Close to the Spring of River Isonzo, Irrana Mountains, 19. Markttag, Erntezeit
Heinz Albers grabbed the hammer pendant that rested under his shirt for a second "This better go right, not too many second chances here". He knew very well that this was not going to help any as Sigmar helps those who help themselves, but it soothed the mind.
Pressing the first button activated the klaxon which filled the mountainside with its warning. Waiting for 30 seconds the blaster turned the key in front of him and then pressed another button. A series of explosions walked down the cliff in front of the German in a highly controlled manner. The explosions were not very impressive when taken singly and the sound was more like a surf on steroids than an almighty bang.
It took a heart-stopping second during which nothing happened and then the mountainside started to slide downwards with ever-increasing speed. While the explosions were not so spectacular the splash by which the thousands of tons splashed into the Isonzo River was. A second set of explosions were nearly drowned out by the impact.
The river found its old path blocked by the gravel that had been thrown in its way. Yet the second set of explosions had opened another path that had been cleared by heavy earthmoving equipment during the last week. The river would flow into another valley now and would meet its old riverbed more than 20 kilometers downrange. The part of the Blighted Marches that contained Skavenblight just received 80% less water from the mountains while the outflow remained the same.
The area would be called Blighted for a long time, the huge numbers of undead saw to that. But whether they would be called Marches was a different question.
This gave the term "shaping the Battlefield" a new wrinkle.
Road to tunnel 223, Blighted Marches, 20. Bezahltag
Gleepk had not heard such a noise before in his life. It was like an unskaven shriek or the extremely loud tearing of cloth. It drowned out the clatter of his cart and the others around him easily and already a number of small collisions. When the scream had nearly subsides a series of detonations could be heard in the general path the unseen source of the sound had taken. Traffic along the road was slow to resume as a couple of drivers were taking the collisions as an affront laid into each other or at least tried to stare their opponent down. Still the traffic resumed before the guards could take action-just to slow down again a little later when Gleepk tried to make it into the tunnel.
The detonations had devastated the entrance and its surroundings. Deep craters, fallen masonry, sooty fires and unmoving bodies told a sad story. Gleepk was far enough back that he had to walk forward to see what had happened. He got one look at the guards who were taking a dim view at the audience and sprinted back to his cart, trying to decide which of the tunnel entrances best to take. He was nearly back at his cart when he heard the scream again. Instinct told him to hide low in anything that gave him cover so he jumped into the drainage ditch that ran besides the road. All around him small black objects rained from the sky, one directly in front of him. He vented his panic gland when a firecracker-like series of explosions ran up and down the road from where he was.
The small cylinder in front of him did-nothing. Gleepk crawled ever so carefully backwards, never taking his eyes from the small canister that was unlike anything that he had seen before but that he was sure spelled death and destruction on the unwary. He shrieked when his tail touched something solid but wet. When he turned he found he had crawled into the body of another driver. Jumping back on the road the devastation nearly overwhelmed him as he went from the individual horror of his slain colleague to the wholesale slaughter on the road. Every cart and trailer that he could see was damaged to some extent, the slaves and drivers either dead or wishing they were. He was about to run from the scene when the small canister that had dropped so close to him in the ditch exploded, then he fainted.
Harbor, Tobaro, 22. Koenigstag, Harvest Month
It was a most beautiful autumn day with nary a cloud in the sky. The city of Tobaro with its many palazzi and statues made a picturesque backdrop against the waterfront that held a virtual forest of masts and wooden hulls, well at least a small part of the harbor did. Currently the other part of the harbor had an important visitor.
Lorenzo de Berluscani was out of his depth, done, overwhelmed-whatever you wanted to call it. When Ambassador Schäfers had promised him that an alliance to Germany would among other things mean upgrades to his harbor he had not expected ..this.
Hermann Gall was the harbormaster for "his" part of the Harbor and currently tried to explain the changes to him. The most obvious ones were the "floating piers" that the Germans had towed all the way from their country. Bigger than any ship he had seen before they were anchored to mighty pillars rammed into the harbor`s ground and formed the basis to which the ships were moored to. The ships brought their own cranes-if they needed them at all.
