The War Machine's gunnery crew scrambled to get their rotary musket firing, and Rokdar left them to their devices. He knew sod all about machinery, and only had a limited knowledge of guns. His axe was the only tool he ever needed, and trying to get the gunnery crew to hurry up might create a nasty accident. Aye, it was best Rokdar stuck to what he knew. 

"C'mon lads!" Rokdar roared, his voice getting hoarse. "Let's clear this bloody beach!" 

Rokdar's regiment had formed a vague semicircle, about fifty yards ahead of the steamer that had carried them. In their wake, they left a carpet of slain Orcs, mingled here and there with the bloodied bodies of their own kinsmen. It was hard work, moving over corpses, strike up at an enemy almost twice your size, and trying not to succumb to exhaustion. The Orcs were starting to relent though, and their charges were becoming sporadic and slow. They were realising that the Dwarves out matched them, at least on the beach. 

Rokdar looked down the line, and saw the steam-tanks ploughing into the midst of the horde. Orcs clung to their sides, trying to climb up to the gunnery platform, only to be shot down by those who defended it. In the gaps the steam-tanks had created, surged pockets of Dwarves, plaguing the Orcish rear and doing terrible things to their morale. 

An Orc's spear glided off Rokdar's helmet, and smashed into the chest of one less fortunate. Rokdar snarled, and looked behind the shoulder of the Orc he was facing, to see anther clutching an armful of those blasted shafts, and grinning menacingly. 

"Aye," Rokdar spat, "I'll be havin' yer for that!" 

The first Orc swung a sword at Rokdar, but the wily Dwarven veteran used his shoulder to bear the brunt of the strike, dulling the blade on the scales of his armour. It hurt, and would leave a bruise, but the impact failed to rock him. In response, Rokdar swung his axe hard. The Orc raised his shield, but the axe tore it into splinters, and took the Orc's hand in the process. The creature screamed, gnashing its teeth, and rattled out some curses that Rokdar didn't quite understand. Rokdar finished it, by repeating his swing, and as the Orc fell backwards, his comrade with the spears made another attempt. The spear smacked into Rokdar's chest, and was shattered by the hardness of the scales, but it winded him. Rokdar fell to his knees, coughing and spluttering.

"Too old for this shite," he wheezed. 

The Orc dashed forwards, levelling another spear point for Rokdar's throat. Rokdar though, was a Dwarf of resourcefulness, and he his left hand fell to his waist and pulled forth Heart Breaker, his ornate pistol. Heart Breaker had been given to Rokdar a century ago, after he won the King's Tournament. It was a relic by today's standards, with a an effective accuracy of ten feet and an often want to jam. On the plus side, the obsidian primer it used kept the charge dry. You could drop the thing in a bucket of water, and it'd still work. 

He aimed at the Orc, just as it thrust its spear forwards, and pulled the trigger. There was an explosion, and smoke blinded Rokdar. He couldn't see the Orc, but its spear wasn't forthcoming, so he assumed the best. His ears were ringing, and his hearing blacked in and out. There would be the intense sound of combat for a few seconds, and then nothing, and then more chaos. It gave him a headache, but he fought past it. 

He suddenly became aware that there were no more Orcs in front of him, and the Dwarves to his left and right were cheering. He looked around, and saw similar things happening down the line. The Orcs were pulling back, but they weren't done. A new Orcish battle line was forming in front of their catapults - many of them scorched timbers, courtesy of the steamers' cannons - and some hulking great bastard, maybe 8 feet tall, riding some even bigger wolf, was galloping up and down the new line, bellowing commands. 

"Aye, that be their Chieftain," Rokdar muttered. "I wonder if our cannons are wise enough to knock him out of the fight."

And then all of the beached steamers ignited into flame and smoke, releasing an earth shattering thunder. The front of the new Orcish line exploded into pillars of sand, red mist and body parts. 

"That's our cue, lads," Rokdar wheezed, doing what he could to catch his breath. He truly was too old for this. "Let's get 'em!" 

The Dwarven charge was slow; the men exhausted from fighting to establish a beach head. It didn't matter though, because the new Orc battle line - or what was left of it - was already buckling. Just one more mighty hammer blow, and Blood Bay would be theirs!