The Orange Tide

[Lefty 1696]

 

 

 

“Soon the Norlandic swine will learn the consequences of their honourless ways. A dwarf never forgets a grudge.”

-          Grand King Bastion Ireheart to his soldiers upon the eve of the Battle of Blódskogr, 1608

 

 

The Battle of Blódskogr

 

The dwarven cavalry charging into the Dauðurmenn forest, circa 1608

 

Amidst a quiet evergreen forest, a long line of Norlandic infantrymen gathered at the foot of a makeshift barricade, axes and pikes at the ready as they awaited the inevitable onslaught that was about to begin. The hour was late, yet it was upon this battlefield that their fate would be decided. Surrounding them a gentle wind blew through the tall trees of Dauðurmenn, its soft melody a serene reminder of what these lands had once been.

 

Within moments however, all thoughts of a life before the war were met with an abrupt and uncourteous end as the harrowing sound of a steady drum beat filled the air, each stroke more strident than the last.  Murmurs filled the Norlandic ranks as they looked to one another for orders, a stone cold chill filling the air. It was there that from among the far horizon, an orange tide of Urguanite banners filled the distant treeline. Amidst their ranks, dwarves of all clans and creed adorned in the dark iron armour of the dwarven Legion, joined alongside by their orcish and Teutonic allies marching onwards to meet their Norlandic foes in battle. Meanwhile, silent and observant in the night sky above, a luminous stream of moonlight shone its gaze upon the battlefield, a sure sign that Dungrimm, the Guardian of the Dead, had granted his blessing to the sons of Urguan,  following their sacrificial offering the previous morn.

 

“VELANNAK” the Grand Marshal Oyvind Frostbeard barked, as the ironclad dwarves begun to charge forth into the fray.  With that single order, the iron might of the dwarven Legion came crashing down upon the Norlandic battlements. The axeman tightened ranks as their archers let loose arrows, piercing the night air like steel through flesh. Alas, their efforts were not enough. The sheer might of the dwarven Legion had prevailed in breaking apart the Norlandic lines, dwarves, orcs and humans clambering over the bodies of their fallen foes as they bound forward to deliver the wrecking blow.

 

Meanwhile from the flanks of the Norlandic force, a great horde of dwarves sat saddled upon an amassing of wild boar. With the deafening sound of a dwarven war horn, the boar were signalled to charge, immediately darting forward and striking into the side of the Norlandic infantry, clouds of dust and dirt in their wake. The remaining axeman stood surrounded as the cavalry encircled their dwindling force, helpless to act as the boarmen let loose crossbow bolts that soared towards their enemy’s ranks. The screams of Norlandic men could be heard from afar, blood streaming into the soil as the last of their kin were cut down one by one by the vast horde of dwarven, orcish and Teutonic infantry.

 

As the dwarven army swept through the forest, their martial prowess once more shown on the battlefield for the first time since the fall of the Holy Orenian Empire, a realisation set in. A resounding victory and with it, a message to all who would dare to stand against them. The sons of Urguan would not kneel, nor would they forget the deeds of oathbreakers.

 

Upon their return to the dwarven heartland, the legionnaires were met with a hero’s welcome. They and their allies feasted to their victory, on the finest assortment of food and ale from across the lands. Bards sung songs of their exploits and poets sat hard at work on their accounts of the day.

Yet within the bowels of the dwarven capital, no songs were sung, no mead was drained. For feasts and celebration did not sit upon the minds of the Grand King and his council. For they, only war and preparation of what the coming siege would bring.

 

Spoiler

 

 

[Ioannis 1480]

"Narvak oz Urguan! Nevah forget Avar!" yells Frerir Ironginder and laughs as he remembers that he didnt even have time to reach the enemy before all the Norlanders were slain in minutes.

[Gump 115]

"Fer Mythdort!" High Consul Grumbis Frostbeard screams as he throws all his alchfire into the crowd of men

[DrakeHaze. 2524]

"Oorah!" shouts OrdenMarschall Tarkus of the Teutonic Order

[wolfdwg 2677]

"REMEBAH AVAH!" shouts a rather proud Skarg Ireheart as he ran his lance, delivering the first blow in the massacre that was a battle.

[MagicMonkey_ 30]

"Haha, Their men were hiding in trees!" laughs Giman Grandaxe, As he slams his mug on the table, ale spilling out.

[Guest Guest]

The High Prophet wipes his battleaxe of the kingslayers' blood and rejoices for the grand victory. It is clear that the Admiral's sacrifice to Dungrimm was not in vain. Very few dwed fell to the tide of battle but many of the enemy met the axe. The battle was truly blessed by the Guardian of Death and for that we praise and thank him. It is now obvious that Dungrimm enjoys grand sacrifices and we should make offerings before all battles in the future. I thank and pray for the valiant dwed who attended this grand ceremony. 

 

Praise Edward Blackrook for is honorable sacrifice!

 

[MangoArt 399]

"T'ey ran agh hid like cowardz dey did! Mi cut dem ub like uld meat! Mi'z peep'd zheep put ub hozha klompz! Agh ad leazt zheep nub run agh hide in treez! Zkahurz!" Chek'Lur rambled on about the state of the Norlandic forces, sharing many a battle story and showing his only scar from the battle- a tiny one on his pinkie.

[LordCommander 163]

Gathered with his fellow Ag'Karak, Thond Doomforged enjoyed watching the remains of the Norland forces give their final effort, a moment passes when he hears begging near him, as looked down and found a Norland soldier, with their leg shattered. This was not a brave warrior of Norland, and his weakness disgusted the Dark Dwarf. Thond handed his shield over to one of the surviving Doomforged soldiers with him and took his Maul in both hands as he brought it down upon the poor lad's ribs, silencing his pleads with the shattering of his bones. "T'is be a day of Reckonin' Umri, no time for mercy, for dere must be wrongs to right and grudges to settle wit' deh weight of me Hammer...Dormmar grant us strength" 

[Zezimus 1523]

Staring silently across the aftermath of the battlefield, crows picking at the corpses of the dead, Wulfgar strides forward, kneeling himself gently aside the body of one of his fallen comrades. Signing a hammer and anvil across the centre of his chest, he closes the dwarf's eyes, whispering a prayer in the ancient dwarven tongue to the goddess, Anbella. Turning thereafter to saddle his wild boar, he raises his war axe into the air, the sun's glare piercing its blood soaked iron.

 

"Dungrimm 'as blessed us t'is day. T'e toime for a reckonin' 'as begun."

[Hiebe 2493]

Dwain Irongut is seem going corpse to corpse looking for the few dwed that did fall. He finds one here and there, he opens the massive book he carries and adds them to the list of grudges. Their deaths to be made right only with the destruction of Nordland

[Rammer 388]

"Dwarves ride into battle on boars?" Ian inquires to no one in particular upon seeing the depection of the previous battle

[Dreek 1633]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.