Road to Middenheim, next Morning
Uli Stoiber fastened the strong wire that lead to the top of the snorkel to the eye at the tank turrets top and then made sure his loader tightened all wires evenly. Their lives would depend on it. Standing back a little to get his breath back he mused about the good and bad luck of this trip so far. His tanks had made actually good time so far and had advanced nearly 200 kilometers from the Quarry. The tanks had suffered nearly no breakdowns so far except for a thrown track on number 3 and a clogged filter on No. 5.
Partly this was thanks to the maintenance he had made everybody do on their tanks, partly due to the tanks being "zeroed" when being remade that was a very low number of breakdowns-it could only become worse. But now they had a different problem-they had to cross a river. The engineer that was responsible for the bridge had categorically denied them the use of the bridge.
The bridge itself was fine and should carry the weight of his tanks easily-but the foundations the bridge was resting on were another matter. Made from local soil several segments had hardened differently and gaps had appeared in them. The longer trucks were not so much of a problem but his comparatively short and heavy tanks might well destroy the bridge. So they had to rig up the tanks for fording. When KMW had rebuild the tanks from their old configuration they had increased the fording depth to 5 meters as bridges were in short supply outside Germany. This meant that all gaps and openings were closed by inflatable seals and a huge pipe was erected over the commander`s hatch to get air inside.
The banks of the river did not look too bad, so this should be doable. As any tank personal he was not happy about this, but it had to be done.
The first tank went through the river without any hitch, as did the 2nd and 3rd. His tank was next, so when the steel hawser was fixed to the tank he gave the command to go on. It was a harrowing moment-nobody could see anything but him as he was sitting on top of the snorkel. As any movement of the tank was amplified by the height of the tube he was thrown around inside. The going on the riverbed was not too bad-it seemed solid enough. His Leo was about to scale the other riverbank when something gave way. The front end of the tank was pushed sideways –and down. The driver applied reverse without orders, but one track would no longer provide grip, turning the tank even more. The tank Commander was about to order a stop when the water went above his head.
Tunnels below Middenheim, 150 Meters below Ground, Noon
Joakim Vos stood in front of a very dark hole now topped by a tripod. One of the engineers that accompanied the cave raiders manned it together with a warrant while one of the Nerds operated a screen.
Colonel Stein was looking at the screen that was held by the Chief Nerd. "The shaft goes 50 meters down vertically-I guess it used to be for ventilation. Looks like more of the same down there-another old mining tunnel. The shaft goes 50 meters down vertically-I guess it used to be for ventilation."
"Thanks. Ok, Vos, I want you to take your squad, the engineer and some Dawi down there and secure a perimeter before we take down the rest."
"Yes Sir"
The Sergeant was helped into a rig very much like a Parachute rig and fixed by a carbine hook to the cable that went into the shaft from the Tripod. "Ready when you are Sergeant"
"Thanks for nothing" Taking the step from the rim of the shaft into the blackness below was really hard-but he was expecting his squad to do the same, so there was no choice. Stepping forward he had a nasty moment until the harness took his load and he was lowered slowly into the abyss.
His Helmet mounted lamp revealed nothing but different bands of rock that slid past his face, but even this long decent had its end. When he found his feet on the ground he had a quick look around before he lowered his rifle and undid the harness. There was another tunnel that led deeper into the mountain, but it showed only blackness beyond the few meters lit up by his lamp.
Sending an "all clear" up he waited until his squad was down before having a look deeper into the tunnel that was to be used by the Cave Raiders. He was 3rd in the line of soldiers that went forward in spurts, always listening for a while and then going forward again. The point men held up his hand to stop the little column and signed him forward.
"What is it…uh that smells bad-what is it, rotting meat?"
"Smells like it, but that was not what I wanted to show you. This is."
The tunnel made a turn that kept Joakim from having spotted the problem before. The way ahead was blocked by sheets of some material heavy with dust hanging from ceiling to floor in many sheets for meters.
"Never saw that before ." He used his combat knife to touch it, just to find that the material was flexible but struck to the blade like crazy. It was also devilishly hard to cut as it stuck so well.
By now the rest of his first fire team had arrived-the rest secured the back part of the column. He wasn`t the only one that tested his knife on the strange stuff, but one of his soldiers got it well and truly struck. Unwilling to give it up the soldier pulled a Zippo lighter from a pocket. "Let`s see if I can burn it off"
"Stop that Meyer before….." but that was already too late the stuff, whatever it was, burned very very well, nearly like human hair and stank accordingly. A flashburn removed all the wispy stuff more many meters down the tunnel.
