by Steve "queek" Houghton
Winter's grip still clung to the land, in the North of the Empire, under the eaves of the Forest of Shadows. The night was cold and windy, clouds scudding across the sky obscuring both moons and most of the stars. The men on night watch in the hamlet of Bündockstein were less than happy about their duty, staying close to the guard post and its small wood-stove instead of making the circuit of the palisades.
Bündockstein was a small outpost, surrounded by a wooden fence. The gate was shut against the night, for it had been a winter of evil omen, with word of many foul things roaming the forests that surrounded the hamlet. A handful of houses, what passed for an inn, a stables and a run-down temple to Sigmar were not much, but it was the largest such place for many leagues. By the stables, a trio of wagons were laagered, one a high-sided Kislev version. The wagoners, a hard-bitten group of trappers and woodsmen from the Ostland/Kislev border, were spending the night in the stables, having found it freer of vermin than the sleeping rooms of the inn. Also, the Kislev guards preferred to be close to their precious horses.
Deiter was the youngest of the militia on the watch, so it was he that was sent out to patrol the fence, while the more senior men stayed close to the stove. The wind made for strange noises and the clouds for shifting shadows, so Deiter was feeling jumpy. "Its just the wind" he kept telling himself, "its just the wind." A scrabbling noise caused him to start. "Its only branches against the palisade" he thought, and took another step forward. "Wait! There is no brush against the palisades, they were clear for a bowshot around the town!" Deiter spun around, and screamed as the dark shape landed a few steps away. Beastman! The evil thing landed heavily, but swiftly recovered and thrust its spear at the stunned watchman. The blow was mostly turned by Deiter's ox-hide buffcoat. Deiter made a clumsy thrust with his spear, which the Beast dodged. A second Beastman dropped from the sky, landing on Deiter and smashing him to the ground. His death-scream as the spear pierced his back roused the watch.
The guards at the gate reacted swiftly, the Sergeant ringing the alarm bell and yelling orders, several men clambering up to the palisades with freshly kindled torches, others heading towards where Deiter lay dead. The men at the gates beheld a scene from their worst nightmares. The night seemed alive with bestial forms, charging across the cleared area towards the gate. Massive creatures the size of horses galloped around the palisades, tossing smaller Beastmen up and over the sharpened logs to land inside the defenses. Above the gate, hastily aimed crossbow bolts had little effect as the creatures closed with frightening speed. Several huge Beastmen, armed with axes, began chopping at the gate, while others jabbed at the defenders with spears or held shields to cover the axe-beasts.
As the townsfolk stumbled out of their houses, struggling to don boots or clothing, they were met by Ungors dashing through the town, hurling firepots at the buildings and cutting down the townsfolk as they met them. One man was cut down on his doorstep by a Beastman. His wife slammed a iron pan onto the head of the Gor, but the blow landed on its horns. With a braying laugh, the beast shattered the women's pelvis with its mace, and left her to scream her life away next to her mate. Adding to the clamor of battle, the bell at the temple pealed through the night, the old priest pulling the bell-rope and yelling prayers at the top of his lungs, waving an incense burner as a lantern to bring the people to him.
The wagoners, veterans of the wilds, were fully clothed with weapons at hand when the alarm was raised. They ran for their wagons, and began to pour archery fire into the Beastmen running amok in the town square. The Ostland headman and two of his men clambered up into the high-sided wagon, and from their vantage point, drew a bead on the larger Beastmen that were beginning to come over the palisades. Their hunting rifles were deadly accurate, and Gor after Gor were toppled as they came over the wall.
Despite the surprise assault, it looked like the defense might hold. The Ostland and Kislev archers, firing from behind their wagons, were picking off the Ungors, allowing more and more of the awakened townsfolk to gather at the temple, and keeping them away from the defenders at the gate. At point blank range, the gate wardens crossbows were more accurate, and the men stabbed out at the attackers with spears, slowing the assault. The sergeant ran forward with his blunderbuss, poked it through a gap in the gate, and fired, sending a rain of scrap and shot thru the packed Beastman before the gate. More of the town militia ran for the gate, or grappled with the Beastmen that had avoided the arrows of the Northerners.
Suddenly, a mighty bellow split the night, and with a shattering crash, part of the palisades split apart. A huge Minotaur staggered through the breach, followed by a pack of armored Beastmen, lead by a mighty chieftain. They fell upon the defenders of the gate from the rear, and none could stand before them. The Sergeant caught one Beast in the throat with the spike of his halberd, and then cut down another with the axe-blade, before he was hacked to pieces. More Beastmen, and several of the huge centaur-like creatures came in through the opened gate. The Minotaur was dazed from the impact of his charge, shaking its massive head, and bellowing its war call. Across the square, the Northerners turned as one, leveling bows and handguns at the massive beast. Their aim was true, arrows sprouting from the chest and shoulders, lead balls smacking wetly into its neck. With a last gurgle, the bull-man toppled forward.
