Important Info: The last update seems to have had a hiccup in that not all update messages were sent out, for whatever reason. So please look at the chapters 276/277 if you know them already, before going on with 278. Thank you and have fun!

Close to Lübeck, North Germany

The morning shift close to the Blankensee airport was by no means boring, but it was far from being as busy as the airspace around Hamburg or, god forgive, Frankfurt. The old-timers never got bored of telling their younger colleagues of the "old days" when things were really busy. The recipients of this wisdom nodded and went on with it.
The second cup of coffee of the morning made its way to the traffic controller's lips when the radio lit up. The transmission was so-so, with high frequencies missing and a deep gravelly voice emitting from the headphones.

"Blankensee ground, this is Papa one seven nine, request VFR advisories"
"Papa one seven nine, this is Blankensee ground. As you roll out of your turn, traffic will be a Doppelstorch at your 11 o'clock and 3 miles, entering the downwind. Report that traffic in sight."
„"Blankensee ground, this is Papa one seven nine. Traffic in sight. Request landing instructions."
"Papa one seven nine, you are cleared for helo space 01. Be advised wind is 012, 5 knots."
""Blankensee ground, this is Papa one seven nine, copy Helo space 01 and wind 5 knots."

A few minutes later the traffic controller watched the huge dragon settle on the ground. Falrauch had finally mastered decent radio procedure and kept to flight plans. Two intercepts by the Luftwaffe and a close encounter in the Empire with a Falke interceptor had made inroads on the dragon's hoard and finally made an impression.

The controller sniggered at the excitement the dragon still caused in the old timers…

Great Forest

The ruin had been a tower once. Who had built it in this Sigmarforsaken part of the Great Forest was well forgotten, what it had protected lost in an unfathomable past. It had been sturdy, a construction of huge stones and stout trees. Time and nature had probably taken longer than usual, but had taken down the edifice as they did to all things. The wooden supports had rotted and broken away. Rain had entered the building, lichen, creepers and moss had attacked the mortar between the stones. The iron of brackets had rusted away, leaving holes in its way. Storms and minor shits in the ground had shaken the weakened structure till parts of it collapsed on itself. Plants twisted and turned everywhere, insects crawled all over the place, ate and died.
More creepers had made a start and small trees had taken root in the dirt that filled the gaps. Plants twisted and turned everywhere, insects crawled all over the place, ate and died. By now the ruin was a picturesque picture of the victory of nature over man, of the value of human achievements. It was also a lie.

Below the tower were caves, vaults and tunnels. These had been restored and maintained. They were full of ancient furniture, of dusty tomes and arcane apparatus. The halls were mostly shrouded in darkness, but their denizens never missed a step. There was bustling activity, of mending, of managing resources and removing of wastes. Life, such as mortals understood it, there was none. Skeletons pushed carts and brooms, other undead performed tasks which seemingly made no sense. Some of the undead had exceeded their mortals' forms, having gained more useful limbs, sometimes quite a lot of them. None of them dared coming near the central chamber when the time was right. And by the eldritch flashes that emerged from under the door and the baleful light of the wards that time was right now.

The chamber beyond that door was filled with wisdom that exceeded mortal understanding. Dusty books vied for place with relics of ages forgotten. Vials, spanners and less identifiable tools and potions cluttered the benches around something a bier. It contained something that looked like the remains of a human, a Ragnarök Spider and an EMC Power Edge server. Metal rails were attached to the forelimbs and might carry weapons in the future. All what was needed was the ritual to tie them together and entice the force beyond the veil to take residence in the construct.

The being that called the fastness his was ugly beyond imagination. As any other member of his line the Necrarch was deeply into the lore of the dead, having inherited the most complete lore from great Nagash himself. Such knowledge was not meant for any being that resided in the mundane world, be it alive or undead. It pushed on the limbs and the skin, on the face and anything else, twisting it into caricatures of what they should be. Nevertheless the vampire moved with energy and purpose, preparing himself and his lab for the ritual to come. The stars were aliened right, the indigents prepared and the subjects well chosen. He just needed to bring his mind to the right place and…fuck.

