Close to Dragon`s Gate, a couple of days later, at dawn
Standing to at dawn was what every good and successful army and many that were not so did. An assault at dawn was one of the oldest tricks in the book, it allowed to move in the attackers under protection of the night and attack when the first light allowed coordination.
All of this did not make getting up in the dark after too few hours of sleep any easier and many of the Asur who were subject to this hardship took to herbal teas that helped to open the eyes or even stronger remedies. Korhal Ethelrad, Lord of the Dragon Gate hat no need for such, he was powered by a more powerful motivator. Hate about his fate, hate about the gross stupidity of his superiors, hate about the senseless losses. Hate that conquered all, hate that would move mountains keep him awake at such an ungodly hour. He was standing on top of the battlements of the Dragon Gate and watched the many lines of hastily erected trenches and bunkers below him, the source of this hate.
His fine elven eyes allowed him to discern too many details even in the low light available. They saw the many signs of ramshackle construction in the defenses before him, the mud, the unhewn stones, the uneven lines. His elven sight did not spare him the bloodstains that spoke of the many losses already suffered in earlier assaults or the stretcher parties that waited for the inevitable results of this misguided application of foreign idiocy. The mud stains on many fine white elven robes, the quickly mended gashes in them left by the wooden barricades and the less-than-optimal protection against Druchii. The misguided cousins had launched countless assaults against these defenses and so far they had held up. Sometimes they managed to storm the first line of defense or even reach the second, but the arrows of the bowelfs and the valiant counterattacks of the reserves had always
been enough to throw them back.
And yet all that bravery and sacrifice would not have been necessary if Prince Thyrion had not insistent no building these ugly, nearly useless, artless and un-elven excuses for defenses. The Dragon Gate was everything this abomination was not-elegant, clean, sanitary and offered so much better cover. Who needed so much defense in depth when your first line would not be broken. And the Dragon`s gate offered "Krump..Krump Krump BANG"
In front of Korhals disbelieving eyes the front line of fortifications simply vanished in a series of powerful explosions that tore them upwards in great columns of dirt, stones, smoke and body parts. Likewise several of the next line forts crumbled under the explosive onslaught, giving a clear way into the inner bunkers.
The black clad Druchii that stormed from several trenches into the lines came as no surprise. Korhal managed to keep a straight face, managed to keep his voice calm and his orders clear. Quite an accomplishment for somebody who`s world view had just been explosively dismantled. These explosions would probably have collapsed the walls he was standing on and he had few doubts that whoever had caused them could make bigger ones if the need arose.
It took Korhal all of his reserves, including a freshly arrived unit of Sword Masters to stem the tide. He took a regiment of his retainers personally into the trenches, partly as it was necessary and partly to wash his mind of the guilt he felt. Pushing into the confused melee that had ensued from the attack. Two factors worked in his favor-the Druchii seemed to be as surprised as him at their initial success at demolition and therefore seemed to attack more timidly then otherwise. Even more important was the fact that the defense lines were intentionally weak to the back sides, allowing his forces to storm open spaces instead of well-made fortifications. The many small lanes and trenches that led backwards had splintered the enemy into a lot of small groups, many of them leaderless. The second and subsequent lines might have a breach in their middle, yet that did not mean that the attackers could simply fan out and roll up the lines. Low-slung and ugly they might have been, but the bunkers so artlessly erected stood the attack by simple infantry easily. The trenches that gave acceptable protection for the Archers in them were more or less open from the back side.
Korhal marshalled his spearelfs in front of the 3rd line and shouted the bowelfs in these to shoot the Druchii as fast as they could. The Asurian longbow is a powerful weapon and the elves that were using them no slouches. They delivered 5 terrible salvos in a little more than 20 seconds, leaving their targets wounded and bleeding. Into this confusion Korhals orderly attack of went like a granite block dropped on glass. This proved to be the blueprint for clearing the misguided cousins out of the High Elven positions and 60 bloody minutes later things were as before.
