Woo! That took much longer than I anticipated. Thought I'd be able to kick this one out as fast as the last. Sadly, my initiative waned every time I sat at my desktop. New plan is to battle report on the laptop that has much fewer distractions.

In any case, onto the next battle report! Me and my friend are at it again as the Dwarfs of Grimholdt move out to intercept an orc raiding party led by none other than the warboss himself Vergath Stuntychoppa before it hits their favorite inn Sorrek's Sitdown! We used the rules for the campaign game with the brewhouse and beercart. Winner is the one with the most points by the end; 5 for the brewhouse, 5 for the beer cart, and 1 point for each destroyed unit. I like to call this one a landslide/phyrric victory...for although I won 8-0...the events of the battle were horrific.

Enjoy! I'd love input if anyone's got some. Sorry if it's a bit wordy.

Prologue
"Sir!" the dwarf scout cried as he struggled with the leather straps that affixed him to his cockpit. The yell was just loud enough to carry over the fwop-fwop-fwop of the gyrocopter's rotors still winding down. The metallic monstrosity shook with each rotation as the engine sputtered silent with the dwarf hopping to the ground, barely setting his feet down before rushing to his superior. Golner, the right hand Lord of King Gonzer, turned towards the frantic dwarf, his brow furrowing in concern for the engineer's haste.

"Calm down, Son. What's got you so vexed?" the gruff lord's voice spoke from behind his beard. Golner was a proud dwarf, standing a mite taller than most. He had a ruddy face that was dominated by a large nose nestled above a bushy mustache. His long, grey-black hair, starting at the edge of a small receding hairline, was braided fully into the blanket of hair that was his beard, the whole of which was wrapped and entwined between his belt buckles and gromril clasps. His brawny hands seemed the size of cannonballs when made into fists and they were clad in the ancient gems of his father's old. A paragon of discipline and strength, he could rarely be beaten in combat and inspired the host of Grimholdt with his presence.

"Sir. While on me routes, I saw a gatherin' of orcs. Perhaps thirty or more led by a massive beast! He had in tow a giant, some goblin riders, and orc louts on boars as well."

"Then what's the worry? If they come to our walls, we'll show them the wrath of bullets and stones. They'd never make it past the first walls and our axes would never bite their skin." Golner said confidently.

"T'ain't my worry for our hold certainly...but on me way back, I saw what was between them and us." Even before he finished saying it, Golner's face shifted from mild concern to outright worried. "It's Sorrek's..."

Golner had already turned around, stomping off in his solid, metal boots, "Get back in that 'copter, Boy. Fly as fast as you can to Sorrek's. I'll meet you there with my best and we'll rout the orcs off of our land once and for all.

The dwarf scout nodded quickly, turning on his heels and hopping back into the cockpit. He wound the engine crank and made sure a couple levers were set right and the contraption sputtered and coughed as the rotors began to spin again...off to the fight.
The Defense of Sorrek's Sitdown

The scene was serene. A sunny day that cast the scattered shadows of trees about the grassy plains. The only building for miles around sat nestled at one of the main crossroads. A fine establishment for a weary traveler, the dwarven brewhouse and tavern of Grimholdt; Sorrek's Sitdown. One of the prime breweries for the artisan brew Redstone Stout, it was a popular dive for the dwarfs of Grimholdt and the surrounding Empire townships. It was closed currently but only because business was elsewhere. It's owner, Sorrek Bruersson had hitched his pony to a cart filled with barrels of his finely crafted brew and was on his way to Dechland, a local empire village. There would be much gold paid for his delivery.

As he climbed himself up to the cart's seat, he clicked his tongue to send the pony off on an easy amble. As he started, though, he heard an odd cocophony of sound. A banging of drums and shouting yells from the South combined with a droning war chant and blaring trumpets to the North suddenly echoed into the air, loud enough that it seemed to surround the brewmaster.

"What in Grungni..." Sorrek muttered under his beard, tilting his wide-brimmed hat to look off into the Southern distance. The howling on the horizon was a small strike force of orcs and goblins. Thirty or so orcs with a massive, hulking warboss leading them, fifteen boar riders, fifteen wolf riders, and a towering giant. This wasn't good.