The Nerarch hurried to a chest protected by both wards and locks and disengaged them one by one. How could he be so forgetful, how could he miss such an important step? He unwrapped a flat box from a piece of fine leather and pushed his claws to the right places. Moving under the one place where his lab was open to the night-time sky he impatiently waited till the right runes lit up and showed their readiness.
Only then would he open the "Magie Melden" (Report Magic) app on the smartphone and keyed in what kind of magic he was about to use and when. This was absolutely crucial, more so than nearly any other step in his experiment. Two of his competitors had either forgotten about this requirement of the treaties the Necrarch had concluded with the Reiksbund or thought they could ignore them. One had a visit by a bunch of very rough, power-armored warriors, the fastness of the other was a crater now.

No way he was going to take such a risk.

Goethe Schule (Goethe School), Seven Heavens, Cathay

Li Fen Chang could simply not understand why she had to read and interpret "Emilia Galotti". This was a story about a world that she had no connection to, of a time even her German classmates could not remember. Both she and the chang bizi had a hard time taking the plot seriously. Really now, a young woman that would reject the advances of a noble? That would just hurt her, reduce her chances for advancement and endanger her family. Her German classmates seemed to have more problems with the noble just kidnapping a girl he liked. Which just got to show that they were terribly sheltered and naïve. It would be nice to live in a world where she would have a choice, but that was just a dream wasn't it?

Germany and the Reiksbund had a ravenous appetite for raw materials and needed markets for the many products it offered. Mines had to be built, harbors maintained, maintenance offered and hotels operated. In the year of Sigmar 2534 more Germans were abroad then at nearly any other time during the last 50 years or so. And where they went, very often so did their children,. They needed schooling and so the Goethe Institute enlarged its mandate from offering German culture abroad to operating schools for German expats all over the Warhammer World. These schools were open to anybody who paid tuition and able to speak enough German to follow the lessons. Needless to say there were more than a few traders and nobles who paid to send their children to the place where the Germans taught their secrets.

Li Fen's father would have no problem at all understanding the point of teaching about Emilia Galotti if he had known about it. He would not have approved, but would only listen when his daughter referred to German lessons about their politics, science and technology. This "literature" stuff was just boring, the German writers lacked the polished elegance of the Cathayan poets. Had he paid attention he would grasp the message of capricious nobles with too much power and commoners are humans too right then and there. Given that he enjoyed the privileges of an Imperial Mandarin very much he would rethink his decision of sending his third daughter to the chang bizi school, if he had known.

All over the Warhammer World the children of the rich and mighty learned of a very different set of values, of science and indeed of very different ways to think. The Leopard Tank and the Seeadler Carrier had left their mark on this world. The Goethe Schools would surpass them in importance by far, they would just take longer.

Northern Chaos Desert, 250 kilometers from Kislevite Border

The ritual circle was well hidden, deeply in a cave and hidden by a carefully crafted illusion spell. The staid followers of the four gods would not understand, not really. None of the robed beings assembled around the shrine were about to forego their oaths to their gods. Yet, it was hard to forget what they had seen, seen for real. There was a new power in this world, one that could not be ignored, an Angel of Death. It was of terrible beauty, showed no mercy to those it considered heretics and consumed all those who stood in its way . It was clear it was not of this world, so prayers and sacrifices might indeed still its hunger for souls. And some of the cultists dreamt of the day when the Angel would intercede on their behalf. Oh what an epic sight that would be.

While the blood of the last sacrifice made its way down the altar the cultists abased themselves around the ritual circle. The sigils around its border glowed in the dark and sometimes changed shape. The likeness of the Angel in the middle was of otherwirdly beauty. The artist had caught the image burned into every mind around the circle perfectly. The Angel's rump was straight and slender, being a flawless silver body. The wings were fixed at a rakish angle and eight pods hung under them. A great mouth was gaping on the underside of the likeness as it had been in their visions and fire dropped from it, burning all below,

The ritual was lengthy and asked for much sacrifice. It was a successful one though, all cultists agreed they had heard the voice of the Angel. All of them could describe it, yet none would be able to name the TF-33 engines that produced that howl.