"Meyer you stupid koekenbakker, that could have been dangerous…" His helmet light revealed the floor of the way before them, and it seemed to move. The way in front of them was covered with what seemed to be spiders but ranged in size from a soccer ball to a German shepherd.
There was no need to order the shooting, the sight was so revulsive to everybody that the shooting started just by itself. Joakim was not immune to that, he managed to keep his shooting into short bursts, but his 50-round magazine was empty before long. The bullets spread so generously downrange ripped through the pseudo-spiders like through paper, many of them taking out more than one target. The tunnel was lit by the stroboscopic muzzle flashes had the sound of so many assault rifles in the enclosed room was deafening.
It did not take him long to replace the magazine, but there was nothing left to shoot at.
Shaking his head to reduce the ringing in it he wearily made his way forward, crunching the carapaces of the insects below his boots. The tunnel led to a crossing of sorts and the long-dead miners who had made it had also provided for some extra space. This place was as good as any to stop the advance and have the main body close up. The Dawi and the engineers would again argue which way was the right one while he could get his breath back. Some of the walls of the space he was in were covered with the same stuff as they had burned in the tunnel and leathery balls made small heaps in several corners. The smell of rotting meat had gotten even worse than before, so the Landwehr Sergeant ordered a closer inspection of their surroundings.
The persistent tinnitus nearly kept him from hearing the warning in time and he just turned to face what could only be a nightmare. The spider that charged his soldiers in horrible silence was nearly as tall as him-and many times longer. It closed it mandibles on the first thing that was in its reach-Joakim`s rifle. Nightmare or no, pulling the trigger was not even a decision to think about. The 7,62 mm bullets went into the had carapace of the Spider, in some cases even bouncing off from its insides. The propellant gases that normally vented had no way to get out and so blew up the spiders head like a letterbox at New Years Eve, showering everybody with ichor.
Even mortally wounded the spider refused to die easily and threw the rest of its head around, flinging Joakim clear through the cave.
This is where Oberst Stein found him, out of breath, covered in stinking ichor and close to puking.
"Weidmannsheil Sergeant. I suggest you shoot them differently when you want to keep a decent Trophy. Otherwise, well done. Can you continue after a break?"
"Wheeze, yes Sir, Wheeze"
"Good man."
Small river, 125 Kilometers North of Middenheim
It never failed to amaze Ernst Hermann how many different contigents the Chaos army contained. Slender men and women in beautifully detailed silk clothing or revealing leather and metal outfits, shambling mounds of warts, boils and sagging skin that still kept up aside bronze armored brutes with huge axes. Their rides were similarly different, from fine steeds with red eyes, diseased looking horses that even showed bones to black monsters which seemed to be twice as big as any mortal ride. Their banners were the same only in the fact that looking longer at them induces headaches and nausea.
This huge shifting mass was approaching the fording that the Captain had picked for the next chokepoint. He had put the KSK to the right flank so the KSK officer had put most of his men to cover the ford-and some for the flank for securities sake.
They had dismounted most of the heavy weapons to get better coverage and had left more "molehills" on both sides of the ford, indicating where the mines were. It was just a shame most his exactly nothing-they did not have so many mines any more.
Again, the main body of the Chaos Army was shielded by light cavalry who approached at a broad front with huge gaps. The latter was new, it seemed that the enemy was learning not to bunch up when approaching modern weapons. The riders to the front stopped when the saw the molehills and some discussion started among them. Messengers were send to the rear and unavoidably the rest of the riders bunched together more while looking at the woods at the other side of the river, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever holding force awaited them. The Paratrooper Captain waited until the messengers reached the main body-and then ordered everybody to open fire.
The light cavalry was even more in the open than last time and did what cavalry nearly always does when confronting machine guns-die.
They were not where the majority of the heavy weapons were aimed at. While the cavalry had approached in open order it was a luxury that the Infantry and other troops could ill afford due to the limited space. Into this mass the heavy weapons fired from nearly a kilometers distance. The mortar scraped out circles of death, the grenades from the grenade machine guns picked 5 meter parts out of the army and the machine guns eliminated whole rows of warriors from the ranks.
