In her deep slumber, her consciousness was brought down into the depths of her soul where the spirits resided. "Aah, I never thought that you'd meet the legendary Denmother, my child." The five said in unison as the clambered onto Fariha's 'body'. As usual, the five spirits moved and spoke as one, which to Fariha was kind of amusing. The Five wore the form of small human forms the size of one's hand; these forms were vague with little to no detail other than their colours and large white eyes.
"To encounter and even sleep upon such a figure brings great joy to us spirits and it will bring great fortune to you and your clan. Consider yourself blessed." they continued in a happy tone, her eyes flicking to each of the spirits, responding with a warm, cheerful smile.

A strange sensation flowed through the elf's body, the spirits shivered slightly as it passed.
"We have entered the rift. It's time to wake up now, child." They said simply, sending her consciousness back to the surface.

---

Fariha woke up with a start as the Lupine shook her. She immediately grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow out of instinct, aiming it around the her in a frenzy. The circles on her hand lit up once more, washing a pale aura over her. She blinked a few times, loosening the tension on her string. The young elf looked at Grendrick, feeling quite embarrassed, "U-uhh, sorry? haha.." She responded awkwardly as she hopped down from the Denmother. She really wanted to go back to sleep, but she fought the urge to climb back on and do so. There was work to do. She probably wouldn't be able to anyway, with the strong smell of death and Skaven around.

The wood elf quietly listened to the Lupine's plan. It was sound.. Or at least in her opinion. She watched the Lupine charge only to stop and let out a mighty howl, one that even the bravest of hunters couldn't withstand. Had Grendrick been her enemy, she may have paralysed in fear. She closed her eyes and braced herself as if wading through harsh winds, calming her mind as the howl shook her very bones. She knew what he was doing, so it was time for her to do her part. She waited for a moment before opening her eyes, following the path of the Lupine, her feet nimbly skipping over the dead bodies and sprawled limbs with ease. She stopped a fair distance away from the combat, pulling back an arrow. She waited for movement, her arrow ready to fire.

Gormarr had finished with his wine by the time Siph had arrive to collected them. Quickly disposing of the empty wine before he followed the group into the hall. Entering into the tower the orc was impressed by the display of power the tower had inside of it. He ignore the stares he was receiving from some of the other adventures as the group approach the main crystal.

Dropping off the shard with the dwarf Gormarr jumped into the portal. Emerging on the battlefield Gormarr took a deep breath as he looked over the carnage as the dwarfs fought the Skaven. "Bloody rats," Gormarr murmurer to himself as he glared at the Skaven. The orc listen to the plan that Grendrick had. Not finding any faults in the werewolf's plan he prepared himself for the coming battle as Grendrick bounded off towards the fight. The orc could feel the the power in the howl that Grendrick in his bones causing him to shout a warcry as he hosted his ax into the air.

@eemmtt@Rekaigan@Hammerman@ManoftheNorth@Renny@Roughdragon1@berd@Ptolemy

The howl was effective to an extreme. The moment it echoed from the lupines maw and into the ears of its intended the response was immediate. By their very nature, Skaven were cowards. Only in giant numbers with clear advantage would they ever press on any kind of advantage against a resilient foe like their ancestral enemy, the Dwarf. One bearded folk was equal to 3 skaven in terms of ferocity and guile. Had it not been for their poisons and overwhelming numbers they would surely have died out centuries ago.
Each and every last rat man screeched and shouted in their gutteral tongue as the rat pack began to flee in every direction but only ended up tangling or trampling their allies in a scurry of frenzied motion.

From the iron circle, the shields blossomed out at the sound of what they had suspected to be a rat ogre of some kind. A large dwarf with a salt and pepper beard stretching down and tucked into his belt buckle, roared the battle cry of the mountains and levied his crossbow at the threat as his wall of steel scattered like petals on the wind. Axes and swords began to swing at the rats.. and the Lycans group.
No friend could come from a beast.

"HIT EM ALL, BOYS! GLORY TO THE MOUNTAINS!"

The front line fighters charging into the fray would find their march impeded.

@eemmtt

The large orcs axe would surely find a foe easy pickings. In their haste to flee, few skaven even acknowledged the greenskin at all. Two knew that if they did not react, death would find them. In desperation they struck with a unified spear thrust at his chest, hoping to pierce his armor and gouge his heart in one fell swoop. But fear still held their heart.

@ManoftheNorth

several rat men excreted a horrid stench from their fear glands, their thick musk making it hard to even breathe for someone with so sensitive a nose, as they all tried to scatter. Frenzied in fear they struck out haphazardly with their rusted swords and spears, hoping to get away before they became a meal for a stronger animal on the food chain.
The dwarf with the crossbow fired his quarrel as his warriors swarmed the other rats, aiming right for Grendricks heart. Rage burned in his eyes.

@Renny@Roughdragon1

With nowhere proper to run, the skaven flowed around Grendrick and the orc in a swarm towards the bridge. A number of the filthy creatures desperately running for their wretched lives. If something wasn't done quick to get their attention, the softly armored units behind the young man might yet be overrun.

Marianne saw the effect of the roar immediately. The Skavens immediately scattered to the four winds, as fear gripped their hearts and minds. Marianne would have said they were cowards, if not for the fact that she felt fear herself from the roar. And she was standing far away from its source. Imagine what strength would it have on point blank range.

