The Battle of Manling Fields part 4.

Imperiled on the right most flank the numerically diminished thunderers watched a large body of ratmen approach. The chattering calls from the foul skaven deriding the good-dwarves families, culture and dwafhood filled the arquebus-dwarves with contempt and each resigned to take as many as they could with them to their graves.

A staccato sound from whirling blades filled the air and a great down draft sent beards swirling as though in a great wind. With a loud whooshing a torrent of super heated steam shoot out from the sky deep into the skaven ranks. The smell of foul cooked meat assailed the waiting  thunderers as ranks of skaven were scalded to their dooms. Grinning with satisfaction and relief the dwarves shot their fire arms at close range into the screaming mass. It was too much for the surviving rodents who turned tail and fled the musks of fear and panic hanging heavy in the air mixing with the acrid tang of black powder and the nauseating smell of cooked rat flesh.

Hats were thrown into the air as the sooty faced dwarves cheered their deliverance. The gyrocopter pilot rocked his craft and saluted in acknowledgement  before flying off with new found purpose. 

In the center Lord Brouhaha watched with mounting pleasure as he saw his right flank hold and then repel the drawing danger. "Yes, yes!" he cried, hope sprang anew and opportunities seamed to present themselves. Small Daniels mad dash for safety had left the hulking rat ogres perilously exposed and with several blasts from his musicians horn the clansmen were ordered to charge.

With a great thud the diminutive heroes crashed into the great bones and sinew of the rat ogres, axes bit, claws swiped and although pushed back the Clan Moulder giants held.

To the left the troll slayers proceeded to work themselves up into a frenzy, madly striding towards  a second group of rat ogres.

The Rat warlords unit surged forward sensing that a decisive attack was needed now, or all would be lost. Warpstone shot rang out over his head as further brave dwarven warriors fell to the evil firearms. A spell aimed at breaking the legs of the great Lord Brouhaha wound it's way toward the Dwarven Lord. With the grim determination only found in the sons of stone and steel Brouhaha shook off the effects and would not allow his body to be dictated to by mere arcane power. "Fire," he shouted and crossbows and bolt throwers launched their missiles at the rat swarm. The in a surge of steam powered might the gyrocopter flew, low to the ground in a fast daring drive. Steam erupted once more from the machine, engulfing the main swarm in the deadly surge of scalding death. The combined effect was once more a moral breaking blow. The warlords champion fell along with many other vermin souls even as there litter brothers fled.

With little hope for survival much less victory what rats remained also dissipated away. On these muddy fields the tide had been turned, Lord Brouhaha's hold was safe once more. At least  for several seasons.