When all was done Korhal would have to meditate on this for a long time. Prince Thyrion had been right about the danger posed by these "modern explosives", something needed to be done for sure. But did that mean that warfare needed to degrade to an undignified wrestling match in the mud?
500 meters AGL, Blighted Marches 2 weeks later
The Blighted Marches are usually fog-shrouded and obscured to human sight. A series of thunderstorms followed by several days of windy gusts had removed this shroud for a while and the Army had been quick to pick up on this chance.
Nathan Alpers was not feeling too comfortable with the current flight for two reasons. First off he had been issued a new "Storch" as his old one was now in the clutches of the DLR. The new one was nice-the new engine nearly had the same horsepower than his old one after the tune-up it had received from Airman Horst, but much more quiet and without the soot and vibrations. The Rune of Flying was supposedly even better than the one in the original and the plane had a payload and range to match. Actually he had been able to self-deploy to the new Airfield under construction at Miragliano.
The second reason for his uneasiness was easy to spot. He was doing photo recon and that entailed flying in a long straight path in clear sight of the enemy. It was estimated that 500 meters was high enough to keep him from ground fire but Nathan was pretty sure that the REMF that came up with the estimate would be less comfortable about that if he wore with him in the cockpit. And flying in long straight lines was definitely now how he liked to do things, but if the goal of his mission were very precise photos this was how things had to be done.
To calm himself he touched his belt and the pocket on his right tight which held the three mementos he valued most in his life. On his belt was the knotted sash that Ermine had given him as a give-away present when he had left her in Berlin. When he received it he had needed a second to recognize it for what it was-a token for her as she would have given her favorite knight in a tournament. It had gotten well together with the letter she had given him at the same time. Written in a blocky, hard to read scrip it was an invitation to castle Wolfenfels to "discuss matters of common interest" and written by the Baron himself. And last not least there was the letter from DLR where they stated again that he would be welcome to resume his training when he was back from the current emergency. Ah, promises, promises.
As the cameras and other sensors were working without input by the young pilot he was able to watch the ground below. The scene below was depressing, unending marches were either given to fetid-looking swamps or covered with fields bearing black plants that he could not identify. Countless Skaven ran back and forth and vehicles belching black smoke drove carts towards tunnels where they disappeared. The traffic on some roads was dense enough to remind Nathan of a busy road in Berlin. How many of the bleeding rats were there?
Even the longest flight ends at some point and Nathan was very happy about this one. There had been some green tracers that had chased him and at some point he was pretty sure some Skaven pointed something that looked like a Gatling at him only to have it disappear in a cloud of green smoke.
"Miragliano airport, this is Storch 006, request permission to land and runway"
"Storch 006, assume holding pattern at 300, will take a couple of minutes"
"Miragliano Airport, Storch 006, what`s the holdup?"
"Storch 006, Rhino flight is coming in, they haven`t all landed yet."
"They really did it?"
"Yes, you are not flying the only museum piece around any more"
"Hey, I am much older than my plane, they are not"
"Details details."
From his holding pattern Nathan managed to spot the last planes of Rhino flight coming in. The shapes of the planes he spotted were not exactly beautiful. The vertical stabilizers were at an odd angle, the delta wings had an odd dogtooth and were "bend" from that point and generally the plane looked like it was more aerodynamic going backwards than forwards. All of that said they looked utterly menacing. Germany needed to station planes in Tilea on top of its other commitments. As the Luftwaffe was running out of airframes the depots had to give up their best.
Rhino flight was composed of 12 F-4F Phantom fighter-bombers, formerly of JG71 Richthofen and now Rhino flight. Older than its pilots by many years, ugly as sin and twice as mean the old planes were in for one more campaign.
Camp "Hohenstauffen" Neu-Preussen, roughly the same time
Sleenek was getting mad. A few days ago he had been an accomplished gutter runner on a mission to Germany. The country had been strange in many ways but the mission something he was trained for-do not get seen, see and hear everything and sabotage what you can.
