At Middenstang, the Greenskins had already clashed with Middenland's forces.
Veronica's powerful magic had inflicted devastating losses on the Greenskins. The battlefield was strewn with their corpses, scorched by her greatest flame spell—Doomsday Judgement. The meteor firestorm engulfed the enemy, earning thunderous cheers from the Imperial soldiers and allowing the Middenland army to retreat swiftly behind the cover of the Teutonic Guard and the Sons of Ulric.
However, Veronica and her witches needed time to recover. They temporarily withdrew to regroup.
Yet, this catastrophic magic was far from enough to defeat the Greenskin horde. Despite losing over 8,000 troops, the Spider King, Snagla Spit-Tongue, still commanded an army of over 60,000 Greenskins. At his command, the survivors pressed forward, spurred by the Waaagh! energy that fueled their fanaticism. As for the Goblins? They relied on a mix of spider venom and hallucinogenic mushrooms brewed by their shamans deep within the Drakwald forest. This concoction kept the Goblin Spider Riders utterly fearless and zealously obedient.
The Greenskin army charged toward the human defensive lines with relentless fervor.
Middenland's forces followed their prearranged strategy, forming a slanted line formation. After the Teutonic Guard and Sons of Ulric successfully fell back into the main force, halberdiers and pikemen swiftly moved into position. Imperial officers shouted commands as Middenheim Marshal Heinrich Toddbringer rode through the ranks on his warhorse, barking orders.
While Middenland's soldiers lacked the refined equipment of the Reikland or Nuln forces, or the wealth of Averland's well-supplied freemen, they were fierce and tenacious warriors. These men understood that war was the eternal theme of the Drakwald, and they were ready to die to defend their homeland.
### The First Wave
The first Greenskin wave was composed of Goblins—primarily Snots and diminutive Spider Riders. These cannon-fodder troops were sent to test the waters, and the Middenland army was ordered to conserve their ammunition for more significant threats.
"Yooohoo!"
"Waagh! Aaah!"
"Hehehe!"
The Snots came first, a bizarre sight of tiny creatures wrapped in rags and wielding crude sticks or just their fists. They leaped and screeched in mock displays of strength as they approached the Imperial line.
The Middenland soldiers watched them with disdain. Halberdiers swung their weapons effortlessly, slicing through the Snots like paper. The swarm of tiny bodies was quickly reduced to twitching heaps of flesh.
Next came several hundred Goblin Spider Riders. Mounted on black spiders about half a meter tall and a meter wide, they charged down a short slope toward the human line. Lacking cover, cohesion, or any semblance of strategy, they presented little threat. Marshal Heinrich ordered the artillery to focus on the Greenskin rear while archers and crossbowmen targeted the advancing Spider Riders.
The Goblin cavalry fell in droves under a hail of arrows. A few managed to reach the pikemen but were promptly skewered.
The first wave ended in failure.
"This is manageable," Heinrich muttered. "The real challenge lies ahead."
As the slanted formation proved effective, Heinrich remained vigilant of its risks. He rode along the line, inspecting the firelock troops, who awaited the order to fire.
### The Second Wave
The second wave was far more formidable: over a thousand Savage Orcs charged under the command of their warlord, Grot. Clad in little more than loincloths and tribal tattoos, they wielded primitive axes and clubs as they stormed from the forest and hills.
Savage Orcs had plagued the Old World for over 5,000 years, their spores sprouting like fungi that could be beaten back but never eradicated. Their stench—an overpowering mix of sweat, rot, and excrement—was enough to nauseate the Middenland soldiers, many of whom had just eaten greasy pork.
"First rank, fire!"
The firelock troops stepped forward, unleashing a coordinated volley. Flames roared from their muzzles, cutting down rows of Savage Orcs. Despite being struck, the Orcs pushed on, fueled by Waaagh! energy and sheer ferocity.
"Reload! Second rank, fire!"
The soldiers reloaded with practiced efficiency, launching another volley. Black powder smoke filled the air, masking the stench of the Greenskins. Savage Orcs fell in heaps, their primitive tattoos and cloth armor offering no protection.
From the artillery lines, cannons, mortars, and Hellstorm rocket batteries opened fire. Explosions ripped through the Orc ranks, leaving blood and gore in their wake. Even the mightiest Savage Orc bosses couldn't withstand the onslaught. One warlord, draped in pelts and human skulls, was struck in the throat by a cannonball. His headless body staggered briefly before collapsing.
"Advance! Everyone, forward!" Snagla shouted, realizing his troops were faltering. His reliance on hallucinogens kept their morale high but stripped them of tactical discipline. Snagla turned to his giant Arachnarok spiders, ordering them into the fray.
### The Arachnarok Advance
The colossal spiders lumbered forward, each carrying a dozen Goblins armed with crude weapons. More Savage Orcs surged into battle alongside them.
"Looks like they've studied Nuln's combined arms tactics," Heinrich scoffed. "Dugan, where's that new cannon you promised me?"
"Coming up!" Dugan Ironhand, the Dwarf engineer, bellowed. His Blackpowder Brotherhood, now a formidable force of over 200 Dwarves, unveiled their latest weapon: a steam-powered flame cannon.
The flame cannon spewed a torrent of searing oil and coal tar, scorching everything in its path. Savage Orcs and Goblins screamed in agony as the flames consumed them. Even the Arachnarok spiders couldn't withstand the heat, their legs buckling as their riders burned or leapt to their deaths.
In a single charge, six Arachnarok spiders were lost. Snagla's heart sank, but he pressed on, knowing retreat was not an option.
### The Beastmen Join the Fray
While the western front was consumed by the Greenskin onslaught, the Beastmen began their assault on the eastern flank.
Led by the Supreme Beastlord, Gorthor the Cruel, their army of over 80,000 spilled onto the battlefield. Razorgor chariots, Ungor and Gor herds, Minotaurs, and Harpies advanced in chaotic waves.
At the rear of their formation stood Gorthor's elite:
1. The Drakwald Destroyers – A disciplined unit of Bestigors personally selected by Gorthor.
2. The Blood Bulls – A terrifying band of over 300 Minotaurs.
3. The Thunderstorm Host – Chaos Dragon Ogres, towering monsters who fought with the fury of a storm.
As the Beastmen prepared their attack, Boris Toddbringer and Axel von Wiesenberg launched their countercharge with the White Wolf Knights.
"White Wolf Knights, to me!" Boris raised his Elector Count's holy blade, its radiant light piercing through the Beastmen's corruption. "Our time has come!"
"Ulric grants us fangs and claws! Ulric grants us the wild heart of the wolf! We bring Ulric's judgment upon his enemies!"
"For Middenheim! For Ulric!"
The White Wolf Knights formed a silver arrow, their charge like a meteor crashing into the Beastmen lines.
"Toward the sun, march forward!"
As the infantry followed in their wake, the battle for Middenstang reached a fever pitch.
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