An unending column of what the Germans called "Trucks" we taking one big box after another and drove them inland.
"No my Prince, even we cannot build so quickly. The floating piers are standard, we use them in several harbors already and just used all of them that were on order. The ramp over there was originally meant for Erengard, but we need it more urgently now."
"Ah, that explains the speed. And now I also see why you do not need our warehouses-your "Containers" are a warehouse by their own, you can just park them in the open."
"Yes, currently we use them like this, but in the long run we will erect some prefabricated storage, this is a waste of good containers. But they make loading and offloading so much easier as we just move the containers and not each crate by itself."
"I see-I think. How much faster?"
"Well, let me put it like this: One 20 Foot Container takes 20 tons of load, 3 of them hold roughly as much cargo as one of you Galleons. From what I have seen you need roughly a week to unload and load again, right."
"Yes, about that."
"Well, the "Dresden" over there can take 6000 standard containers, but currently has just 5000. She came in with the last tide. We expect to offload and reload her with what empty containers we already have for the next tide."
"So you expect to offload 100000 tons of material and reload-in 12 hours?"
"Yes, but that is per ship. We are also taking care of the "Hamburg Express" too, so actually we do a little more than double that."
"I think I need to sit down for a minute. And a drink would be nice."
"Joachim, a coffee for the Prince-make it a special one."
Propped on a folding seat that had been offered and getting a slug of deeply black coffee from a shiny flask he drank down the hot drink liberally spiked with some heavy duty alcohol. While he was getting his senses back he watched another ship that had moored to its quay strangely-bow first instead of alongside. The bow of that ship had opened up like the mouth of some sea monster and huge vehicles were making their way up a steel ramp provided for that purpose. He used the binoculars that had been presented to him the Germans to have a closer look at the vehicles that left the ship.
He had been briefed about these tanks-armored vehicles that were able to traverse nearly any terrain, withstand practically all attacks and could kill anything that moved on land-and destroy most objects that did not move. He wanted some, but the Germans were not willing, citing the need for trained personnel. Well, he certainly would not give them out either.
The tanks turned to the left when they were out of the ship and exposed their coat of arms to his view. It was simple enough-a white horse on a red background. "I have not seen that sign before, can you tell me what they are?"
"Oh a new formation, they swallowed up a lot of individual units to make this task force. But the main body that provides the backbone for this is the 7th Panzer Division."
Tunnel, Close to Miragliano, 22. Festtag, Harvest Month
The tunnel was tight, not too even, some of it looked ready to cave in and parts were illuminated in a sickly flickering green light, so all was normal for a tunnel build by the Skaven. What was not normal was that the air was close to being unbreathable-the Rats usually took better care for that.
The low oxygen content was due to hundreds of stormrats packed tightly into the subterranean passageway waiting for the go. And it would be good thing if that "go" would come soon. Not only was breathable air getting scarce, but the adrenaline-packed Stormrats were aggressive to a fault and being so close to each other did nothing to improve their temper. If nothing happened soon either the Skaven warriors would drop or start the fight early and internally.
A few hundred meters from the tunnel a couple of gutter runners and a plague monk tried to make their way through the rolls of wire that the Germans had erected all around the huge field they used for their flying machines. It had looked so easy when they had a look at it during daylight from cover-the strands so thin, the wire rolls just breast high-this was no great wall of stones. When they had crawled up to the wire at night the problems had started immediately. The thin-looking wire was harder than their blades and refused to be cut. It was sharp, sharper than the knives the gutter runners had brought themselves and they had to patch up several members of their team so far lest they bleed out. Trying to pull it away had caused an alarm and the party had to retreat hastily.
Now they did the best they could and lobed the globes that the Plague Monk had on him over the wire to fall around the low bunkers that were some meters behind the wire. Some missed, most hit around their targets and 2 broke when the Gutter Runners tried to throw them. Nearly half of them made it back.
When the survivors slinked into the small tunnel that had allowed them to get so close to German lines they saw a wave of black with yellowish white highlights flow towards the thrice-damned wire. The assault of Clan Mors came was going in.
