Malekiths Tower, Naggarond, later at the same day
The fingers which rapped on the armrests of the throne made sounds which one would normally expect from pieces of old oak capped with iron claws. Having lived for such a long time and having wielded the powers of the warp on such a scale had changed Malekith`s body and mind in ways which would give a German scientist reason to question his minds capabilities.
The rap of the fingers would with anybody else be an unconscious sign of unease or unrest-with the Witch King it was one carefully used tool of many to influence his opponents. It sent shivers down the spines of his advisors and guards who watched the negotiations their liege was conducting with this strange and arrogant German.
It was a sign of the interesting new days that the mercenary was still able to kneel in front of their lord without being rendered to parts.
Claus Tolles had never been able to feel empathy with any human-this trait made him so effective as a leader and as a sociopath. His current opponent was different-so full of pent up emotions of hatred, disgust and the need to kill accumulated over so many milenia-all held in check by an indomitable willower-that these emotions made it across whatever barrier normally shielded Claus from others feelings.
That he was perfectly aware that he was walking a tightrope, always in the danger of being killed or worse may have helped with that but at the same time he felt as alive and aware as never before. Malekith the Witch King was the most interesting, frightening and intense being that he had ever met and this meeting brought the magnitude and the danger of the enterprise he had embarked upon into sharp focus.
"To sum it up your highness: We offer you the services of a technical and science team to lift up your capabilities. We can help you to mine raw materials inaccessible to you presently, help you to transport goods faster and more efficiently. We can build up your manufactories and produce weapons of great power. We can help you raise and equip new kinds of troops and when combined with our heavy weapons company they will make a powerful tool to smash your enemies."
"Can you help us to defend against your countrymen as well?" This question made Claus freeze-the answer might we unleash all the pent up emotions in his direction with terrible results. Still with somebody who for such a long time had ruled the most competitive society on this world only something close to the truth would do.
"Your highness, the gap in technology, science and industry is so great that even with our help I cannot see the Druchii in a position to challenge Germany for a 100 years or more."
Everybody in the room waited with baited breath for the explosion which was sure to come after such a blatant statement of Elf incompetence. The silence was so absolute that Claus could hear the beating of his heart like a drum.
Makekiths voice was low and hoarse with the effort of control. "Are you sure about that"
"Yes my Lord, I can show you proof of that later which will…"
"Yes, I am sure you would…So a hundred years you say…at least"
"Yes my Lord"
"That is …..acceptable" The rest of the room learned to breathe again.
"Putting Germany in it`s place is a task for the future-we have more pressing concerns now. Your erstwhile countryman in their arrogance have changed the balance of power of this world in many ways like children who throw their toys about in a tantrum. When they showed the Norsca that raiding Germany is not a good idea, and when they even kept them from the Empire they made them look for new targets. Some of the Hung feel the pressure too. And the Druchii which inhabit the countryside have come to feel the leash of their leaders more strongly now that we have ceased the internal battles between the Druchii cities and resent it. On top of that Chaos warriors search for an altar that their "Everchosen" has visited some time before."
"So as you can see there is enough to do for an army-or two or three. I have these armies-but I have other goals for them in mind. So young Claus, son of Tolles here is something where you can prove yourself. There is a horde of Hung to the west of Naggarond which gives my Guard a hard time. Help them to annihilate the Slanesh-lovers and you will prove the worth of your services."
"Yes your highness"
"One more thing-I hear that you have brought a true elven captive from Germany"
"Yes my lord, one Jasla. She has agreed to work with us for the time being."
"That is agreeable to me-but she will have to talk to one of my aides before you go off to prove yourself."
"I will arrange for that Highness"
"Good. And now I believe you wanted to show me some proof of the German "invincibility"
"Yes my Lord. If you allow me to start my computer I can show you some videos which might be of interest."
An hour later Malekith needed every shred of self-control he had learned in 5 Millennia to suppress the shivers which would indicate the unpardonable weakness of fear to the other true Elves in the room. He just watched the "End Credits" of magically moving pictures about something called "The Manhattan Project".
