Hamburg, Cafe inside the Cultural Center "Rote Flora", 9 Weeks after Seeadler Raid
"Jasla is clearly a prisoner of war. She has been part of an organized military which raided Germany as is their custom. At least now after our illegal assault on their homeland we should set the prisoners of this war free.
The pigs which call themselves our government could never show that she was directly involved in any of their so called atrocities and still they have sentenced her for life in prison-and what does that mean for a being who can live longer than a thousand years... You can also see the hidden face of our fascist state by…..
Manfred Horst was quite impressed by the spirited rhetoric from the man in front of him, you could see that he really believed in what he was talking and much of what he said meshed well with his own thinking. Ever since the Weltensprung Germany was no longer continually reminded from outside about the Nazi past and it was just too obvious that the old ways had started again. The increase in the armed forces alone was surely the provocation that had led the Druchii and other raiders to their incursion into Germany out of a justified fear of the fascist state which had so suddenly appeared in their midst.
Funny, he did not peg Claus Tolles as one of the enlightened during their first meeting, but if he were honest to himself he was far too busy trying to talk up that nice blonde which had been one of the few decent looking women in that meeting-just to find out that the chick preferred other women. Too bad about that.
But this Claus Tolles was speaking the stone truth and now he was speaking about something else which resonated inside him: direct action. But as nice as that though was maybe it was time to cool the obviously inflamed man.
"Man, you are so right, I really do not know how to say no. But you have to understand the pigs put Jasla and the others into Stammheim-this is a bleeding fortress. It is sealed tighter than a nuns ass, there is no way that we might do something useful.
"Ah, you are so right about that. So we will not try-at least not in Stammheim. But not everybody in that illegal dungeon is so happy and a little bird sang to me that Jasla and two others will be driven to Papenburg for another trial. Some idiot started a civil lawsuit against them for compensation against damage.
During that transport we have a much better chance. I also have the access to some serious weaponry. Bring some good people-help me in doing what is right and make a long nose at this state and I will leave that to you"
Wow, that was it-a challenge. This was the watershed he had thought so long about. Direct action, really making a statement-but also finally going irrevocably illegal.
"Let me think about it man. I`m not saying no, I am just saying I have to think about it" "Fair enough. You remember how to contact me?"
"Yes of course"
They parted soon after that, Manfred Horst`s head still full of opportunity and wonder, Claus Tolles musing weather the nonsense he had to sprout would leave any kind of permanent brain damage. But you had to get the help wherever you could.
Manfred Horst sat cross legged on his bed the same night, still musing about what he had learned today. He was pretty sure it would be more wise to say no, but he also knew it would be hard looking into the mirror after that. It would show him just too clearly what he dreaded about himself in private too often-that he was far more mouth than he was man.
He logged in into the website for those concerned with Jasla to drop Claus a PM that he could not help when he saw again the picture of the witch in Chains, a sight which brought about an immediate erection as it always did.
Wherever the thought came from, it latched to his brain with full force: She might be quite grateful when he was one of her liberators, might she not. Ah, what the hell, you only live once. Already thinking which of his comrades he could approach and how he wrote the PM asking for another meeting.
Great Forest, 9 weeks after Seeadler Raid
Garek Brightfur had never expected that the amount of Duells that he had to fight would become lower after his ascension to leader of his warherd , but quickly found that the Duels took a different shape.
The idea of a Doombull associated with Tzench was not sitting well with the other herds in the forest or so it seemed. This was already the second time he had received a challenge and again he had no choice but to heed it.
He currently overlooked a huge clearing where a fire several months ago had created a space free from the huge trees which otherwise would make any bigger battle moot. Taking advice from his Shaman had worked well during his duel so he was giving his latest madness a try.
His Gors and the other associated Children of Chaos formed a more-or less orderly block with a straight line in front while the ranks of the Ungors were clearly seen to be to the right and left of it, ready to support their stronger brethren with throwing spears.
On the other side of the clearing the warherd was less orderly, even if the groups of Gors and Ungors were still well divided, not for different tasks but for sheer discrimination of the weaker races.
Their leader, a huge bloated creature reeking of decay obviously deemed him below contempt as he never tried to initiate a duel between the leaders-not that Garek had any Problems with that-even if he would win that fight it was far too likely to succumb to some illness after that.