The hulking paratrooper stood up carefully-he had banged his head against the low ceiling a number of times already. "Jochen, if I spend any more time looking at the mice cinema will give me headaches."
"Ye gods, spare me that fate. I will get to it immediately oh fair Princess"
"Thanks asshole"
Uwe Meins made his way to the back of the small emplacement where the two kept a thermos bottle of hot coffee. The sergeant was happy enough despite the boredom of the watch and the late hour. Having taken part in the Hag Graef Raid and the Battle for Middenheim he had seen his share of combat already and could appreciate not being attacked.
Filling a stainless steel cup the Sergeant silently cursed the move to a new basing some years ago. A number of his fellow warrants had helped moving the furniture from the rental van when his daughter had placed her plastic coronet on his forehead. Of course somebody had his mobile ready for a shot and the nickname "Princess" had stuck with him ever since. While the sergeant was about 1,95 and weighted roughly 100 kilo he was easygoing enough that people who knew him could use the moniker without repercussions.
"You want a cup too, Jochen."
"Yes Princess" Rattle "Scheiße" Cough cough
The Sergeant turned in time to see his fellow soldier slump from the firing slit with bloody foam on his lips. Long and hard training made him pull his protective mask from its box, lay the straps down and push it against his face. Pushing the straps behind the head and pulling on them when in the right place was followed by the attempt to draw in breath while holding a hand in front of the filter-no air came so the seal was good.
Careful not to get foam on his exposed hand he wiped the blood of Jochen`s mouth and put the mask on him too. Then he went behind the observation slit. What he saw took his breath away for a second. What seemed like thousands of Skaven were running towards his position. By now a few machine guns had opened fire and his Low Light TV whitened out when some mortar crew started lobbing illum rounds up. The white unforgiving light exposed even more Skaven, more rusty weapons that wanted to get him, more claws to rip his flesh.
The butt of the machine gun was against his shoulder in a flash and he started to fire at the wave of fur, blades and claws that frantically tried to traverse the wire in front of his position. The Skaven were hacking and clawing at the S-wire, trying to pull it away, to jump over it or to tear it apart-none of that worked. Several bunkers had the Skaven in their firing arcs and tracers tore into the rats who dropped like flies-and like with flies there were always two more for every one killed.
In the end it was Uwe and his fellow soldiers who provided the Skaven with a way to overcome the wire. The survivors started to throw the bodies of their fallen comrades on the wire, usually only to be killed and used in a similar fashion seconds thereafter. Still for all the deaths the Skaven managed to breach the wire in several places. Nor was the fight one sided. Uwe realized that when a green tracer missed him and his MG3 by a handbreadth and impacted at the bunkers rear wall.
The white flares revealed several figures behind large shields that pushed long barrels above them. As they were farther off and not moving much they had so far escaped notice. Two short bursts showed the Jezzail gunners how much their shields were worth against modern rifle fire-nothing.
Uwe reached the end of his belt and cursed the fact that his number two was out. Pushing a lever at the side of the gun he exposed the smoking hot barrel and used a cloth to protect his hand when he slid it out and a spare one in. Tearing open the cover next he inserted the new belt, not even realizing in his haste that he had still burned his fingers. The operation was not made easier by the fact that the "non-fog" glasses of his protective mask did actually fog over, that it was hard to get enough air and that the bleeding filter conspired with the glasses to block his field of view. The mask made him hear his own labored breathing a lot more than usual which also made him feel hurried and ill-at ease. Still he managed to get things done and looked for new targets-he did not have far to look. Aiming now became a luxury, as were short controlled bursts. The heavy tripod of the rifle kept the barrel where it belonged and the blocks that the sergeant had set himself allowed him to cover his field of fire without the need to really guide the shots. Which he still tried to do to the best of his ability. He had been at the sharp end before and one of the most important lessons he had learned was that bullets do not fly where you wish them to be but rather where you aim then.