Great Forest, between Middenheim and Quarry
Garek Brightfur was purposefully striding forward, leading his retinue in their march through the forest. As his warherd had increased in size beyond his fondest dreams and now even sported members of Chaos armies it had gone far above the abilities of any single piece of forest to feed and house his Children of Chaos. It had become necessary to move to less hunted stretches of wood periodically-nothing new to the Beastmen for whom this was their way of life. It was one of the things which made them so hard to fight-you could not storm their castles, burn their crops or kill their farmers as there were none. Against the Children of Chaos humans could only hope not to loose-but never aspire to win in the long run.
Garek was taken up with the rhythm of a long march so he was a little surprised when the scouts he had sent ahead wanted his attention. What they had to tell him was so outlandish that he could not believe it but they kept telling the same thing again even while he savored the bone marrow of the first liar. At last he took the risk of looking like a fool and went himself.
His huge strides took him to the place which had so impressed his scouts quickly enough and he found they had been right from the start. A part of the forest where months ago had been a fertile valley with age old trees now a strange clearing divided the eternal woods. Nearly 200 meters across it showed only grassland and a low long mound in the middle which had two metal rails and lots of wooden supports in the middle.
Garek needed no analysis or environmental impact statement to know whatever had caused this was a direct threat to him and his people like nothing before.
His scream could be heard for miles and promised bloody death to anybody and anything connected to this deed.
Great Forest, Clearing close to the rail line, late at night
The Homunculi which held up the magic mirror in front of Garek should have been immune to fear-but even they quailed at the sheer anger which radiated off the Doombull.
"What do you mean you know off this outrage-why did you not tell me about it. And what is more-what do we do about it."
Harbinger, the General of Chaos who`s likeness was shown in the mirror projected a far cooler air "The outrage that you mean is called a railroad by the humans. They use them to bring humans and goods to far places quickly. As they have no bearing on our current plans we did not tell you about this-there was no need for you to know."
"You arrogant cur-if the humans make more of these railroads they reduce the space for my herds more and more. Soon we will be running around like animals in a cage. And if the humans can bring people around with this quickly it gets even worse-this could be the end of my kind in the Great Forest-it will be the end of the Great Forest as we know it"
"Be that as this may-your target-our target is Middenheim. This city must fall and the eternal flame must be extinguished – that will bring an end to the Empire of Sigmar and will usher the Age of Chaos. It has been written in the Stars and so it shall be"
"So you believe Sorcerer-and so you want me to believe. But what if you are wrong and it is just one more city you lay siege to and devastate. What if this is another City the humans build up time after time and it does NOT bring the end times-then what? My herd will be exhausted by the battle but our refuge will become smaller and smaller every year and what will you do about THAT?"
"I think I just heard wrong-I thought you wanted to deny my orders and challenge the plans of Archaron"
"Help me to lay waste to this "Railroad" and those who build and run it-that will help the Siege of Middenheim as well"
"You stupid animal –you want to change the Plans of Archaron the Everchosen himself. He is the anointed of all 4 Chaos Gods-and you want to tell him "I do not like your plans-I have a much better one?" You want to tell him "Thanks for the gift of weapons and the services of your advisors, the training which lifted some of mine a little bit from the lower levels of ignorance but now I want to do a different thing because I think it I better for me, surely you will understand dear Archaron? You do not even know to which height of arrogance you have raised yourself and not the slightest inkling of the punishments which await you if…."
The mirror went into many colorful shards when Gareks Axe met it. The Sorcerer who had maintained the spell screamed in pain upon this destruction and without thought aimed his staff at the Doombull. The black lightning which emerged might have struck Garek to the ground but was deflected in midair. The mage looked around in confusion until he saw Arok, the herd´s shaman. Just a few weeks ago he would not have been able to do anything like this, and certainly not with such apparent ease. The Shaman looked at him and just smiled, making sparse gestures with a mauled hand.
At first the mage could not find any effect but smelled the odor of burned meat. His already burned nerves took too long to tell him the story-he was fully aflame already when he realized what had been done to him far too late to do anything about it.