Of course there was no formal declaration of combat or any such idiocy-after both sides had sufficiently psyched themselves up the herd opposing Garek responded to the gurgling scream of their leader with an unorganized but spirited charge. Gathering speed and momentum they collided into Gareks herd with the grace of a major railroad accident-and with similar violence.
Gareks herd did what they could, with the back rows supporting the front ones with long spears thrust through the ranks and simply physically propping up the front ranks.
As always the right side of the enemy line was able to push against their opponents better but also the center started to bend backwards under the assault of what had to be the enemy's strongest warriors.
The support by the ungor units was strangely ineffective with only few spears being thrown and even less connecting with the enemy. Gareks herd was slowly being forced backwards to their side of the forest-they could not go back any more without breaking up their ranks.
The air about the battlefield by now was suffused with smells of blood and dying, the stink of opened intestines, the triumphant cries of the victors and the last breath of the dying. All of this was making any conscious thought, never the strong suit of the beastmen, nearly impossible.
Garek had, until now, held back from the fighting. When his line was bent back like a fishing hook and looked about to break at the middle he knew where to apply himself. Kicking one of the members of his entourage into blowing into the war herds horn he ran towards the impeding break in his line.
Arriving just in time he was able crush in the head of a gor which had broken free of the fighting with the back side of his axe, taking off the arm of another in the back swing.
After that it was a swirling chaos un unrelenting attacks and last minute parries, of small injuries unnoticed in the adrenaline rush and a growing bloodlust the more the fight send a heady mixture of hormones and other substances into his body.
He never saw the lines of his Ungors diminish from plenty to a thin line in a flash of dissolving illusion, never saw the two blocks of Ungors that stormed from their hiding places on both sides of the battlefields attacking the unprotected flanks and even the back sides of the enemy with their new short broad-bladed spears.
But he quickly felt the lessening of the enemy`s assault and heard the cries of panic which quickly emerged from the back ranks of the opponents warherd-and then suddenly it was over. The enemies ranks broke like glass and the ran in panic, showing their backs to his vengeful warriors or even dropping on their backs and offering their throats in a sign of submission.
Until now the losses on both sides were not too dissimilar, but now the battle really degraded into a one sided slaughter which did not abate until more than half of the enemy was slain.
When he wearily hobbled over the Battlefield, with the pain of all the small injures received catching up with him and his stomach on the verge of rebelling over the smells and the adrenaline which had no more place to go he found the enemies leader.
His remains were surrounded by a ring of fallen beastmen-his and the those from the other side as he had in his last minutes been unable to differentiate between friend and foe. His vast body was hacked into many pieces and already started to decay into sludge-Garek was happy that they never met in direct combat.
His herd congregated around him after making sure there were no more easy kills to be made and all looked at him-weak after the battle and sick to his heart. It probably started in the group around the shaman-the screams and cries of adoration for a leader that had gotten them through a difficult fight with low losses.
They quickly spread over his herd and for the first time he KNEW they were his. Accepted as he was for the first time in his life Garek could not remember being more happy or feeling better ever.
During the orgy-cum-feast that ensued in that night the found time to think about today`s fight, the tactic used had been so good he should remember it. Remembering things worked better when they had a name-maybe "Breast and Horns"?
Wang Chan, southern Southlands, 33. Pflugzeit
Phoung-Ahn raised her looking glass, to scan the Sea, again. Her wooden observation tower was made of stable stems, camouflaged with a leaf packet. More than a year had gone by since her small hometown was somehow transported from Thailand to - here.
The shock had been great, but soon it became clear that the world they now were inhabitants off, was medival or worse. Wang Chan had learned the hard way to take the surrounding countryside under their "wings". While a lot of the gifts of the modern world could not be reproduced or replaced, in their small corner of the new world Wang Chan was an island of calm. What was left of Earth tech and the bits and pieces the citizens of Wang Chan could still make, ensured their political top standing in the region.
Still, the government of Wang Chan knew that there were, even must be, bigger fish out there. Their small piece of Thailand had been lucky. The tribes in this area were either so impressed by Wang Chan´s "power" that they wanted to trade with them or left them alone. In the last 3 months there were even 4 small local tribes, which sweared allegiance to Wang Chan.
