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They had passed the fleeing children some time ago, yet the sound of their sobbing and terrified screams still echoed in the ears of Ivan Melenko, Captain of a proud Winged Lancer company dispatched from Kislev two days ago with orders to reinforce the stronghold of Straslev in the face of increasing Beastmen incursions.
They had ridden hard through day and night to reach their goal, but Ivan could see in the faces of the children that their hard ride had been in vain. Surely no horde of Beasts could sack Straslev in less than two days? The fortress had stood impenetrable on the northern border since the last great Chaos invasion; its stout walls, manned by hardened fighters of the steppes, should hold out against any foe.
He had questioned an old man on the trail, but his answers were the babblings of an insane fool. Yes, the stronghold had been attacked, but not by Beastmen, the elder had claimed; they were birdmen, their leader a cruel monster, half human, half eagle. Tthen there was that noise the children were making; "Kroo, Kroo, Kroo…" they wouldn’t stop, they just repeated the same word over and over.
What was the Kroo?
No matter. Bird or beast, neither could stand a charge from an entire company of Winged Lancers. Without the armoured support of the Chaos Knights, Beastmen were nothing but a disorganised rabble that always fled from the point of a lance.
As the column of horse crested the last hill, Ivans' worst fears were realised. Straslev was in ruins, the walls breached, fire consuming the proud lodgings of its massacred inhabitants. Heavy smoke rich with the sweet smell of burnt flesh hung like a blanket over the valley. They were too late – no-one could have survived.
Then suddenly a cry broke from the ranks of the stunned horsemen. Ivan turned away from the ruined village and there, by the edge of the forest on the other side of the valley, Ivan could see movement; a small warband, no doubt handicapped by their grizzly trophies and bloodied loot, was making for the safety of the trees.
"Charge!" screamed Melenko. "Vengeance!" As one the Winged Lancers spurred their mounts and shot down the valley toward the retreating warband. The marauders, on seeing the wall of steel bearing down upon them, dropped their booty and began to flee towards the woods. Too slow, cowards, too slow, Ivan thought as he caught the first skirmisher in the throat with his sabre. But his fierce joy at the kill turned quickly to panic as he realised that the head he had so skilfully removed was the head of a gigantic bird! He looked around, his men were butchering these mutated things, but as they continued to flee further into the dark woods, they were drawing the pursuing Lancers in with them.
Suddenly a horn sounded and from all sides came one voice, calling out "Kroo, Kroo, Kroo!" It was an Ambush! Mobs of birdmen charged out of the smoke and the forest on all sides. They were surrounded, and Ivan attempted to regroup his men under the banner of the Ice Queen, but it was too late. Bird-headed hounds bounded out of the woods and sank their fangs into soft horse flesh, unseating the riders who were quickly speared to death by the ranks of the Kroo. Huge creaking chariots pulled by bird-headed monstrosities crashed into the ranks of the Kislevites; well-disciplined Kroo, taller than their maraudering cousins, carved gaping wounds with their crude yet highly effective weapons. There on the flanks huge monsters with mighty weapons, some with the head of a griffon or hippogriff, others with faces of unspeakable horror, feasted on the bodies of the fallen knights.
How could they have been trapped so quickly, so easily? All was lost, and in despair Ivan turned his charger away from the main melee where the last of his Kislevites were being hacked down by the Half-Eagle general and his halberd-wielding bodyguard. The Ice Queen must be warned. These are not just beastmen, these Kroo are far more cunning and deadly, a threat to the entire Empire, thought Ivan as the massive axe of a Dragon Kroo smashed a nearby pine tree in half, severing the legs of his steed at the same time.
Lying in the snow, all he could hear was the battle cry of the Kroo. Then there was nothing.
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