As he looked to the north, he saw two large groups of his dwarven brethren. Golner, Dwarf Lord and right hand of King Gonzer led a group of thirty-two Longbeards alongside Bronnir with the banner of Grimholdt aloft. Very close to the Longbeards was a veritable horde of Hammerers. Thirty of the stubborn dwarfs held a high banner with the warding mark of Grungni, shouting their chant of war. In the far background, a stout crew of dwarfs carried the frame of a shining catapult capped with a brass hand. Any dwarf of Grimholdt worth their armor could recognize the iconic Brass Hand of Grungni. Above it all was the whirring motor of the gyrocopter contraption that had scouted ahead of them along the journey.

Depite the fact he could find safety behind the ranks of his dwarf brethren, the orcs were fast on their way. If he were caught in the middle of it, he and all of his ale would be destroyed. He'd have to find a way around it all.
~~
Golner had just arrived on the scene with his best brothers as the orcs in the distance sprinted into action. He'd hoped he could cover a bit more ground before the greenskins began to maneuver but such are dwarf legs. The boar and wolf riders on the flanks quickly split from the main group, intending to outflank the dwarf force while the orc boyz and giant moved forward to take the brewery.

"Bronnir. Boys! We've got to hurry to take the brewhouse." he shouted, though as he did the sky became blackened. In the distance, just past Sorrek's Sitdown, the orc shaman raised his hands in the sky. It's echoing voice seemed far louder than possible with its somatic shouting. There was foul magic in the air that, no matter the dwarf resilience, was electrifying the air. From the swirling vortex in the sky, a great green hand, magnificent and terrible reached down to grab up the orc shaman, the brutish general, and the orc unit they led up in its grip. The shaman, as he was swept up his foul god's hand, seemed to blaze with a searing light, but instead of the shaman being consumed, a random trinket hanging from his necklace burst.

The dwarfs looked with honest awe as their prey was lifted into the swirling sky, the giant in the distance looking just as confused. It was only when a similar, swirling circle in the sky centered itself above Sorrek's Inn that the dwarf's confused faces turned to distraught terror. All at once, a crackling of thunder and lightning heralded the hand of Gork, balled in a loose fist with its subjects in tow, as it punched straight through the thatched roof of the brewery!

As quick as it happened, to a stunned dwarf audience, the hand disappeared into the ethereal abyss in the sky, leaving its cargo in the broken brewhouse.

"That's it." Golner cracked his fingers as he hefted his runic axe and shield.
~
Golner and his Longbeards, alongside the hammerers marched with a newfound fury rising in their hearts. Sure the brewhouse was a long distance out, but by Grungni they would bring a terrible vengeance for this new and heinous act of the orcs.

While the angered dwarfs were making their way up the field, the gyrocopter, observant as ever caught in his sights the group of goblin wolf riders that were skirting along the edge of the forest that protected them from dwarfen wrath. Not wanting to put himself in immediate danger, he hovered slowly to the opposite side of the forest.

As the others positioned themselves, the crew of the Brass Hand had a particularly large giant on the horizon in their sights. "Let's see if the big lummox can play catch." the head engineer grinned as he ordered the crew a few coordinates. With a couple clicks of gears one of the dwarfen apprentices wound up the catapult's arm to the ordered specifications. "Let it fly!" the engineer ordered as his hands brought up an elaborate set of binoculars to his eyes, eager to see the splatter the giant was going to be. The kre-chung of the catapult launched the grudge-carved stones inviting hatred upon all giant-kin and such.