Still, neither Phoung-Ahn nor her collegues in the city council banked much on their continuing luck. Had they landed close to a major power, Thailand´s outpost in this new world would have been toast. Wang Chan had roughly 4000 citizens, a major power would have overrun them on manpower discrepancy alone.
So the small town had been glad when they got shamans from the neighbouring friendly tribes, which solved the magic problem elegantly. One had to swallow that, magic functioned here and the "black man" under the bed could be real!
Wang Chan controlled everything in a 60 miles radius and with the town having "come to rest" close to the coast, fishing was a nice option. This in turn gave need for something resembling a coastal patrol/marine. Today, Phoung thought proudly, we have 6 motorboats out there. The strongest "marine" in our region, where floats and small fishing boats are the norm.
A small oilwell, found five kilometers outside the town, replenished their supplies and for now was enough to keep all motors and generators in Wang Chan running. The refinery method used was "stone-age" and the quality not as good as posssible, but it functioned.
Nevertheless, caution was needed. their ships on the Sea could give away their position to the Great Powers of this world. So normally the fishing and armed motor boats hugged the coast and a series of observation towers was erected to warn the city.
Of the 4 tribes, who had become part of their "little Thailand", had a long and strong fishing tradition and could inform them on the ships of the powerful nations one had to stay away from.
The main navies were from a series of Kingdoms, which had a distinct similarity to the India from Home. Equally powerful forces, but visiting these waters less frequently were the ships from two Empires which even in name resembled strongly China and Japan from Earth.
Another and mainly worse flag to spot were the colours of the Dark Elves, searching for chances to loot and enslave. Their High Elf cousins were not much better liked, since their arrogant, even racist, behaviour was hard to keep cool to. According to some of the best sailors, the High Elves had a colony not too far away.
A very seldom sight were the ships of the "Ghostwhites" far from the snowy north. While there was some regularity, the intervalls were big.
Phoung-Ahn was one of the volunteers manning the observation towers in rotation She, like all her comrades had paintings of the flags and symbols the navies on this world used, as far as they were known.
Her shift was still young, when a sailing ship, what else here, came into her view. It was a foreigner, the ship type not local. She searched the papers and was gifted with the right flag. It was a Carrack or Galleon from a nation calling itself simply the Empire and according to the stories of their subjects, would be Germans in Phoung´s world. Then more ships sticked out the mist lying over the sea. More of these Empire´s ships. And even more farangs. Interspaced between the Empire´s ships, the Rising Sun flag of the Empire of Nippon could be seen on several vessels.
Normally Phoung would already given signals to Wang Chan, but it was the fortyfirst ship which sealed the looking glas to her eyes.
It was a steel ship! And the colours flying above her crow´s nest was not one Phoung had first seen here, no, this flag she knew from home. Black-Red-Gold, the colours of Jööraman!
Why was it here? Was the ship stranded like Wang Chan or...
Then the question answered itself. Among the altogether 71 ships, there were 12 from Germany. This were too many to be coincidence. Germany had to be here, somewhere. The possibilities...
"Phoung, Phoung!"
She turned to see Tong-Ber climbing the ladder to her platform.
"Hi, Tong! I am readying the signal flags, just a moment..."
"Yes, we have to signal them before they leave our coast."
"No, I want to signal the city to go into stealth mode."
"Why, Phoung, this can be our salvation!"
"Yes, it can be. But it equally be our doom. At the moment these ships are just 12 ships, not Germany herself behind the horizon. And more, we do not know all flags of this world. What if these ships fly not the German flag, but a local nation´s one, which just by chance has the same colours and design?
No, this is a risk too great. We shoulod hide and begin to listen again if there are radio or wireless messages in the air.. But for now caution is more important."
Tondern, Schleswig-Holstein, former Denmark, same day
Laurids Rudebeck marveled at the sight in front of him. Not that it was very beautiful vista- lots of concrete foundations, half-finished angular metal walled sheds-some of quite huge proportions- and the half-finished construction sites of several administration buildings in "Government ugly" style.
But they represented the future of his town, promising business and work beyond his fondest dreams to his citizens. For the major of Tondern this made up for a lot of aesthetic deficiencies.
