Torglug managed with difficulty to extricate his forces from the ruined city. He had given up on the idea of capturing the Grungni and was now headed straight towards Feceious Bladderspew. He had another idea.
As they made their way through the misty forest a whispering filled the air. Thick, green iridescent clouds filled the air and as they moved through the trees they coalesced into a thick soup.
His men disappeared as they moved closer to the trees and sometimes when they reemerged into sight their were fewer of them.
The very air was unnerving.
When they came across the Sigmarites it was down right distressing.
The Plague Lord ordered an attack across the entire line, Mortanis had summoned Plague Drones and Torglug held them in reserve.
The fighting was brutal and both sides were losing forces.
Among the Stormcast forces the dwarfs moved and Torglug saw Grungi.
Here at last was their prey. If they could get he could pull out of this accursed land.
He looked about him and, amidst the swirling clouds, as they cleared he could only see his men engaged in combat, a brutal grinding combat that left both sides depleted.
He smashed another dwarf with his axe, the blade splitting the orange Mohawk as neatly in half as the skull beneath it, he looked up as light descended on his line from the left.
A swarm of prosecutors, their hammers smashing his men aside, was all he needed to tell him that the game was up.
His muffled below could barely be heard over the sounds of battle but it didn't need to be, as those troops near him pulled back, the rest, where they could see them, eagerly took up the retreat. Many more would disappear in the uncanny mist before they would reach safety.
The Bladderspew would not be a weapon he would be able to wield in this war.
enjoys painting Demonworld figures.
