The first days of the siege has resulted in massive waves sent against the city walls, as well as continuous bombardment from an array of Chaos Hell-Cannons. In response to these attacks, skilled archers from a variety of Ungol tribes unleashed volley after volley of steel-tipped arrows against the advancing hordes, with cannon batteries unleashing barrages of ammunition, destroying droves of men with every shot. Not wanting his back exposed to the Kislevites the Everchosen thusly ordered a portion of his forces under the leadership of D'aggron the Exalted to lay siege to the city of
Praag, and to continue on to the capital city of Kislev itself.For nearly six days the combat continued until finally Archaon demanded that the city was to fall by the seventh day. The battle began with another volley of hell-fire from a multitude of Chaos artillery. Screaming hell-fire exploded from the maw of the infernal machine, streaking over the teeming mass of Northmen that filled the plains around the doomed city of Erengrad. Even from their location, the horde could see great destruction being brought around the city, huge infernos gripping the buildings while great masonry tumble over like sand against a wave. After the murderous volley of Chaos fire was spent, the Chaos horde used their secondary artillery of catapults to launch massive boulders of warpstone into the city streets, spewing uncontrollable green lightning all around the districts. Soon after, war drums were sounded in perfect unison as immense siege towers were brought up, hauled by massive shaggy beasts, pushing or crushing aside those that got in their way. The drum tempo began to grow higher and higher, as hundreds of ironclad warriors and fur covered barbarians marched in formation towards the city. Sorcerers and cloaked shamans of all kind began chanting their blasphemous language and called down lighting to smite their foes on the battlements. Hundreds of misshapen creatures marched beside the warriors only to be greeted by a muderous volley of arrows which struck them by the hundreds.
Finally, the horde once more swept against the city walls, crushing aside their fellows in a mass rush to come to grip with the enemy, climbing the steep walls with improvised grappling hooks. They were soon greeted with a shower of rocks and arrows killing many outright, but the massive chains these marauders carried allowed their comrades to climb the steep slopes and made breaches in several sections of the city. In response, massive arrays of cannon batteries began booming their ammunition amongst the teeming mass of the Northmen horde, ploughing through rank after rank of Chaos warriors. Finally the siege towers reached the walls of the city intact, unleashing packs of beserking marauders against the frightened besiegers. Many towers fell, and many more were crushed under the splintering crash of the infernal contraption, each killing as many men as every volley shot by the Kislevites.
The besieged fought on savagely, more out of fear then courage, but such was the overwhelming power of the Chaos host that they eventually faltered. The Everchosen then ordered in the infernal battering ram, Gharl Mortez, to tear through the northern gate. After a full hour of hammering, the ram bested the city entrance. With an ear splintering crack the ram burst through the north gate, unleashing the armies surging in through the gap.
As the fighting continues, the Chaos worshippers parted as they saw their dreaded leader ride towards the doomed city with baleful eyes. The Everchosen cared not for this city, it merely stood in his way towards destiny. As he drew closer to the gate, a hail of arrows struck the Everchosen in a futile attempt to end his life, yet a man like Archaon could not be killed by mere mortal weapons and the arrows simply shatter against the unholy armor of Morkar. As he entered through the gate, he bore witness to a gruesome battle taking place where man and beast fought each other to the death. All around him bodies laid mangled and broken. The presence of such a dreaded figure on the battlefield was too much for the remaining defenders and they fled in terror through the streets of the battered city. Suddenly, a unit of Noble Kislevite horsemen crashed through the remains of the northern gate into the armies on the blood-soaked plains. They battled past monsters and men, almost breaking through the enemy ranks. But as the horsemen crushed a platoon of Gors, the ground beneath them imploded, leaving many of the Kislev horses dead. From the darkness came a cadre of black-armoured dwarfs, marks of evil on their axes and shields.
Soon after, in the distance war horns roared as it signaled the Norse-ships making successful landfalls in the harbour ports. The Coastal batteries that were facing seaward are roaring to life, trying desperately to sink the ships before more made landfall. Every shot fire came with a splintering crash as the cannonball wreaked havoc upon the flimsy vessel, yet there were far too many to sink. The fearsome Norsemen all disembarked upon the harbor and one by one the coastal batteries were silence by a wave of bodies overwhelming the crew of the cannons.
Archaon gazed around him, he saw the battered buildings surrounding him, his armies pillaging the riches of the city, as the last few futile resistance were being crushed as he watched. His steed pawed the ground anxious to join in the slaughter. The mighty Chaos Lord could feel the pleasure of the gods as they looked down upon him and could feel their approval swelling him with power. His legion streamed over the uncontested walls, and many more poured forth through the broken shattered gate, seeking out the last remnants of defense to quench their thirst for blood. The city was ablaze, it's intensity the strongest in the ports where the Norscans landed and broken the last vestige of the defenders courage. Soon this would happen to every single city in the Old World, soon Archaon knew his long and hard journey would finally come to an end.
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