The dwarves used this opportunity to rally their strength and morale, countering back the skavens that had them on the ropes just a while ago. However, they viewed their party as enemies too, as they aimed their crossbows towards Grendrick. She just hoped the lycan could dodge their bolts and get out of there as soon as he could.

The melee fighters of the group charged forward. They attempted to intercept the skavens running across the bridge right towards her and the other support fighters. Most of the skavens would refuse to engage and just ran past them, but a pair of brave, or foolish, skavens thrusted their spears towards the orc.

Marianne knew this would be her time to act.

She willed her insects, all of her bees, towards the approaching skavens. They all eagerly swarmed out from every hole of her dress, from her sleeves, from her feet, and some even crawled out from the white underclothes that covered her chest. They flew with one purpose, to delay the movements of the skavens as much as they could.

Marianne could hear the skavens' horrified shrieks as her bees swarmed over them. They all tried to shoo them off, but their efforts were in vain, as the bees could easily dodge their swings with their superior speed. And just after one minute, and hundreds of bee stings, the skavens could feel their muscles weakening, and their heads turning dizzy. Sluggish and disoriented, they would be an easy prey for the rest of the party.

He was swept up in the throngs of war and emotion. His heart pounded in his ears, his hands were moist with sweat. In front of him, moving in such a slow state that it could only have been produced by his irrational mind, was Gendrick and the others. Behind him, was those that could not fight in close quarters. Inwardly he wondered who he should protect.

Everyone, was his gentle response.

But he knew that wasn’t the priority. Trying to save everyone would lead to mistakes. His mistakes could lead to everyone's death. The decisions were back-breaking, if he was to survive, he needed to silence it all. So he focused on one thing; not letting any rats pass him.

Nove’s gaze went dark, a dull copper in spite of his once-lively bronze. His longsword was held at the ready as fleeing skavens started towards him. He raised his buckler in his other arm, prepared to guard if one or more had decided to strike at him.

They rushed by and every time one came close to passing him, he engaged with above-average speed and strength. With every blow he struck, Nove would yell his victory beforehand. A battle-cry of sorts that echoed in his throat.

As the howl died down, the effects of it became apparent. The ratmen started fleeing the battlefield, all of them scrambling for the bridge. Fariha smirked, as she released her arrow. The arrow whistled through the air before slamming into the heart of a distressed Skaven. The projectile's momentum countering the forward movement of the rat's body, causing it to just flop lifelessly on the spot. The problem with most of the ratkin's movements was that it was awfully erratic. Their nimble feet carried them left and right as they ran in fear of the large beast that howled.

Fariha had disconnected herself from her group for the most part, but support was still around. Marianne's insects were slowing down the Skaven whilst Nove cut them down as they came passed him. Some of the ratkin had reached her position on the bridge, but instead of fleeing in fear, they brandished their weapons, striking out at the elf. While most archers would pull out their knife for a close quarters engagement, Fariha was confident in her agility. The wood elf jumped over a spear thrust before planting her feet into the Skaven's face, pushing off of it like a platform. She somersaulted in the air, pulling another arrow from her hip quiver. Thrum. THWACK! In one swift movement, she had nocked and fired the arrow into the throat of one of the Skaven.

Another ratkin struck out at her with his crude sword, leaping forward with an exaggerated overhead swing. Fariha sidestepped the sloppy attack, grabbing the rat by the arm before pulling him forward to put him further off balance. Her other hand unsheathed her hunting dagger in an icepick grip. In an instant she stepped forward, stabbing the beast clean through the back of the neck. She pivoted sideways, pushing the body away with a kick to the waist as blood poured out of the stab wound. Fariha clicked her tongue in disgust as some of the blood splattered onto her boot.

Sylvia assessed the situation.

The Skaven swarmed the group, rushing past Grendrick and into the rest of them. For some reason, those dwarves were shooting at him with their crossbows. Idiots.

That orc was demolishing the Skaven that it could catch with his axe, blood and parts flying all around.

The Skaven were rushing towards the back, trying to escape the massacre. Marianne was swarming the rat-men with her insects, distracting and stinging them. Faria was dispatching Skaven to her right with her bow and arrow.

Given the current chaos, it was the perfect situation for someone like Sylvia. She recited an incantation which made her nearly translucent, allowing her to blend in with the nearby environment. She stalked forwards into the fray of the panicked Skaven, and as one of them raised their weapon to attack her, she quickly thrust her dagger through its hairy throat and twisted, killing the rat with relative ease.

Another one came from her left, rusty sword raised over its head. She yanked her dagger out, and sliced the rat’s sword arm, through its shoulder. The Skaven’s arm fell limp to its side, and Sylvia followed up by jabbing her dagger through its eye and kicking it to the ground, dead.

Thankfully, the Skaven were sloppy fighters, who didn’t care about technique nor finesse. Really, they seemed to utilize pure savagery, making them predictable.

She noticed another one sneaking up behind Nove, who was distracted by the Skaven in front of him. She ran forwards and grabbed the thing by its scruff, dragging it back. The Skaven wrenched out of her grip, turning to face her. It had two nasty-looking knives in its hands, both rusted and dripping with Dwarven blood.

Sylvia and the Skaven circled around, waiting for the other to make a move. These sorts of situations were dangerous, especially for her. Her chainmail wouldn’t protect much if she was stabbed, a drawback of the armor’s design. The Skaven licked its black lips, snarling. Rows of rotten teeth showed through its snout. Evidently, this one was more of a fighter than the others.

