Heres two Chaos Dwarf short stories from some old White Dwarf mags i have. The first is titled Crush, Crumble and Chop:
Thymbrin rose to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster.
�?oNot good enough for your precious Engineers Guild, eh?�?� he grated, �?oWell, It�?Ts no hair off my chin.�?� He paused to adjust the back of his jerkin, where the sodden cloth was sticking to his skin.
�?oAnd I hope your little ritual made you feel suitably important. By stone and steel, it showed the hidebound, frightened shower of fossils you are - yes, frightened! You�?Td sooner shave than have an idea! Tradition, you keep on! Where was tradition when we first took mithril and worked it? Where was tradition when the great arches of Zhufbar were built, like nothing that�?Ts been seen before or since?�?�
�?oTradition - pah!�?� he spat, �?oIt�?Ts stagnation you�?Tre building! If you really want to vanish down your own bellows-hole, that�?Ts your decision. I�?Tll make my machines without the Engineers Guild, and cave-ins take the lot of you!�?�
He woke abruptly as the snake tightened its grip on his throat. Damn that dream, it did it every time.
What a life, he thought as he prised it off, forever being throttled by your own beard. He reached under his bunk, snatched up one of the small, skittering things that lived there, and fed it to the snake that sprouted from his chin. It seemed to calm it down.
�?oWell,�?� he said to himself, �?oI might as well have breakfast too.�?� From a cluster of pots he collected two handfuls of things better left undescribed and sat down to eat.
He was about halfway through his meal when someone entered - of the term someone can be applied to the huge, dog-faced, black armoured figure that towered over him.
�?oCome,�?� it snarled, �?oIt is time for the bloodletting.�?� The Dwarf nodded, and left his meal.
The Champion of Chaos followed as he made his preparations. First, he went into a workshop, where a dozen or so Dwarfs were working feverishly. All bore the mark of chaos in some manner.
�?oTime to go, boys.�?� he called. �?oTake everything that�?Ts finished and everything you can finish on the march.�?� He crossed the workroom to a line of machines which stood ready.
�?oSimple but effective.�?� he said to the Chaos Warrior. �?oAs you can see, we have two types completed: the Whirlwind , with its rotating blades and flails, and the Tenderiser, with a bank of trip-hammers and heavy maces. Simply get them going fast , and they�?Tll carve you several nice, big, ragged holes in enemy ranks. I�?Tm working on a number of other ideas, of course, but these are what I have ready at the moment.�?�
The Champion of Chaos walked round the two machines, examining the spiked, blades, flails and hammers.
�?oGreat bloodletting.�?� he murmured to himself, reverently touching the skull rune of Khorne on his breastplate, �?oMuch blood for the Blood God.�?�
�?oCome along.�?� said Thymbrin cheerfully, �?oLet�?Ts meet the crews. I�?Tm rather pleased with them - made them myself, you know. In a manner of speaking.�?� He led the armoured figure through a series of passages into another large chamber where two or three dozen forms lay sleeping.
Thymbrin took a horn from a hook on the wall and blew a long, echoing blast. The sleepers awoke, and began strapping on armour. As they moved, their forms could be seen; from the waist up they were Chaos Dwarfs, but they had the bodies and four trotterd legs of boars.
�?oBoar Centaurs,�?� Thymbrin explained, �?oOne per machine. Fast, strong and full of fight - ideal for the job. Just a case of finding the right combinations of mutations and sticking with them.�?�
�?oWe should be ready to march within the hour. Can I offer you some refreshment while we wait? I�?T, sure we can rustle up some blood from somewhere.�?�
The defending army was formed up and waiting. Elves, Dwarfs and Humans all knew that they must win this day or let Chaos break through into the Forest of Shadows and the Middle Mountains. The Ogre Mercenaries were no less determined: their plates had been filled, and their fighting reputation was at stake.
Over the crest of the rise, the forces of Chaos came into view, rank by rank. There were black-armoured riders on warped, variously-legged mounts; towering Beastmen of all shapes, sizes and colours. And around them, like a roiling sea, seethed a press of other things - the Spawn of Chaos.
But all eyes were on the machines which rolled before the Chaos pack. They advanced in a single rank, the width of the Chaos army, with their spiked, two-wheeled frames, their whirling blades and their thrashing hammers.
The Elven archers and Dwarven crossbows loosed two volleys before falling back to their pre-arranged positions. The missiles had little effect, the bulk of them thudding harmlessly into the grotesque carved panels which shielded each machine.
The machines began to gather speed. As they approached, their crews could be seen - centauroid creatures, an unnatural blend of Dwarf and boar. They ran almost as fast as a charging horse, handling the machines as easily as a gardener uses a wheelbarrow.
The machines ploughed sickeningly into the Ogre mercenaries that held the centre. Blades and flails whirled, hammers and maces thrashed. Flesh and sinew shredded, bone and iron shattered. For all their strength and courage, the Ogres were decimated in a matter of seconds.
The centre was now dangerously weak - with the Ogres effectively destroyed, the full force of the enemy would now fall on the Human contingent, and Chaos could break through the centre before the flanks could move to reinforce it. The advantage now lay with Chaos.
This Story is also accompanied by two pics. I dont have a scanner so i just took some pics with a camera:
This second one doesnt have a title but the article its from is called Chaos Dwarf Ballistics:
“There. That’s where we our assault.” The Witchfinder General pointed to the corner of the Dwarven Fortress. The wall had collapsed, leaving a ten foot wide gap.
“Captain Blaine, you have the assault. No prisoners, mind. These spawn of darkness are to be put to the sword. Their bodies will be burnt, their towers pulled down and their ashes scattered to the winds!”
“Aye, Sir” Blaine knew he could do it. A Knighthood would be his due.
Now. under a steady rain of crossbow bolts, Blaine was having second tohughts. The breach was still open, but Quickfester Bodmin’s Chaos Dwarfs had moved something into the gap. He couldn’t quite see through the smoke, but Blaine had his suspicions; some sort of cannon, probably. He swallowed. Taking the breach would be hard enough against crossbow fire, but to walk down the barrel of a Cannon!
There was a loud explosion, and a gout of flame filled the breach. Men fell, torn and shocked by a hail of metal and stones. There was a ringing blow on Blaine’s helmet.
He had been right - a gun of some sort, another fiendish creation of the foul Chaos Dwarfs. Blaine reached up and pulled a gold coin, still warm from being fired from the gun, out of his plume helmet. He shook his head, partly out of sheer disbelief at his luck, partly to clear it. Then he realised that the gun had fired too soon.
“Up and at them, my lad’s” Blaine’s eyes measured the distance to the breach. His company would be there before the Choas Dwarfs could possibly load and fire again. "Attack! Attack! WITH ME!"
His men panted as they scrambled over the rubble in the breach. They were inside the walls. The Chaos Dwarfs at the gun adjusted their aim slightly. Blaine frowned. They hadn’t moved from the gun. They were ready to fire again!
The Chaos Dwarf swivel gun roared once more. There would be no knighthood for Blaine.