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Nezor and his regiment stood on the soot-crusted outcropping near the Daemon's Stump. Cracks of red lightning from above made him shift from foot to foot as he held his blunderbuss at port arms.

And then he saw them, coming down the black, polluted river. Dozens of ships of all shape and size, a more ramshackle navy than had ever been seen, being to crawl through the thick bile that passed for water here.

He gulped as a snotling pulled on his greaves. Reflex was to punch the snotling and hurl him into the deathly toxic waters, but he held back for a second.

"Maaaster! Maaaster! Look down dere... dee ratties comin' on dee banks of dee reever..." Nezor turned to where the stump of the snotling's finger pointed. Hundreds of silhouetted black forms skittered through the burnt trees and scraps of rock and metal.

The Skaven were here, and the Dawi Zharr were awaiting them. Hobgoblins with bows hid in every crag, every rock, and the Dawi Zharr warriors arrayed out in a defensive half-circle around the Daemon's Stump.

Nezor jumped as he heard the thunder of Deathrockets hurtling off their launch sticks. Twelve missiles streaked for the lead Skaven battle barge, and as they hit, the gigantic wooden monstrosity cracked and began to tip.

Hundreds of Skaven dove into the water, not knowing it would choke them and they would die there. Nezor grinned with satisfaction - battle was upon them.

Ranks of enslaved humans, goblins, and other skaven pushed through first, being whipped and stabbed by bandaged, grizzled handlers. Nezor awaited the command...

"Attaaaaack! bellowed the Lord, a man with a towering helm and a beard that stretched down to the dirt. Nezor bellowed in agreement over the belch of his blunderbuss.

He had aimed for a large slave handler - he had a bandaged snout and a long whip of chain. A spray of blood ejected as the minie ball cracked Skaven skull.

Nezor knelt and took out his powder bag. Slinking more powder into the gun, he put in the projectile - a spiked ball this time - and rammed it in well. He yanked one of the pre-cut lengths of fuse he kept in his teeth, and laid it into the gun.

The Skaven were in the lines now - Hobgoblin, goblin and Orc gits were exploding from the Dawi Zharr lines to be cut down the by elite Stormvermins.

Nezor hit a torch and lit the fuse. The ball took down a Skaven Stormvermin, pleasing Nezor muchly. As the Clanrats and their Stormvermin vanguard came closer, the blunderbuss unit was ordered to draw axe.

With no place to retreat, the Dawi Zharr gunners would fight their way to the side of the field. Nezor strapped his blunderbuss behind his back and pulled a hobgoblin knife and a small Dwarven throwing axe.

One Clanrat with a pitchfork stabbed at him. He dodged the rusty thing and slashed with the knife, and embedded the axe in th Skaven's rodent head. As he was trying to pull it out, a towering shape emerged from behind the escarpment at the river bend.

A giant siege tower on twenty wheels, in effigy of a rat with horns, rolled along, pulled by dozens of towering Rat Ogres. In the eyesockets were two hideous bells being rang by slaves. Nezor blinked, oblivious, and watched the monstrosity as the clanrat's scimitar whipped closer...

great job bill i like the use of the skaven navy. the blunderbuss kick butt to

Yep. The CDs eventually win, though Nezor isn't around to see it.

Great fluff left me wanting more

There is. This is prequel. Anmin gets so pissed his son is dead he leaves Zharr Naggrund and goes crazy on the mastermind behind the Skaven attack.

Which isn't a Skaven. At all. ^_^ Wait and see.. you'll be totally surprised.

Nice fluff there. Waiting with baited breath for more.

- Tallhat

I'm working on it as we speak. Well, sorta. Sadly enough, schoolwork comes before fluff. >.<

Hashut Says: "Service to me > a good, wealthy future of college and family."

get the homework done bill .We want to here more.

Trust, you wills. Now for part 2, of Nezor son Of Anmin, Dawi Zharr Warrior. (Isn't as long, but meh.)

Anmin Tintongue roared a phlegm-laced denial at the news. Nezor was dead. Pierced by a Clanrat's blade. The battle at Daemon's Stump was over, and the Dawi Zharr bastions had held.

Anmin hurled an axe at the nearest goblin slave. It cracked the skull of the warted green thing and dropped it in a pool of gore. He grabbed the axe again, and kicked the gothic door open.