A tower in Frankfurt, Germany

The sight from the top of the tower was breath-taking, even if the city's lights diminished the stars a bit. The telescope on the roof was an expensive high-end model, capable of great resolution and able to gather minuscule quantities of light. The white and stainless steel instrument had been much modified by sigils and wards. Additional cogs and pointers made from brass were clamped to it. The man that bent over it was clad in a blue robe bedecked with stars and comets. He watched the stars and their movements intensely, Truth to be told, it was not the movement of the stars that offered a glimpse into the future, they were a way to concentrate the mind of the Azyr mage. When he finally straightened his back his eyes needed a moment to focus on the well dresses men and women before him.

"The stars do not lie, I advise you to go long on aerospace assets."

Lustrian Jungle

The first sign were the tremors that travelled through the ground. They were strong enough to be felt even through feet clad in scales and thick skin. The light that lit the horizon with a false dawn was the next portent, rousing the beastly minds with alarm. The deep rumble brought the herd together. They were fearsome beats, huge sporting rows of long teeth and even longer claws, clad in scales the hardness of iron. Still, something was challenging the apex predators of the Lustrian Jungle and they would not let that go unanswered. Long necks lifted scaly heads to the heavens and the night -time air carried the Stegadon's roar far and wide. Only a few heard it, as on a brilliantly blue flame Phoibus-06 clawed upwards to orbit. All the fury of burning nearly a thousand tons of volatile fuels a second provided acceleration to the huge spacecraft and drowned out the cries of Lustria's largest predators.

Kopernikus Station, Orbit around the Warhammer World

The room had no windows, but the few operators inside could see everything. Kopernikus was the primary communications node for most of the spy satellites orbiting the Warhammer World as well as many secure communications sent via satcom by various sources. The few men and women in the room were not tasked with interpreting any of it, that was done groundside. They still needed to be able to tap into the channels to see if something was off with the connections. And something was just very much off, something had activated all kinds of sensors and alarms. It fell to the eyes glued to several screens to see if this was glitch or data.

Several tried to take in as much data as they could and matched what they saw with their experience and the data banks. When several sources reported roughly the same thing the likelihood that what they saw was really there they looked at each other before three heads nodded in unison. A slender hand punched a rarely used button and waited for the connection to be established.

"Madet, Madet, Madet. Kopernikus station reports a magical explosion of at least eight kilotons yield 500 klicks north-east of Ghrond. We see a release at least 250 Megarandi, all Winds. No sir, this is a one-time release, we see no further activity. Yes sir, we will assign all available sensors on this right away. We will report ASAP Sir."
"Jeez, that was a big one."

Close to Neustadt, Naggaroth

The warriors around Kouran Darkhand were the best true Elvenkind had. They had been taken from their families at birth, they had been trained to be Malekith's finest soldiers ever since they took their first steps. Their resolve in combat was legendary, their abilities with all manners of bladed weapons unquestioned. Often they had stiffened a faltering offense or defended when all seemed lost. Nearly as often they had taken the life of the hapless commanding officer who had forced them to rescue Malekith's cause. They were stationed at Naggarond itself when they were not needed in combat. They had received modern weapons and training during the last few years and formed an impenetrable bodyguard for the Witch King.

Until now.

Now they were asked to quell a revolt of slaves. Only their legendary discipline kept them from rejecting a mission fit for the lowest grade of troops. That this mission had the highest priority was a salve to the Black Guard. If this den of revolt was not taken soon the true Elves would find themselves without the new model weapons which alone promised victory. Warriors of lower skill might accomplish the task as well, but they would not take this Neustadt undamaged.
Distasteful as this mission might be, it had to be done. Kouran looked at the rows of barbed wire between him and the city. There were low-slung bunkers and some zig-zagging trenches. Nearly nothing could be seen of the defenders, Darkhand had expected nothing less.