Castle Wolfenfels, several days later
Lt. Hermann genuinely liked the view from the Donjon of the Castle-it showed miles and miles of rolling Forrest, fields and the occasional bare Mountaintop. It was high and windy enough to shield him from the eternal smells of manure and urine, of offal and unwashed humanity which suffused most of the castle. As the Donjon was off-limits to most denizens of the castle he could also enjoy a little bit of privacy. He had brought up his trusty e-book reader in order to read a little more in the book he had meant to finish since quite some time now. Finding a less windy corner he realized that he was not alone but in the company of Ermine.
This did not give him pause-he had met her up here often enough-but the paperback Ermine had on her knees together with a page she kept writing notes on did. It was definitively some German book he could not place.
"Greetings Damsel, I am blessed to be in your company."
"Likewise Lieutenant, a nice day for reading, isn´t it?"
"Yes it is. May I inquire what you are studying there?" "
Ah, this-this was given to me by Nathan-I mean Lieutenant Alpers. He is such a nice guy and knows so many books. He brought me some when he stayed last Bäckertag. This one is "A short history of nearly everything"-he meant that would give me a condensed view on how you look at the world. It is very hard to understand but rewarding-in your eyes the world is such a different place."
"Err yes, I would imagine so. You picked a real challenge there-if you need any help please give me a note."
"If the necessity arises I will avail myself of your services, Lieutenant."
Ernst picked a bench not far from the heiress but away enough to signal that nothing inappropriate was happening before switching on his reader. "Nathan he is already? Better keep an eye on that" read the mental note the soldier made to himself before losing himself in fiction about a world which was gone from him forever.
Great Forrest, Herdstone, 2 Weeks Later Sigmarstag
Garek watched another "hunt" by Arok. The Shaman had promised him the best magical help he could wish for-as long as Garek provided Arok with the means. As he had less magical helpers now-a few of the Chaos sorcerers Harbinger had provided had preferred continued service to Garek over being digested but were not trusted-Garek had few choice but to agree.
The Shaman had led the ritual of summoning the Great herd in a way never seen before with the smoke of the scared herbs brunt in the fire rising in a green lighted column which could be seen for miles and miles. Ever since then herd after herd arrived and had added their numbers to Gareks forces into a warherd like the world had never seen. Garek knew no word for the number of Beastmen which had arrived and still continued-but it was enormous.
Simply to keep some semblance was a major work and he knew that he had to move soon, otherwise the horde he had concentrated would be unable to find food-but that fit in his plans very well. Arok had informed him that his former liege was on the march to meet him-and he doubted that Harbinger had a friendly chat in mind.
The newcomers had knelt down in supplication to him and waited for him to continue but they would have to wait for a while longer. Two of Aroks helpers we making the rounds, holding strings with what seemed to be mummified fingers at their ends. These devices from time to time pointed at some Beastmen, and the aides pulled these Children of Chaos out of the ranks. When asked what they did they stated there were sniffing out the witches-which did not give any real information to anybody. What was sure that nobody ever saw the Beastmen again which had been "sniffed out". As Garek was sure that the Shaman was among other things eliminating potential troublemakers he did not plan to interfere.
The Steppe west of Naggarond, 2 weeks later, Koenigstag
Khan Ogulai woke up from the need to relieve himself of the results of yesterday`s wine, Kumis and drugs. Scratching his nether regions he went to the tent which had been erected next to his own. Donning his padding, light armor and weapons before anything else without any conscious thought he stepped out into the daylight. The business about the relief done he watched the slaves arranging a breakfast for himself and his entourage. Taking a look around to pass the time till then he stepped around some tents to have a look at the latest captives his horde had managed to gather.
The small group of Druchii warriors and hags and been arranged in contraptions combining the functions of sitting stocks with short stakes driven into the lower parts of the captives anatomies. Long experience with such things had allowed the Hung to place the stakes so that the maximum length of suffering could be achieved. Taking a second look the Khan found his personal theory validated: All Hags had already passed. While rather tough in combat they folded once the drugs they used went out of the system. The rest of the Druchii would probably last till the evening, then sepsis and shock should finish them. If not his warriors would do as the Horde had to move again-staying still in enemy territory only asked for problems.
