The Great Jungles
Sweat ran down his neck as he watched the huge Fangdrake Mother slowly prowl onto the cleaing. 6 Months ago they had entered this godforsaken jungle, led by their Godking himself. A Holy Crusade to redress the balance, to bring vengeance upon their former mortal enemies. It should hav ebeen a short and glorious Campaign. It hadn't been. Once they had entered the Jungles they had to deal with more than just Drakes. It seemed the very jungle itself wanted to kill them. Half his batallion had died in the first three weeks of illness and poisonous bites. They were caught up in the Jungle losing men day by day to horrible diseases. And at night, ambushes of Clawdrake packs. When they got deeper the Supply Trains suddenly got under attack or went missing. 6 months of Green Hell. Gren, was half-starved, wrecked by dysentrey and tired as he had never been in his life...yet somehow he was still alive. The Fangdrake moved closer to her nest and finally found what disturbed her...her young where dead.
"NOW!" Twenty half-dead Dwarves charged at the Beast. 15 Would make it. And Gren Garnsson would go into history as the dwarf who killed the last living Fangdrake.
The Coast, 15 Days later
Omud watched the advancing line of yet indistinguishable shapes on the horizon with a knot in his gut. The Attacks of the Drakes which were usual in springtime had stopped altogether. The Elders had wondered what was going on even more so that Murders of Flitdrakes had risen over the jungle constantly, something had been going on in the Jungles. When Young Ingrid had come back to the Staedding screaming about black shapes on the horizon the Dwarves had done what they always had. All had been brought inside the sturdy little familyhold. It was one of several hundred along the coast, most of them in plain view of each other. Each bearing two or three-hundred dwarves, these small fortresses were built to last the attacks of Fangdrakes and during the last few decades, darker things. The Children and the Old had been sent via the Tunnels to Familholds far more to the south. What remained of the Skrengrad-Clan were a hundred able-bodied determined dwarves, armed with bows and axes of bronze and Seaspawn-fangs, as well as 20 Battle-Slaves. As the line came closer however old Omud felt cold sweat on his hands. The handle of his bow almost felt slick. If it were Drakes they would be able to sit them out but if it were, Ancestors forbid, Shades, they would be doomed, they and the Karngrads and the Jomgrads and a dozen more Familyholds on this part of the coast. Finally the line came close enough to disinguish the shapes. Shouts of Surprise and unnbelief filled the Air. A constant rising volume of confused chatter over it all.
"Shut up!" the Dwarves went silent again. Advancing on them were too many Dwarves to count. Armed in Shining Metal of unkown making, wearing trophies of killed Claw- and Fangdrakes. Thousands of them. Omud reeled with the sheer numbers coming closer. The line stretching even to three more Familyholds stopped just and Arrowshot away.
A Single Dwarf stepped forward, missing an arm, wearing armors and weapons more magnificent than anything Omud Skengrad had ever seen stepped forward. He felt teh gaze of the Dwarf on him even from this distance. Omud shot and arrow directly between the feet of the dwarf.
" That is close enough! Who are you?"
THe Dwarven Crusade successfully annihilates all of the Fangdrakes and most of the Clawdrakes (except for a few dozen)
They lose however over 4000 Dwarves in the process.
The Dwarven Army is now dubbed "Drakehunters" (+1 Bonus at fighting Supernatural Beings, +1 in Jungle Fights)