The engineer smiled as he watched the giant. The curious thing that caused him to drop his binoculars was that the giant took notice of the falling object and, with no small effort CAUGHT the stone. It was a solid, direct hit and the braindead giant CAUGHT the hurtling stone! With a bellowing laugh across the field the giant threw the stone back in an awkward arc that, immediately, the dwarfs knew was sailing off and away. "How about we don't lob it at him this time. Aim the catapult for a straight shot." The other apprentices seemed confused but tried to accomodate the request.
~~

Sorrek looked dumbfounded by the sight of his tavern. The rooftop shattered, orcs packing the building to its capacity, and all hell breaking loose around it, "NNOOooo!" He shouted painfully as he try to get himself off the cart, but the commotion as it was startled his pony, the scared equine trotting forward. To keep himself from being rocked off, Sorrek relented on his decision to take back his brewhouse singlehandedly and sat back, trying to reign in his mount.
~~

With the large group of Orc Boyz in the tavern, the others of the Greenskin army closed around like the fangs of a predator: Boar riders on the left flank, Wolf riders on the right, and a mean-looking giant with half a mind to join a baseball team coming straight down the middle.

The speedy wolf riders made their way quickly around the small forest the gyrocopter had hidden behind, maneuvering themselves so that they would soon be in the right flank of the dwarf longbeards. The Boar riders, slower but twice as beastly, reared and reformed their unit marching their way down the field. As the pincers closed, the giant bellered and moved straight across the trade road, paying no heed to the stone wall that bordered it. His clumsy stepping, however, was his own undoing as he tripped and fell face first into the road to the roaring laughter of dwarfs just a few dozen yards ahead of him.

"Any o' you lot s'much as finks o' drinkin' this stunty drink an' I'll rip teef out!" A loud, growling order roared out from the broken building, to which a comical, resounding Dawww and other grunts and grumbles replied. It seemed whatever warboss was leading them had the rest of them in quick line.

Through one of the windows, Golner spied the shaman, dressed in feathers and bones, shove his way through the orcish crowds who were trying their best to be as rowdy as possible while also not partaking as their leader demanded. The grisly face, painted skull white poked out from another window to look at the fallen giant, shouting up to the sky once more.

As the spell finished, the same green hand dove from the sky to pick up its newest quarry. Upon gripping the giant by the scruff of its neck though, it seemed the hand had come to the decision it didn't feel like moving giant hide today and promptly wrenched the oaf to its feet before disappearing into the sky once more. The dwarfs, mouths agape at the same green hand, fearing another shattered piece of building, communally breathed a sigh of relief.
~
"The orcs will not get away from this!" Golner shouted and with a rallying cry from Bronnir, raising the flag of Grimholdt, the charge was under way. Both the Longbeards, veterans of battle, and the Hammerers, Golner's personal guard, began to pump their legs to close the distance. Whether it be the imposing giant or the sight of a perfectly good tavern shattered, though, the dwarfs only moved a few yards forward, knowing that the giant will soon be upon them. "We'll take the giant. Hammerers take the pigs!" The dwarf lord shouted over the garbling roars of the orcs only a dozen or so yards away.

With the giant still a good distance from their brethren, the engineers decided to take another shot at the tall thing. A jury-rigged prop from stones and repair tools had put the grudge thrower at a decidedly forward incline, ensuring that the next stone shot at the giant would be a fastball that he hopefully couldn't catch. "Lads, fire!" The head engineer ordered again, though with all their adjustments, the arm caught far too early, sending the stone at a hurtling, horizontal speed directly over the giant's head.

The gyrocopter pilot, with a quick gear shift, knew it would be only moments before the wolf riders were around the forest and figured it was time to show the greenskins just how fast dwarfen ingenuity could carry him. With a pop-crunch the engine kicked into gear and lifted the bucket of bolts over the forests, avoiding the dangerous branches that might cut short his flight. From the higher sky, the pilot could see the scrambling wolf riders winding around the forest and in a second, he knew exactly where he was going to put his bird.