Finally it was time to enter the podium for his speech.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is a honor to be here and to speak before you on such an auspicious date. Just a little over one year ago, when the Weltensprung took us all we were sure we were the losers of this momentous event. Cut off from most of our countrymen, cut off from our traditional markets and actually many of the workers our economic and cultural future prospects seemed dim.
When 9 months ago Mr. Wörner approached me with his proposal we thought he was joking as we had never dreamt about such things before. But actually our new position, surrounded by the sea on three sides but still well connected to the infrastructure gave us a chance we never had before so we decided to grasp it. We thank you for the chance to take part in this great undertaking.
As a small token of our gratitude for all you have already done for us and will continue to do, we have granted your application for the name of the new Town district that we founded for your premises.
Let this piece of land in future be known as "Peenemünde Nord".
North of Hamburg, Lasbek
"Prost!" Henning Wulf was not only happy-he was happy and drunk as a skunk. He was sitting deeply in his old, battered but comfy sofa in his not-too-clean living room, having just kicked back another glass of spirits.
His friend Claus was here again and he had brought another friend. Together they had drunken Oldesloer, the local Schnapps quite heavily. He was surprised that the two were still so sober when he was so gloriously drunk. Even without the alcohol he would have had problems to follow their discussion. What the hell were they talking about?
"Forget it Claus, that guy can hardly read nor write. Nobody will ever believe he wrote a suicide note by himself. Got to be an accident, I tell you. Look here, here he spilled some water, then he stepped in it and dropped backwards against the table. Neck broken, end of story..."
"If you can pull that off , Miroslav?"
"Easy as pie, look here. Henning, could you come for a second?"
Henning, both drunken and confused took 3 tries to get up from his seat, finally accepting help from Claus.
"What are you two discussing, it is too funny?"
"Oh, we are discussing accidents. These old tiles are very slippery when they get wet-like from that puddle on the floor there." Henning started to look around "Where?"
"Look here-ups now you stepped in it!" Henning did never understand why all of a sudden Claus pushed him on the chest or why his legs shot out like pulled by somebody.
His neck hit the edge of the table with a loud "crunch" and his life mercifully ended.
Miroslav started wiping everything they might possibly have touched down while Claus spoke urgently into his mobile phone.
Minutes later two trucks drove into the night-shrouded farm, backing against the barn. Both truck drivers were guided by others carefully, mostly to avoid having the trucks run over any pieces of mud which might hold tracks for the police to analyze.
Loading the trucks took two hours during which Claus had to kick his compatriots several times when they started to marvel again at some piece of military hardware instead of doing their job.
During the loading Miroslav had carefully bend the wire of an age-old electric heater so often that the old isolation went off in enough places. Putting the wire under a low-hanging curtain and switching the heater to full he was reasonably sure that during the next two days or so a nasty fire would claim the Wulf`s house and the remains of it`s former owner.
Forrest in Couronne, 2 days later
The RPG`s flight was too short to register in human eyes and terminated at an old sturdy Oak. The explosion tore right through the tree trunk, with a generous amount of molten copper still sprayed behind the substantial tree. Ears ringing Manfred Horst grinned like a madman at having successfully taken the shot at the unmoving tree and the destruction wrought by it.
"Right on man, this is powerful tool in the hands of the suppressed masses."
"That it is. Still it would be nice if you could help me to put out that fire over there, will ya?"
"Yes Claus, I will. Just don`t be such a spoilsport-we are just enjoying ourselves."
A little while later they all set down at coffee pot which was cooking on a small gas stove and drank the scaldingly hot liquid. "Ok, Claus, you can see that as promised I have brought some comrades for the Liberation. You have been busy as well I see - your arms will be a boon to the revolution to come. So what`s next?"
"We have only a short window of opportunity here and only one shot at it. We need to be ready at a moments notice from next month on - until then we need to be as ready as we can be.
So next we need to train the use of these weapons better and then we have to make a plan. And then we will practice this plan and the contingencies. And then we will practice some more..." "Sounds rather boring - but yes, this is what we will do."
Great Forrest, Castle Wolfenfels, one day later
It seemed like everybody who was connected to Castle Wolfenfels in any way had turned out for the upcoming event. Some of them even had a good reason to be here but most attended just to break the sheer boredom associated with living in a place in the deep boondocks.