Despite his fire and the tracers racing in from other bunkers the Skaven managed to close in. He kept doing his job till something ripped at the Muzzle of his machine gun, screamed from the burns and still managed to rip the gun half from its mounting. A glass ball was dropped into the bunker. The Sergeant kicked it as his training told him to put grenades into a hole in the middle of the emplacement, the grenade sump. All what he managed to do was to burst the glass further and distribute the aerosol better in the room. Luckily his boots were resistant enough and so far his mask was keeping out the poison.
Grabbing his G62 he turned towards the entrance of the bunker where claws were ripping at the sturdy wood he had helped put in there. Pulling the stock of his rifle a little further into his shoulder he fired of a couple of 3-round bursts directly in the door. The bullets emerged on the other side with far more energy needed to kill a Skaven or three. The flashes of light that strobed through the vision slit could have told Ulf an interesting tale of he had an attention to spare. A tale of Trucks that arrived and from which reinforcements jumped into the fray. Another tale of two Hind and a Tiger Helicopter that applied autocannons to the Skaven still outside the wire. A third one of the two age-old Luchs recon vehicles that drove directly into the Skaven inside the wire, their cannon and machine guns firing until glowing barrels indicated that continued firing was no longer an option.
Yet he could not partake in these tales as he used his ammo and his attention on the Skaven that desperately tried to gain the relative safety of the Bunker. When the reinforcements finally got around to his emplacement the Skaven no longer tried because too many bodies blocked the entrance.
Tower of the Bell, Skavenblight, next noon
Any cargo whose handling is supervised by a Lord of Decay must be important to the Skaven indeed, involving two of them were unthinkable. And yet here were Lord Kritisnik and Lord Morskittar representing the Seer Council and Clan Skyre respectively. Consequently the loading they watched was about the arguably most precious thing the Skaven possessed-the Screaming Bell.
Lesser copies of it were brought to the battlefields to herald the doom of the Skaven`s enemies but this one was the original, forged by the Horned Rat itself. Its mounting in the tower that had housed it for many millennia had started the destruction of Tylos, the city on who`s ruins Skavenblight was built on. Any damage to this item would displease the Skaven god and such a fate would be cruel to imagine. Both Lords would have loved to scream abuse and instructions at their underlings but that would have tarred them with guilt if anything went wrong. Better to remain inscrutable and mysterious.
Currently the Bell was winched down the final meters onto a sturdy platform with many many axles and wheels. Teams of Rat Ogres and their tamers stood nearby to move the Bell into a waiting tunnel mouth, but before that could happen the Bell had to be matched to the blocks and arcane rituals performed.
Airport Mirgliano, same time
Captain Simone Rausch was the only women in the room, something she was just too used to. The first women in the German airforce to qualify for the F-4 Phantom she would likely be the last to fly one. Rhino flight was the Luftwaffe`s way to get some more work out of the old airframes-and old pilots. No new pilots were trained for the old Lady and so the briefing room was filled with older men and a woman which usually would fly different planes, usually something in the livery of the Lufthansa. It actually made for a more mature briefing than what she was used to.
Lieutenant-Colonel Theissen climbed to the podium and behind him the first power-point slide of many appeared on the screen. The slide made for an indrawn breath of the audience. It showed a very detailed picture of a sprawling structure build around a huge tower in the middle of a half-derelict city.
"Morning Crew. As you have already seen today is the day we tell the rats that we really don`t like them. This is the temple of the Horned Rat and from today it will the rubble of the Rat."
Nearly two hours later Rausch walked around the huge plane with her WSO Peter Fahs and checked on the huge warplane. As the range was quite short and no self-defense weapons were needed the Phantoms had been loaded with 18 MK 82 500 pound bombs. Simone found that several had gotten "Hemmingen" or "Köln" written on them and two had pictures of children affixed. She approved heartily, one of her nieces had gotten below 25 kilogram before the new vaccine against the Skaven pathogen had been issued.
Skavenblight, same time
Lord Kritisnik was beside himself with rage. The great cart that was to haul the Screaming Bell to safety had made 20 meters before one of the wheels had broken a less-than-stable piece of pavement. The Bell, the precious bell had swayed in its mountings-and had not fallen. Yet the Bell was exposed on the great plaza and if the last days had thought any lesson to the Skaven then it was that nothing under the open sky was safe from the hated Germans.
