Thundering Duardin Defense

Created by Morgrimm, Son of Ashgrimm

What the self-absorbed Stormcast commander Stormfury did not expect, was that the defenders of Scarra had the epitome of Duardin engineering at their disposal. Along the mighty walls of Scarra, a long line of barrels was pushed forward in unision Heavy cannons of fine Duardin make, Organ guns, even some Helblaster volley guns.
Runefather Morgrimm smiled at the sight, and gave the orders personally, once the enemy finally foolhardily charged. “All cannons! Fire!”
The whole world seemed to drown in gunpowder and a thunderous blast.
It was hard to miss the hordes of Stormcast, or the giant targets the gargants made. Panicked shrieks sounded up to the walls as scores of explosions broke the advance into a bloody mess of blown off limbs, shattered bodies and death.
Through the thick smoke that still hung in the air, it was hard at first for the Runefather to see the carnage below, but he could very well imagine it.
"Reload!" he commanded, and his men and women sprung into action like a well-oiled machine. Swab, powder, wadding, shot. He commanded every step of the way, and they all did it, in unison.
None could withstand their firepower, especially not from a position as well defended as Scarra. The Stormcast had, in Morgrimm's opinion, come woefully unprepared, and now had to suffer the consequences.
"Fire!" Once again, the cannons of his brothers unleashed hell upon the attackers; how he loved the smell of gunpowder! It smelled like revenge, and the settling of a grunge.
Part of him longed to be with his fellow Slayers, down there as they soon would attack the Stormcast from their flank and rear, but he knew he was needed more as a commander up here than as another body down there. He trusted in his comrade, the Executioner, to lead the attack, and lead it well. "Reload!" Swab, powder, wadding, shot.
"Seven to thirteen, new heading! Target that gargant over there!" He ordered curtly. They were dangerous. Big, good targets, but also dangerous. They had to be brought down, and brought down fast.
"Fire!" Again, the walls of Scarra were enveloped in thick, heavy fog. "Reload!" Swab, powder, wadding, shot. With a broad grin, he watched as the shattered figure of the gargant collapsed upon itself.
The Slayers outside had begun their attack, and they cut a bloody path through the Betrayer gods minions. They would have to be more selective now with their shooting. He had to tear his eyes away from the glorious sight of the ruined gargant's corpse.
There were snipers along the wall as well, rows of thunderers alongside the cannons who took shots at the Stormcast and their allies as they advanced. While their contribution wasn't as obvious as that of their artillery, it was invaluable. The more of those bastards who died a senseless death before even reaching the walls, the better. "Fire!"