The tip of Ayse staff crackled, sparked, and glowed. With the Skaven bearing down on them there was little reason to hold the flames in anymore. The tip of her staff popped in a whirl of ash and cinders as a bolt of fire raced out towards the din and the one unlucky target she'd picked out. It was hard to do much more.

If she tried a stream of flame then she'd probably end up roasting most of Marianne's bugs. Too aggressive with her bolts? She might catch any one of their fighters with magic intended for another. Sylvia's near invisibility was just an excuse for friendly fire. She wanted to help the dwarves, but without a plan and without a way to show they weren't the enemy she was starting to regret it. Though, as she sent a another bolt out, she'd have more regrets in a moment.

One Skaven slipped through and drew close. Skaven may have been sloppy and craven, but they were also fantastic opportunity hunters. A distracted target like Ayse might as well put on a light-show set out signs. Racing towards her, with a hissing, gurgling, cry it clamped down on her arm with rotten teeth. The force of the blow and the shock of pain sent both tumbling to the ground. Still hanging on with its mouth the beastfolk fished out a dagger and prepared to deal a more fatal blow.

Then the air around the both of them exploded. The Skaven backpedaled wildly, its face replaced by the blackened bone of its skull, over and off the side of the bridge. Ayse struggled up, groaning, as blood slipped from the gnawed flesh of her arm. It was clear that she couldn't be as careful anymore. With the pain also fueling her flame she lashed out again, and again, and again...

Gormarr finished his warcry before he launches himself into the retreating skaven. Once among the rats the butcher work begins. The orc began to swing each of his ax strike were simple and direct. Every blow is made to kill or main skaven as he charges through pack of running rat people. The two skaven vainly attempting to impale the orc only succeed in driving Gormarr bloodlust even higher.

Smacking the first skaven with the blunt side of his ax to a sicken cracking sounded as the first fell over its head at an unnatural angle. The second was not as luck as a large hand wrapped around its head. Lifting the skaven up in the air Gormarr started to squeeze the rats head. The skaven flailed trying to desperately escape the orcs iron grip tighten greatly. "WAAAGH!" With his bloodlust running on high the orc let loose a mighty warcry as he crushed the skaven's skull.

Grendrick reveled in the chaos that had become the Skaven. They dispersed and scurried with great haste as they cried out amidst the night air, drenching the atmosphere of the scene in a thickening, pungent aura of fear that filled Grendrick's nostrils instantly. It was almost too pungent for him to handle, but any predator worth it's mettle could overcome the stench of fear with relative commonality. This led his mind to move to the new joy of it all, fresh blood and frantic prey! He smirked in a way that many would not perceive as he looked about the war-zone, the felling of retreating Skaven filled his gleaming eyes and his large ears quickly, making his tail sway and whip rhythmically to the cries of the rat-folk, however it was all quickly interrupted as he watched the horde, and just through the center of it all, directly ahead of him.. the Iron Lotus bloomed before his eyes entirely.

The Dwarves forced an opening in their shield wall as they took their opportunities to fight back against the Skaven, and Grendrick. A Dwarven marksmen had readied a large Bolt onto his crossbow, and when the shields laid open for his shot, he struck with a true aim that was certainly trained and experienced. The Bolt whipped through the air like a comet as it trailed over the heads of the Skaven and Dwarves with ease, aimed for the high mark of Grendrick's heart. This made it all slow for the Lupine as he caught the tail of the Bolt's flight quickly approaching on him. He hadn't the time to react upon it's initial release due to his excitement, his bloodlust, his joy for the hunt, but a single Bolt wouldn't put him out of his fun just yet, and he made certain of this as he curled his body and whipped around to let the Bolt sink it's way into the back of his left shoulder. The metal head of the bolt sliced through the thick hide and sank several inches as it drilled it's way deeper before stopping and finally ending the journey. It was then that Grendrick felt the pain, but it wasn't more than he could handle, by any means, howeve it did cause a reaction..

"Filthy Dwarves!" Grendrick roared out as he flung his body back around to face the Dwarves, watching the many Skaven continuing to flee past him in a hurry. He desired to hunt the Dwarves with every fiber of his being now, but he would have to control this urge for now at least. Rather than subject his group to opposing the Dwarves altogether he laid into the prey he sought after from the start, instantly jumping after the closest Skaven.

It cried out in terror as the mighty wolf sat hovering over it's small frame, the rat-folk stumbled and clawed at the ground trying to break of the looming agony and death, but it was fruitless and like a cornered animal the Rat-kin rolled onto it's back and began swinging it's rusted saber frantically at Grendrick looking for even the slightest chance of wavering the beast. However it was all for-not as Grendrick chuckled and stared into the eyes of the Rat-kin. His gaze petrified the creature instantly and the wolf instantly latched it's maw against the throat of the Rat and tore it from it's host with ease and without hesitation. He shredded it from the body and sprayed blood all across himself and the air about him in the process, and with that strike he unleashed his nature upon the rest of the Skaven.

His limbs carried him to the next two just before they reached Nove, a sprint on all fours to once again hound down his prey, and as he closed in he found Nove excited for Combat and striking with precision and power, however even with this Grendrick could not allow Nove and his party to become overrun and he felt his hunger and hunt take a turn to stem the tide of this fight.