While the Count was charged with keeping the road to Middenheim clear his Castle was on a steep hill, so the road and the taverns which catered them were a some kilometers away, keeping travelers from relieving the eternal routine .
For this very reason alone the Germans were more than welcome, bringing new stories, new music, new faces….Actually a little bit too new, as much of this was hardly comprehensible but still.
The only reasonably flat area close to the castle was the exercise ground which many generations of tenant farmers had laboriously dug out of the surrounding hillside, but even that was scarily bigger than 100x80 meters.
At one end of the field two sturdy posts had been driven deep into the ground, about 10 meters distant to each other and a strong steel cable was strung tautly between them in some height.
Count Heinrich watched from the walls of his Donjon how the Germans waited and watched the sky-their promise seemed so outlandish that he found it advisable not to be too closely associated with something that might easily end in disaster.
He found himself distracted from the spectacle below by a droning sound he could not place. Tracking it back to its source he had to look for a while before he finally found it`s source in the air. Lacking the information to compare his impressions he took quite a while to make something out of the flying cross he had spotted.
When this cross came closer it resolved itself into a fat-bellied green machine with wings that flew over his castle, the sound of it`s engines even drowning out the screams of astonishment and panic from below.
Having passed the castle it curved back towards the castle and its exercise field. This time the machine seemed to fly slower and even lower than before-actually lower than the wall he was standing on. When it overflew the field it seemed to drag a line behind it which promptly snagged the line between the poles.
What happened now was far too quick for Heinrich even to hold his breath as instead of crashing the line pulled a long string of pallets out of the back side of the plane. The count had to suppress a dignity-damaging giggle as this looked a little like a giant bird giving a shit in flight.
The crash with which the pallets landed was loud enough to be heard over the engines and Heinrich wondered how anything could have survived such rough treatment. He debated with himself whether his "gravitas" allowed him to check in person and with a sight decided against it.
A few hours later Dinner provided ample opportunity to interview Lt. Hermann about them.
"We could not check everything yet-we are talking about 12 metric tons of hardware here-but so far all seems fine. A minor dent here or there, but nothing critical. We will have one more drop like this and from them on our resupply is going to come by a different plane which can land on your field. It is much smaller but should be able to bring the daily needs. My sergeant Blaskovics told me that from the day after tomorrow we should have retrieved enough of your rifles so that we can begin training with them, please have your footmen ready from the morning of Markttag then."
Forest of Couronne, same date, 100 kilometers distant
"Lookee what we have here." Wolfgang Böhler bend over the same strange contraption than Thorsten Breitkopp who emerged as the Groups armorer. "I do not think there was any of these beauties left, I would really like to know where our redoubtable Claus managed to get this" "What the hell is that anyway" "This, dear Wolfgang, is a "Panzerabwehrwerfer 600". It was developed from 1944 by Rheinmetall as a replacement for conventional Antitank guns and at the same time to replace the light field artillery. It is the first gun to use the high/low pressure system-you may know it from the 40mm grenade launchers the Army uses.
The propellant charge is a standard 10.5 cm howitzer charge, but it works inside a reinforced chamber, giving it`s gases only at reduced pressure into the barrel through a system of small holes. Therefore the barrel is very lightweight and recoil is reduced.
It can fire a 80 mm Grenade from a standard mortar to up to 5 klicks distance, can do either direct or indirect fire." Wolfgang had a look down the opened lock "Smoothbore barrel-any accurate?" " It will place a shell in a 1x1 meter target at 500 meters-good enough. But the high point is that it only weight 600 kilograms-we can move it by hand if we have to, an it will share the ammo with the mortars."
"Sounds great, we could have used such a thing at Papenburg." "I can believe that easily-but I remember that you made do without" "Yep, we did that."
"Wolfgang, do you have any questions left on the STG 44`s? You will have to teach the 1 Platoon on it from tomorrow, I have to get back to Germany-I can pick up another lathe. Difficult to get these days-everybody and his brother wants some."
"No, I think I got the hang of them. I`ll have the guys assemble them from the storage tomorrow. Once they done that a couple of times they will know the guns better." "Your call, but seems reasonable. Miroslav seems to have it well in hand with 2nd Platoon" "No big surprise. He is not telling much, but am pretty sure that he was in Yugoslavia during the civil war. He will so."
