Chapter 330: Shutelinn

As the Andeglang Oath Guard stepped onto the battlefield, the crumbling defensive line was stabilized once more. Although this was not the first time Queek had experienced the prowess of these Dwarf elites, it had no better solution than to fill the gap with rat lives.

In Sinuoli's view, the equipment specifications of this Dwarf unit were on par with the Eternal Hammer Guard, only with red and gold as the primary color scheme, which was likely the representative style of the Bafengshan Wangguo during the Golden Age.

Although the overall quality of the Oath Guard could not yet compare to the High King's Royal Guard selected from the entire Mountain Kingdom, the enhancement of their equipment still made their combat effectiveness far exceed that of their peers.

"The treasury of the Angrund Clan should contain more than just these few good things. I wonder if they couldn't bring everything out at the time, or if Belegar felt not everyone was qualified to equip and use these ancestral relics."

Such a thought flashed through Sinuoli's mind, but now was not the time to dwell on it. The Stormvermin holding the front line suddenly performed a formation change, revealing a terrifying weapon.

They were also weapon teams operated by two rats, but the rat in front held a six-barreled machine gun muzzle, while the one in the back operated the Warpstone Steam Engine and crank that drove the machine gun.

"Shutelinn? How could this thing exist? Quick! Stop them!"

Sinuoli roared at maximum volume; the leaders of the Angrund Clan seemed to have never seen this multi-barreled firearm before and failed to react appropriately in the first instance.

"Da-da-da-da!"

"Taste, taste this!"

"More, more ammo, more madness!"

Before the Dwarfs could take action, the weapon teams, regardless of the fact that the Stormvermin covering them had not yet fully cleared the line of fire, impatiently drove the death-sowers in their claws. This likely proved that in the world of the Skaven, the more loyal you are, the faster you die.

The Shutelinn gunners screamed indulgently while firing; the latest invention of Clan Skryre required the most reckless madmen to operate. They were extremely unreliable, and perhaps only the Great Horned Rat knew who would die first, the gunner or the enemy.

A massive amount of Warpstone bullets rained out, and Belegar's subordinates tried to block them. The shield-bearers among the Dwarf Warriors felt their arms go numb from the continuous impact, but before they could adjust their posture, they discovered their fine steel shields were already riddled with holes.

According to the experience of Dwarfs in the Old World, the Meteorite Shield of an Ironbreaker was still reliable under the impact of Warpstone projectiles, but they did not make up a high percentage of Belegar's subordinates, and many were in the two support units sent out.

"Ugh!"

"No! Johnny."

"."

"Meteorite, meteo."

""

The line was filled with muffled groans and cries of pain; the armor of the front-line warriors soon followed the fate of the shields, and what followed next was their flesh and blood. The Andeglang Oath Guard did not even have shields; they tried to swing their long hammers to deflect, but with little effect. The impact of the Shutelinn projectiles was not comparable to the slings of Clanrats or the shooting of Greenskins.

"Go!"

Sinuoli wiped his ring and fired a Rune fireball at the Shutelinn. Immediately after, he released the Rune of Wrath and Ruin; even if the distance was not enough to blast them directly into the sky, the tremors on the ground were enough to make them unable to aim.

"Guys in the back! Hold the line! We are not fighting just for ourselves!" Belegar clanged his shield again; although he was a traditional melee Warlord unable to deal with weapon teams tens of meters away, he had his own tasks.

In the tactics of most Skaven Warlords, ranged weapons that fired Warpstone ammunition were not used to inflict large-scale casualties on the enemy's conventional living forces. The core reason was the word "expensive." The goods from Clan Skryre were fierce, but the asking price was equally outrageous.

A small clan might have to bet the life of their boss to afford a full unit of Jezzails and Shutelinn, and the subsequent consumption of Warpstone ammunition and the losses caused by barrel explosions forced them to use them as sparingly as possible.

Sure enough, after a few rounds of firing tore open the Dwarf defensive line, the Shutelinn began to retreat, and a large group of Stormvermin surged toward the gap. Belegar's bearers also suffered casualties under the fierce fire; he did not know for a moment whether he should jump off the Oath Stone, as doing so before victory was quite taboo.

"It's our turn, let the brothers of the Angrund Clan take a breather!"

After receiving Sinuoli's nod, Gotrek unfurled the Disaster of the Dragon Clan battle standard, holding the flag in one hand and a great axe in the other, and headed straight for the gap with the Slayer Brotherhood.

"move! move!"

Queek was a bit further away and was not affected by the battle standard. From its perspective, the turtle shell of the beard-things had finally been torn open, but its own subordinates did not fiercely bite the exposed soft flesh; instead, they hesitated and watched as the guys who fell from the sky during the day filled the gap.

It took the rats of Clan Mors a little while to adapt to the terrifying hallucinations of being in a mountain of corpses and witnessing a dragon falling brought by the battle standard, and what awaited them were the sharp Rune great axes of the Brotherhood.

"Where is Queek? Come up and meet your death!"

Gotrek swung his great axe with one hand, cutting three rats in half at the waist; he took the opportunity to jump onto the small hill formed by corpses, staring at the rat swarm and shouting a challenge. The heroic posture of the young Dwarf and the large flag he carried intimidated the rat swarm, and pairs of rat eyes couldn't help but glance toward Queek.

"Oh? Looks like it's you! Hmph, hiding your head and showing your tail, what kind of hero is that!" Gotrek locked onto Queek in the direction they were turning their heads. "And a Headtaker at that! I think you should change your name to Head-hider, hahaha!"

The boisterous laughter of the Dwarfs, the mockery, and the strange gazes of his subordinates made Queek very embarrassed. It was not yet the Warlord of Eight Peaks who shook the Badlands; the rats of Bofeng obeyed it mainly because they feared the power of Clan Mors.

If it weren't for the fact that the rats who dared to question it had mostly died, it wouldn't have had such an easy time getting past the embarrassing performance during the day. If it failed again this time and caused the cannon fodder of Bofeng to lose morale, it would directly affect the possibility of completing its mission.

"Who, who is this?" Queek pulled over the local Warlord again, grinding its teeth while asking quickly. Gotrek had made great gains in the airborne operation, but the Headtaker was too busy running for its life to pay attention.

"He, he is a, a transport runner! Escorting convoys between here and, and Red Cloud Mountain."

"Wha, what! A transport Captain, and he dares, dares to challenge me!" Queek was completely enraged; this was giving no face to the rat!

It twisted its neck and finally scrutinized the beard-thing that was showing off. Experience told it that judging their strength mainly depended on beards and equipment; generally, those with white beards and glowing equipment were more powerful. The beard in front of it was very short, and the only decent thing on its body was the axe in its hand; it was probably really just a transport runner!