The roar of explosions echoed through the cavern as the Dwarven Artillery tried in vain to make a substantial dent in the numbers of Rattan slaves that swarmed across no man’s land like a living tidal wave of black fur and glowing red eyes. Barely clothed beyond a loincloth and a metal collar and armed with only rusty shivs and wooden clubs, they were the disposable bulk of the Rattan military. Normally they would not have been a problem, but in their current numbers and with the threat of what was behind them preventing retreat they had become a threat far greater than they originally were. In past assaults, only about five thousand slaves would have been seen rushing towards this gate, but now the oncoming force eclipsed even the largest ever prior attack by a ludicrous amount.

To make matters worse, the barbed wire maze, minefield and pitfall traps were no longer a problem for them due to the sacrificial charge made by the Wolf Rats and the Rattan Slaves were more than willing to scurry all over their sacrificial ‘lambs’ to escape both the threat in front and the threat in back. If they could only make it to the gaping wound left in the wall of the Beard-Things by the efforts of their Goddess-Queen they would be able to potentially earn their freedom and maybe even a chance to rise in the ranks!

The cries of those who were shot with bolt and bullet and blown apart by shell and shot were constantly drowned out by the cries of the rest of the Rattan Slaves as they screamed profanities and taunts at the Beard-Things. Each time one of their fellow slaves was slain, the survivors were just happy it wasn’t them and in a macabre case of wholly Rattan schadenfreude they relished the thought that they would be able to have some free meat after the battle was over. As bodies were crushed under the stampede of Rattan Slaves, occasionally someone would trip and be trampled to death by the following vermintide. The surge of figures stopped for nothing and no-one and those who were too slow or were injured were ground to gristle beneath the charging feet of the slaves.

As the first Rattan Slave managed to reach the breach in the wall, it cheered for itself and its accomplishment. No Rattan had ever managed to enter these walls and….!

*BANG!*

In its moment of pride, the Rattan Slave had stopped and turned around, exposing its backside to the fire of a group of very disgruntled Beard-Things. Like a scene out of the Second Battle of Berlin in the Resource War, otherwise known as World War 3, the Dwarven defenders had managed to take the ruined wall and make a suitably defensible position. The Dwarves let loose volley after volley into the horde of vermin, but with each lull in the firing the horde got closer and closer. Even though they were not reloading and were merely trading their guns for pre-loaded ones, the numbers were not against them and the ramp of rubble leading to their position was quickly being filed with snarling and shrieking Rat-people.

There was no time for the defenders to pick targets of opportunity, something that was usually enough to send the Rattan packing in the past. There was only the imminent threat of being overrun, and thus they could not stop firing for anyone or anything. Old Ironsides had been ordered by King Gilder IX to guard the gate, which was a good five thousand meters from the edge of the forty nine meter gap in the wall. Without the King expressly ordering the massive golem, it could not move and thus could not aid the defense of the wall. All hope seemed lost for the men and women on the wall until the sound of a massive horn echoed through the cave.

As if on cue, Old Ironsides rushed towards the Rattan Slaves and began to obliterate the swarm of Rat-people with ruthless efficiency. With every footfall, swing of his swords and activation of his built-in weapons hundreds of Rattan Slaves were torn apart, crushed, incinerated, electrocuted, frozen, petrified, etc. and the massive silvery golem showed no signs of stopping. With Old ironsides now active, the defenders could breathe a sigh of relief. The worst of the fight was over.

*Bzzap…….KRAKOOOOOM!*

A massive bolt of emerald lightning flew from the darkness and slammed into the other side of the wall. It was followed by several dozen more green bolts of electricity that sped across the subterranean air and made another set of sizable dents in the wall’s foundations. Far removed from the line of sight of the Dwarves, the Rattan Siege weapons began to fire. First were, of course, the longest ranged weapons which fired weaponized magical lightning infused with Ruin magic. Empowered by pure entropic might, these bolts of jade lightning made far more of an impact than if they were pure lightning throwers, but these were not the only ‘toys’ that had been brought to the field.

While having less range and thus being put in the line of fire for the Dwarven Artillery, the Rattan also fielded catapults and trebuchets that launched industrial waste (among other things) towards the walls. With less accuracy than the Ruin-Lightning Throwers, the Bane-Throwers were still effective at covering parts of the walls and gate with a powerful corrosive gunk that stuck to the stone and metal and slowly crept down its face, eating away at the works of art that had taken over three thousand years to finish.

The Dwarven Cannons and Mortars fired again and again at the Rattan siege weapons, but a dome of green energy stopped each round mid-air. Thus, the barrage from the Rattan Under Empire continued unabated for a solid hour before they eventually slowed their fire to a stop. Old Ironsides was done disposing of the Rattan Slaves by then and with the sounding of a great horn the massive war-golem charged towards the darkness. As Old Ironsides closed the distance, the siege weapons once again started to fire, this time directing everything at the more than 16 meter tall metal death machine. The Ruin-enhanced lightning was deflected by the war-golem’s shield generator, but the barrels full of corrosive goo smashed apart on its shield and thus the gunk fell right onto him.

The acidic solution hissed and sputtered violently as it ate away at the colossus’ metal chassis and weapons, its rune-inscribed metal body and swords being worn away, slowly but surely. As the gunk ruined the exquisite exterior of the golem, its movements began to slow and become jerkier. The chemicals that had hit it had begun to eat away at the enchanted runes and mess with the inner workings of the machine, gradually reducing its overall effectiveness. By the time the metal man reached the siege weapons it was already jittering like a man with a heavy tremor with every action it took. Barely able to walk without shaking violently, the Rattan that beheld the oncoming machine could scarcely believe that this was the same monstrosity that had caused them so much grief.

Just before Old Ironsides got into the darkness from which the siege machines had emerged and then slunk back into, a massive pillar of emerald energy shot out from deep in the shadows. The beam of green death smashed into Old Ironsides’ shield (or what was left of it) for a while before eventually overloading it and impacting the Golem itself. The beam was not powerful enough to destroy the ancient war-machine, but it was enough to send it flying back into the light from which it had emerged. As it landed with a metallic thud, the grotesque and mad cackling of a massive and unholy monster could be heard from the inky blackness from which the beam originated.

Two orbs of jade flame hung in that shadow, seemingly surrounded by five glowing, sparking and flaming horns that made it very clear that the worst was yet to come. From behind the ominous, shadow-cloaked form, a giant mechanical monstrosity built in the image of a Rat-Centaur hybrid trudged out from the gloom and pointed its massive, superheated, chainsaw-tipped war glaive at the twitching six-armed super-sized terminator. From within the giant Rattan war machine came a high-pitched mad cackling and declaration of war.

“HeheheHaHA! Finally! Get to test-play with you now at last, yes-yes! Your stupid-foolish Beard-Thing Creators of your now cannot save you, failed tool-weapon! So geared towards one goal you were that see the threat incoming you could not, yes-yes! HeheHAheHaHEhA! Now you face true power! Join the scrapheap you will, until time it is that I dissect you to study your innards! Grima Greasegears, Rapid Assault Tactical Behemoth Obliterator/ Terminator, ready to break-shatter you! Hee! Hee Hee! HeeHeeHAaHAhAAHeehAhe!”