And then everything had gone wrong. He had been hunted by humans and hounds till he was too exhausted to run. Then the blasted Germans had attacked him with some poison that made it impossible to breathe, impossible to see and nearly impossible to think for the pain. He had fully expected to be killed-or tortured and killed. None of this had happened but instead the Germans had put him into a world that was as strange to him as the back side of the moon.
The place he was in now was all about open spaces-he was restricted to a cell most of the day, but that had a big, if barred window. Two times a day he was allowed-actually forced into-an open space in the middle of the place. He was used to the safe tunnels of the warren or the woods full of hiding places. Open spaces were to be crossed in the cover of the night-just that here was no darkness but all-encompassing light-either sunlight or the strange German artificial ones. No place to hide, no place to feel safe.
There was always enough food-there was no ever-present hunger and no need to fight for it. Even worse-the few Skaven in the camp were not allowed to determine their status the old fashioned way. The few who tried found that the Germans used cold water-spray from jets, batons that stung like 10 bees at the same time and paralyzed limbs for while or the poison that went to eyes and nose.
So-no fight for status, no group structure, no leaders and no pressure to defend the new found status all the time. Also the Germans kept the Skaven mostly separate-there was no soothing smell of many Skaven around him. And the baths-the thrice-damned baths. The Germans had forced him into a cell and showered him with foul-smelling water. He was sure to die, especially when he saw the lice and ticks in his fur die-but he did not. And after he had rolled in the mud of the place a couple of times the guards had repeated the process. It was enough to make a grown Skaven cry.
When the door to his cell opened he asked himself what else the Germans might do to him and barely managed to control his panic gland. The Germans led him to another nondescript white room where he was greeted by a human in a white coat. The guards chained Sleenek to a sturdy chair in front of the desk the human used. Between the Gutter Runner and the German was a glowing rectangle that somehow showed pictures.
The German talked to Sleenek who of course did not understand a single word. All of a sudden the glowing rectangle in front of him showed a red triangle and "Dreieck" (Triangle) sounded from somewhere. It was repeated for about the 20th time when he just as he was bored imitated the sound "dreieck". This was when the human smiled-his teeth were far too puny to be a threat, so it had to be a smile, right. A small drawer in front of Sleenek opened and the smell that came from it made the Skaven salivate involuntarily. He grabbed at the morsel inside before he could even worry about it being poisoned. Cheese, really good cheese. It was not that he was terribly hungry, the Germans gave enough food. But it was so bland while this cheese smelled so fine and promised to have some taste in it. He wolfed down the food and was not disappointed by the it when a red square appeared on the screen. "Viereck"
Road to Tunnel 233, Blighted Marches, next days
"One Rat Oger, two Rat Oger,ups", better put on some more distance. Gleepk knew from long experience that when driving in a long column you had to check the distance to the vehicle in front of you regularly. Otherwise it was far too easy to for a Skaven driver get ever closer to the next corn hauler and if that one used his brakes it was too easy to crash into the trailer in front of him. So it paid off to watch the hauler in front of him pass some landmark and then count to at least three "Rat Ogres" before one passed the same landmark.
His cart was behaving itself well today-Clan Skryre`s workers had soldered the leaky boiler tight again. There was no more steam escaping than usual and all the rattles and clacking sounds he heard were the usual ones. This might be one of the rare good days when he could make the tour without a single break-down. This would be good-for whatever reasons there had been orders to bring in as much Black Corn as possible, even from fields that were not really ready for harvest. Strange that, but asking questions was one of the things that Gleepk had learned long ago were unhealthy.
The low cloud cover and the rattle made by the many carts masked the approach of the monster. It was unlike anything the Skaven had ever seen and it appeared for such a short time that the driver was at first unsure if he had really seen it. Only when he saw the other drivers gesticulate and shout did he realize it had not been a fidget of his own imaginations. The huge flying monster with the unmoving wings, with the 2 windmills and the droning sound had been real. The smell in his nose confirmed that the monster really had ejected clouds of something under each wing and a fine mist settled on everything. He feared being poisoned and at first had the feeling that breathing became harder, yet nothing more happened, it must have been his panic.