The sight of the Hordes victims pushed his thoughts into another track: How lucky he was to raid in the Lands of Naggaroth. The Empire´s eastern provinces were no longer the ripe fruit to pick it once was, and the thought to go into "Deutschland" gave him shivers. Not that it would have been easy to traverse the Empire first. Ogulai scoffed at the Clans which had begun to trade with the nations of the Old World. Deutschland and the Empire maybe were too hard a nut, but nations like Kislev or the border Princes were still tasty and easy. But that was something for the Clans there. He, Ogulai, was happy where he raided. Naggaroth was an old stomping ground for the Hung and their method of warfare suited this environment just fine.
While they could not attack their cities directly they could raid the farms and mines, the convoys, caravans, messengers and whatever else suited their fancy. They could not directly withstand an attack by a strong Druchii cavalry force or infantry but they could outride the infantry. And the oh-so-noble Elf horses could not live on the sparse grasses of the Naggaroth Steppes nor their riders on the foot you can carry on the hoof, so with good scouting one could outdistance them as well.
So whenever the Druchii amassed their forces they faded away, attacking isolated outposts and supply caravans, when the Elves split up or became tired they attacked. As long as Ogulai made no terrible mistake he could not really loose and just living like this counted as win for him. The damn Spitzohren had taken Hung slaves long enough-let them see how the boot would fit on the other foot.
Ogulai`s musings were interrupted by a strange sound-a little bit like the crack of a whip. It seemed muted, like coming off a distance. Pushing through the crowd to see what may cause the disturbance he could see the several riders which were pushing their ponies at full gallop to the Hung camp. While he was looking for the cause of their wild ride another of the cracking sounds could be heard and a rider dropped from his mount like a puppet bereft of its strings.
The Khan needed no more prompting to have the host assembled. He was finally on his horse and surrounded by his guard when the last of the rider was killed. From approximately the same direction the killed patrol had taken a cloud of smoke moved towards the Hung encampment. Leaving a guard the Khan moved his riders out of the camp into several broad groups of riders between whatever was closing on them and the camp. Lifting a viewing glass he had traded from some Araby caravan he had a closer look.
The cloud resolved itself into 3 vehicles of a kind nobody had ever seen before, all driving quickly enough that they trailed long dust clouds behind them. The Vehicles had 4 wheels, had an enclosed front and an open-topped boarded enclosure in the back. They had no horses to draw them nor any other visible means of drive-must be something magic. In the backside enclosure men were holding on to keep inside their strange chariots during the fast drive. Suddenly all vehicles stopped and turned their backs towards the camp at a distance of 800 meters. The crew in the back of the vehicles gathered about slim looking cannons which were in the middle of the enclosures.
When the vehicles stopped he heard some strange noise over the sounds they made when they drove-he could not remember hearing anything like that ever before-could it be music?
When he was still thinking how to attack these apparitions lights started to blink at the muzzles of the weapons and men started to drop from the saddles-no choice now, the only way was a full out attack.
Unimog Truck, Battlefield west of Naggarond, same day
Claus Tolles just knew that he should not man a heavy machine gun and shoot at barbarians but stand back and keep the big picture in mind-it was too much fun not to do. The NSV machine gun he used had quite a kick and Rate of Fire so he had to keep firing to short bursts. He mostly managed to keep his enthusiasm at bay long enough to do so.
The results were satisfying enough-the Russian 0,50" NSV machine gun did not just kill its targets-the energy transferred was usually great enough to blow off limbs and disintegrate heads. The rounds penetrated the Hung Ponies the long way and bullets that "just" hit a human torso often enough took more lives before their flight path terminated. Still the pauses between bursts and the need to keep the machine guns supplied with ammo meant that the losses were not overwhelming to the Hung-for now.
In the other Unimog and the Mercedes "G" Model that accompanied him lighter machine guns also fired on the approaching horde. Claus was happy to see that the Hung were not retreating, that would have taken his targets away. Wolfgang Böhler who besides him worked his magic tapped his shoulder in one of the breaks between bursts. "500 meters Boss"
"You are right-time to skedaddle." A short command by wireless made all 3 light trucks drive back the way they came, building up the distance to the approaching horde again. His trucks could drive 60-80 km/h on this kind of Steppe, far faster than the Hung could follow. After roughly 2 Kilometers of a jarring ride the Hung had fallen back enough that another stop-and-shoot was possible.