He watched the tamers whipped the Rat Ogres into a frenzy and lumpy muscles moved under sickly skin and yet the cart refused to move. He had to do something he abhorred, taking direct actin himself. Striding towards the cart the Albino rats that guarded it made a gap for him quickly enough. Laying a hand against the sturdy wooden frame he reached into the powers of the mind. Mouthing words of power to put his mind into the right state he managed to lift up some of that immense weight. He found it hard to concentrate so close to such an enormous warpstone edifice but this needed to be done. Taking all the willpower it had taken to bring him to such a lofty position he cut out all the distractions and pushed against reality with all his might. Energies from another universe followed his wishes and persuaded countless molecules to move in one direction instead of everywhere. The cart, heavy as it was, gave a lurch swayed alarmingly and then accelerated to a jogging pace.
Kritisnik was gathering his senses when he found that the Bell was not going the way planned out before, but took to an inner courtyard. Scurrying into an undignified run he managed to close the gap to Lord Morskittar.
"Morskittar, you fool, fool-this is the wrong way way."
"Your own Grey Seers tell us of flying machines coming coming. The main tunnel is too far off off, we need to use the old one."
"That is too small you moron moron"
"Only after several hundred meters-and we can enlarge the rest in time. You want to take the chance chance?"
"No No"
The teams of Rat Ogres were pulling with all their might, the squeak of the many wheels, the groaning of the frame and the Bell`s swaying rose to epic proportions. It was quickly drowned out by the tearing cloth sound that the Skaven had already learned to fear. Both Lords of Decay looked up to see a dozen winged shapes fly over them at tremendous speed.
Rhino 04, 1000 meters AGL, 810 km/h, same place and time
Bombing using Iron Bombs (i.e. non-guided) with the Phantom was similar to a landing-but a lot faster. The non-existent Skaven air defenses allowed to overfly the target, then fly a round very similar to a landing approach and release the bombs on the final approach.
Reading the notes that she had taped to her board Simone Rausch turned a wheel at her joystick with a thumb and watched a red circle appear in the HUD and move downwards with her adjustments. Turning left with her flight she flew for a minute or so before doing the next 90 degree turn and another one.
"IP coming up-IP in 5,4,3,2,1 now now now"
Peter Fahs was relaying the most important data to his pilot so she could concentrate on formation and aiming. Very soon after entering the final leg of the bombing run Captain Rausch entered a 30-degree descent to improve the aim.
"Attitude 3000 feet, 450 knots, 2500, 460, 2000.."
The vast edifice of the temple and the imposing tower filled the HUD with speed and when the WSO claimed 1000 she released her load before pulling a right curve upwards at nearly 4 G. Below and behind her the 18 bombs she had just released deployed brakes to make sure she and the complete flight was gone before the fragments went flying.
Impacting crumbling masonry and impeccable marble at nearly 500 kilometers per hour the 230 kilogram bombs penetrated the temple for several meters before igniting together with the loads released by 11 other Phantoms.
The shockwaves from that many bombs detonating more or less simultaneously raced through air and stone until they met each other, cancelling themselves in a few places and multiplying their power greatly in others. The curve that Rhino flight took was long enough that the pilots could see the great tower gathering speed while it dropped to the ground, disappearing in a cloud of smoke that emerged from the demolished lesser buildings.
Skavenblight, same time
Darkness-Lord Kritisnik was surrounded by utter darkness. Around him were alarming croaks and groans of settling stones and loam but not the crashing of a cave-in. Hardly daring to breathe for a minute he found himself still standing, still living and with a rush of survival against the odds nearly taking his head.
Finally he was able to concentrate enough to cast a spell of light and flickering greenish light illuminated the old small tunnel. It was probably one of the tunnels dug by the dwarves when they still inhabited the undercity and barely big enough to house the bell-but it had protected them.
The triumphant squeals of the Skaven nearly collapsed the tunnel-the Horned Rat was with them for sure. While the exit of the tunnel was closed by thousands of tons of rubble there was a passageway into the subterranean part of Skavenblight and in time it would be enlarged to the point where the Bell could be brought into the inner sanctum.