It was a sudden maneuver and it came completely by surprise out of the stormy sky as the pilot choked the engine, freefalling for a good length before kickstarting the motor again. The weight of the chopper was barely held by the whirring rotors but the gyrocopter kept its air, turning itself to face the suddenly exposed flank of the wolf riders. With a mad, coughing cackle tinged black by too many times under oily machine parts, the pilot pulled the lever on the front-mounted steam gun. Pneumatic power from built-up steam pressure funneled a belt of razored, runed bullets into the chamber while another steam hose powered the hammer that struck the gunpowder-filled shells. The fiery flashes illuminated the engineer's manic face while the bullets causing the fireworks screamed into goblins, wolves, and dirt with no bias, laying out several of the small curs and their mounts. In the heat of the surprise and at the sight of their goblin buddies dead, the rest of the unit panicked, knowing that the orcs who kicked them around were busy, and fled off never to be seen again.

Sorrek tried shouting at his pony, tugging tightly on the reigns to get it to turn back. His efforts to get himself back to the pub were clearly failing and as one of his windows shattered from an orc, clearly drunk, being flung outside into the rough dirt, he was suddenly glad of his distance. This orc, who appeared one of the smaller boyz compared to the others, was still seven foot tall. If he were to make it back, the wizened brewmaster figured that he'd be killed and what remained of his brew in the cart would be lost along with the recipe for brewing Redstone Stout. "Damn this." he gruffed, finally whipping the pony forward instead of pulling it back, which the pony gladly obliged.

The orcs within the tavern were getting rowdy and it was clear to both dwarf units that more and more precious glass bottles and barrels were being broken. It seems the warboss, quite opposed to them drinking, was joining the revelry provided with no foe to fight yet. It would be some time too until the Longbeards made it to retake the brewhouse. The giant, picked up by the Hand of Gork, bellered loud into the air, brandished his club, and charged headlong into the veteran dwarfs.

Golner and Bronnir prepared for the charge, striking forward as the giant's legs came into range. Bronnir, striking with the standard in one hand swung wide while Golner managed to cut into the giant in the forward leg's hamstring. It seemed like a good blow struck and indeed it was but the raucous noise the giant made, swinging its club wildly and yelling at the pain forced the Longbeards, weathered and experienced, to give pause. Despite the frightening display, the Longbeards stuck in, knowing that to flee meant the loss of more booze than they could think to drink!

While the combat between the Longbeards and giant raged, the boar riders, jockeying for position moved forward to avoid the high road wall. Turning their unit, it was a clear that they would close with Golner's guard soon.
~
With Golner's orders, the Hammerers reformed to face the boar riders even as their lord was beset upon by the orc-owned giant. Their duty to protect and to follow orders clashed but they would remain fast to their Lord's wishes. In the short distance, the gate keeper champion, tasked with the one copy of keys to Golner's chambers, spied that at the head of the close boar riders there was indeed a loud leader dressed in bangles and skulls gathered from his exploits. A Big Boss. "Lads...I'll have that one. You have the rest."

Behind the hammerers, the battle continued at the head of the longbeards. Golner twisted his axe, still embedded in the giant's hamstring, and yanked as hard as he could to spill more giant blood. Bronnir still missed but holding the standard up was more important. The giant threw back, swinging with his club into the mass, hitting with a strength that no gromril could stop but a few shields could deflect, killing two of the revered veterans. Unabated by the dwarfs skill, the giant prepared for his next swing even as a hammer from a lucky Longbeard swing contacted his foot with a bony crack.

Off in the far back, the engineering team cursed their luck. Having taken their time to prepare a sure fastball at the giant, he was now in the thick of their longbeard brethren. "Quick! The pigs are almost on the hammerers, turn the catapult." The two apprentice engineers looked almost terrified at the prospect of such a quick change. "A-aye..." one said, nodding to the other as they tried to spin the catapult on its propped frame so that it pointed toward the boar riders. "FIRE!" As the pin was pulled, a horrendous creak of tightly-wound wood sounded. The arm flung forward with force enough that the rune-covered stone slammed straight in the ground. Physics being what it is, the force with the arm caused the entire frame to flip itself upside down! "Grimnir save me!" one of the younger dwarfs cried as he ducked out of the way. "Right boys! Brass Hand doesn't look damaged. Let's get that rig upright!" the head engineer said. Had he not moved to help his apprentices, they may have just hauled off for a drink, but seeing how the drink was at stake, they tried to get the catapult back up and running...but it would be some time.