He watched as Nove cut down a Skaven, the two Grendrick was hunting had closed in on the boy, but completely ignored their senses and the looming danger behind them as Grendrick was now over top of them, and with a loud snarl they found the error in their tactic as they both turned to face the mighty beast. In this moment alone, Nove was able to witness Grendrick first hand as he stared down at the boy and then the Skaven intently, before his razor-sharp claws came from the wide sides of his reach and stormed forward. The left arm slashed down from above and slammed the Skaven against the ground with great force while tearing through the flesh of it's chest, while the right arm with a piercing set of claws that struck straight into the back of the Skaven and prevented the frail creature from moving as Grendric hoisted it up away from Nove. The Rat-folk flailed and dropped it's dagger, wailing out in fear and agony as blood dripped down it's back and off Grendrick's hand, the other tried to fight it's way up from the ground, but Grendrick raised his left foot and held the pitiful creature down with ease, while Nove watched on at the Lupine. Grendrick then, mostly uncaring of the fact that Nove was watching due to his assumption he would move to fight or do something else, began to chuckle with a growling nature and a deep voice that chilled Skaven bones, only to silence his own laughter with the painful screeching of the Rat-folk. Grendrick had snapped his snout around the head of the Skaven and bit down tightly, the flailing and agonized Rat let out an un-earthly cry of terror and pain as it's body felt the fangs sink in and then it was quiet, almost eerily silent in the immediate area as the head of the Skaven that had been bitten was now sitting decapitated from the body in Grendrick's jaw and was dropped down beside the body of the one under his foot. It too was silent, stricken with a realization so strong it silenced every sound it made, all save for the sound of it's chest cracking and collapsing under the force of Grendrick's weight shifting. He didn't raise his foot and stomp, or throw his weight, he merely slowly shifted it to bear his weight on his left foot and the clawed foot sank slowly and the sound of the Skaven's ribs and sternum cracking and popping exploded out before the blood swelled and emerged from the rat's mouth and clawed chest.

Grendrick's eyes closed a moment as he let these kills sink in, but quickly spun on his heels and let out another roar at the Skaven who had tried to rush his party and it was here he made a second move on the horde. This time it was not a howl, but a roar of power and words spoken to the prey.

An harsh, abrupt push of his buckler had sent the Skaven’s weapon bouncing back, leaving the rat open for his thrust and slice. His blade slid from the opening with a bit of effort, leaving the Skaven hissing in agony before falling to the stone floor. Its breathing became fickle, first heavy and quick, then slow and calm... soon it ceased altogether.

Nove had little time to contemplate its death. Not necessarily something that needed to be done but he found it hard not to. Why were they attacking? Was the quiet, almost non-existent whisper in the corner of his mind. Was it food? Resources? Or were they simply defending themselves? Am I cutting down those that need defending?

Even as he thought this, Nove stepped backwards just enough to evade a horizontal slash from a panicking Skaven. He gritted his teeth hard as he readily slid in and brought his blade across the beast, cutting it from hip to shoulder. This death was a bit more acceptable. Its body easily falling on its snout.

… I’m overthinking this, Nove decided, falling into a tight defense as two Skavens choose him to attack.

Slowly he pulled his longsword back, ready to stab the first and block the predictable attack from the next; however, it was all for naught. Noticing Grendrick’s attack was an understatement. He had been forced to experience the brutality and fear of it firsthand. It was ugly and spine-chilling, and awe-inspiring too. To know that Grendrick had directed that beastly fury in hopes of defending him had concreted something only loosely pinned down before. It had solidified his stance that Grendrick, despite his rough-disposition, was a true and honest comrade.

So when his powerful declaration had silenced the sounds of war; Nove had found his hesitation oddly mute as well. The young warrior strode just a few feet behind the werewolf and pointed his bloodstained longsword towards the dwarven company.

“Come!” he shouted in the silence. “We’re here to help. My friends and Sir Siph. Surely you can see our conviction to save you. So help us too! Help us survive these numbers!”

Marianne stood there, witnessing the carnage as her insects did their work. At times like these, she really wished she was able to use magic. She could throw some fireballs and thunders around, helping out her team more than just watching her insects do the dirty work.

The carnage continued as one by one the skavens fell, with Grendrick killing many of them with such a beastly rage that both impressed and terrified Marianne. She also saw Gormarr fighting in his own blood rage, as he chopped, crushed, and even squeezed the ratment to death. Ayse burned them to death with her spells. Thankfully, she was considerate enough to not target the skavens plagued with her insects since she really didn't want to buy and retrain them all over again. Slyvia took out the fleeing skavens skillfully, as she capitalized on them panicking to deal easy damage from behind. Fariha's skill with her bow was also amazing, as she was able to aim and shoot while moving around and still stayed accurate to her mark. She even did some acrobatics, showing off just how nimble she was. Nove was also fighting, slashing and thrusting the skavens with his trusty sword. Marianne noticed some moments where he looked like he was hesitating however. Could it be that he was feeling sorry for the ratmen? What a foolish notion, Marianne couldn't help but think. They were monsters, barely intelligent and sapient. They were more like rats that you had to exterminate. Would you feel hesitation in exterminating rats that were plaguing your home? Of course not.

The gore however, was new to her. Raised in an affluent family, far from war, she really had no former experience in seeing all those entrails flying around. However, unlike most noble girls, who would scream and puke when they saw a scene like this, she stood tall and proud, calmly looking around her surroundings. Her heart was pounding however, and she could feel sweat starting to soak her dress.

Listen, Marianne. The most important thing you must always do while in a battle is to keep a calm head. No matter what horrors you see with your own two eyes.