Blighted March, close to Tobaro 25 Sigmarstag, Harvest Month
Major Henrik Gerber stood up in his "Tank"-a M113 with a "Puma" turret on top-and watched the landscape in front of him. It showed nothing of interest. There was a lot of wet-looking grass, some stagnant pools, some shrubs and scattered trees. What he could not see were any Skaven or their war machines. They were there, aerial recon had found them via infrared, but they had obviously learned to hide. Time to flush them out.
The engine of his tank made it impossible to hear their approach, but the instant poplar shapes made from soil, vegetation and unidentifiable parts announced that the artillery was on the job. Working on a box 2 kilometers wide by several hundred meters deep what seemed like hundreds of shells impacted within few minutes.
The last shells were still exploding when the "command" wireless set went on. "Beater actual from Hill actual-go go go"
The major switched channels and pushed the appropriate button. "All Beater elements-we go on my mark: Now now now."
Releasing the button he switched to intercom when the driver already engaged. All 4 tanks that the first Landwehr owned together with those of Wolf Dragoons went forward in a line abreast, followed by line upon line of infantry. It was time to get going.
The artillery had finally shifted targets from the line the imperials were approaching and in several places furry figures could be seen that tried to scurry deeper into the march. Henrik engaged a couple with his machine gun and none of them seemed to go very far.
Neither his tank nor the infantry found anything like organized resistance-here and there a Skaven or a small group of them emerged from their hiding places when they got too close just to be mowed down by gunfire. So far so good. And yet Gerber was reminded of his last visit to the dentist where the doc had promised him it would not hurt and had foregone the lidocaine. All while the doctor drilled and drilled the Landwehr Major had waited for the pain to start. And here he waited for the Skaven to show themselves.
As when his dentist had indeed caught a "sweet spot" and the pain was not as bad as the expectation the final emergence of the Rats provided a sort of perverse relief. A green lightning broke from an innocent-looking hill missing Escort 2 by a mere meter and several larger groups of Skaven emerged from the ground behind the Landwehr lines.
All Escort tanks hit their smoke screen ejectors, hiding them from the Skaven warp cannon. Switching to infrared the gunners used their 30 mm cannon on that hill. At first nothing was visible and Gerber thought about using one of the costly "Spike" missiles when an explosion lifted the hilltop.
Behind him the Skaven found that emerging behind the Landwehr did not give them the advantage that they had thought it would bring. Several platoons were in "overwatch"-staying in place with their weapons ready to cover their advancing comrades. Where the Skaven were not covered by another group they came under a lot of fire rapidly. And the cover provided by marching Landwehr evaporated when these units dropped down to fire from a prone position.
The only case where the Rats were able to do telling damage was where they emerged from hiding scant meters from the advancing troops-here they could engage in hand to hand combat. The bayonets on the Landwehr`s rifles were nasty and brutal, but the open order of the humans did not lent itself well to hand-to hand fighting. Here two or three Skaven could attack a single Landwehrman and take him down. Yet when the Skaven were successful they denuded themselves of their cover with predictable results.
The advance to the Landwehr goal went like this for the next two hours-no glorious charge, no mowing down of the enemy in close formation-just a steady advance punctuated by brief bursts of violence. Behind the formation sappers demolished any tunnels they could find.
Ulthuan Embassy, Altdorf, 26. Brunntag, Harvest Month
"Ah, 1st. Lieutenant yes, you picked the right fork for the fish, but please just with thumb and middle finger till you really use it-yes, that is better. And please try to take a little longer to move the fish from the terrine to your mouth, otherwise one might think you are unrestrained."
Aurelius Ethelorne watched Aeolus explanations with well hidden amusement. Since a few days a KSK troop had been quartered inside the Ulthuan embassy and did their level best to learn the basic ins-and-outs of Asurian manners. He had been surprised when the KSK came to him with the request that he should teach the wood-be military attachés yet came to appraise it as an example of German thoroughness. Instead he had to learn that the better "special forces" in the world left behind by the soldiers in front of him did that in order to do their jobs better.
