It had been weeks of travelling through ashen lands shrouded in concealment magic, hiding the nature of the army from the Chaos Dwarfs for as long as possible. They would only have one opportunity to surprise them.
As they approached the Black Fortress, its imposing silhouette loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. The citadel, stained black by the volcanic fires of the rocky plateau, stood as a grim testament to the cruelty and power of the Chaos Dwarfs.
The fortress itself was a nightmarish sight to behold, a labyrinth of soot-covered walls, blackened iron structures, and jagged rock formations. Rivers of burning magma snaked through its heart like veins of molten fire, casting an eerie glow over the desolate landscape.
Within the fortress's depths lay the hellish caverns where the Infernal Guard, a cult of disgraced warriors, toiled under the command of their master. These warriors, exiled and enslaved for their perceived failures, sought redemption in the eyes of Hashut, their dark deity, or faced certain death in the attempt.
For centuries, the Sorcerer-Prophet Drazhoath the Ashen had ruled over the Black Fortress with an iron fist, his bitter rivalry with Lord Astragoth Ironhand fuelling the fires of ambition and resentment within the Chaos Dwarf hierarchy. Feared and respected in equal measure, Drazhoath was a formidable opponent, wielding Hashut's sacred fire with deadly precision and commanding the Legion of Azgorh with ruthless efficiency.
As Atlas surveyed the fortress from afar, he knew that infiltrating its depths would require careful planning and cunning strategy. But with the aid of his undead legions and the intelligence provided by his Lahmian allies, he was determined to strike a blow against the heart of the Chaos Dwarf empire and bring about its downfall.
"You know your task?" Atlas questioned not for the first time. He had been in many battles, but this was something different. It was war. He currently lacked the strength at arms to take the Choas Dwarfs straight on therefore he was reliant on cunning and guile to take them down. Strickler nodded to his lord.
"Then it is time for you to depart. Play your role well, for much depends on it," Atlas intoned, his voice carrying the weight of their mission. Strickler nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of their task. With a swift motion, he mounted his skeletal steed, the ancient bones creaking in response, and turned to lead the majority of his undead legion toward the nearby mine.
The journey was silent, save for the haunting clatter of bones against the desolate landscape of the Darklands. As they approached the mine, a sense of anticipation hung heavy in the air. This small outpost, a mere speck in the vast expanse of the Chaos Dwarf empire, held strategic importance beyond the valuables and slaves inside.
It was the first step in his plan to dismantle the Chaos Dwarf empire.
Atlas, sitting concealed on a hill some distance away, hidden by yet more magic, cast a scrying spell to watch the battle unfold.
With a silent command from Strickler, the skeletal warriors surged forward, their relentless advance overwhelming the meagre defences of the mine. The clang of steel echoed through the tunnels as the undead clashed with the small garrison of Chaos Dwarfs stationed there. Human slaves, their faces etched with fear and desperation, fled to safety as the undead cut through their captors with chilling efficiency.
Yet, for the orcish slaves, there would be no mercy. Despite many orcs even aiding the undead with a quick stab in the back of their masters, Atlas's orders were clear – humans to be rescued, orcs to be raised as undead. When the Greenskins realised their fate, it was too late and their resistance was futile. With a grim determination, the undead put them to the sword, their fallen bodies soon rising once more to join Strickler's growing host.
As the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded, Strickler stood amidst the carnage, his skeletal army now bolstered by the addition of the fallen orcs. The mine, once a symbol of Chaos Dwarf dominance, now lay silent and abandoned, its halls haunted by the spectres of the fallen.
It was a small victory, but a significant step forward in their war against the Chaos Dwarfs. And as Strickler surveyed the scene before him, he knew that his role wasn't over. Rather than quickly leaving, Strickler commanded the undead to secure the human slaves in the mine to protect them from what came next. After, the undead, well-trained by Atlas's greed, began to gather the valuable metals, gems and machinery in the central warehouse.
That was until they heard the war horns echoing through the air.
The noise cut through the air like lightning, signalling the approach of the Chaos Dwarf host from the nearby Black Fortress, Atlas and his undead legion braced themselves for battle. From the horizon emerged a dark tide of warriors, their forms silhouetted against the fiery glow of the Darklands.
Leading the vanguard were the orc labourers, a throng of over 5000 brutish warriors driven forward by the cruel lash of their Chaos Dwarf overseers. Their movements were erratic, their faces twisted in a mixture of fear and bloodlust as they charged toward their enemies with reckless abandon. Behind them marched the core of the Chaos Dwarf army, a disciplined force of 300 warriors clad in black iron, their ranks bristling with deadly weapons and grim determination.
At the head of the host rode the Chaos Dwarf Overseer, perched atop a fearsome Lammasu. The creature's massive form loomed over the battlefield, its mace-tipped tail lashing out in anticipation of the coming slaughter. Black sorcery crackled around its form, wreathing it in an aura of dark power that seemed to sap the very strength from the air.
As the Chaos Dwarf host drew nearer, Atlas surveyed the battlefield, his mind racing with strategies to counter their advance. Though Strickler was outnumbered and facing a formidable foe, everything was going according to his design.
The air crackled with anticipation as the two forces collided, the clash of steel and bone echoing across the desolate landscape of the Darklands. Amidst the chaos of battle, Atlas paused, letting the Chaos Dwarfs be lost to the red rage of battle.
But the Chaos Dwarfs were relentless, their disciplined ranks pressing forward with unyielding resolve. The Lammasu roared with fury, its magical powers wreaking havoc upon the undead ranks as it sought to crush Strickler's forces beneath its hooves.
Yet, for every blow struck, the undead legion, now far larger with the slaves risen up, fought with an unearthly tenacity, their skeletal forms rising again and again to meet the relentless onslaught of their enemies. As the battle raged on, it became clear that victory would belong to the Dwarfs, as despite losses, they pressed on like an unstoppable hammer.
Atlas, still concealed nearby, raised a single hand, his pale skin shining under to moonlight.
"Attack." The one word spoken almost conversationally sent his main force into battle. The Chaos Dwarfs, so caught up in their battle rage failed to notice the new threat until it was too late.
Caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, the Chaos Dwarf army faltered as Atlas's concealed forces sprang into action. From the shadows emerged the full might of his undead legion, descending upon the Chaos Dwarfs with relentless fury.
At first, they heard the dying screams of the fellows with alarming frequency. Then they felt their shield wall, where runic shields locked together formed a firm barrier, buckle and break. Finally, the last thing they saw was an even larger tide of skeletons led by undead Ogres, trolls, Giant Arachnids and a vampire wreathed in magic-wielding a glowing red sword.
With a roar that echoed across the battlefield, the undead ogres and trolls charged forward, their massive forms crashing into the Chaos Dwarf ranks like a tidal wave of death. The Dwarfs fought valiantly, their black iron-clad warriors forming a desperate shield wall against the onslaught, but it was not enough to stem the tide of bone and sinew that crashed against them.
Atlas, mounted upon his towering Giant Arachnid, led the charge, his sword tearing through the Chaos Dwarf lines with terrifying speed and precision. The air crackled with dark magic as he unleashed spell after spell upon his enemies, the very ground beneath their feet trembling with the force of his power.
As the Chaos Dwarf army struggled to regroup, Atlas's forces pressed their advantage, driving deeper into their ranks with each passing moment. The cries of the fallen mingled with the clash of steel and bone as the battlefield descended into chaos and bloodshed.
The main force of the Chaos Dwarf was beaten and would only require time to end the few still clinging to life. The remaining orc labourers with more intelligence than others fled into the wastelands.
The last challenge remained the overseer and his monstrous mount.