"I see, Father. I will stay calm and assess the situation with a cool head," Marianne mumbled to herself.

As the skaven numbers dwindled, she heard Nove shouting at the dwarf, trying to convince them to not view them as hostiles. Marianne doubted it would be that easy, for dwarves were quite famous for their stubborness.

@Rekaigan

The rats were persistent in their pursuit. Fear had been replaced by anger as the archer made short work of the clan rats that had tried to swarm her. Three more rats charged in with some semblance of order, their gear was shoddy like the rest but the biggest one pulling the back end held a halberd crafted for dwarf hands. A shining steel piece of weaponry that could cut through leather and flesh with ease. Something the shrieking rat was apparently eager to do!
The two clan rats leaped to either side and pressed at the archer from two directions, leading with a rusted hatchet and dagger while the other attacked with a long slender rapier with a broken tip. The third charged the middle with an overhead strike that could cleave the elf in half.

@berd

As one skaven fell into the gorge with nothing more than the sound of whistling air, another rat folk seized the opportunity to press forward against a downed enemy. Broadsword in hand, the beast creature angled the weapons tip down and thrust with what little strength it could in an attempt to skewer the annoying fire wizard.
A second rat was raising its arm to join the fight. Ignorant of anything but a downed enemy to kill.

@eemmtt

The axe swing hit hard and two beasts were felled with ease, the poison on their weapons would be ineffective against the greenskin until his rage had subsided. Something that was unlikely to happen any time soon if they knew right. For them, faced with a lycan and an Orc, their numbers were dwindling fast. A few of the skaven, a half dozen perhaps, hissed and threw their crude spears at the charging warrior. Coated in sludge and slimes unknown, they might yet bring him down if enough found their mark.
But rats had such poor aim.
Grabbing a weapon from nearby corpses, they scattered and avoided the swings nimbly. It was wiser to retreat and strike again later!

@Roughdragon1

Raka was a fighter! A warrior! Him best! No can lose to man flesh. Dwarveses fall before you!

The Skaven was confident in its skills, in the way it had slaughtered the dwarves and even a few elves. It was ready to kill again! With a shrieking war cry it lunged forward with a straight thrust, retracting the knife and thrusting with the opposite. Two more thrusts followed as it began to alternate between left and right slashes as it attempted to dodge any retaliation from the weaker and slower enemy. Raka who had slain and eaten the dead dwarves, Raka who had claimed the head of commander, Raka who had earned his meal!

Raka who felt the thrum of its bulk ever so subtly under its fear.

Executing a fast backstep into a double thrust at the enemies chest, it attempted to finish the fight before something else could claim the kill for itself.

@ManoftheNorth@Renny

The Dwarf commander saw the shot hit and braced himself, tossing the crossbow away when the shot had not killed the beast. His boys had noticed as well, two of them holding heavy steel shields to guard their leader. Taking out his own two handed axe, they awaited the charge stoically. When the lycan turned and continued after the rats, they all got a better picture of the scene.
Skaven fell to blade and arrow, flame and claw, swarmed by insects mercilessly.

One of the shield dwarves turned to Commander Ironheel.

"Sir?"

Ironheel didn't have the time to dwell on the what-ifs. His king would be in trouble if they didn't return to fortify the lower levels.

"Forget it, lads! You know what they say?"

Both Dwarves echoed his thoughts. "Aye! It takes a beast to KILL a beast!" They roared in unison. Shields at the ready the group of survivors linked up in a wedge and charged at the force of skaven. On their lips was a war cry to the gods under the mountain. For glory and honor they would join.

The wave of skaven seeking to overrun or skirt around the boy had been cut off as they fell to blade and claw alike. With only a dozen or so rat men left out of their initial advantage, the realization of utter defeat had sunk in to their bones. As a whole they abandoned their stolen weapons and sprinted on all fours in a frenzied rush. Rather than going to the bridge they ran to the far edges of the chasm and leaped. They would sooner deal with the lake far below.

Only one such rat ever got close as the forgotten dwarves behind them made good use of the distraction. Panting and bleeding, but nowhere near finished, the last of the bearded folk fanned out and began looking for wounded allies while they killed off the struggling forms of the rat infestation laying upon their doorstep.
Others went to help finish off the other rats still interested in the fight, or unaware of how it had ended.

Keeping a respectful distance from the long pouncing range of the lycanthrope, Stokely Ironheel approached Grendrick and Nove with furrowed eyebrows and grim expressions.

"You got my thanks.. fer what'cha did. For me and me boys.. But open arms ain't a custom o' tha Dwarves at war! You had be-" Stokely almost choked on his own words as the first rumble shook the ground ever so slightly. But it continued on with each pounding step. Something big. Something angry.

"HUG EM CLOSE LADS! REGROUP!" He shouted, turning to the others of the group. "Business later! You wanna prove something, now is your moment!" There was no fear in the brave dwarfs eyes as they watched a sickly green shimmer slowly rising from the far left side of the chasm. That could only mean one thing.
Shaman.

Skaven followed a shallow hierarchy derived entirely by power. Clan rats were the lowest of them all. Slaves to the sadistic whims of the upper levels of their crude society. They were weak, ill tempered, and numerous. Above them came the Slavers. Those who had scavenged equipment and from the fields of battle and claimed the scalps of their victims. They were powerful and given a taste of twisted magic.
At the very top stood the Shamans. Spiritual leaders of the rat men, armed with terrifying magic that embodied their whole races barbaric nature in full.
They were always followed by their personal guard. The rat ogre. Nobody could explain where these hulking beasts came to existence, but it is easy to assume they were not a natural creation. Bloated with muscles and a shrunken brain, the titans of the rat society were walking battering rams. Utterly void of intelligence but brimming with strength. Thick skinned, dim witted, brutal beyond words. These were the conquerors of their filthy race.

