The winds howled and whipped ashen clouds before them. Vultures flocked in the sky as the Third Great Army of Tjubba-Tjur deployed on a ridge to meet the onslaught of barbarian Orcs and Goblins. Such frothing maniacs and ravening hordes! That description was equally true for both sides in this conflict.
The leaders of Tjubba-Tjur watched haughtily as their infantry maniples deployed, shieldwalls and deadly blunderbusses promising steadfast resistance and shredding death to all comers. Their standard bearers and musicians signalled in ways too sophisticated for the dumb enemy brutes to fathom, and now yet deadlier forces marched up to take up position on the flanks.
Some of the youngest, yet most ambitious Tjubling leaders serving in the Temple Stud of the great city would take command of the combined arms at the flanks: Packs of whipped warhounds to halt foes and bog them down in a sea of fangs. Mobile Thunderhammer medium rocketry to blast apart enemy ranks and rattle their wits with the shriek of rockets whirling about, howling death. And the small but imposing squadrons of Tjubbutaurs, pride of the Temple Stud, fathers of thousands and bane of nations. For the Tjubbutaurs possessed power unrivalled in the eyes of devout Tjublings. Sacred creatures, they were. Their stampeding charge and ferocious swinging of great weapons would crush all under their cloven hooves.
Bazarku, ancient Great One and most revered of Tjubbutaurs, snorted and galloped to the fore of the right flank force. He trotted before his multitude of progeny, all strong and blessed by the Bull God, and silenced the yapping of the hounds with a voice thundering from out of the pits of hell:
"Today we crush bones! Today we maim bodies! Today we bring all the foes you see before us to the pyres as screaming offerings to Tjubshut! Slay! Let not a single craven escape our fuming wrath! Make them fall like the hat of Kebaznutjubbuk! Rrrraaaagh!"
At this signal, the packmasters unleashed their dogs. The rocketeers opened fire. And Bazarku the Lord of Skulls charged ahead of his numerous offspring, rapidly clearing the distance between himself and the enemy hordes with a drawn-out bellowing roar which seemed to rise from the depths of the earth and shake the heart of everyone who heard it.
He struck the enemy line alone, and all hell broke loose.