The answers of the enemy were not long in coming-more cavalry went to the sides to outflank the German position, huge blocks of warriors started to trot forward-and die.
That was when the fog went in. It was an incredible sight-it started as a dense ball of smoke rising from behind then Chaos army and then expanded without getting any thinner at the pace of a running man. It took no time at all to cover the advancing troops.
"All Brake elements, this is Brake actual-you have your sectors and range cards-use them. Fire for the next 2 minutes-and then it is time to go. We will use the alternate rally point."
Ernst could just watch the fog rolling silently forward while keeping watch over the heavy weapons teams. The fog did not stop at the riverbank, it just rolled forward until it covered the German positions. The temperature dropped suddenly by several degrees and the mist was accompanied by a cloying smell that none of the soldiers could place.
Still, the Germans fired as if not much had happened-their target was not going to move so quickly that even the uncorrected fire would miss by too much. Still- they could not keep this up for too long. A couple of sharp explosions from the riverbank showed that some fool had found their few working mines-that might give them some time.
"Time` s up people-mount up and go."
Ernst was one of those who went backwards to their trucks, watching all the way for any attackers. It was an exercise in futility-he could not see anything past 10 meters or so. The fog did not just cut the view-it also altered the sounds and made the cries and barks of the Enemy appears even more strange, even more near than before.
Ernst Hermann was everything but a coward, but he was hugely relieved when the small column of trucks cleared the fog and went into bright daylight again. The question was-now what?
The warp-the same time, a very different place.
The being was looking at a river of blood. Not any blood, but only fresh oxygenated would do. His feet were resting on a mound of skulls. Not any skulls, but only those of mighty warriors taken in bloody close combat and consecrated to him could be so close to smell of hot metal, of burning blood and bones filled what passed of r air in the beings realm and this was as it should be.
Khorne sat on his throne and did something what he had not done for a long time as estimated by humans-having doubts. He was not sure about something and for a God with desires so mighty as they were simple this was a very unusual state of affairs.
It was the Germans who gave him such doubts-he did not know what to make of them. He had not been impressed when they entered his realm-so few warriors for so many humans. So unwilling to settle their affairs by the only way that brought decisive results. So often talking about peace, spending so much time and effort to look after members of their society that had no more use-disgusting. So willing to fight at a distance, so unwilling to the enemy in the he was not a God who listened to the words of humans much, but looked at deeds.
Then came the Battle of Swinemünde, a nice appetizer.
It seemed like a exception as not much happened after that. Even their Germans raid into Hag Graef was a half-hearted affair-they killed enough warriors for sure, but had gone out of their way to reduce the killing of all others-pah.
And then came the Siege of the Quarry. Now that was bloodletting with style. He remembered the bloody slaughter fondly. And then came the sublime moment when the Germans and their allies struck at Tzentch himself-it showed the old schemer right. But the event he would savor for all time was when this..train went into the Quarries floor, directly into the Great Warherd. Killing the Children of Chaos so quickly, so decisively and so creatively, it was indescribable even for Khorne. His great Hunger, the Hunger for Blood and Skulls, the Hunger that was always there and gnawed at him like a beast barely under control, that hunger was almost sated for a moment.
For sure the Germans knew about warfare in ways even he had not considered before.
So, he still did not know what to make of these Germans. Time to clear his mind-he would give them a challenge that would tax them and show him for all times what they were made could already see how the Germans and their allies had prepared the battleground for what they fondly believed was a battle they would control. He would make sure that the trap they prepared for the Great Crusade would be something more than they would be prepared for.
Then he could see what they were made off. A perfect solution-doubts were not for him and they would be erased by bloody combat. No matter who would win-the blood would be his, the skulls would be his-and the certainty.
200 meters below Middenheim, an hour later
As there was sufficient space and the place was defensible Oberst Stein had called for a halt so everybody could get some rest. Joakim was pretty sure that he would not get back on his feet until he absolutely had to found himself ambulatory again when somebody heated up rations over small gas stoves. This might seem a needless luxury, but as the temperatures down here were a constant and humid 12 degree an occasional warm meal was simply necessary. The smell of heated EPA`s got him back on his feet.