He did not even bother to turn towards the Tower Masters which attended the briefing. He did not try to hide his disgust and contempt.

"They are hiding from their betters as they should. No Elves they, not even warriors of some kind. They allowed themselves to be slaves and that they shall be again soon.
Isanth, your company scored best with the rifles. Form a firing line at that ridge and let them have it when the horn is blown. Every slave you kill will please Khaine, but mostly we need to keep their heads down.
Dergast, your halberds will make short work of that barbed wire, open a path.
Sil'da, your flame throwers need to go to those bunkers. Kill those who do not run.

Remember, these are slaves who have been pampered by stupid humans. They now think they have rights, that they have a say on what we can do to them. This cannot stand, if this gets out to others we will have to put down a rebellion every other day. Try to kill as few slaves as possible, these have valuable skills and we need their production as fast as possible. Others cannot do this we are the Black Guard, we carry out Malekith's will. Get to it warriors."

Inside Neustadt, Naggaroth, 15 minutes later

Sigmarslieb was no warrior, never had been. He had dim memories of being a ship's boy until the black ships had found him. The Dark Elves on board had done such things to him. He had to work hard at not thinking about them, then he would collapse into a useless shivering pile. If he failed like that they would do even worse things to his fellow slaves. Sigmarslieb had become much better since he had been brought into Neustadt. Still, the thought of just looking at a Druchii sent shivers down his spine, thinking of fighting them was beyond ridiculous. Fortunately, he neither had to fight them, nor see them. All he had to do was lift those bombs and drop them into the waiting mouth of this mortar thingie when he was told to do so. He could do that very well, he had worked so hard for the Druchii that he had ropey, strong muscles. He did not mind the loud blasts that followed, he just cared to drop as many bombs down that hole as he could.
Sigmarslieb was very good at doing that.

Hern was not so strong, but he could read numbers and had fast fingers. He set the dials on the mortar to whatever numbers were screamed at him in record time. And the same ex-slaves who had worked on a production line like well-oiled machinery now supplied Herm and Sigmarslieb with an unending stream of bombs with propellant fixed around the tails and fuses set just so.
None of them were warriors. Nevertheless, they killed Druchii in carload lots.

Bunker before Neustadt, same time

Gernod knew that he could never face a Druchii warrior in direct combat. He had tried that, a long time ago. The thrice-damned Elves moved with the grace given to cats and the speed of lighting. They had disarmed him in seconds and pinned him to the ground so that he could watch what they did to his family. Nothing they did after that could burn away his hatred. After all the years of working and learning arcane skills, like working a lathe, he would still be overwhelmed by a Spitzohr in short order. It did not matter at all. The closest Elf was about 300 meters away from him, or so the range card said. And all he had to do was to line up the clumps of wannabe torturers in his sight, make sure that the right elevation was set, and push that butterfly trigger with his thumbs.

The machine gun would convert all those lovely rounds in the belt into fire, fury, and a most satisfying recoil. The tripod kept that in check and the first burst toppled several Druchii with no problem at all. The tripod also put limits on his hate, he could not swivel the gun as far as he liked. He had been assigned a field of fire, he served that with a gun in the next bunker. It was just a small cone that needed his attention. That was not unlike working in the factory, he was always only responsible for a small part of the whole. There he could perfect the few tasks he performed again and again. Here he had more than enough Druchii in his sights to quench the fire of his rage in blood, for now.
Other machine gunners might worry about stoppages, but not him. His loader was Kuan Ti, the sweety with two kids she talked so much about. Every round in the belt was checked and checked again and her nimble fingers made sure they were fed straight into the machine gun. Gernod no longer had children of his own and killing Druchii would not bring them back. He could help defend hers though.