Lord Brouhaha watched impatiently as the war machines and missile troops of his war band took up position and the gyrocopter probed the vermin flanks. Those rats were fast, he wanted lead and steel tipped shafts raining down on them as soon as possible but he held his tongue. More haste less speed he reminded himself, a dwarf may do a job slowly but it is done efficiently and only needs doing once.
Just then as if to taunt him from a hill beyond the Skaven lines came the crack of firing weapons. Infernal machines spat wapstone death and several warriors in the Lords own retinue fell from the mortal coil into the welcoming arms of their ancestors. To the right many more of the red coated clansmen met a similar doom. Loosing all patients Lord Brouhaha shouted, “get roaring Mug firing or I’ll be loading it with your heads!”
The rats were getting ever closer and, ”BOOM!” the dwarven great cannon, it’s lips licked by flame and soot shot a great iron ball straight at the vermin lines. It tore through the lumbering form of a rat ogre as though it were paper and bursting through the largest rat unit scattered so many rat to the four winds. Roaring Mug had spoken.
Agnetha and Anni-Frid join the hum of their harp like bow strings to the throaty roar of the cannon even as the crossbows sung as the choir. Bolts large and small ripped through the rat swarm dwindling the Rat leader’s pack to roughly half its size. A vast arcane totem spread resolve into the thumping hearts of the skaven, they held when they should have run. To the right the thunderers opened up at extreme range but only a single rat on the flank fell.
On came the hoard as fast as ever. The warpstone once more shot across the battle field this time smashing into the ranks of thunderers reducing them to half strength in the blink of an eye. The refused flank now look in peril of being caught and turned.
Concern now filled Lord Broughaha’s heart. He called to the clans men to reposition themselves, to turn to present a threat towards the right flank. The on rush of rats was so fast, they would be here soon. “Fire!” he shouted to the cannon once more. The gunners obeyed. They had not had time to bring up enough water to quench Roaring Mug, nor to measure out the accurate loads of powder they normally used. They just obeyed guessing the charge and ramming the ball down the hot barrel. The bombardier touched his match to the fire hole and in a ball of flame Roaring Mug exploded.