Finally, the gyrocopter pilot, adrenaline still keeping him up, saw his chance to avoid the battle altogether. If he could catch Sorrek and his beer cart, he could at least secure that much! Hitting his engine with a large wrench caused the smog-coated pipes to choke out a puff of smoke as the gyro lifted off the ground over the forest, the giant, and the broken tavern to give chase to the poor brewmaster!

Now a good distance away from the conflict, Sorrek breathed a sigh of relief, reigning the pony to a slower trot. No reason not to save the pony's energy just in case something gives chase. At that thought, over the din of battle there was an odd, churning humming on the air. The stoic dwarf turned in his seat, wishing he hadn't, to see the bobbing contraption of a dwarfen gyrocopter flying, not to harry the orcs, but straight at him! The pony, unawares of the approaching danger, ambled as its rider ordered a few feet. "I'm getting too old for this!" Sorrek shouted, trying to urge the pony on faster.

The time had come and the hammerers were ready for the incoming charge. The orcs, grinning widely with their tribal-decorated full-metal lances in their hand. As they kicked the boars off into the wild charge, there was no way they wouldn't contact. The warboss at the head of the pack yelled loudly pointing straight at the gate keeper, Cragg Stormhammer by name, who had stepped ahead of his dwarfs, holding his hammer behind him, resting on the ground so that when the boss approached he could play 'Let's-see-how-high-we-can-knock-the-orc'. To the hammerers chagrin, though, the boss' lance was far longer and with such strength behind the charge, the dwarf champion's heavy armor was no match. The dwarf swung with as much strength as he could but impaled as he suddenly was, the hammer soared high into the sky. The lance punctured through the dwarf's body, sticking into the ground and snapping with a loud crack, leaving a broken dwarf nailed to the ground and shocked dwarfs behind him.

With a guttural roar of triumph from their leader, the other boar riders pushed forward with their own lances, laying into the hammerer ranks. Snapping lances and screeching metal combined with dwarfen battle cries and orcish yells left seven more of the dwarfs dead on the ground. For every dwarf slain though, there was another stepping forward with a fallen brother's name on their lips, swinging up, down, and in wide circles the remaining hammerers threw their weighted weapons with all the hatred of their ancestors. In the face of such an onslaught, orcish toughness, armor, and angry ham aside, only five of the fifteen boar riders survived alongside their big boss! For a moment, neither side could tell what was happening, but eventually a loud yell from the largest orc of "Take a breaver!" Which was orcish for 'retreat away now before we get killed harder'. Needless to say, the other orcs obeyed and fled from the mass of armored dwarfs. Deep in their battlelust, the dwarfs only pursued so far before allowing the remnant unit continue into the distance, content with smashing their standard bearer into an unrecognizable pulp.

The Longbeards, unable to see what was going on with the hammerers off to the side, had a taller problem to deal with. Golner raised his axe in a rallying cry and swung, wounding the giant's shin once again. Wanting to avoid its legs being chopped into bits by short stunties, the giant bellered loud and, defying the pain in his body, jumped up! Higher than four dwarfs stacked on top of each other, the giant fell to the ground into the mass of Longbeards, stamping with its feet! In the improv tap-dance routine, six Longbeards became broken pieces of armored toe-jam. Surrounded by dwarfs, now on a rampage for their fallen comrades, swung hard a true, breaking the now brittle bones of the giant's legs. With a great wail, the giant fell the exact opposite way, crashing into the ground in such a way that the Longbeards doomed to be crushed by the giant's girth moved out of the way.

Golner, knowing they needed to kick into gear and organized his boys back into formation, leaving the dead giant to its well-deserved fate. He spied into the window to see the orc shaman, leaning on his staff stone drunk, tried garbling some mumbo-jumbo from his loose lips, failing whatever spell he was attempting. If Golner was right, the orcs were delving more into the Redstone Stout without the leader's fierce reprisal. A plan, as blasphemous as it might seem, began to form in the dwarf tactician's mind.
~
As the Longbeards wound down from slaying a giant, they shuffled into position only to hear their Lord Golner shout out, "Let's reform to take on the boar riders just in case the hammerers fall back!" Even Bronnir seemed shocked and confused at the order.

