Chapter 323: Queek Attacks

The Dwarf Realms have not broken ground on a new fortress since the Dark Age, but fortunately, many of the clansmen who came to the Southlands to make a living had previously worked in human society and possessed equally rich architectural experience.

Sinuoli requested that a space for a port be reserved; even if the Lizardmen along the eastern coast of the Nan Shijie Bianyuan Shanmai would not easily break the agreement, it was good to have a backup plan.

"These Greenskins have already been scared out of their wits, warriors of the Angrund Clan! Pursue them, cut off their filthy heads, and consider it a bit of interest on our ancient Grudges!"

After a brief rest, Sinuoli waited for the supporting troops from Belegar. When formulating the plan, perhaps to demonstrate his own strength in order to gain more say in the cooperation after the passage was opened, Belegar insisted on sending troops to assist the Southlands and Tiefengbao.

Seeing his firm attitude and eagerness to fight, and considering that the situation at Keladeluomen was indeed relatively stable, Sinuoli and Kazilike agreed to his request at the time.

King Luen-Tiechui insisted on being responsible for Sinuoli's side; this last master of the Eight Peaks Fortress stood in the center of the battlefield, brandishing a similarly ethereal Warhammer and attacking the surrounding enemies frantically.

When they discovered that the choppas and smashas in their hands passed directly through the spirit body, causing almost no damage, and their comrades-in-arms fell one after another, even the most Waaagh-filled Orc Big 'Uns were scared out of their wits.

"Inducing fear and terror in the enemy army—my Stone Form should have the same effect."

The Ancestral Spirits were in their element dealing with the physically-oriented Greenskins; Sinuoli had no chance to intervene and only stroked his beard, watching the battle with peace of mind. In the game, these two effects often appeared simultaneously, manifesting as causing all enemy units to suffer leadership penalties and causing their melee targets to rout in a short time.

"Your Majesty, your Doom Anvil is glowing!"

Just as he was pondering where to go next, the new Captain of the Anvil Guard called out.

"Where is the news from? Red Cloud Mountain? Everpeak, or Haimenguan?"

Sinuoli's heart tightened. He was currently campaigning; if it were not an extreme emergency, no one would contact him via the Communication Rune. It was annoying enough to get a call halfway through a game, let alone halfway through an anvil-striking session on the battlefield.

"Keladeluomen, requesting aid, rats!" The message was very brief.

"Stop the pursuit, rally the troops! Bring me the map!" Sinuoli roared. He hurriedly replied that he had received it, then spread out the map to analyze the situation. "There are still one hundred kilometers to go, with Greenskins along the way, and possibly Skaven ambushes."

"Who is on the northern line?"

"Ancestor Delama-Chuiquan; he has the same troops as this side!" The King of the Southlands' question was answered.

"That makes two Ancestral Spirits plus one thousand men. Besides the artillery crews, Belegar only has a few hundred combat-ready soldiers left." Sinuoli licked his lips. Although the order came suddenly, his troops were quickly gathered back.

"A forced march will take at least two days; the human cubs and the little black ones need rest, they are far less resilient than the Sons of the Mountains!"

Gotrek's throat was a bit hoarse from continuous, vigorous battle cries. While wiping his great axe, he loaded his organ gun one round at a time. Having traveled this route more than twenty times, his experience was reliable.

"But without the assistance of other races, our breakthrough speed will be limited." Ailike was relatively conservative. "However, what about Tiefengbao? They might already be very close to Keladeluomen."

"They are further away than us." Sinuoli shook his head; he had been keeping in touch with Thorek Ironbrow. "By this calculation, I'm afraid Belegar will find it hard to hold out until reinforcements arrive."

"Altman, fuel up the Helicopter; we have to use that contingency plan."

"This, this is too risky, my Majesty! The delivery capability."

"..." No matter how enterprising he was, the Engineer from Haimenguan was a Dwarf after all, and the completely unprecedented approach made him unable to help but try to dissuade him.

"Do you have any better ideas? If not, then do as I say!"

The news of the attack on Keladeluomen spread throughout the army along with the order. Everyone realized the severity of the problem, and soon eight Helicopters and members of the Slayer Brotherhood gathered together.

"Get into the baskets; the last bloodline of the Angrund Clan is waiting for us!"

Sinuoli pointed to the personnel platforms attached beneath the Helicopters. These Longbeard Venerables looked at each other in dismay; crossing the ocean was already a challenge for the Sons of the Mountains, but flying into the sky was far beyond their range of acceptance.

"May the Ancestor Gods and His Majesty Sinuoli protect us!"

"Grungni's beard, this thing better not crash down."

"Before, we had nothing, but at least we had the solid earth beneath our feet."

"..."

Although these elite veterans were complaining and muttering, they executed the seemingly unorthodox order without compromise. After them, Gotrek Gurnisson and King Luen also squeezed into the baskets.

"I leave the main force to you; get to Keladeluomen as soon as possible, but be careful of possible ambushes on the way!"

After giving a few final instructions to the generals of different races, Sinuoli squeezed in as well. To reduce weight, he did not choose the Anvil Guard equipped with Meteorite Iron Armor, nor did he bring his own Doom Anvil.

"Set off!"

"Vroom, vroom, vroom!"

The rotors spun rapidly, and the eight Helicopters took off simultaneously. Due to the extra load, they adjusted in the air for a while before flying toward the north.

"How, how is the battle going?"

Under the shade of the fortress's outer wall, Queek Headtaker carefully sharpened his Warpstone Warblade.

"The stunties are piled in, piled in the alleyways, hard, hard to chew!" A sturdy Stormvermin with many scars on its body reported to its superior.

"Normal, this, this is the value he, he should have." Queek nodded. It had clashed with Belegar several times before at the Eight Peaks; it knew the power of the HolyHammer and the tenacity of the Ancestral Spirits by heart.

"We blocked, blocked back three, three waves of messengers asking for help. Those short, short-legged ones can't, can't run!"

The Stormvermin continued. This was the key to victory that the Skaven had summarized thousands of years ago; as long as communication with the outside world was cut off, the fall of even the most solid fortress was only a matter of time.

"Yes, yes!" Queek brought its two warblades together in front of its chest, then performed a cross-slash in thin air. Listening to the pleasant sound of the wind being torn, the strongest rat of Clan Mors flexed its neck.

"Let, let those inferior breeds charge, charge first! But, but warn them, Belegar, Belegar's head belongs only to Queek!"

Listening to the dense gunfire, the sound of weapons clashing, and the loud voices of the Dwarfs inside the walls, Queek knew it was not yet time for him to strike.