The Chieftain of the Beasts surveyed the battlefield and brayed out his orders. The massive Gor was armored in rune-encrusted iron, a mighty axe in each paw. Fresh scalps hung at his belt, some hair, some beards. The newly arrived Beastmen moved cautiously forward against the Northerners and their wagons, while he and his bodyguards faced the temple and the old men, youths and women that cowered behind the old priest. One of the big centigors staggered up to the priest, a empty wineskin hanging from one hand, a spear in the other. The priest screamed out Sigmars name and swung the incense burner. The heavy burner smashed into the side of the creature's head, stunning the beast and buckling its front legs. The second swing of the burner smashed in its skull, shattering the burner and scattering sparks and embers about the body. From behind the Chieftain, a hunched figure, wearing hooded robes daubed with evil runes stepped forth. It shook a staff, rattling with bones and fetishes, and a cloud of dark energy boiled forth and rolled towards the priest. The priest raised his hands in the sign of the Hammer, and as the creeping energy reached the body of the centigor, it kindled as it touched the embers of the incense, and vanished in a burst of flame. The Shaman cursed and shook its staff, summoning more evil sorcery. The energy was palpable, like an chill wind down the spine. Across the square, the Ostland jeager slid the flash pan over on his double-barreled rifle, and took careful aim. The lead ball struck the Shaman just under the ear, dead center in the curl of its horns. Uncontrolled, the dark energy flared up and away as the Shaman crumpled.
The Chieftain screamed in rage, and waved his troops forward. The two remaining Centigors barreled towards the wagons, spears leveled. The leading Centigor took an arrow in the throat and crumpled to the ground, but the second closed to a few yards, and hurled a throwing spear that caught the Jeager in the chest. As the Centigor wheeled away from the wagons, one of the Ostlanders rolled under the wagon wheels and fired an arrow into the Centigor's haunch, and as the Centigor pulled up lame, another of the Northerners put an arrow into its ribs. Behind the Centigors, a wave of Beastmen charged the wagons, and the Northerners were quickly beset by superior numbers, desperately fighting off the Gors with their axes. One of the Kislev archers drew a knife and leapt off the wagon at a Gor, who caught the Kislevite on its horns, gutting him. The weight of the body dragged the Gor down, and an axe-blow severed its head.
The Chieftain glared at the Priest, and in guttural Reikspiel swore to flay the flesh from his bones. The massive Beastman advanced on the temple, and brayed out orders to the beasts at the gate to fall on the huddled civilians. However, the war cries from that quarter were not what the Chieftain expected. Instead, a chorus of baritone voices, cold as granite and hard as iron called out: "Khazuk! Khazukan Kazakit-ha! Khazuk! Khazuk!"
The Beast-chief whirled, and beheld a handful of Dwarves, clad in hunter green and browns, hacking down the Beastmen at the gate with their great-axes. In moments, they had cleared a path to the Chieftain and his bodyguards. The Chieftain brayed a challenge, and stepped towards the Dwarves. The leader of the Rangers barked a command, and as one, the Dwarves reached behind their backs, grasped throwing axes and hurled them underhand at the Beast-Chief. The franciscas bit deep in thigh and stomach, and the Beast-Chief staggered to a halt, looking dumb-founded at the weapons embedded in his flesh. The leader of the Dwarves, francisca cocked overhead, pointed towards the scalps at the Beast-Chief's belt. "I'll be having my brothers beard back" the Dwarf growled, and hurled his axe into the Beast-Chief's forehead.
The priest, seeing the fall of the Beastman leader, shouted Sigmar's name to the skies and pointed towards the beasts surrounding their fallen leader. "In Sigmar's Holy Name, smite the beasts!" The towns folk swept forward, wielding pitchforks, kitchen knives, staves and weapons gathered from the fallen. The wizened priest snatched up a hammer from a fallen townsman, a small mallet meant for working leather. Yet, the priest, Sigmar's name upon his lips, crushed skulls left and right as if he was wielding the Emperors' Hammer. The townsfolk, youths, elders and women, cut down the Beast-Chief's bodyguard as they stood amazed at the attack, and swept forward into the beasts attacking the wagons. Beset from the rear, and facing the dogged determination of the remaining Northerners, the beasts quailed, and scattered. As they ran for the gate, they met a thin line of Dwarf Rangers, axes at the ready. Few indeed were the Beasts that made it back to the forest surrounding the hamlet, and mighty was the pile of the fallen.
Dawn broke, crisp and cold, as smoke drifted over the hamlet of Bündockstein. A massive pyre burned, charring the bodies of the beasts that had been slain. The remaining townsfolk, belongings on their back, left the battered hamlet for the towns of the South, too few to remain, too proud to leave ought behind but the memorial to the fallen. In the Spring before the Storm, a victory for the Light, yet Darkness still remained under the eaves of the Forests of Shadows.