On his way to the heavenly smell he saw the Dwarfs using their axes and hammers to smash the leather balls he had seen when he came into the chamber. The elastic containers would not yield easily, but the application of dwarf muscles overcame the resistance. The balls ruptured and spilled their semifluid contents messily. Joakim was still wondering why the Dwarves too the pains when he saw the contents of the sacks in more detail. The fluid had drained enough so he could see small clawed limbs and half-formed mandibles that were inside the leather-like sacks-these were spider eggs. All of a sudden the hot food did not smell so good any more.
Rammstein Air base, next morning
Colonel Mike Kozlowkski went into the Hangar given to the Grey Lady and like practically every morning since two years wondered at the cruelty of fate that had put him, the Grey Lady and his crew in a world where Germany was the only technologically advanced country.
He had never trusted the Germans, not after what they did in the Second World War and had even participated in a forum that wrote alternate history stories about a Germany bombed into submission by more than 300 nukes in one night.
And of all people he had been put into a world where the Germans could run rampant if they so choose. He had been waiting with baited breath for the bad old Germany to emerge when nobody was looking-and then waited some more-and more. And the Germans did nothing of that sort-remarkable. Oh they had two military campaigns already but he really could not fault them. Actually after the Battle for Papenburg he had half-expected to get a mission for Hag Graef and was disappointed when he did not. The German solution was acceptable substitute for sure, even if they made the navy do it.
But so far the Germans had refrained from any conquests for "Lebensraum" even when they so obviously could do it, they had not started to go after minorities and they had not looked for a "Führer" yet.
Even now he was still not sure what were to happen but was willing to give them the benefit of doubt.
One of the good things that the Germans did was letting him keep the Grey Lady. He was sure that the Germans could have learned to use her by themselves but never as well as his well-trained crew. He had started to think that his work for the Germans would be like his many years with SAC-the big wait for the mission to end the world. The Germans had other plans-his plane was far too valuable just to sit around and they could maintain it far better than the 2 B2 bombers they had also acquired. So under his tutelage they had refitted the bomb bays of his plane so he could again carry up to 30 tons of conventional bombs. To make this possible they had removed most of his Electronic Warfare Equipment and strengthened the wings of the Bomber. The test flights had gone very well and now the Lady was prepared for combat.
The B52-H bomber was huge, an 8-engined throwback to older times and certainly older than him. The plane was ugly, much of it many years behind the times and she would not have a chance against anything resembling a modern air defense. It was also death incarnate and it was difficult not to be highly impressed by her.
She was also the Grey Lady, she was about to sing-and her voice would be heard very well.
20 Kilometers west of Middenheim noon
Edward the tanner was exhausted, not just in body, but in spirit. For most of his life he was certain about what to do. He knew every nook and cranny of his village, everything about the people therein and everything worthwhile about his craft. There had been few surprises and he was not fond of them as they mostly were bad.
Then his life was stood on his head-he had to leave his house and see it burned down, had to leave the land he knew knowing very well that behind him an army would roll over it like locusts. He had to march with all the people he knew-and many he never saw before-march for his life. At the end the Germans had loaded him and his family on one of their magical vehicles they called trucks and had driven him many kilometers over roads he had never seen in his life at unimaginable speeds. And all the time he had to learn something new-how to open a tin can, that one cannot put a plastic bag over the head to protect oneself from the rain, where to shit...the list was endless.
Having to learn all the time when he had gotten out of that habit at least 20 years ago was exhausting. Marching was exhausting. Not knowing how the next day would go, the next week would go, his life would go was exhausting.
His children were much better at learning than him and they were turning less and less to him for guidance which he could hardly tolerate.
His body was tired, his mind was tired and his soul was weary. Now there was another new thing. Ever since they reached Middenheim they were told they had to march to a "Refugee Camp"-whatever that was. Going to Middenheim was not recommended and when Edward had heard about the Red Smallpox he not seen any need by himself. Trudging down the road from Middenheim and just concentrating on the next step he lost himself in a kind of fudge and heard the loud voice only at the 3rd try.
Another of the horseless Chariots the Germans used blocked the way of the refugees and a man in checkered Uniform, a cloth covered helm and a rifle on his back used a funnel shaped device to speak much louder than normally possible.
"Sorry, but you have to wait here for a little while, our troops need this crossing soon" he stated for the umpteen time, just that Edward realized it only now. He was even more unhappy than before, it was always hard to resume the march after a while. He did not have to wait too long before he heard the rumble he by nor associated with the German magic of movement.