"Sir. The orcs, though..." the battle standard bearer asked from his armored helmet, his large beard sticking out from the clapped visor.

"I know where they are. But we ought to cover our brother's return." Golner reassured. His Thane's silence was the obedience he needed as he turned to the tavern. The thirty orcs and their raucous boss were all now obviously drinking heavily. Even from the outside, through the shattered windows and door, the dwarfs could see each Big'un hefting an entire barrel, toting the large ale supply and swallowing directly from the tap before another, slightly more sober and much more irked that they weren't drinking, punched them and took the stash for themself. Even the boss, towering a good two feet above the next tallest greenskin had his own barrel to himself, taking long draughts from the lip, the sealed top snapped into wooden bits by his precariously large blade.

"Give 'em time." the Golner spoke under his breath, knowing that the waste of ale was going to swing the advantage to them soon enough.

Across the field, the hammerers had fleeing boar riders in their sights. But out of respect for the dead, their charge didn't get far, preferring to honor their Gate Keeper by removing him from the orcish shishkebob in the ground, laying him with his hands on his chest. They'd have their vengeance in short time.

The gyrocopter, last of the moving dwarf units as the engineering crew struggled to get the Brass Hand back on its feet, screamed across the sky until it was soon hovering on the other side of Sorrek's beer cart. The pilot, innovative as ever, threw down a grappling hook tethered on a long cord of rope. He intended to go fishing for ale!

Needless to say, Sorrek was none too happy to see a whirling machine of death hover very close to his head, especially with that grappling hook dangling from its chassis. The pony, now suddenly very aware of the situation, reared back on its hind legs and reformed the beer cart without Sorrek's orders, trying to put as many yards between it and the loud gyrocopter, "Get back ye daft boy!" Sorrek demanded, attempting to wave off the pilot. However, it was clear that the pilot couldn't hear the brewmaster's plea over the sound of his loud engine.

The battle was obviously waning, with the dwarf units scattered and the orc units dwindling. Finally, the name of the warboss was shouted, "VERGATH!! WUT SAY WE TOAST T' A HIC JOB WELL..." the shouting didn't last long as the celebrating orc was punched dead in the face by his huge boss. "Oi'll be the one makin' the toasts...and not 'afore I says we do!" With another long draught, the other orcs began to drink as heavily as they were, pleased to keep drinking until the stunties left. The shaman, too long into his own barrel, didn't even try to cast a Gorkish (or possibly Morkish) spell.

Outside the revelry, the orc boar riders, assured that there was enough distance between them and the mad hammerers, rallied under the boar boss' call. With order reestablished amongst the chaotic orcs, they faced the hammerers for another charge.
~
With the boars stopped and the dead managed, the hammerers reorganized their unit, preparing for another charge. "For Cragg!!!" the field-promoted Gate Keeper shouted, hammer in one hand, keys in the other. The loud shouting, though, couldn't carry their feet far enough to the boar riders. They were prepared for their next and surely final match. Five boar riders and an angry boss would tear the remaining hammerers to pieces, surely. That is, until a soft whistling began to grow louder. Ever, the high pitch lowered until the orcs looked up, a look of horror in their eyes as a large stone, surrounded by other, smaller, but no-less runed stones, fell directly on top of the orcs, killing three of the riders and tenderizing more ham.

Despite the distance, the hammerers could hear the engineer's howls of success, glad to have finally hit something. With the odds now stacked further in their favor, the hammerers cheered despite the failed charge.

Off away from the battle, the gyrocopter whirred into action. Not a few yards away, the pilot figured he'd have no problem. The cart hadn't been moving that fast, consumed by confusion. Something in how the engine sputtered, though, riled the pony and its rider who HYAH'D at the right moment, sending the equine into a mad dash that put the cart a good distance farther. Shocked at the surprisingly quick movement of the cart, the pilot pulled back on the throttle, not wanting to careen directly into the ground and only inched forward slightly.

