Legends are just legends.
The situation at the time was roughly like this:
The wise and martial leader, the eternal and invincible Warmaster, the Everchosen forever beloved by all mortal living beings..... (insert a space here out of respect) Al, riding a Griffon, braved the artillery fire of the Greenskin pirates to personally visit the battlefield and observe the war situation. The Veling city defense force, witnessing the Everchosen's heroic posture in the sky, was greatly inspired, and thus managed to hold their ground.
Subsequently, the Everchosen rushed back to the central army like lightning and wind. Advancing at full speed, in the most critical moment before the city was breached, he arrived outside the city with the Everchosen's vanguard.
At the time, the Everchosen's mother (one of them), the rather healthy Celestine Al.
Riding on horseback, gazing at Veling engulfed in smoke, said to the Everchosen: "The people of Veling are isolated and without help."
The Everchosen drew the Sword of Motherly Love, looked into the distance, and firmly declared: "They are not without help!"
Then, taking the lead and charging at the forefront, assisted by () the very healthy mother of the Everchosen (one of them), the physically robust Alina, he first chopped down the Big Uns blocking the way, then killed the Warboss, and finally slayed the Greenskin commander in battle. He utterly defeated the enemy army, liberated Veling, and achieved a glorious victory in the first battle of the Everchosen's world-saving crusade, a tale sung to this day.
Perhaps it was embellished just a little.
During certain, just certain periods, the person standing beside Al who said the line "The people of Veling are isolated and without help" would have a
slight little variation.
At first it was an unnamed character, later it changed to the rather healthy little mom Celestine, sometimes it was the goat mom Elune, the Paladin Claudia, the eldest scion Misha, the most excellent of sons Simon.....
The character accompanying the Everchosen in the charge, however, never changed. It was always Al's very healthy adoptive mother, the Centigor Alina.
Of course, comparing the actual circumstances of the event with the version passed down, even if we don't call it irrefutable proof of fabrication, it could be considered slightly embellished.
What kind of person was Al?
The Everchosen!
A Son of the United Earth Government!
A son of immense value does not sit under the eaves (does not put himself in unnecessary danger).
More importantly, judging by the standards of both worlds, he still fell into the category of a minor.
With Al's current level, charging into high-morale Greenskins who WAAAAAGH!ed at everyone they saw was simply ( ) — courting death!
The kind of death where not even the centaur girl could save him, not even the Bloodmother could bring him back!
Therefore, the most he would do was ride on the Griffon girl's back, fly a lap over his own army to boost morale, and once the battle joined, he would sit in the center camp, as immovable as a mountain.
Expecting Al to act like the hammer-wielding human Big Un, acting as a pendant for His Majesty Deathclaw?
He wasn't stupid. An Emperor charging into enemy lines was only possible because the Old World had this thing called "Ward Save" (Missile Resistance), otherwise he'd be shot into a sieve in minutes.
The legion accelerated forward in a wedge formation. The Beastman formation, which hadn't undergone repetitive drilling, was a bit crooked and skewed, but thanks to their good obedience, they still maintained the basic framework. Arranged at the tip of the wedge was the most formidable monstrous infantry legion among the Beastmen: the eighty-eight Bloodmother Minotaurs led by the Blessed Gorebull.
These monsters, standing nearly three times the height of a man, snorted thick steam from their noses. Covered entirely in Chaos Armor forged in the Realm of the Mad Mother of Rage and bestowed upon the Everchosen, once they started running, they were unstoppable, frenzied tanks.
They would only stop after crushing enough flesh and blood.
Behind them were the strongest batch of Greatsword Khorngors among the heavily armored troops. Following the Minotaurs' charge, they would rapidly widen the breach and harvest the enemy forces.
Al placed the Centigors at the very back to roam and protect the rear. Based on the pre-scouted enemy situation, the right wing was lined with halberd and spear-wielding Beastmen at the front to guard against enemy charges.
The Troll legion was pressed onto the left wing. Once on the battlefield, the Khorngors, whose bloodlust and desire for battle were surging, had a much higher resistance to the stench, and would even be temporarily stimulated by it, becoming even angrier.
Al had made all his preparations. He originally planned to have the humans act as the vanguard to attract the Greenskins' attention. But thinking about it, those few hundred stragglers were an exhausted force with not-so-high morale, panting heavily from days of trekking.
They might get overrun by the Greenskins after just two clashes, failing to serve much of a pinning role. It was better to use them for something else.
"Then."
"I'll leave it to you... Mom!"
Al rode the Griffon and took to the sky.
(Al, who cries for his mom whenever he runs into trouble, is absolutely trash).
A cannon boomed at the city gate, and a single figure charged out from Al's army. Taking a closer look, a poem praises:
Standing twelve feet tall, with a slender waist yet a broad, powerful back, her shoulders pulled taut. Her face was that of a bewitching consort, sharp sword-like eyebrows angling into her hairline, a pair of crimson eyes, a nose like a jade pillar, and lips a rich cinnabar red. Atop her head, she wore a bright silver crown depicting two dragons fighting over a jewel, embedded with a radiant pearl at the center, its pheasant-tail plumes fluttering elegantly behind her.
She wore a three-pronged purple-gold crest, draped in a red cotton robe embroidered with a hundred flowers, clad in interlocking beast-faced armor that could swallow the heavens, with an exquisite lion-head belt cinching her waist. A curved blade at her side, holding a painted halberd in hand, she was originally a wind-howling Centigor. Truly, she could be called: "A hero among people, a true dragon among steeds!"
It was none other than the Bloodmother's Champion, Al's adoptive mother, the descended star of malice, holding the title "Child of Thunder and Fire," compared by the Beastmen to the legendary ancient Dragon Ogre "Kholek Suneater" who was decapitated in the End Times—the youthful centaur girl version of him, Alina!
