Chapter 329: Fighting Queek (Part 3)

The firepower of a small number of organ guns landing in the rat tide was, if not quite a drop in the ocean, then not far off. Aside from those directly hit and knocked down, the Stormvermin could rely on their shields and armor to withstand a bit of the flying shrapnel.

The black-furred Stormvermin and the Dwarf battle line engaged in close-quarters combat; this time, Belegar was not as composed as before. Stormvermin, especially those of Clan Mors, were roughly comparable to ordinary Dwarf conscripts in individual combat effectiveness.

Although, in the eyes of the Sons of the Mountains, the armor on the black-skinned rats was crudely made—if it had come from a Dwarf workshop, the blacksmith would have faced the Finger-Severing Ritual—it was undeniably still plate armor, capable of providing basic protection.

Relying on their advantage in combat experience, the average Stormvermin was roughly a match for a temporarily deployed Dwarf Miner, and the foundation upon which Clan Mors stood tall in the Skaven Empire naturally had its extraordinary aspects.

Fortunately, Belegar's subordinates were not newly conscripted recruits; most of those appearing here had been tempered by the battlefields of Eight Peaks. In that environment, they might participate in more battles in a year than their kin in the heart of the mountains did in decades.

When there is no obvious generational gap in equipment, the role of combat experience and tactical skill becomes prominent. How to conserve stamina during repeated slashes and parries, how to accurately slide an axe into the gaps of an enemy's armor, and how to skillfully deal with multiple enemies—none of these could be learned from labor in mines and blacksmith workshops.

When he first arrived at Keladeluomen, Snorri had been very envious of the quality of Belegar's subordinates, which strengthened his idea of forming a professional standing army. Now, facing an enemy with a massive numerical advantage, even without any favorable terrain to rely on, these veterans did not lose their footing for the moment.

"It really isn't as simple as I imagined! Even if Clan Mors and the Grey Seers don't get along, they still have ways to limit the performance of the Ancestor spirits," Snorri muttered while watching the battle.

The weapons in the claws of the Stormvermin surrounding King Luen and the Gatekeeper Rockbeard flashed with a dim green light. Although weapons carved directly from large chunks of Warpstone were only affordable for Warlord-level rats, Clan Mors, which dominated the Badlands, could afford to mass-equip their elite troops with gear mixed with Warpstone shavings or scraps during casting.

Such opportunistic halberds still possessed the properties of Warpstone, one of which was the ability to inflict magical attacks and thus harm spiritual bodies. Besides this, the Jezzail teams also targeted the two of them; every time they were hit, the bodies of the two spirits would imperceptibly fade a fraction.

"It is quite cautious; a rat is a rat, it can't change its rat habits."

The transmigrator's focus had never left Queek. The future God of War of Eight Peaks ran at the front when charging, but once the fighting truly started, it would hover outside the battle line with the Red Guard, giving Snorri no possible opportunity.

Snorri was monitoring the situation, and Queek on the opposite side was doing the same. Its pair of scarlet rat eyes darted around, searching for that terrifying living stone statue from yesterday morning. If they were in the middle of a good fight and that stone statue descended from the sky again, there would be no rat to block the flying hammer for it!

Queek Headtaker had spent the whole afternoon organizing intelligence on those flapping moths and the bearded things that jumped down. Without the all-pervasive spies of Clan Eshin, it felt completely in the dark.

Fortunately, the stone statue was very recognizable. The few Bofeng chieftains who had survived by luck analyzed and judged that the fellow was the Dwarf King Snorri Thorsson who ruled the Southlands. But why he would leave Red Cloud Mountain and suddenly appear here was unknown.

"Tell me, which one is, is him?"

Queek grabbed the soft flesh on the back of a rat's neck, hoisted it into mid-air, and pressed its voice to interrogate it.

"My, my lord! I, I really don't know!" This Bofeng Warlord cried out in grievance. Although they had been in small-scale conflicts with the Dwarfs of Red Cloud Mountain for two or three years, they had only heard the name of the legendary King of the Southlands, Snorri, and had never seen him.

Snorri, who had been squatting in Gaoyuanbao doing research for years, owed his high popularity among the local rat-folk to the tireless propaganda of Qiangsen-Jian Dun.

He was now honored by his clansmen as Herald Johnson, solely because he had many times loudly relayed Snorri's orders on the battlefield, and even divine oracles received from the Ancestor Gods.

Every time a new batch of recruits joined, Qiangsen would tell the story of how he followed Snorri through thick and thin, and his loud voice ensured that the rats on the opposite side could hear it clearly too.

Out of Dwarf habit, he constantly polished his story to keep Snorri's image, as well as his own, developing in a grand and full-bodied direction.

At the same time, not being able to participate in the expedition after Coffin Canyon was this veteran's greatest regret. Slaying the spider, fighting the Greater Daemon, and repelling the Elves were the highlights of Snorri's epic! Perhaps to make up for it, his descriptions of these contents were even more "vivid and colorful."

After listening to the local rats' reports in the afternoon, Queek took the time to look in a mirror to see if horns were sprouting on its head. If one were to believe their claims, the fact that it wasn't trampled to death the moment that stone statue landed must be due to the deep grace of the Horned Rat.

"Then, then I will force him out, and, and take his head for my collection!"

Seeing that the Dwarf line was starting to suffer casualties and gradually deform in some places, Queek bared its rat teeth. So what if it was a stone statue? This morning was just because it hadn't been prepared. One must know that all the bearded and non-bearded ones combined did not outnumber the Stormvermin under its command!

"Yes, yes!"

Upon receiving the order, the already eager Red Guard came charging over, squeaking wildly. The impact of this group of rat-elites caused the defensive line to buckle directly; this was even after Thoroni's rune enhancement.

"Is it time for us to act?"

Gotrek asked while taking down the rolled-up battle standard from his back and spreading it out.

"Let's watch a bit longer; this isn't the first time Belegar has seen this group of red rats." Snorri thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"In the name of the Angrund Clan!"

"Where the oath goes, firm as rock!"

"The ancient grudges shall finally be settled!"

As they were speaking, a team of Dwarfs standing behind Belegar moved; they brandished the rune long-hammers in their hands and shouted as they charged toward the Red Guard.

"Andeglang Oath Guard; joining them requires taking an oath before that Oath Stone. Pay attention to their equipment; they are all treasures from the Golden Age once sealed in the treasury, a few notches better than the products of current old blacksmiths!"

As the Dwarf most familiar with the situation in Keladeluomen, Gotrek raised his eyebrows as he introduced them. Although he was no longer an Engineer, the fact that he didn't get along with the blacksmiths was still deeply engraved in his character.