One gigantic hand crested the upper ridge of the plateau of the dwarven fortress and steadily raised up to its full height. Nearly 10 feet off the ground of corded muscle and fury. Atop its back was a white furred rat adorned with skulls and dirty robes. A long weathered staff held a pulsating green orb, the sickening light was emanating from it.

"NOW YOU DIE DIE!" It shrieked, point its staff at the dwarves and the other fights before striking its ogre companion hard in the snout as it leapt to the ground. Less a shriek and more a roar, the hulking beast rushed on all fours with enough force to shake the ground.

Siph leaned on the wall near the bridge and smiled. The group had been fairly decent when it came to fighting the beastmen. Not a lot of group tactic thrown in, but their result had been the same with only a single potential injury if he ignored the Orc. But a shaman and a rat ogre were nothing to joke about. The big man watched quietly but was waiting for it. An opportunity where he could do some good for the group against a heavy disadvantage. While he was supposed to be just a guide, a bystander, he held his reservations about watching a companion die.
He would not allow such a thing.

He called out clearly over the deafening roar of the Ogre. "If it is up high, you should aim low!" It was a fairly common tactic when faced with a giant of any kind. The axe takes the beast in the knees till it hits the ground, then the hammer cracks open its skull.

Unfortunately for Fariha, she had been observing the battle that raged around her instead of paying full attention to what we in front of her. She back stepped as the rats approached her; it seemed that the ratkin could form some sort of tactic after all. Their nimble movements meant that there wasn't enough time to sheath her knife and nock her bow. They surrounded her in a triangular fashion, like an ambush.

As all three moved in to attack, she flung her knife at the rat with the rapier, moving toward it as the knife lodged itself in the beast's neck, it's weapon clattering onto the stone. The skaven with the dwarven halberd had swung downward, but narrowly missed, the blade digging into the stone floor. Fariha turned around, but before she could retrieve an arrow from her quiver, the ratkin with the axe and dagger jumped onto her, swinging downward with both weapons, lacking any sort of finesse. The elf pushed back with her bow, catching the rat mid-swing, causing their weapons to clash. They struggled against each other for a moment before Fariha turned her body, throwing the skaven off balance and to the side.

The beast with the halberd swung in a sweeping motion at the elf, but instead of hitting her, it cut it's comrade clean in half. It shrieked in anger, raising the weapon once more at the wood elf, but it was too late. THWACK. an arrow had burrowed itself into the ratkin's chest. It stood still for a moment before collapsing onto the floor like a sack of potatoes.

As she retrieved her arrows from the corpses, a roar echoed out. It wasn't the lupine's this time, but it was something almost equally as menacing. A rat ogre. She observed the beast as it came down, searching for vital points. It was just a ton of muscle, which normal arrows would not be able to penetrate well. Fariha took a moment to flick the blood off her arrows before placing them back into her quiver.

Despite her analysis of the beast, she chose to nock an arrow into her bow. She pulled back and fired in one swift movement, the arrow whistling in the air. Her aim was slightly off due to the distance and the fact that the ogre was a blob of just pure muscle. The arrow lodged itself into it's shoulder, but it didn't penetrate very much, as predicted. She cursed under her breath as she advanced forward, closing the distance ever so slightly. Perhaps she could take down the shamans instead.

Skaven raged and fled as they were felled with a growing ease and the battle came to a slowing stall. The air grew stale with the scent of the fallen and the release of their life, but it would soon change once more.

"You got my thanks.. fer what'cha did. For me and me boys.. But open arms ain't a custom o' tha Dwarves at war! You had be-" Stokely almost choked on his own words as the first rumble shook the ground ever so slightly. But it continued on with each pounding step. Something big. Something angry.

Grendrick was stilled as he sniffed the air for the approaching opposition. It his his nose immediately and heavily. It was Rat Ogre.. it was foul, unnatural, and an abomination.. he was one to know such things. However what made his nose reel was something even fouler than the Ogre, it was the Shaman. It's magic was heavy and foul, and it made Grendrick snarl and snap out in anger and frustration. He seemed to almost go rabid as he took several steps forward and prevented the others from standing between the opposition and himself.

He called out clearly over the deafening roar of the Ogre. "If it is up high, you should aim low!" It was a fairly common tactic when faced with a giant of any kind. The axe takes the beast in the knees till it hits the ground, then the hammer cracks open its skull.

Grendrick let the man get his words in before he took another step towards the monster and it's master, the Lupine was unfaltering and he latched his claws to the ground and stared his foes as they roared. Grendrick then did the same, his body coiled up as he gathered his senses and then unleashed his roar, his body shaking fiercely as he bellowed back at the monstrosity. The Rat Ogre was much more bulky than Grendrick, but matched his height, making the Ogre only somewhat taller by the bulk of his heft and proportions, and this put Grendrick in a state of almost ravenous euphoria. His snarling was almost involuntary now as he let the ideal sink in of the monster being prey, the opponent was large and ferocious, like himself. It was finally time for a good hunt.