He was already back in his small hole-in-the-wall when he realized something was wrong. It took him a while to realize what that was. The creepy-crawlies that inhabited his fur since he could think were all dead. He did not sleep at all that night fearing that the monster had used a slow-acting poison, but even the next days his health did not wane. He was underground when the Monster appeared the next time and the day later he just heard it and smelled the mist again but even then nothing happened. Nothing until he could see until he stopped at a loading point for corn and switched off his cart. That was when he heard the change the monsters had brought. He heard nothing but the sounds made by the Skaven, their machines and slaves. The normally omnipresent drone and chirps made by the insects that inhabited the Blighted Marches in untold numbers were silent. And no matter how hard Gleepk looked he could not find a single living bug anywhere. It frightened him to no end. He was justified in that but for the entirely wrong reason.
Camp Köln, close to Tobaro, 14th Koenigsday, Harvest Month
General Wolf pondered often how much his life had changed ever since he Germans came. He had volunteered for command of one of the new units when most of his peers were thinking this madness and the decision had served him well. From commanding the 1st Kaiserlich-Deutsche Landwehr he had gone to command the "Tilean Corps". From being one of the lesser known officers of the imperial armed forces he had gone to become a star. From being a Oberst (Colonel) and knowing exactly that was to be the highest rank he would ever achieve he had gone to become a General and even that might not be the end of it. He and his family had access to the best medical treatment Germany could give and had gained a lot of traction in imperial politics.
Of course when one was given such a bounty other things were taken away-or the gifts came with curses, that was the way of the world. His beautiful old uniform in resplendent colors and his shining armor had been replaced by a drab utilitarian BDU in a color the German might call "Field Grey" and he would call "dirt". He was no longer leading glorious charges against an enemy he could see but like a merchant he was filling in forms and gave orders to people he would not see or meet for days on end. "Paperwork" was something he was sure that should be written with four letters-what a concept. The ancients had it wrong, the punishment by the gods was not pushing a stone uphill and having it tumble down time after time, the punishment came in flavors like "Form 113" "Meeting" and "Progress report".
But some good things stayed the same, one of them being councils of war. They were the sign of either very insecure commanders-or very confident ones. As he was not discussing orders but the situation he was pretty sure which one was his kind.
Currently his officers were listening to the report given by Sergeant Joakim Vos who had been the only Imperial in the room to take part in the assault on the Skaven pirate`s lair on Sartoga.
"So, to sum it up-the biggest problems the damn rats give us are the surprises, the poison wind and the warpstone. The can appear everywhere at any time as they have hidden tunnels and entrances in places where you`d least expect it. The other problem is Warpstone-it used by them in everything-it lights their rooms, it provides power to everything, the little shits wear warpstone amulets and it is inside their weapons. That stuff is dangerous, needs to be removed from any space you want to occupy more than an hour or so and it is even more important than usual not to get hit."
"Are there any proposals how to solve that yet from the 31st Brigade?"
"There are two things they think about the surprises. One is more drones and heavier ones, they few we had worked admirably. The new "Schwert" (sword) drone works just fine, can traverse more difficult passages due to the tracks and has far more firepower. The second thing is that everybody should have a decent sidearm. In case you need something right now it is more handy than the rifle and it is also easier to use in very tight tunnels. Lots of paratroopers seem to like my 10 mm HK but I have heard that the Dwarves that were with us wanted something heavier. I am not sure I would recommend that to a human.
Then there is the poison wind-simply put your protective mask has to be very close-very very close. This stuff kills and quickly. When in doubt-wear it-and isn`t that fun, especially in enclosed places. The masks also help with the warpstone, but the removal should be put to follow-on forces with complete protective suits. The other opportunity is a modified "Schwert", they tried one with an manipulator and a shovel, it seemed to work just fine."