The column which passed by the refugees seemed to have no end. Truck-like vehicles with boat shaped hulls that seemed to carry rifles or cannon on their backs were mixed with normal trucks like he knew. Many of them carried Soldiers, some of them waved most hung for sheer life as the trucks were fast and the road bad. Some of the refugees cheered when the saw the allies but most were like Edward by now, far too tired and exhausted to care.
Even the longest column has an end and it was as hard as the Tanner had feared to resume marching again. Even so they reached a small valley where around a hamlet a tent city had been erected. It seemed very orderly, the smell of cooking fires and the laughter of children indicated that the long march was finished.
Lager Middenheim, 4 days later, in the afternoon
Nathan Alpers brought his Storch in without any problems and taxied over to the main hangar. When he walked over he saw activity at the sagging AC-160 gunship and walked over there. A couple of airmen were washing off the fake burn marks from the hull and while he was watching hydraulic pressure was added to the compressed landing gear on the right side.
The plane righted itself in a few seconds and started looking like a proper warplane instead of a mechanical casualty. We approached Captain Bartels who supervised all that work.
"Good afternoon Captain. What gives?"
"Ah, young pilot, watch the firepower of this fully functional gunship."
"Nice to see your crate back up-but isn`t it a bit soon?"
"The enemy is approaching somewhat faster that our eminent leaders estimated, so we have to move up the plans. Also, we get reinforcements today and then it is no longer worth the while to play dead."
"See you later then."
"See ya."
On the way to the debriefing the pilot watched a couple of soldiers with no protection at all colleting the biohazard signs that had graced the main runway for so long now. He had been debriefed and was on his way to the Cantina when another Transall landed on the runway.
Showing the same checkered sides and gunports as "Drache 1" the artwork under the cockpit windows showed a black-and-white cow spitting flames. The Name "Bunte Kuh" (Colored Cow) was stenciled below. Nathan had to think a while before he remembered that "Bunte Kuh" was the name of the ship that brought in the famous pirate Störtebeker. Jesus, next the pilots of these would start sporting cutlasses.
Cave 250 meters below Middenheim, same time
Skrulk Screwbender saw the accident before it happened but was unable to intervene in time. While his voice already started to rise the back wheel of his great machine passed the apex of the stone it had just rumbled over and now dropped into the hole behind that stone. Predictably the wooden wheel broke amid the hysteric shrieking of the Chief Engineer, the profuse attempts to distance themselves from the calamity of everybody else and the grunt of the last remaining slaves.
The packmaster had started to whip the back of the nearest two human slaves in a clear attempt to absolve himself from his lack of oversight. "Stupid human, only good to feed the rat ogres, stupid stupid" His whip went onto his targets with full force. Made from the thick abrasive skin of dead rat ogres and improved with bits of wire wound about it, it removed skin and muscle in copious amounts. One limp slave already showed the white of bones that were now exposed to the badly lit tunnel. The Packmaster would have continued to cut the last slaves to pieces if his arm would not suddenly be caught by a much stronger hand. A Stormrat stood behind him and pressed its clawed hand around his lower arm, another one took the whip from his suddenly nerveless hand and handed it to Skrulk. "Nice whip that one, difficult to master I am told. I think I will need some practice before I can use it right. Hold that pile of excrement against the wall, tight tight."
He indeed needed time to master the whip-he hit the wall nearly so often as the packmaster and came close to removing an own ear once. When his ire was vented the target of his frustration looked decidedly worse the wear. Skrulk went back to the far more important but less rewarding job-repairing the Wheel of the Great Machine. He was still too far below Middenheim so setting the machine off here would not have the desired effect. A failure was unthinkable, so he went into this task with a gusto.
All of this was watched by a fat spider. Small by the standards of those the Cave Raiders had killed she was still above hand sized and ugly as hell. Her eyes were lifeless even when her head moved to keep things in her field of view. It would have taken very sharp eyes to see the thin glas fiber tail she had left in her path.
500 meters away from that spider drone several beings looked at a small monitor that showed the scene in good definition but no colors.
"What the hell is this thing?" Oberst Stein`s finger pointed at the wagon that was resting in the middle of the cavern. In a cradle going nearly the complete length of the vehicle a crystal was held by several clamps. It glowed from the inside in an ever-changing glow that even on the monitor seemed sickly and evil.
The Officer that took care of the electronic equipment and was naturally called "Chief Nerd" did his best to answer "Cannot say for sure, but me and Meister Jagt agree that this crystal is Warpstone-and the boxes at the ends might contain explosives to crush it so it releases its energy."