Grendrick's claws shredded through the stone beneath his hands slowly, thin streaks of powder being created as they carved their way into curled fists and then latched out once again and his body lowered to the floor. He was menacing to say the least, ready to pounce, like a feral monster against the ground, fangs exposed with lips and jowels peeled back, drool slipping from his mouth as he growled and snarled at his prey, and his nose rooting though the air for any signs of the foes tactics, poisons, magic items, indicators. There was the the faint smell of singed material, something had produced fire, but an unnatural fire. It was very different than Ayse's fire, which was very natural. That faint smell wasn't clear to Grendrick, but was clear.. was his hunger and rage.

Grendrick flew into a state known to few denizens of the universe, a state that is both a combat-rage and a natural state. This was Grendrick, this was his nature utterly and entirely consumed in his primal power. He was feral now, for the time, and he goal was to shred apart the flesh of his opponent until the blood soaked into the ground and the bones clattered across the stone. He wanted nothing more than to reap the lives of those strongest in creation, and to prove himself the greatest Hunter. He would start with the Rat Ogre and the Shaman.

Grendrick immediately launched himself from his low position, however not high into the air, but forward. He propelled himself at the legs of the Rat Ogre and quickly found himself like a Wolf on the calves of an Elk. He impacted the shins of the Ogre and then dug his claws into the back of the calves, stabbing and plunging his long dagger like claws into the muscles and flesh of the legs, while his jaw latched around the back of the left heel and bit down into the Achilles Tendon, attempting to shred it with his maw of razor-sharp fangs. This was no easy fight, and attempt, as the Rat Ogre quickly tried to pry and peel the large Lupine from it's legs, but Grendrick fought back, reeling, rolling, and pushing, trying to topple the beast and bring it crashing down.

Marianne saw the elven archer being ganked by a trio of skavens. She thought she would diverge some of her bees to aid her, but before she could, the elf had taken care of them by herself.

Marianne smiled with relief. It seemed even though she was a long-range fighter, she was no slouch in the melee department either. She herself would never be able to do such a thing.

Her musings were interrupted when she felt the tremors, coming closer and closer each second that went by. She then noticed also the sickly shimmering green coming from below the chasm. What could that be, she wondered? It didn't take long however for her question to be answered as soon afterwards, a giant hand grabbed into the edge of the cliff and raised its body up, showing it to be a massively sized rat ogre.

A rat ogre? That means...

Sure enough, when she squinted her eyes, she saw the shaman riding on top.

She had read about this. The Skaven Shaman, and its bodyguard, the rat ogre. The one that stood on the very top of the skaven society. Armed with powerful, twisted magic, it enslaved its lesser brothers.

She bit her lip. She didn't like this. This was a powerful foe. Perhaps even too powerful for them who just entered the everchanging realm the first time.

The shaman shrieked, ordering his mount to kill everyone in sight, both the dwarves and their party. The ogre, obeying its master, charged forward, running with all four of its legs. The tremor caused was like a small, localized earthquake.

"If it is up high, you should aim low!" she heard Siph shouting. She agreed. That was certainly one way you could take on a giant-sized opponent. Destroy their balance by attacking their legs and they would collapse on their own weight. However, she was more worried for the shaman. It wielded powerful magic and it wouldn't just stand by as Grendrick, or any other attacked his mount's legs. She believed the shaman was the real threat here.

She then heard Grendrick ordering them to stay back and let him take care of the creature. Was he really thinking of taking it on alone? No matter how strong he was, surely that monstrosity would be too much for him! She wished to shout to the lycan to stop being so reckless but she very well knew it would just be a useless gesture.

Fariha shot an arrow to the beast. It did absolutely nothing, as the ogre was made of pure hardened muscle. Perhaps she would aim at the shaman next.

Marianne then saw Grendrick standing on all fours, as he seemed to be charging up before his attack. And then, he launched himself forward with incredible speed, landing at the ogre's shins. He immediately tore its flesh apart by his claws and fangs, not caring about anything else other than the taste of the ogre's blood. She now witnessed the pure feral form of the lupine. She guessed that at this state, he wouldn't have any sense left on him to think.

So it fell down to her and the others to cover for him.

She quickly directed his bees to fly towards the shaman. She intended to at the very least distract him from casting any spells against Grendrick. She knew this was a risky move. Her bees could just die if the shaman cast a large fire spell. And then she would only be left with the mantis as her form of attack, not to mention how she had to look and tame another set of insects for her future battles. It would be quite bothersome indeed.

“Gah!” Sylvia felt the rusty blades hit her in the gut, knocking her out of her transparency spell, but luckily the chainmail prevented the blades from going through. Still, it felt like being punched, hard. The rat was distracted, thinking it had cut her. She took the opportunity of its distraction to jam her dagger into its neck, and twisted it, ending the rat’s life. It fell to the ground, twitching.

She raised her shirt to get a look at the chainmail, which was nicked in two areas. Another hit like that, and the links would break. She looked over to her left, where Grendrick was tearing into an ogre’s legs, flesh and blood flying in all directions. Alongside it was some kind of spellcaster, a shaman. Marianne was already distracting it with her insects, so Sylvia activated her near-invisibility again, and began to sneak over to where the ogre was.

She kept to the edges of the fight, trying her best to avoid the stray rats which were still retreating. The ogre was massive, much larger than anything she had ever seen, a brute consisting of pure muscle and raw strength. With Grendrick going berserk on its legs, Sylvia tried to look for an opening, a weakness within its bulk.

