As the Black Fortress gate swung open with a heavy creak, Atlas's eyes narrowed in anticipation. Through the widening gap, a regiment of Chaos Dwarf Warriors began their entry to the fortress, their synchronized footsteps echoing ominously across the desolate landscape. Clad in their signature red and black armour, they marched with precision, a formidable force to behold even from the distance where Atlas and Strickler stood.
Atlas watched intently, his mind calculating their numbers and assessing their strength on the city wall. Beside him, Strickler stood ready, his posture tense with anticipation. Behind them, the undead army awaited their command, a silent and imposing presence against the backdrop of the barren terrain.
As the last Chaos Dwarf Warriors passed the huge gatehouse, the great metal doors, inscribed with heretical runes of their fire god, began to close.
Then it stopped. The gate remained open.
Atlas could feel the tension in the air thickening. This would be their greatest challenge yet, success here meant a significant blow to weaken the Choas Dwarfs' grip on this land.
With a silent nod to Strickler, Atlas prepared to lead their forces into battle. The time for action had come, and they would meet their adversaries head-on, ready to fight for victory or fall in glorious defiance of the darkness that threatened to consume them.
With a commanding gesture from Atlas, the undead forces surged forward across the desolate plain, their skeletal forms moving with an eerie grace that belied their lifeless nature. Despite the looming threat of destruction raining down upon them in the form of arching missiles from the Black Fortress, the undead army pressed on relentlessly toward the now-open gate.
As they advanced, Atlas's keen eyes scanned the battlefield, taking note of the chaos unfolding around them. He saw the chaos dwarf warriors who had just entered the city, their towering forms now revealed to be greater undead, holding back a tide of dwarfs and Greenskins attempting to recapture the gatehouse.
Realizing the urgency of the situation, Atlas raised his hand once more, signalling the cavalry to charge forward and provide aid to their allies at the gate. Undead spider riders surged ahead, their arachnid mounts skittering across the terrain with unnatural speed, closing the gap between the advancing forces and the besieged gatehouse.
Amidst the chaos and destruction, Atlas remained steadfast, his determination unwavering as he watched his forces engage in battle with the enemy. The clash of steel and bone echoed across the plain, mingling with the sounds of screams and war cries as the two opposing forces collided in a frenzied melee.
As the undead poured through the narrow opening of the gatehouse into the fortress, they met little resistance from the slave army within. The tide of bones swept through the corridors and chambers with unstoppable force, overwhelming the feeble defences put up by the Greenskins.
Meanwhile, Atlas, atop his towering mount, used the chaos of battle to his advantage. With a mighty leap, he propelled himself onto the city wall, his giant arachnid mount carrying him effortlessly through the air. Landing with a grace that belied his undead form, Atlas wasted no time in springing into action.
Drawing his magical blade, he moved swiftly along the length of the wall, his movements a blur of deadly precision. With each swing of his sword, he struck down those few defenders who dared to stand in his path, their feeble attempts at resistance proving futile against his relentless assault.
As he moved further along the fortress wall, Atlas targeted the artillery and war machines, their operators scrambling to defend their posts. With a swift and decisive strike, he silenced each one in turn, rendering them useless against the advancing tide of undead below.
With each war machine silenced, the chaos dwarfs' ability to defend their fortress diminished, their once formidable defences crumbling under the relentless assault of Atlas and his undead army.
Then the infernal guard arrived.
The Infernal Guard, amongst the most feared and legendary warrior-cults within the Chaos Dwarf empire, stood as a formidable force within the darkened halls of the Black Fortress. These warriors were the elite defenders of the citadel, bound by oath to protect it at all costs and to carry out the will of their master, the Lord of the Black Fortress, without question.
Clad in armour black as the depths of the abyss, the Infernal Guard presented a terrifying sight to any who dared to challenge them. Each warrior bore the marks of their dishonour or failure, whether it be the stain of defeat in battle or the shame of a failed task, emblazoned upon their armour for all to see.
Their ranks were composed of Chaos Dwarfs who had fallen from grace in the eyes of their kin, condemned to serve in the Infernal Guard as a penance for their perceived failures. Yet despite their tarnished reputation, these warriors were among the most skilled and disciplined fighters in all of the Dark Lands.
Their weapons gleamed with dark enchantments, each blade forged in the fires of the inferno and imbued with the power of chaos itself. With every swing of their axes and every thrust of their spears, the Infernal Guard struck fear into the hearts of their enemies, their martial prowess matched only by their unwavering loyalty to their lord.
As they marched forth to confront the invading undead, the Infernal Guard moved with a grim determination, their eyes burning with the fires of vengeance and their hearts hardened against the coming onslaught. For they knew that they stood as the last line of defence against the forces of darkness, and they would fight to the bitter end to protect their citadel from all who would dare to challenge it.
With mechanical precision honed through years of training and unwavering discipline, the Infernal Guard formed tight shield walls, their blackened shields interlocking to create an impenetrable barrier against the tide of undead invaders. Each dwarf stood shoulder to shoulder, their ranks unbroken as they advanced steadily into the heart of the fray.
As the undead horde crashed against their shield walls, the Infernal Guard held firm, their stout frames resisting the relentless onslaught with unwavering resolve. With each swing of their mighty axes and thrust of their spears, they hewed through the ranks of the undead, their movements swift and precise as they struck down their foes with deadly efficiency.
Despite the overwhelming numbers arrayed against them, the Infernal Guard fought with fierce determination, their grim expressions betraying no hint of fear as they carved a path of destruction through the undead ranks. Each blow was delivered with devastating force, each step forward a testament to their unwavering commitment to their duty.
Driven by a sense of duty and a desire to protect their citadel at all costs, the Infernal Guard pressed forward relentlessly, their ranks unbroken even in the face of overwhelming odds. With each passing moment, they pushed deeper into the heart of the battle, their resolve unshaken as they fought to drive back the tide of darkness and reclaim their fortress from the clutches of the undead.
Despite the odds stacked against them, the undead army fought with relentless fury, their ranks bolstered by the new undead risen from the crushed slaves. With each passing moment, the battle raged on, the outcome hanging in the balance as both sides fought tooth and nail for control of the gatehouse and entry into the Black Fortress.
However Atlas, who was assisted by the precise calculations of his AI chip, his forces were slowly being pushed back. The Infernal Guard were all elites and were proving stubborn to eliminate. He needed to attack them from all directions.
His fangs exposed the moonlight shone like jewels as his lips parted in a smile.
Atlas was a Vampire Marques; he was only just getting started.