Wolfgang Böhler was having a professional dream come true-as many targets as he ever wished, a willing foe that was not too dangerous and all the excitement one could stand. For this job he had exchanged his trusty Mauser rifle with a Dragunov. At the distances this battle was going it was good enough and with so many targets he appreciated the self-loading mechanism which allowed him to keep his targets in sight between shots.
He was not even the slightest distracted by the music that shrilled out of totally overloaded speakers on all 3 trucks-he actually liked it. It reminded him of a lot of evenings in front of the TV. He could not remember any text, but the intro music of "The A-Team" was distinctive enough without that.
Not that he took any target-the machine gunners could kill more quickly than he did-but he was looking for special victims and eliminated them as fast as possible. The fun lasted only for a little more than a minute before he had to stow the rifle again and hold on for dear life. Another dash brought them more time for shooting and Wolfgang started to admire the Hung for tenacity-not necessarily for brains. When that "mad minute" was over the retreat resumed, but now the terrain was a rougher, so the speed was lower and the bounces became worse. After a particularly nasty bounce Wolfgang heared a "bang", smoke issued from the back of his truck and the speed reduced markedly. The jarring ride was so bad that he hardly could formulate the thought "What-so soon?"
Khan Ogulai was at a loss-never had he fought a battle such as this. He was hunting a fleeting foe which was always a little bit too fast to be caught. And while the hunt was exciting-there are few more exhilarating experiences than riding a horse at full gallop in a large group-it was costly. Whenever these cursed chariots stopped they rained death on his warriors. He wanted these attackers alive so he could use them to teach a lesson-they would beg just to be impaled. He wanted these Chariots-if he could make them work it would increase the might of his horde, he was tempted to use one for his personal use. And most of all he wanted the weapons that were used on his Clansmen with such effect. He wanted it so much that he could taste it-and he needed it. If he did not obtain at least some of these his tribe might wonder why the battle did cost so much for so little gain.
He was already wondering if the enemy was going to run forever when luck finally favored him. One of the chariots went over a bolder with a mighty crash. After that it started to emit smoke from the back end and it ran a lot slower and more erratically. Its fellow Chariots ran straight ahead, abandoning the stricken one to the mercy of the mighty Hung. He bent a little lower in the saddle and kicked his pony to an even higher speed when a thought hit him like a spear: He was being goaded. The enemy was using one of the favorite tactics of the Hung against him. His people were experts in feigned retreats which lured the enemy into traps-and here he was being led by his nose like a rookie. He looked around for his messengers-his tribe relied a lot on flag and horn signals for command in the field-just to find to his utter horror that a lot of the banner bearers and officers had already been killed. If he gave the order now only a part of the horde would comply-the rest going into whatever trap the enemy laid piecemeal.
With sinking stomach he realized that there were no good solutions for this problems, only bad ones when he saw something on the little hill that his rider were just passing. Before he could make sense of that several places on that Hill erupted into flame and dust, with beads of fast moving light reaching out to his flank. Wherever they hit riders toppled from their mounts, horses collapsed in bad ways-and it happened so fast. Whoever had his lair in this hill was wrecking a fearful slaughter in an incredibly short time. No choice left now, the host to evade. He gave the signal to go left-away from the hill which so suddenly became deadly and away from the truck. As he had feared some units got the order and tried to comply-some did not. Even under the best circumstances this would have been the start of a major clusterfuck-under fire it was worse.
Just to add insult to the injury the chariot he had been following dropped something smoking from his back and sped off to join its comrades who were circling closer. And behind his warriors a black line moving toward him spoke of a different kind of doom to catch up with him.
Silvar Bloodcrest did not pray much-he knew that Khaine valued deeds, not words. But when he prayed he prayed for this-a gaggle of disorganized light cavalry in front of him, him on his favorite horse with a good lance in his hand and in command of a good unit of heavy cavalry-and here he was. He screamed with the joy running through his veins and signaled for his unit to go for full gallop. His horses were the finest that true elvenkind could provide: fast, aggressive to a fault and still able to carry a warrior in full armor and partial armor for itself. Even without the armor they weighted half again or more than the puny rides of the Hung and still at a sprint they were at least as fast as they were. His men had long lances which could reach easily past the sabers and other melee weapons the Clansmen wielded and heavy armor which would turn most hits the enemy might still land. The only problem for heavy cavalry normally was to catch their lighter opponents and here they were neatly served on a platter.