Everything humanoid must share similar biology. If I could disable it with a well-aimed incision...

She was a good distance away from the rat ogre, far enough to avoid its blows or Grendrick's wild fury. She would have one chance to make this work; her compromised chainmail wouldn't protect her from another sword blow, much less a smack from an ogre.

Sylvia had her target: A series of slight bulges that ran up the ogre's back up to its head. The spine. If she could jab it with her dagger, it would most likely stop it in its tracks, if not cripple it indefinitely. Still, the target was narrow and a miss would only give the beast a flesh wound, and most likely give her several broken bones.

She raised her dagger; For the first time in a long while, she saw that her hand was shaking. Even if she could paralyze the ogre, they still had the shaman to deal with.

We'll deal with him later. That bloody ogre is the most immediate threat.

Sylvia took a deep breath, and ran towards the ogre, her dagger prepared to find its mark.

The earth echoed heavy thumps.

Nove who had been caught up in greeting the dwarves with his friendliest smile was one the first to be on guard. The buckler in his hand was held tight to him now, his longsword just as at the ready. He looked to Grendrick, who now had a tautness to his muscles, a kind of tension that had been there before but now was more prominent.

A big one then, thought Nove as he stepped off to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse over the barricade of dwarves. He first caught sight of sickly green hand then his nose was assailed by a dank odor. It was vile, rotten, and earthly. Decay was the closest he could compare it too.

The smell of death manifested, stated the youth.

Like both Sir Siph and Grendrick, this behemoth had a aura of-sorts about it. Where Grendrick’s--to him at least--was feral but leashed, this behemoths’ was completely uninhibited. He felt it was dangerous to battle directly. He glanced at Grendrick now; the wolf-man was likewise growing primal. Nove grinned despite his fear, knowing that this worked in his and the team’s favor. Grendrick was, without a doubt, their ace in the hole now.

“This’ll be easy,” he mumbled underneath the rancor of the dual roars.

It wasn’t until Grendrick dashed off in pursuit of his prey had Nove rushed to action too. He ran behind his comrade, trailing the monster as closely as he could. Until that moment, he hadn't realized how quick and agile Grendrick really was. The beast had left him surely in the dust, even with his springy muscles he had a hard time keeping four-meters between them.

The aim of his own attack was neither The Shaman nor The Rat-Ogre separately but both. If he could, if possible, he wanted to exercise an experimental technique during a rather idiotic time. But maybe the timing was perfect. As he approached he noticed Marianne’s insects making a bee-line for the shaman atop the behemoth and Grendrick was already mauling its’ leg.

Nove felt lucky that his teammates, unbelievably, complemented one another. We can win this!

He anticipated the fall of the Rat-Orge. Nove lined himself up with its leg, stepped off its bulging knee-cap, and with his springy muscles soared above its ten-foot heght. Tall as it was, but being assaulted from below by Grendrick, Nove knew it was a chancy move being within its eye-sight. However, if he had been lucky enough; the beast wouldn't have the sense to attack him and would focus on his mauled leg. In the meantime, he raised his longsword above his head and sought to stab it into the monster’s skull.

Gormarr roared at the skaven as they fled away form the raging greenskin. The orc almost felt insulted by the skaven attempting to bring him down with throwing spears. Chasing the last skaven to the ledge that the skaven were jumping off trying to kill any stragglers. With the battle over Gormarr began to start to clam down when the rat ogre with the shaman riding it appeared on the battlefield. "Finally a challenge!" he shouted before charging the rat ogre ax raised high. Joining the rest of this parties attacks on the rat ogre he swing his ax into the right leg trying to help Grendrick bring down the beast.

Ayse brought her staff up to deflect the oversized rodent's blow. She did succeed, but with the second skaven pressing her position she didn't have the time to go on the offensive. Once again she was in retreat with her team growing more distant.

She thought the distance was a smart idea. It would give her the time to help from afar. It was still just making her a target thanks to the holes in their defense. On her end her fire had been effective, but not effective enough, not in this situation. Another pair of attacks and another desperate deflection. She was going to die here if she didn't do something. So might Gormarr. She knew the skaven were trying to whittle him down with poisons rather than feeble blows.

Swinging her staff as hard as she could, she broke for the front lines. Towards the rat ogre and it's wizened master. She ran past Fariha and hoped the elf would pick off her pursuers. Cradling her staff in the crook of her wounded arm she brought a different sort of fire to bear. It burned, yes, but also ached. A healing flame. She hurled it at Gormarr. The flame lilted and curled in the air before spiraling into the orc's wounds to burn out the poisons and pestilence. It would hurt, surely it would hurt, however he would live once his rage subsided.

An idea occurred as she spent it. Rat orges were the product of foul magics, their bulk and bodies supported by the basest of skaven arts. What if she attacked those arts instead of the beast's flesh? Siph had said to attack low. What if it was more accurate to say that they were pulling out the tree by the roots? She went stock still and focused, trusting her companions to look after her.

A spider web of glowing fissures and cracks formed over the length of her staff. The tip flared with new flame. She'd never done anything like this before. She had no clue if it would work or if she could overcome the shaman's magic. She'd still try though. As the staff itself burst into flame she thrust its tip forward to release a gout of purifying flame to eat away at the sorceries that underpinned the beat's strength.

Through the pain, watching Nove's sword whistle through the air, she could only repeat one whispered word.

"Fall. Fall. Fall..."