Without appearing to be disturbed since his change of status, Stiggaz was bellowing from his mount, shouting orders more than summary to the many gnoblars that made up the now famous Gnobknights unit.
Since the quolibets wiped out during their first act of arms a few days ago on the shores of Lake Bykaal and their victory over the numbered orruks (but overcome by uncontrollable spasms of laughter), these so-called knights had been provided with new mounts by their allies from the Stifling Procession. Some of the gnoblars had even managed to find a very silly way to reach the battle as quickly as possible: harnessing to a hellstorm. The tests of this mode of attack were of course not without collateral damage and failure, but without the support, patience and understanding of General Greyson’s forces such a unit could never have seen the light of day. One must also not forget to take into account the undeniable lack of common sense and chronic recklessness shown by the Bleak Chewers’ gnoblars to explain even the idea of such a method of locomotion. The Midnight City engineers are still wondering to this day how these creatures renowned for their inherent cowardice could have acquired such mastery and above all find a way to get to their destination without ending up as green purée.
So it was under the briefest of orders that a horde of junk warriors of far below average size took the lead and surprised a well-sized troggoth unit against all odds. Their horribly slow natural reflexes probably had a lot to do with it. And the cold did not help the speed of reaction of these big goofballs, Stiggaz thought to himself as he shot an arrow straight into the knee of a giant who had just missed him. A few short minutes were enough for the gnoblars, well supported by thundering iron blaster shots, to make a breakthrough in the ranks of the rockguts with relatively minimal losses.
« Olof, Alkeru, Frigs, that’s your cue! »
The words of Gorogark’s favorite former aide-de-camp brought the three weirdoes out of their half-sleep. They quickly checked their equipment, walked with an ungracious and unbalanced step to the nearest hole in the ice and plunged in without hesitation.
« Now we’re going to keep pushing those big, soup-filled mussels, » uttered Stiggaz with a raised fist, spurring his sewn-up gryph-charger as best he could. The plan was going smoothly for now and he still had to deploy a few more « divers » at strategic points, as Gorogark and Greyson had shown him.
To Greyson’s surprise, the deployment of the gnoblar units supported by the ogor artillery was bearing fruit. They had managed to create enough surprise to break cohesion in the orruk rankgs at key points and, more importantly, create diversions so that the rest of the Perpetual armies’ plan could be carried out. It wasn’t until he heard reports that two of the orruk flagships had almost simultaneously been hit by explosive submarine attacks that he knew he had made the right choice to trust the ogors and their unusual fighting methods. He even found himself praising the ingenuity of gnoblars.