"That Schwert sounds like a nifty solution."
"Yes General, but one with a high price tag. One of them costs more than the armor I was wearing."
"Uff, that is too much, I got into hot water already when I purchased them."
"At least that was for a good cause, the suits worked marvelously. No serious injury to any of us and we got the job done. There is a list of things we want improved, but nothing major."
"I like to hear that. Thanks for your report. Now I want to hear your ideas about what we are going to change according to what we had just heard and how best to integrate the shorties that we get to fight alongside."
During the next hour Wolf heard a lot of useful ideas, the better of them were noted for further work, some not so good ones and one completely harebrained one. It had come as a joke-at least he hoped it was a joke-from Major Gerber.
"This is so wrong it starts being right again Major. Can you imagine what it would do to the troops morale? And our superiors would have a cow if I propose that."
"Being in the one-man condoms will not raise the morale either, it will help with the surprise problem as well and is that guy not supposedly out ally?"
In the end the General authorized sending the request. Gerber was probably the most surprised when they got a positive answer.
Reiksbund Headquarters, Altdorf, 19th Sigmarstag, Harvest month
Hans-Werner Fritz was still as busy as one could get without using seriously illegal drugs. He still found time for the Asurian Ambassador. Germany and the Reiksbund did not have too many friends in this world and if one did not find the time for one`s friends their numbers dwindled. Also Aurelius seemed to have his head screwed on the right way these days, so when he urgently asked for a meeting he got one.
"So what can I do for you Ambassador?"
"I have grave news from Ulthuan General. It seems that the warnings Prince Thyrion received about modern explosives were well-founded. Last week the first lines of defenses in front of the Dragon Gate were demolished by what had to be explosives of a kind that only you Germans make."
"Sure it was not Black Powder or something magical?"
"The stink of sulfur was absent or so I am told, as was the usual soot. As for magic-us High Elves are among the masters of using it. We should have at least been able to trace it after it was employed and there was none. This is just one more piece in an intriguing puzzle where neither me nor anybody else sees the whole picture yet. The Druchii all of a sudden have explosive bolts to the Reaper Bolt throwers.."
"Uh, sorry for the interruption-they have that? I have not heard that before?"
"Well, we certainly reported it. Then there are crossbow bolts that seem to be made by industrial process and we have reports of the Druchii building something that looks like a railroad in Naggarythe."
"I can see why you are worried. I can assure you that no part of the German government is working with the Dark Elves and no German company does so that we know of. In preparation to this meeting I have contacted the MAD and BND about anything they know and came up zilch. I will ask my staff to look into this but I would not expect anything too soon."
"General, you would not be the first soldier in history mislead by his intelligence services."
"Yes, I have heard about that. But what can I do, especially when Asur is not officially allied to the Reiksbund or Germany? I can certainly not send troops?"
"Asur does not expect you to. But from my reading states on earth used to exchange military observers, even when they were not allied. Sometimes especially when not allied."
"Now that is an idea. What did you have in mind?"
Jasla`s House, Neustadt, Naggaroth, same night
Jasla had watched the young German and his doings unobtrusively for a while now and found him a possible target for the Cult and her other needs. He was working for and with Thorsten Breitkop and known as one of the more competent German "eggheads". What he had done with the slave girl she had provided and the cane confirmed it nicely-he definitely was suitable to follow the Prince of Pleasure, which by extension meant her.
She saw what she had seen before with humans-after their climax their drive often left them, they became depressed and not rarely appalled at what they had wrought on their subjects. Given the state of the formerly appealing derriere and tights of the slave the young engineer had something to be appealed about when weak human norms were applied.
When she made her way towards the man who had his hands in his face she was the walking picture of sensuality which got the attention of Uwe Herbst even in his current state just fine.
"You know what your problem is young man?"
"What-err no Mistress, I guess I do now? What have I done here?"
"What you wanted Uwe, exactly what you wanted."