On the last meters before the crash all thoughts of commanding his units faded and only his small part of the battle counted. He tasted metal in his mouth and his vision concentrated until only the nomad he picked as his target remained in it. Time seemed to slow to a trickle and he had as much of it as he needed to aim his lance squarely at the chest of his enemy while he bent forward even more to prepare for the impact. The lance, driven by the nearly half-ton of him and his horse at more than 30 km/h penetrated the armor and chest of the Hung with ease and his pony was pushed aside by his steed with such force that it collapsed. Releasing his struck lance he pulled his sword but was through the enemy before he could make much use. He slowed his horse long enough so that other Druchii warriors could join him before charging in again. There were enemies to slay, glory to be won and a god to please-forward.
Half an hour later he was getting his breath back and cleaning off his sword when one of these horseless chariots the humans used was approaching. It showed the black flag the Germans sported-why the leader showed nothing more flamboyant was beyond him.
From the chariot rose the German "Claus" who wore what could only be described as a shit eating grin.
"Hail Silvar Bloodcrest-your chief bait is reporting back." The Elf bit back a stinging reply-mercenaries had a very low rung on the totem pole as far as Druchii were concerned-but this one seemed to have the ear of Malekith himself. How else could the Witch King agree to a totally amateurish plan which relied so much on the enemy behaving just like you wanted him to behave. Much too complicated and relying too much on coordinated movements by different units involved in the attack. Granted, the talking machines the Germans had provided helped with the latter part, but nothing ever went totally right on the battlefield. That it mostly had this time would make the Mercenary even more insufferable-but so much deeper would be his fall.
"Welcome back Claus, Son of Tolles. Seems that you avoided the usual fate of bait-congratulations."
"We did a little more than survive and run-you will see on the way to the Hung camp."
"Are you ready to move?"
"Ready and willing"
"Then move-we will be on our way as well"
On the way to the camp Silvar Bloodcrest wondered at first what this Claus meant, until he found the first gaggle of slain Hung. From there several fields full of fallen enemy attested that the Germans had fought a battle of their own-and killed much more than their fair share of the Hung. Silvar Bloodcrest became the second leader on that day who desired the German weapons with an intensity he could taste.
Close to Hung Camp, west of Naggarond, later in the evening
Jasla looked over the rim of her hastily dug hole to the Hung camp. Her view showed the same dead Hung from the last two sallies who found that you cannot storm machine guns and the smoke from the camp from the shells the Germans had lobbed inside. Nothing of importance had changed during the last hour she had spent watching the winds of magic for another attack by the surviving Hung shamans.
She needed to take a short rest before resuming her meditation. Having nothing better to do then drink some vinegar-laced water and chew on some jerky allowed her mind to wander back to the time she spent in Naggarond.
It had been during her third hour of the interrogation by some of Malekiths military and magic advisors that he had entered the room unannounced.
At first he had not addressed her in any way, just walked around her without any word, looking at her-looking inside her. His presence was such that she was no longer aware of the room she was in or the other Druchii in it-her perception was totally dominated by the Witch King. She knew from the start that Malekith could sense her connections with Slanesh. Such things were more acceptable in Hag Graef-but this was the Witch Kings personal domain. Even on the Battlefield she had never felt deaths cold breath more than then.
"Eyes and Ears Jasla-this is what you are to me-my eyes and ears. For the time being serve the Germans to the best of your abilities-all of your abilities. And report to me about their doings, their plans, their motivation, their knowledge-everything. Do this well and I might accept your existence a little longer"
"My Lord I…."
"Hush little one who thinks so little of my edicts-there is no need to speak any more-I teach in different ways" The exceedingly sharp claws which posed at his fingernails had pierced the skin at her neck with such ease and had touched the nerves just outside her spine-even some inside it- which connected her brain with her body. The sensations he had send down these nerves were so excruciating as nothing else she had ever felt in her life. Unbearable pain, overwhelming nausea and forced lust without relief had been artfully composed into an overwhelming whole which had burned the task Malekith had given her into her mind in indelible ways. He went from the chamber without ever addressing her again-it was not necessary as he knew she would comply with his orders-she had literally no other choice now as his orders were as much a part of her as her heart.