"SIR!! We need to charge the brewhouse! Think of the stout!" A dwarf veteran pleaded before his Lord. Despite Golner's rank, he had to consider the word of a Longbeard. They were, after all, the idols of younger beardlings.

"A little while more." Golner said, defying the will of the remaining Longbeards and Bronnir. The stout they were drinking would be lost in the combat anyway...let them test the strength of fine dwarfen beer for just a while longer.

"Ha HA!!" Sorrek shouted triumphantly, easing up on the speedy pony. He KNEW that keeping the pony's strength for later was a good idea. Never cross a brewmaster. He lifted his fist up and began to shake it at the gyrocopter pilot. "You'll not bring that new-fangled monster any closer to me!"

The greenskin boar boss and his two remaining riders decided it was now or never for more battle. Charging the larger hammerer group, they pressed in against the stout dwarfs, putting six more dwarfs into the ground. The dwarfs, hefting their hammers once again to smash their hated enemies, only managed to kill the remaining two. The big boss deflected the hammers swung at him and roared a loud warcry that, were it not for the hammerers stubborn nature and insane courage, the haggard unit may have fled. They held as they were born to do, ready to put this boss in a shallow grave.

The noises began to quiet from within the tavern walls; loud and boisterous orcs were getting sluggish. "Evyone..." Vergath slurred, loud enough the dwarfs could hear it, "Get ready...stop drinking." His speaking wasn't listened to until he punched another orc who slumped to the floor, passed out drunk. "EVYONE!! GET YOU BOYZ READY!" Most of the orcs stumbled up from the floor, empty, broken barrels scattered around their feet. Many leaned on their axes and swords, using them as makeshift crutches to hold themselves up. They weren't about to disregard what Vergath was saying even when they were plowed. "Looks like da stunties fink they gonna charge."
~
The gyrocopter pilot, still gauging that Sorrek's cart was still in range. Easily within range, he churned the engine once again. In response, as with last time, the brewmaster spurred the beer cart further away. Still, the old bird could catch it and the pilot pushed the throttle as hard as he could. The gyrocopter leaned and lurched forward and began to cover the distance until...ker-plonk. It was a sound the pilot had heard time and time again, that damned gear-spring that always gave him trouble snapped again. He closed his eyes, knowing that leaning this far was going to be disastrous. The engine snapped and fell straight out of the gyrocopter's chassis, causing the whirring propellor to sail off into the sky, careening off into the ground a distance away. The chassis collapsed the short distance to the ground and sent the pilot rolling to the ground. "Damnitall!!" the pilot yelled infuriated at the catastrophic malfunction. He was however glad for his survival, knowing a good number of engineers injured far more severely. There was a pained look on his face though as, in the distance, Sorrek was rolling in laughter on his beer cart.

Now finished reeling from the boar rider charge, the hammerers struck back with renewed vigor, sure to pummel the orc boss into the ground. In the orcs confidence, his wild swings touched nary a dwarf, only the random chink of heavy, dwarven armor. In response to the failed swings, the hammerers, chanting Cragg's name in unison, swung a syncronous downward swing that quickly broke through the Boss' defense, making him eat delicious dirt a split second before his skull was crushed by the heavy, solid hammer of the new Gate Keeper. "And stay down."

Golner eyed the brewhouse with a confident gleam in his eye. "This is it lads. Now we charge." he said quietly. Almost before he finished, he was drowned out by the proud, slightly annoyed cry of the Longbeards and Bronnir. If he hadn't started moving with them, the Lord Golner might well have been trampled by his battle-thirsty Longbeards. The dwarfs piled forward into the brewhouse, tearing the broken door away from its arch. Golner was at the head, his hateful eyes glaring out from under his helmet at his quarry. "Vergath!" the bold lord shouted into the room, "You'll not leave this building alive. So help me and my ancestors."