"Yes, but certainly not what she wanted." His weakly pointed at the girl that was still fixed to the bench she had occupied unwillingly for the last two hours.
"She does not count, she is weak and she was destined for this. Your passion does honor you in front of the Prince. No, this is not your problem?"
"What is it then?"
"You believe you are still on your old world and still in your old country. You believe that if you have that much fun somebody will come and take your toys away and spank YOU for being naughty. You know what, initiate?"
"No Mistress"
"You are not on Earth anymore and you are not in Germany. You will not go back and nobody will take this from you if you do not do it yourself. So, either put yourself in a cage and deny yourself or BE yourself. Do what you always wanted to do, here is the place and now is the time. Nobody will think less of you, quite to the contrary. We both know why you are here, now show me you are a man and worthy of my time and Slaanesh`s attention. Subjugate her-make her scream, force your will on her. She cannot tell you not to, cannot you to behave nicely. They only thing between your happiness and you is yourself.
So-what is it going to be, are you going to watch your navel in the chair or are you having some serious fun?"
"Fun Mistress fun. Thank you greatly"
Jasla could have sworn that she saw a small light in the engineer´s eyes when he got up and went back to the fettered slave. Instead of a cane he picked a flensing knife this time.
Yes, this one would do nicely in the days to come.
Frankfurt Airport
Aircraft movements:
2011: 484282
2014: 9812
Air Freight:
2011: 2,13 Million tons
2014: 0,09 Million tons
Landing strips:
2011: 3x4000 meter, 1x2800 meter (Landing only)
2014 2x4000 meter, 4 Airship Towers 125 meter, 1 Airship Tower 75 meters
A wander route in Germany, 14th Bakersday Harvestmoon 2522
Sherek was giddy with exitement. His 3 Skaven commando had found a single German in this strange forest. A wanderer making a pause it seemed. And a perfect target for the wrath of Skavenkind. The attack came with full surprise. Grek, nearly as tall as the German, but easily 3 times as massive as the rather meager humie, was already on him. His first slash had taken nearly half of the humie´s face, leaving a bloody mess of wounds. Revenge for all what the humans had done to the servants of the Horned Rat was Grek´s motive and so he had leisurely begun to strangle the life out of the German. Grek could do that with one claw, with his other arm he was holding down the left arm of the humie, who was trying and failing to get his gun raised. The human´s pistol would be a wonderful souvenir later. Since Grek was in full control of the situation, Itriiz, their other companion and he were just looking out that no one would surprise them.
For several minutes Sherek could hear the futile struggle of the human behind him. Once Grek had wince-squeaked, so the German had gotten in a lucky move, but now the silence of death settled over the small clearing with it´s bench. The Skaven was already contemplating what he would give Grek in exchange for the human´s pistol, Grek prefered to use his warpstone enhanced claws, so had no use for the priced gun, when Itriiz squeak went through his core.
Sherek turned to see his fellow Skaven lying on the ground, crumpled in an unnatural way and felt more than saw the danger. He was already beginning to backtrack, when the roar of the pistol reached his ears and pain blossomed in his shoulder. Sherek fell and rolled over. The wound was not lethal, but the shock had hit him. He saw the human coming closer. The humie was deathly pale, not all too sure on his feet, his neck purple with marks, his side bloodsmeared, the blue eyes far too bright, but... his face had healed! And where by the the Warpstone gong, was Grek?
Sherek felt his blood turn to ice in primal fear when he saw the pile of bones behind the German. Skaven bones! The human had to be a sorcerer, but he did not look like one of those the humans called the purple ones. But there was another kind of sorcerer who could kill like that.
Sherek tried to crawl away from the slowly advancing German, his danger sense ringing like crazy. His instincts told him why no killing shot had come.
Then Sherek heard the German´s deep voice, the tone croaking from the strangling attempt of Grek.
"Vermin!... Once in your life, you will be...useful."