Jasla pulled back from this memory with a conscious effort-it was no use to dwell on this and would only add to the harm done to her. A much nicer topic for her thoughts would be Petra, her new pet. Educating the former student was so much fun. At first the German had thought she had known what proper submission would mean-until she had shown her for real. She could have broken Petra`s newfound resistance much quicker-but doing it slowly and by degrees was so much more exciting.
And one of the Germans had lent her such interesting new tools-all he wanted was to watch. Of course being exposed in such a way had added to the slave's education and had given her some traction with the German chemist. Feeling much better from these memories she allowed herself another glimpse over the rim of her cover-nothing had changed again, just the stored heat of the soil was causing more of a heat distortion…..what.
A view through the empyrean at the same spot revealed the truth of the matter-the Hung shamans had woven together a clever disguise for their advancing troops. "Got you, you bleeders-and now you pay" Luckily for her unraveling such a spell was far easier than maintaining it-a quick attack on one of the shamans destroyed the harmony between them that the spell needed. Suddenly exposed to the sights of Druchii and Germans the Hung warriors accelerated their advance to their besiegers.
She was about to shout a warning when several machine guns opened fire. By the time the few remnants of this assault reached the Druchii lines there was no question of it ever succeeding.
Castle Ringo-jo, Ringomori, Nanseitochi
Ringomori, roughly translated as Apple Forest, was one of the cities closest to the German border in the Nipponese splinter. German territory was actually in sightline from the Castle towers and that closeness was both a boon and a burden. Being so near to Germany brought new things, ideas and tech fast and early, but at the same time the city now had lots of transit traffic deeper into Nanseitochi.
Tourism, commerce and new connections had made the city swell in numbers and size. With 200,000 inhabitants Ringomori was now the largest city in the region, the next larger German city was the 70 kilometres distant Karlsruhe. Ringomori was not the only city growing, two other important ones were Kagoshima and Ryodate, but as said, in the northwestern part Ringomori was the largest.
Alto and Kasumi Hegiwara were the Daimyo couple. By Warhammer standards, they were good overlords, but the situation since the Weltensprung was anything but easy for them. Old recipes did not work well on such unusual problems this new time brought.
It was simple chance, that two of the "Warhammer experts" of the German government were born and raised not that far away, in the Kaiserslautern region. Both experts saw the potential of the relative nearness of a big Nipponese city. Kaiserslautern and several small cities and towns were positioned on the most important railway line in the region. On advice by the two experts, city and district of Kaiserslautern championed a new direct railway to Ringomori. Outpacing other districts, Kaiserslautern dixtrict had bought up enough land to the border to make a new railway possible. And despite the anger of some districts, the new line was already under construction. Normally this would not have been the case, since there were existing tracks which could have been lengthened, but political and economical calculations had helped here.
And to give their homedistrict an advantage, the two experts Koch and Ruhdorfer, went to Ringomori often to build up a functioning relationship of the city and area not so much with the directly bordering districts, but their home. On their advice, Daimyo Hegiwara began to build up a larger tourism infrastructure and strengthening the local artisans and small manufactories.
Both the Daimyo and his wife were really talented for drawing, which led the two german provisory advisors to propose a bold idea. In addition to their traditional paintings, caligraphy and other things, would they like to try out Manga?
Germany had lost the source of most Mangas in the Weltensprung, but with the distant cousins of the Japanese available...
At first, Markus and Günter, had to do some convincing, but they succeeded. The Hegiwaras tried it out and found it pleasing. Now, more than one and a half year after the Weltensprung, Ringomori was the first Manga hotspot on the WH-world. Ringo-jo was a big castle, so in one of the many buildings, 27 drawers and painters produced the first Warhammer world Mangas. At times, the Hegiwaras would make some of their own together with the other artisans. New science-fiction mangas were still a time away, but traditional stories and stories about the world after the Weltensprung became a hit.