Vergath similarly glared at the dwarf lord, lolling a large ball of spit from it's slacked mouth onto the floor. The tall, imposing orc pointed his sword, blackened steel slicked with beer and growled, "No one..." the orc started quietly enraged, "NO ONE..." his volume grew louder, "NO STUNTY SAYS THE NAME OF VERGATH STUNTY-CHOPPA AND LIVES!!" he lurched forward, the drink taking a strong hold over his movements as he lifted the blade up to bring down on the lord's head.

Golner could have predicted the swing a mile away, bringing his shield up to his face, barely peeking over the wide rim, runic axe held readied at his side. The orc's blade came down in a strong swing that was quickly deflected by the rounded edge. The proficient Lord pushed upward though to make the drunk Warboss' spread his arm, allowing him a swift, shunting uppercut with the blunt backside of his axe into Vergath's chin. The stiff orc bones didn't break, but there was definitely an effect. The orc collapsed to the ground but even in his booze-addled state, he rolled back up to his feet.

Around them was a fifteen foot circle granted to them by both dwarf and orc, though the more drunk orcs were still finding their way around the duel to take their own fight to the longbeards. The savage, alcohol-enraged orcs managed to slay five of the dwarfs despite not being able to stand up while the Longbeards only put two to the ground dead.

The challenge continued within the raging battle, generals facing each other. Golner stood unharmed while Vergath, rubbing his jaw with his shield hand and readying his sword in the other stepped forward again, more defensively this time. Golner made the swift move and sprinted shield first into the mass of orc, slicing across with his axe, the mystical axe shattering the orc's rough, tribal shield. Vergath's drunk swing yet again made no difference against the impermeable defense of the dwarf lord.

This was it. Golner decided he was done with this. Backing up to give some distance between him and the stunned Warboss, the dwarf lord shucked his shield from his arm, tossing it face up in the middle of he and his foe. "For GRIMHOLDT!!" Golner shouted as he sprinted forward, stepping up to the shield and leaping as high as any dwarf could, swinging with his axe directly at the orc's head. Vergath wasn't quite out of the fight though and lifted his sword arm high, defending his precious brain bits with it. The axe sunk deep into the muscle and the crack of bone resounded above all the other combat. Both dwarf and orc stopped as Golner brought the mighty warboss down with his own weight to the ground. "You've led these orcs for the last time." the Lord promised with a toothy grin from deep inside his beard.

"YOU'S A LIAR!!" Vergath said, managing with his last ounce of strength to shove the dense dwarf across the floor before passing out unconcious. The dwarf lord, surprised at the sudden shove clattered into a shelf with a few remaining, unbroken bottles, being doused with the slick liquid as the bottles shattered.

"Vergath's down! Pick 'im back up!" a large orc shouted and, despite the odd behavior, one orc preserving another, the other boyz obeyed and hefted the body out while others covered their escape. Before the longbeards had time to cut their escape off, the orcs had broken through the weakened wall to leave the tavern. With only themselves and their unconcious leader in hand, the orcs fled the field, ignoring the gyrocopter, its pilot, and the beer cart which Sorrek was guarding with his life.

The dwarfs had won.

Though it had come at a cost. A grave one indeed. Only a single barrel of stout, hidden under the cellar to age, had survived the raid. The tavern itself was in tatters. Torches, lanterns, and chairs all lay broken in a mass of class and wood splinters. The bar had countless marks from sword and axe. Even claw marks marred the once pristine, mahogany counter. All the shelves and bottles were in tatters, the floor slick with sticky, coagulating beer and other liquors. Every dwarf; Longbeard, Hammerer, Crewman, and Pilot stood mourning the loss of Sorrek's Sitdown. Certainly it would be rebuilt...but the beer that they could have saved was gone. It would be several months, even a couple years, before one could hope to brew as much alcohol as had been housed in Sorrek's.

"Boys we did the best we could." Golner choked out in comforting words. He knew it did little. They would return back to Grimholdt, resupply, and avenge this loss.

"YOU SODDING DWARFS! I'LL HAVE EACH OF YOUR HEADS AS BREWING POTS!"


But first there was the matter of a surly brewmaster to deal with...[/size]