"Well then, that just leaves only one thing"
"What?"
"Will this thingee here shoot?"
"Only one way to find out, isn`t there?"
20 minutes later a crater in a small hill showed that the old gun did indeed work as advertised.
Communal Apartment in Bremen , some Weeks after Battle of Papenburg
Ulf Grimnison was debating with himself on what to do with his evening-either go out to the local pub where the beer was surprisingly good, the music strange and the food acceptable-or stay at home and further read his favorite book.
And what a book this was-a book of secrets. When he and the other Dwarves arrived in Germany the question about their future had come up for real. Given that he and Snorri needed additional medical help that none but the Germans could give-both of his legs now contained considerable amounts of plates and screws which had to be removed in two years' time or so-trying to rejoin some Krak was out of the question. The dwarves were also in some disarray over the German question, so it seemed prudent to wait.
In the meantime the Germans had offered them apprenticeships at diverse companies. That was a remarkably understandable concept in this alien land, the only strange thing was that they got paid while getting trained.
That Björn was able to forge working runes motivated the Germans to such generosity-as did something they called public relations, whatever that was.
And trained they were. During the first week the Daimler trainees had to use files to shape metal-an old way to filter those of no patience or fine eye-hand-control. After the first couple of days the "Meister" (Master Craftsman) who ran the shop had taken them out of this part of the program-it was obvious they were better than any other trainee. Instead they had received more hours in learning to read the German numbers and values. The language was not too difficult-they all spoke Reiksspiel, which was close enough to German-and numbers did not change at all.
Yesterday something had clicked in his mind during the lessons and he finally could make some sense of the book he had been given. Now whatever free time he had he spend combing it for it`s secrets and wonders. He had apprenticed himself for 3.5 years-for these secrets alone he would have been glad to do 30.
Here was the next one "Silicium-Vanadium-Chrome-Molybdanium-Steel" wow.
He went asleep while he still clutched his book some time later. "Tabellenbuch Metalle" (Tables of Metals)
Road near Kislev, Kislev, 24th Pflugzeit
Fjodor Upenskoy listened to the steady sound of the carriage wheels, but his thoughts circled other things. He still tried to fully comprehend what he saw in the new land sitting where the Wasteland once was. Horseless carriages of all kinds, light, water lines everywhere, music without singers, paved streets, the list was sheer endless.
The Empire had jumped into this development headfirst. The traveling machines the Germans called Eisenbahn had taken Sigmar´s realm by storm. Fjodor had seen many things which could help the realm of the Ice-Queen massively.
But his mood soured, when he thought about the carriage just few meters behind him. Igor Shantosky was another advisor, who had made the journey with Fjodor. He was far less impressed. Igor was sure that the Empire was beginning to loose their minds and the Germans had already lost it anyway!
Giving the serfs such wonderful things or as the Germans did, snout-counting for deciding who would rule! And not only among those who were born to rule, no, they counted among the stupid masses of the peasants as well. Igor was sure that only the origin of Germany on another world had let them live. And that Germany would soon fall from within. Here in the Old World, only the strong and those born to rule prevailed.
The un-magical magics the Germanskiis had, would buy them time, but it was not their artisans who lacked, it was that their house was build on the wrong order!
Fjodor had heard that sermon often enough during their voyage to know that Shantosky would tell all important persons in Kislev exactly that. The worst about this was, that this view was the first time Igor fully missed the obvious. At the beginning of their research travel, Fjodor had been honoured to be with Shantosky, a man who was renowned for his farsight. For more than 20 years Igor was known far and wide that every single prediction of his came to fruition.
Upenskoy did not know exactly why he believed that this time, for the first time, Shantosky was wrong. But would his opinion weight enough to counter Igor´s? He doubted it. But why could a man of Igor´s wisdom lay so far of the mark? Maybe because Shantosky was used to the situation in Kislev. Parts of the Empire like Reikland and Wissenland were quite different to Kislev and more, Germany was totally new unknown. Or was he himself the misguided and Igor saw something he did not?
The rest of the drive Fjodor spent pondering everything he experienced anew.
