Gorgut is on the move. He has a plan, he knows exactly what to do next. The Crab-claw Markets, found on the Eastern coasts of Ayadah hold all manner of wares, including the means for his new friends to create a ship that can help him cross the Big Blue. Crossing the Fusting Desert and skirting around the eastern section of the Yhorn mountains has not been easy, but it has given him a chance to see his forces grow, and time for his new friends to expand.
Now they find themselves just west of the Crab-claw markets, the smoke of the city rises in the distance and they can smell a hundred smalls on the air. Suddenly, the air from behind them rushes past, and the sound of a thousand souls screaming on the wind can be heard. As Borgut swirls around to confront this new challenge he’s thrown off his feet, as a mountain-high wave of eldritch energy knocks the air clean out of him. Dizzy, and unsure of what just happened, he picks himself up, looking about as his fellow oruks do the same. Looking to the skaven in his charge, he sees them desperately trying to gain control of the various machines that they’ve been creating. The machines whir and spout smoke, some simply explode, while others run wild, knocking skaven and orruk alike.
Just then Borgut feels a chilling touch on his ankle, and as he looks down he feels sharp pain sliding past the armour around his feet on his other foot. A geist of some kind has wrapped its eldritch hand about his feet, plunging a knife into his heel. Howling in pain, Borgut kicks at the being, casting it back into the ground where it belongs. Without warning the earth around his warband erupts, as a hundred chainrasps, stalkers, banshees and a dozen other spirits leap from their graves.
‘Defend yourselves! To me!’ Borgut screams at his squad, ‘Protect my machines!! Wack them wispy ones back to da ground!