Sherek felt the human´s hand touching him and he reacted immediately. He did not hit the arm right, too far away from his functioning claws, but he ripped a new wound. The human grimaced, but then a pain-laced voice spoke up.
"It will not help you, but you will help me. There is still enough life in you for that." Then the weakness began to take hold of Sherek. The wounds of the human began to heal before his eyes, the strangle marks fading, flesh knitting itself.
Sherek could only lie there and felt the final darkness coming closer with each second. In the eyes of the human he saw a whirlpool of emotions. Pain, regret, dislike, concentration, the eyes shining bright blue, alight with magic, a thunderstorm of purple and darkness flittering through the irises, while Sherek´s pelt changed to a snowwhite colour, the vermin in it dying with him.
When the darkness closed in on him, Sherek heard the human once again.
"When your soul goes to the Chaos hell it belongs to, give them some greetings from humankind. We will arrange for more company for you there..."
Several hours later, same day
Night had fallen, but Günter Koch was lying wide awake in his bed. He was deeply shocked about what had happened earlier and what he had done.
He was on a nice, quiet walk, philosophing about the magic he had learned in the last weeks. He had made a pause on a bench, when the attack came. A true double surprise. Günter´s home region was quite a distance away from the next know Skaven tunnels or outposts.
He had been able to draw his Altmayr SPX, but the damned rat was too fast. One of the strong arms had kept his left arm pinned to the ground, his pistol useless. The Skaven´s attack had ripped open wounds along his side, but the worst was his face. Most of one side was gone or hanging on by a few shreds of flesh and the mist before one eye was indication that his eye nerve had been wounded. The wound shock alone had nearly made him unconscious, but Günter still saw enough. The eyes of the Skaven shone with sadistic delight, while it began to strangle the life out of him.
In this fight to the death, Günter lay dying, but his brain still rifled in near-panic through his magic knowledge, when it stumbled over some things he had read in one of the special books he got lately and it was like he could hear, well it was mainly oxygen deprivation, the voice of one seer who talked with him early on in his new career.
With the clarity that came from knowing that it was now living or dying, Günter opened himself up and called on the Winds of Magic. He felt the otherness he now channeled through himself, compared to the winds he channeled before. The energies of Jade, Undeath and Shysh flowed through him, stabilizing his dying body for a few precious moments, while he pulled at the life of the Skaven, his would-be murderer. The necromantic power sucked in the lifeforce, replenishing Günter´s flickering one.
Wounds began to heal, his consciousness returned fully, for some moments the lack of oxygen was no hindrance. Günter now took in the lifeforce with all his might and for the first time he saw the fear springing up in the eyes of the Skaven. It was the rat now who wanted to get away, but Günter clinged to him, fighting for his life, taking away the rat´s.
Before his restoring eyesight the Skaven aged rapidly, while his nearly fatal wounds healed. Suddenly and to Günter´s shock, the Skaven went to ashes, leaving only a skeleton. Shocked, still dizzy form the events of the last minutes, the remaining wounds managable, but nearly having lost control of the magic, Günter in desparation fired off a bolt of Shysh at one of the remaining Skaven. Bleeding off energies to retain control. Luck was with him. The surprised rat died instantly, while he finally dispelled and savely bled off the Winds he had called.
Running on autopilot, joy at being still alive, will to stay alive and wanting to kill the threat for his nation, he shakily got up and fired his pistol at the last rat. Hitting where Günter wanted it, the Skaven could not escape. Then Günter once again used magic, taking in the Skaven lifeforce, healing himself, while disposing a threat for his compatriots.
To Günter´s surprise, the rat was healthly enough that he felt even a tiny bit younger than he did before the attack. After calling the police and some talks with the officers, he finally was back home. Where it hit him fully, how close to death he came and how he survived. He still wanted to deny to himself how easy it had been for him to form and control the necromantic power he had called forth. It simply couldn´t be his special wind, it couldn´t be! Before Günter fell into a rather restless sleep, he decided to carefully talk with Hartmann and Roland about the fight. He needed to know what was going on.