Closer!
It was obvious that an unseen enemy suddenly appearing behind them caused quite a shock to the Greenskins' muggle brains. Despite holding the upper hand, they were inevitably affected by the murderous aura of the Beastman legion, and their morale wavered (Leadership -6).
However, under the shouting and commands of the Warbosses and Night Goblin advisors, the Greenskins still outside the city were mobilized. They changed direction, formed ranks, and began to push forward.
That's right, the Greenskins had no intention of defending. All along the way, it had always been them attacking, and the human 'Umies defending.
Even when sneak-attacked or ambushed, it was the same. After all, this was a force commanded by a Greenskin Warboss and still held a clear numerical advantage. If they got scared like this, the Boss's reputation would be damaged.
There were at least ten thousand Greenskins still outside the city. After several days of siege, there was a steady stream of scattered Greenskin warbands and mobs who had done enough smashing and looting outside, or who simply got lost and bored because they couldn't find anything to chop. Fighting among themselves all the way, they ran back to Veling to join the besieging army, waiting to attack.
So the number of Greenskin troops was larger than Al had initially estimated, totaling nearly thirty thousand. Two-thirds of them were already committed to the siege, with most currently bogged down in urban street fighting.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Javelins were thrown, inflicting the first wave of casualties on the Greenskins.
Among the hastily assembled and somewhat densely packed enemies, quite a few Greenskins fell on cue.
Al observed from the sky, feeling the effect wasn't great. For Greenskins, fatal wounds that didn't involve piercing the heart, exploding the head, or ripping open the chest didn't seem to affect their combat ability much, but it still had some effect.
Perhaps in the future, he could consider tying explosives to them or simply switching to genuine "Bombardiers."
This method of getting right in their faces, perhaps braving enemy fire
and closing into the enemy's charge distance to launch an attack, required immense courage and grit. Surely, the Bloodmother would appreciate this approach.
Even closer!
A distance of fifty paces; they had entered the charge phase.
"Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
Her crimson eyes almost spitting fire, the centaur girl—an avatar of the god of slaughter descended once more—could barely contain the excitement in her heart. Raising her long halberd, she led the charge.
"Blood for the Bloodmother!!!"
A roar filled with murderous intent and rage drowned out the Greenskins' WAAAAAAGH!, shredding even the clouds drifting across the sky.
The two tides of red and green collided!
Bald Beast, on higher ground, could no longer stand still. The Greenskin Warboss watched as his Boyz were sent flying in massive swathes by the red-and-black torrent the moment they clashed, the momentum undiminished.
Led by the centaur, the Bloodmother Minotaur warband turned into a steel spearhead, thrusting straight through the heart of the central army, piercing a massive hole in the battle lines and constantly grinding forward.
The heavily armored Khorngors wielding greatswords were also steel killing machines. Regular Greenskin Big Uns could only parry a few rounds against them before being executed by those terrifyingly sharp blades forged in blood and fire.
The Warboss instantly realized he couldn't wait any longer.
If this continued, defeat was certain!
The center would be routed, the flanks would be crushed, and their formation would be torn to shreds!
"Roar!"
The flanks, which engaged the enemy slightly later, also began to show instability. A large number of Trolls marched out from the enemy's left wing. Crouched on the heads of these highly regenerative but low-intelligence, slow-reacting monsters were green runts that looked like Snotlings. Screaming, they hurled bulging skin sacks that spun and burst over the Greenskins' heads.
Corrosive stomach acid splattered and splashed simultaneously, making the Greenskins who got hit scream in agony, destabilizing their formation. The vomit spewed directly from the mouths of the River Trolls could even knock a Big Un down head-on, corroding it to death.
"Blood~ Sacrifice!"
The Troll Boss River Shuhan raised the crude spiked club Al had someone make for him, shouted a prayer to the Bloodmother in bizarre Common speech, and began running with his slimy, short legs, leading his kin to charge the Greenskin positions.
It was another wave of chaos and carnage.
The Greenskins never expected that the inventive "ideas" they used to smash Human 'Umies would one day be used against them in the exact same way, and by a pack of Trolls looking even larger than the most ferocious Big Uns!
The front ranks of the Greenskin right wing were sent flying in massive swathes. The closely following Khorngors quickly moved in, slaughtering the enemy forces.
Baldy knew he couldn't wait any longer. Given the enemy's sheer momentum, the center would definitely break first, then the left and right wings would be divided. The enemy could then decide at their leisure:
Whether to break through their main camp first, or swallow and grind down one of the flanks.
Thanks to the personal teachings and examples of the Great Warboss Gorkamorka, at least the Greenskin Warbosses under his command possessed more military and tactical qualities than those elsewhere.
The panicked Night Goblin advisor obviously hadn't expected these unfamiliar enemies who suddenly charged out to have such a ferocious offensive. It was already impatiently waving flags and yelling for scouts to withdraw the army inside the city to reinforce the main force.
Baldy grabbed his choppa, hesitated for a moment, put on his helmet, and led his Black Iron bodyguards toward the front lines.
He would personally lead his troops to hold the center!
The enemy's ferocity also ignited the raging fire within the Big Un's heart!
He saw that fierce, unstoppable blood-red centaur, who left no enemy standing in her wake. The opponent's sheer strength instead fueled the Warboss's battle-lust to chop off her head even more!
Baldy felt this would be the most important and most WAAAAAGH! battle, and the most WAAAAAGH! opponent of his life.
He was once a slave, but he would forever be a Greenskin!
He was going to return to the absolute most important thing in a Greenskin's life!
The Warboss wore his helmet, his iron mask still muffled and hideous, but he couldn't help but mutter in a low voice the thing he hadn't shouted since the mask was put on him.
"WAAAAAAAGH!!!"