Introduction
Once again, the Bringer of the Pox trudged along the horde of Plaguebearers. At least the landscape was greener; he noticed several copses of trees, ready to be corrupted and turned into Feculent Gnarlmaws. They approached the remains of some sort of settlement. It may have been prosperous once; but with the discovery of the Stormvaults in this region, war had sprung up and driven the people away. A pity. He would have enjoyed sowing despair among them.
The Bringer was jolted out of his reverie by a change of note in the pipes. Now what did the Plaguebearers notice? And ugh, what was that smell? Not the sweet rot of Grandfather's garden, not the delicious decay, just simply... a stench. Ratmen.
The Bringer made a note to demote the Drones of the Plague. They made for terrible scouts.
Battleplan: Meeting Engagement, the Raid
Turn 1
The Bringer waved his wand around, conjuring foul magics. Every day, he grew closer to unlocking the secrets of the artefact. He directed the Plaguebearers towards strategic locations on the battlefield. It wasn't long, and Virulax himself made an appearance, along with his favorite Nurglings.
The ratmen made their move, pushing their horrendous construct towards the Plaguebearers. The bell tolled incessantly. The Bringer could not decide whether it was pleasant or not. Eh, probably not.
Turn 2
'Great One, we must seize the initiative!' - bellowed the Bringer of the Pox. Virulax grinned.
'Let them come to us. Let them outrun their own foul conjurations. They will break upon us, like sewage on stones.'
With grinding and cracking, the final construct arrived on the battlefield, accompanied by a bombardier. Buzzing incessantly, the Drones of the Plague also deigned to finally arrive.
Turn 3
'But Great One, surely you will act!'
Virulax grinned again. The Skaven would come, and their Vermintide would not be able to keep pace.
And the rats did come, although their cowardice forbade them to crash into the enemy. They milled about, content to launch techno-sorcerous bolts. Virulax was almost surprised when the enemy Clawlord charged a group of Plaguebearers - but then again, he was wielding an artefact-blade. Who knows what the weapon had demanded of him?
The Doomwheel lurched forward, but floundered in the thick bodies of the Drones.
The Clawlord fought viciously, cutting down the lesser daemons. But he was no match for the daemontide, as the air itself split, and all his victims crawled back into this reality.
The Doomwheel fared no better. It ground down a Drone, only to be hacked apart in turn. Once again, reality blinked, and the squad was complete.
Virulax counterattacked, his massive bulk smashing Clanrats apart. The Bell held, but of course, the intent was not to kill, but to delay. Virulax was not disappointed, and he laughed his bellowing laughter, as attack after attack found no purchase on his thick skin and exposed fat. He thought fondly of the Clawlord, whose corpse still twitched, bearing the caress of putrid spells.
On the other flank, the rest of the warband prepared for the assault. A new Feculent Gnarlmaw sprouted from the earth, invigorating the Plaguebearers. More of the lesser daemons popped into existence, holding the vital spots on the field. Alas, the lead Drone tripped and the charge faltered. The Plaguebearers decided against trying their luck alone.
It mattered not. The tide was turning in favor of the Maggotkin.
Turn 4
The rats grew desperate, and the Stormvermin charged the Drones. They stabbed and hacked, to no avail. As the Plaguebearers joined the fray, the rats still did not lose many - but just enough. Virulax himself was barely touched, and he scattered Clanrats with each swing.
Virulax was winning. And he decided to twist the poisoned dagger in the wound. He ordered his troops to retreat. Loping behind the Stormvermin, the Plaguebearers seized more vital ground. The Maggotkin now held most of the battlefield, and had inflicted enough casualties to make the rats retreat.
Aftermath
'A glorious, great victory!' - bellowed Virulax. 'Rejoice!'
The Plaguebearers stood, chanting the names of the sacred diseases brought upon the Skaven that day. The Nurglings cavorted and the Drones buzzed. All was as it should be.
'Bringer! What of your artefact?'
'The shard performed well, Great One. I have unlocked some of its secrets.'
'Very well-'
'Great One! Look!'
The Bringer of the Pox pointed, and Virulax turned. Left alone, the Clawlord suddenly sprang up, running full tilt after its retreating brethren. It hooted and hollered, swinging its blade carelessly.
Virulax motioned his troops back. They would never catch the fleeing rat. Indeed, there weren't many in the Realms who could accomplish such a feat.
'Let him have his trinket. Our weapon grows and grows in power. Come! We have more work to do.'
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