The earthen and steel defenses of Gash Kadrak, the last mountain stronghold on the River Ruin before reaching Zharr Naggrund, were being readied. Thousands of savage orcs and Dawi Zharr moved into trenches. On the foothills he heard the angry taming cries of Hellcannon crewmen.

Hobgoblin war machines of all descriptions were being set up, bolt throwers and defensive siege towers anchored into specially-dug bunker pits, as a mighty sorceror's chants echoed down from the Peak of Power.

Anmin smiled darkly as the Skaven horde approached. A Hellfire Battle Barge sat like an iron rock in the sludgy River Ruin outside of Gash Kadrak. Anmin unslung his axe as the rats approached.

(To be continued. Yes, Gash Kadrak and the River Ruin are real places. I are have the map!)

MORE MORE MORE !! You got us hooked bill

Anmin Tintongue had the blood of the clanrats splayed across his armor in layers. He leaned on the haft of his axe and surveyed the field. Hundreds of savage orcs and Dawi Zharr pocked the sea of dead Skaven.

But suddenly... the sea of dead Skaven began to ripple. Corpses without heads or limbs began to push themselves up. Savage orcs grunted and howled at the abomination, and many fled. Anmin did not even turn to see it, he merely flicked his hand into the air; a blunderbuss line turned on heel and shot every Orc dead.

No more deserted that day.

The zombified Skaven left him perturbed - but he dared not let his men see. The death of his son had left him rattled enough. He looked over at the wreckage of a "Screaming Bell" device, heretical to Hashut, Anmin mused, to see a figure in robes with a flashing warpstone staff and a large tome.

Anmin's brow furrowed - the figure was too short to be a Skaven, and much too stocky. As the dead began to rise in more numbers, the hobgoblin, savage orc and Dawi Zharr corpses in addition,the figure turned ominously and strode into a cloud of smoldering ash.

The dead moved closer and closer as the blunderbussiers discharged fire into them. Anmin bellowed in a rankled tone as his exhausted soldiers began to re-form shoddy ranks. Hobgoblins reassembled their bolt throwers, and the enigmatic sorceror returned to chant his spells.

-Time passes-

It had been a short fight. Short and bloody. The Dawi Zharr had to retreat all the way back to Zharr Naggrund in shame. Anmin's head was held low as he walked the steps to the Sorceror's Council. As he passed row after row of unflinching, unmoving Bull Centaurs, he entered the highest tip, so far, of Zharr Naggrund.

Behind the council, slaves toiled and carted stones forever upward; the 547th level of the great step of Zharr Naggrund was well underway.

The sorcerors' eyes burned across his body. Anmin mused it was some foul magicks, but he knew the feeling was just his own shame.

"Explain, General Tintongue. Explain to me how the rats defeated you so quickly. So soundly!" one sorceror began to hoot in a hoarse, rasping growl. "Ghauzak! Bring me a Skaven!" he hissed to an aide, who walked briefly to the construction and wrestled an emaciated Skaven back to the council.

"Explain, Tintongue, how this conquered one of Zharr Naggrund's best generals!"

Anmin inhaled deeply, and attempted for an explanation to leave his lips, but all that came out was, "It was my error..."

Another, less brash sorceror piped up, "Oh, that was never in question, Anmin Tintongue."

The other sorceror, clearly irritated by the fact Anmin was not simply fed alive to the slaves and business then proceeding as normal, tilted his wrinkled head and scrutinized Anmin. "Our...ah, contacts tell us there was another. A general... who was not Skaven. Find him. The hobgoblins report he was headed to the coast. Bring back his head, or do not bother to come back at all. Now, leave me, and gather half of your minimum command."

Anmin bowed curtly and proceeded down the steps. He was all but dead if he did not come back with this warlord's head. He closed his eyes, and thought about how life was so nice for him before today. It was then he realized the human-made pistol in his belt.

It was single-shot, and elegantly engraved with wood stocking and gold sigils of the human emperor. Nezor had taken this from his first kill with a blunderbuss, two years prior. He looked, and saw the projectile was still inside. Anmin vowed there that this bullet would kill whoever orchestrated the raid that killed his son.

wow he like capten jack sparrow.

This is great I need MORE.

awesome fanfic/fluff loving the mention of real places (I have my ideas as to what is leading the attack, but how come they have skaven?, though i'm probably just off the mark)