"About how much power are we talking here?"
"No way to tell for sure-but a warp cannon contains a 10 kilogram Crystal that is good for a couple of dozen shots. That thing will weight a ton or two and would give off its energy in one go-I think we are talking about an event you usually describe in Kilotons Sir."
"Scheiße"
"And it gets even better. I am pretty sure that it you hit the Warpstone with a rifle it might at least fizzle-but it might also go off full scale. That stuff is totally unpredictable."
"Scheiße Scheiße Scheiße. Ok, it does not help-we got to do something about it. Alarich, Strongorm, Voss-we need to talk"
The Group went a few meters away from the rest of the Cave raiders to discuss their options.
"Gentlemen, in front of us is a group of Skaven that possess a Warpstone-powered device of greast destructive power. I want to attack this group of Ratmen right away. If we wait for reinforcements the Skaven might reach the point where they set off the weapon-or they might do it here if they find their path is blocked. There is one problem though-we cannot use our rifles or Grenades lest we set this thing off ourselves. I suggest that we keep the shotguns with the experts of the Group and strict orders to shoot away from the device. Like it or not, the rest of the job has to be done the old way-we give them the cold steel."
"Can do Oberst" Alarich of the Wolf Guard
"We will mince the Rats nice for you Oberst" Thorgrim Strongorm
"What a clusterfuck" Joakim Vos
"I think we can improve our chances in some ways-we start with flashbangs, that should slow them down so we can close. We will also have the element of surprise-any other suggestions?"
The Brown robed Mage that accompanied the group held up a hand to get attention. "Yes Meister Jagt"
"There is not much living matter down here, so my magic is limited, but I think I can…..
15 Minutes later Joakim Vos checked the shotgun over he had just received from Thorgrim. "Thanks Thorgim, I`ll take good care of it for you. Are you sure about this, I did not see you carry anthing but a dagger."
"Come on, we both know who is the better shot here-you thought me how to use it. And I have something else in mind than the dagger, you`ll see.
Skrulk Screwbender was personally shaping a part of a new wooden rim for the wheel when his mind went into overload. His sensitive ears made for listening to the smallest trace of sound and eyes that could see in the faintest glow were assaulted by the 170 DB bang of several flashlight who also produced almighty flashes. For a few seconds he could not think, could not move a muscle and not issue any commands. In between the green images that filled most of the field of his vision he saw running figures that emerged from the tunnel bend in front of them. The figures formed into two lines before they charged into his Skaven. They might have screamed something, but there was no sound in his head but for an almighty ringing.
His rats were slow to react to the new threat as they were as befuddled as him and to their horror many of them found that the leather of their harnesses started to move by its own violation and restrict their movements. Into this unready line crashed the much smaller group of Dwarves and humans, assaulting his Clanrats with Hammers, swords and small knives at the end of their rifles. When his ears cleared to hear something more that the tinnitus he heard scream, the butchers sound of metal meeting flesh and a screaming like he had never heard in his life.
Thorgrimm Storkarm charged at the enemy as fast as the rest of the line ran despite the fact that his weapon was the heaviest of any combatant in this battle, dangerous not only to the enemy and unwieldy to boot. When he had to give up his shotgun he had been resigned to a fight with an overgrown knife only, a weapon only fit for a snotling, until he remembered the Dolmar Chainsaw in its box. Now he had set the throttle to full power and tried to scream as loudly as his chosen weapon. When he reached the Skaven line his first opponent was a sturdy stormrat that still wrestled with its harness and therefore could just hold up an arm to fend off the attack. The chainsaw bit into flesh with terrible consequences. The saw itself was as strong as several men and the saw chain was topped by tungsten carbide tips the hardness of diamonds. Made to cut easily through the toughest wood it parted mere flesh and bone as if it were balsa all the while spraying its surroundings with a terrible mixture of blood pulped muscles and bones.
It was enough to make the normally steadfast Stormrats vent their panic glands in terror-destroying the morale of all nearby Skaven in a hurry.
Thorgrim was very lucky that this berserk assault was backed by many good men and Dwarfs as he could have parried no attacks and had limited options himself so others had to cover his flanks and back. But nobody who had been in this fight ever doubted that it was hi m who broke the Skaven line or who butchered the Warlock Technician so conclusively.
