prepared themselves to enter the fray.

Reaikavon frowned. Far more of the Trollkin had made it through than expected. He was happy to see no sign of cavalry however, either they broke or were killed. Still, there absence made him nervous. "Reposition to fire," he yelled. The weapons on this hill were all positioned for extreme long range fire, only four hundred metres away his enemy were standing on his doorstep preparing to attack. Despite this, his probality of success was very high, all his troops were advantagously placed, his Kossites would be waiting in the bank of trees on the enemies flank. When there charge begins they would open fire and divert attetion from the front line. Reaikavon could sense the latent shifts in magic before him, he worried that he was giving his enemies to much time to prepare. Time to get this battle underway he thought, and he powered the Cortexes of his two Destroyers who waded into sight and lowered there cannons down the hill. At least these still work, he thought and opened fire.

Madrak and Borka had just reached seperate ends of there gathered army when the figures on the hill were joined by two black shadows that could only belong to khadoran warjacks. Two red bursts of flame from there hands and a group of shell impacts slew a champion instantly as they exloded on him with full force. Borka was first to retaliate, charging into battle hey yelled first to his keg carrier, and then his men to join him and he rushed towards the enemy. The wintertrolls bellowed and marched in as well. Madrak raised his axe and ran forward his champions joining him as he did his best to utilise his magic to defend them. He hurled his axe, his eyes watching carefully the Man-of-War soldiers he threw Rathrok but before it had fully left his hands a stinging pain surged through Madraks shoulder and the axe arced high and missed narrowly. Madrak turned and so did several others, a hail of arrow bolts and muzzle flashes revealed a secret attack. They were surrounded. The shield-walled infantry began to slowly advance towards the Trolls, there was no escape, if they ran backwards they would re-enter the firing range of the guns on the hill. Forward they faced a two score of well armed opposition. The warjacks still fired down on his men, there was little that Madrak could do than force the attack onwards and come back and kill these men later when the job was done.

Borka his the line first, two of his wintertrolls had been rushing full pelt to keep up, all his frontline was jubulant and enraged, Borka had a policy about dispensing libations in the midst of a fight to keep spirits high and blows strong. Trauma crushed the happless Khadoran in miliseconds his shield no defence against the crushing power of his mace. The Winterguard fired shots around him but they all missed Borka, another few trollkin rustled close and unleashed a trio of smoking blasts as there scatterguns flew over the line. When the dust had settled only two enemies had fallen. Borka waved his axe again and eight of the Ironfangs pared off to deal with him and his winter trolls one who was busy tearing apart one of the Winterguard who had wondered too close. Borka relished for a second before he felt the quick demise of one of his winter trolls. He turned after leveling another Ironfang to see it fall in the snow. A bank of shots coming from there flank. Curses, they resort to tricks and slink around in shame. Borka looked at the Pygmies he had bought along. Most had gotten right up into the fight, some were firing back at the Kossites in the forest or wrestling with the Winterguard unit but they were all full frontal facing down the enemy in hand to hand. The mighty champions who were fighting alongside Borka were falling as more concentrated fire from the Hill were punishing them, they relentlessly targeted them and Madraks group. Borka thought for a moment and seeing the hardship that the great chieftan was in, he reaffirmed his belief and reasons for coming here. Madrak fought on like a wildman, back to back with his Bouncer, he and the Kitkar had almost reached the Man-Of-War. A direct hit to his gut returned Borkas attention to the matter at hand. Borka could see the look in the Ironfangs eyes as Borka remained standing after the blow, which would have gutted any warjack and he restood unscathed. His other Wintertroll had felt the pain however and in anger let out an angry wave of Icy air in protest freezing and killing some more of his enemies. "This is for dead sons!" Borka yelled and headbutted his opponent crushing his skull.

Kithkar Jothlar wasnt sure if he was going to the right way, he had intended to emerge on the otherside of the mountain to which Madrak was rushing but this land was new to him. The terrain unpredicable and he had almost rode off a cliff in his haste. Abandoning that plan, the renewed sound of artillery fire and shout and screams of battle gave him a compass to follow. The powerful Bison brushed through the undergrouth, trampling scrub and leveling small trees as they past. Nothing seemed to stop them, and nothing ever would. He had seen too much loss, and he left the Scarsfel after realising that its leaders had no intrest in saving the precious lives of there race, insted concerned only for the wellbeing of the Scarsfel. Jothlar and his fellow riders were warriors and they could not stand by while Madrak and his kin thought tooth and nail against all the threats to there existance. Nothing would stop Jothlar today, not even the pale skinned humans hiding behind those trees over there shooting on the backs of trollkin warriors. They did not hear the rampaging bison before they were upon them, they rushed into there rear slicing and hacking apart human limbs like raw meat. Hunter became hunted and the Longriders broke onto the hillside and without breaking too much stride rushed forward into the arms of destiny.

The line quavered. Ironhide and Kegslayer saw the enemy falter and unleashed there powers in full. Borka cried out a drunken shout and he and his men flung ever single Ironfang head over heels onto the ground. Some were hurled through the air and landed in a heap or tripped up other troops fighting on the back rank. The entire shieldwall toppled over and broke. Trollkin muscle flexed and even the desperate Pygmies beat back the Winterguard with incredible force. Only the stoic shieldwalled Man of War stood and they weathered all opposition, even from Brom's crushing axe. Madrak would not deny himself total victory and he readied himself and his body to . He crashed into the first warrior slaying him instantly, cleaving through Iron and flesh before landing a blow upon another and another. Rathrok screamed as its tortured metal, driven by Madraks magically surged muscles broke each one of the Elite Man-Of-War before but one was standing. Madrak took the blow from his anihilator halberd to his flesh and tasted the sensation of pain before he executed a final blow to his squat head that killed the suits operator. Madrak looked around. Half of his own men were dead or critically wounded on the ground, but all the enemy had been defeated. The last few survivors were a band of winterguard who fled towards the Warjacks posted on top of the hill. There fire had gone silent as Madrak wiped the blood from his face.

Kommander Reaikavon did not know what had happened. Only a few moments ago everything was going fine, his enemy was held at bay. His flanking force had cut off all retreat and he from his hill was delivering punished fire on those bellow. Then the enemy Cavalry had burst from the trees killing all of his Kosites, what looked like a Trollkin beast wielding a giant mace and his lackeys threw the entire line of Ironfangs against eachother. The Winterguard broke and fled and the enemy leader had single handedly slew every single last Man-of-War. What was worse his Destroyers had run out of ammo, and the Winterguard were busy hoisting more bombard shells into the cannons to fire again. One of the Winterguard fire teams had run to his side, he had also seen the battle and knew there was no escape from this hill. "Orders Kommander?" he said stoicly, only the slightist hint of panic in his voice. Only a handful of soldiers and support crew stod by Reaikavon and his battlegroup that would be all there was to fight. Most of the artillery up here was useless now. He had clearly underestimated the enemies strength and he knew full well it would be a fight to the death. Surrender would not be an option. But that descion would not be his to make.

Lost in his own thoughts, Reaikavon did not anticipate the strength of the throw of Jor, the Trollblood Impaler. The Spear flew through the air against the battering winds and the slammed just beneath the feet of the Destroyer. Clumps of rock and stone flew to the air and then all went calm. Then, a loud crack and fissure errupted at the feet of the construct and an entire section of the mountain gave way. The vibrations from firing there bombard cannons nad the Madrak while healing his own wounded limped towards the mountain where the Destroyers stood idle. He