Another thing to learn for the High Elves and one that might be even more difficult to get into the elven heads than new technology.
Blighted March, same time
What had started when he embarked the Zeppelin had not changed in any way for Kargan Ironbeard. Nothing was what he expected. The training in Altdorf-quite different from what he knew. The shotgun he received-nothing he had used before was like it. The dreaded trip to Tilea by ship was, thankfully much nicer than he had anticipated. And lo and behold, his first combat assignment was also not how he had imagined things.
Instead of going down into some tunnels and killing rats he and his Thunderers were guarding Germans who were digging. If thing were to get even more strange he probably would have to acquire an elven mistress. Instead he watched the Germans erect a metal tower and then use what had to be the world`s biggest drill on the marshy ground. He did not have any idea what this was supposed to achieve but by now was willing to admit that the Germans might be strange but if they were loco then in interesting and useful ways.
Currently he was off watch and spent his time with a couple of his comrades in a small depression that allowed them to light a pipe and grumble about the new times. He was taken by surprise when everybody stopped talking for a second and turned a German had gone into the same depression. He took out a pipe by his own and one of the small German lighters. The latter refused to function under a lot of grumbling.
Ambling over to the Thunderers he addressed Kargan. "Morning Sir. Might I bother you for a light"
"Don`t Sir me manling, I work for a living. But yes, I can help there."
Getting out the lighter he had built himself many years ago the dwarf pulled the flint back and on the second try enough sparks hit the slowmatch to produce a flame.
"Impressive lighter that one."
"Thanks manling. I put the lock of my first rifle into it."
"Good way to memorize it."
Soon thereafter vanilla-smelling smoke mixed with the others in the hollow. "A favor for a favor manling-can you tell me what you are doing there?"
"Ah, did nobody tell you? Well no matter. We are digging cores into the ground to establish the layers of soils below us. That will allow us to evaluate the results when we make the echo scan."
"The what?"
"We make a series of explosions and listen for their echo. From the echo we can build a picture of the caves and tunnels under this blasted swamp. That should be useful when the balloon goes up for real."
"That it should indeed manling. Another question-what is that thing over there doing, this plane?"
"That would be a second favor I think, but call me Dieter not manling and we will be even."
"Kargan Ironbeard ,man..Dieter-well bargained."
"Dieter Thomae at your service. That thing is a transport plane and currently sprays the March with DDT-it kills all insects but leaves us alone."
"What good is that going to do?"
"The airborne vermin here is able to give you many illnesses-that was one of the best defences the Skaven had. Now we take it from them."
"Ah-you might need that. Us dwarves rarely get such diseases but it is good planning."
100 meters AGL, Blighted Marches 30. Koenigstag Harvest Month.
Boring, boring boring and…boring. Even since the early morning Nathan Alpers were flying a grid pattern along the Marches carrying a ground-penetrating radar that scanned the soil below. This had been on the agenda since his flight arrived in Miragliano, yet ever since the first offensives into the Marches these flight had received a new priority. Seems like the rats were popping out of tunnels wherever and whenever they pleased which gave the ground-pounders problems. His Storch was able to fly low and slow enough to give the radar a good look which his superiors liked. That this meant flying low, slow and in predictable lines meant that he hated it guts, not only for its boredom value but as this allowed the Skaven to shoot at him with something like a hope for success.
The problem was that salty clay of the marches was very hard to read by this radar so he had no choice but to play flying bait. And of course that had occurred to the other pilots at the base as well, it had been nearly inevitable.
The small bowl of milk that he had found under the prop of his plane two days ago with the hand-written cart whishing a speedy growing-up of the "little one" had been good for some laughs. The bull's-eye-decal on his side with the "shoot me if you dare" logo this morning less so. Usually he would have risen to that but it was hard to fault Rhino Flight whom he suspected to be the pranksters. When he had called in yesterday that he was shot at a pair of Phantoms had shown up before long and had plastered the Skaven with a nasty combo of high explosives and Napalm.
Ah well, he would survive it.
