Boom! Boom! Boom!
The rythmic banging of the drums echoed across the field. Randval shook his head to clear it, no, got to stay focused. He looked up to the sky the carrions birds circled overhead, bloody scavengers, he thought they are the true winners of this godsdamned war.
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On the eve of the second month of the imperial calendar, the Holy Congregation, an oligarchy of the empires most holy men and women convened to discuss a new issue, the issue of the greenskin menace.
It has been known for a long time that the Orks have dwelt in the Sands of Elstirr, ever since the first outcasts were banished to this deserted edge of the world have men and ork fought, with tooth and claw, with bronze and steel and with fire and blood have the histories of the last century been forged.
But today was the day that it all changed, the Holy Congregation called for a holy crusade throughout the sands to "rid our god given lands of this heritc filth." And many did answer the call. from all corners of the empire did the god fearing men and women of the empire come and they brought with them steel and a fanaticle belife in this new righteous cause.
Trainee Paladin Randval Stubbton was one of this new breed of genocidal maniacs he had just graduated from the acadmy and was now working under the infamous Paladin Lustrous Von Clantior, and he like many others suceeded in driving the orks back to their last stronghold, Blackhold Keep.
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"Breach the walls!" yelled and unknow soldier as yet another volley of poisened orkish arrows descended on the ranks of the holy vanguard lead by the dreadknight Lustrous Von Clantior, the ranks of the vangurad were men of tested skill and temperement and luckily so as theirs was a nigh on impossible job.
The lands around Blackhold keep had been stripped of all vegetation in advance of the oncoming army by the Orks, clever little bastards, meant that their wasnt enough left to make proper seige engines, the army had managed to put together two ladders of questionable quality in time for the battle and so instead of retreating, as most would advise, Paladin Von Clantior volunteered to lead the forlorn hope.
A party of men whose duty it is to best the wall and the defenders and open the castle gates for the oncoming atacking force, it was a strategy long since abandoned by the empire as it almost always lead to the near or utter destruction of the forward party. It was a job for the insane, but luckily for the empirem, if their is one thing a crusade does not lack, it is fanatical cannon fodder.
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Nearly 500 brave souls had volunteered for the assault and only a tenth were predicted to survive.
Randval as the apprentice to Von Clantior, was forced to join.
That was all he could think of now as he and 500 other men climbed up there pitiful attempt at a seige ladder to almost certain doom.
"Hey Randval, stop fucking daydreaming there is work to be done." Chuckled one of his masters personal guard he laughed at his own joke as Randval thought of how one could be so jovial in the face of certain death.
His thought was interupted by the swing of a large broze war axe aimed at his head.
"Fuck!" he screamed as he steadied himself from nealry falling of the wall, just in time to dodge yet another swing, this time aimed at his lower abdomen.
He looked at his assailant a large tanned skinned Ork in tattered leather armour brandishing a beast of a weapon, an axe almost as long as the Ork was held out in an offensive position in front of him. The moonlight glinting of the bloodstained edge.
"Stay still and let me kill ya, ya dirty bastard! Ill skin you alive and then wear you as a bloody cloak!" The Ork yelled at him before charging, but Randval had no such intention of following orders. He moved into the Orks charge and dropped low, lashing out with his short sword sinking it into the bowels of the Ork as it howled in pain.
And then he smelt it his killing blow had spilled the half digested contents of the Orks gut across the bloodied gleaming wall. It smelt like bile mixed with shit, and all that mixed with the sent of blood sweat and dispair, made Randval want to retch over the wall. He stedied himself you never get used to the stench of battle he told himself as he moved on to regroup for the push for the gate house."
"Randval you lucky bastard get over here!" Lustrous was a large man around 6 and a half feet barrel chested and with a furious bushy black beard.
He clapped Randval on the back and then started both of then, and the 200 remaining soldiers of their advance party for the gate house.
Their renewed charge was met with feirce resistance and the air was clouded with defiant screams and death thoes of man and ork alike.
Somehow Randval ended up at the head of the charge egged on by the press of bodies there was no escape. He threw open the heavy oaken door and was met with a damp room dominated by a large set of wooden levers used to operate the gate, and then it hit him. Literally.
An ork, probably no less than 15 had just bludgened him with a wooden cudgel sending him reeling. The ork was probably in here to avoid the worst of the fighting but was now met with around 50 angry desperate and armed men. As Randval fell he saw the young ork desperately try to run before being skewered on the tip of a longsword. It howled it pain as antoher man finished it of.
Randval blacked out as the gate opened, good the soldiers had one now that the gate was opened and the main force had arrived Blackhold Keep would fall within the hour. He thought he should be more worried or scared as he lay there dying, but all he felt was relife, relife that this war had finally come to an end. A cold and bloody end to be true but an end none the less he could now rest in peace in the god of light's embrace. The age of the ork is at an end now is tiome for the age of man.