Camp Hohenstaufen, same time

Sleenek was perplexed-he did not understand what was happening. He was sitting in front of food-and did not eat. It was not bad, even by his own admittedly low standards, just bland. So when food was presented to him, why did he not eat more?
It took him a while to figure it out: He had eaten enough. The food he got during the sessions with the glowing rectangle –"monitor", he had learned a new word for that rectangle yesterday, was much better and he had done so well that he was actually full. That no other Skaven was trying to take the food away from him helped as well. Having enough to eat and having nobody to fight for it-what a strange world he had been thrown into. Yet he started to like it.

He found it somewhat hard to get up after so much food and made his way to the courtyard where all Skaven were assembled after the midday meal. This strange world asked him to clean and tidy his surroundings and all Skaven were pushed into contributing. He had been slow to understand at first, but Qieekquek, a Plague Monk understood Reikspiel well enough and had let the Germans know it that he could relay their captors orders. During the first days nobody wanted to help the Germans in any way, but the combination of boredom and even more terribly bland food saw to it that nearly everybody got into the program. Sleenek grabbed one of the brooms provided for the exercise and waited for his assignment.

"You there Sleenek, you sweep there there."
"Yes yes."
The work was less boring than sitting around and doing exactly nothing but not by much. Which of course led Sleenek to chat with the Skaven working on the pavement next to him whenever they came close. They were just talking about their respective Germans when Sleenek was hit by a broom across his lower back.
"Stupid slacker, all talk talk, no see, no work"
Quieekqueck punctuated his words with repeated strokes across his back. Sleenek had dropped himself into the submissive position as he surely could not fight a Plague Monk and certainly not one relaying the orders from the Germans. His view-when he did not squeeze his eyes shut for the pain-showed a colorful piece of paper that the wind had blown on his patch and that was the reason for his beating. His field of view was too small to show him the German guards who ran towards the Skaven, but the Plague Monk appeared when he had taken enough hits from the German magical weapons that sparked.

He was brought into the same room where his captors had poked and prodded him before and it did not surprise him when he was pricked by needles again. Yet this time the pain faded after a while and some spots on his back actually went numb. He did not see much but something tucked and nipped at his back and by the time the Germans were done he was covered in bandages along his back.
He was put on a soft pallet and even more food was provided. What in the name of the Horned Rat was going on. He started to feel lightheaded when "his" German entered the room he was in.

"Poor fragger-why did you not run or fight?"
"Because he is a Plague Monk and a boss-fight back means to die die."
"Now look who speaks Reiksspiel-surprise surprise."
Fuck-stupid mistake. But hard to get back now, so better carry on.
"Yes yes German I speak your language. You showed me the words enough times times. And I knew some words before."
"Clever guy-good for you. Can I do anything for you now that I can ask?"
"Answer me this human: Why did you pull Quieekqueck of my back?"
"Because he hit you-that is not allowed."
"But he is Boss?"
"So? Even a boss has to follow the rules"
"But he can tell me what to do."
"Yes, if he is Boss. But he still has to follow the same rules as all others."
"Because he is Skaven Skaven"
"Because he is. If my boss would hit me he would be fired and might go to jail"
"You are joking joking"
"No, I am not"
Sleeneck did not sleep much that night; he had too much to think about.

Blighted Marches, 32. Angertag, Harvest Month

Henrik Gerber was tired. As far as his experience told him that was the standard mode when on a campaign, but this one was worse. Before he had been in the 90% boredom, 10%terror-mode and had gotten used to that as far as one could. But usually one was either in some sort of combat or reasonably safe. The Marches were different-the Skaven could pop up at any damn moment and until suppressed were dangerous. That meant to be on alert any waking moment and it got old pretty damn fast.
And while the 1st Landwehr was making good advances along one of the roads that led to Skavenblight eventually it felt like cutting through pudding. The knife went through, the knife went deep-and then the pudding closed as if nothing ever had happened. That his unit was driving down the road and killing all the Skaven that opposed them did not mean that the supply trucks that followed would not be attacked, quite the opposite. Anything of value to the Reiksbund had to be guarded at all times or it would be destroyed in short order-and that meant that there was no real rest as long as one was inside the Marches.
The landscape did not help either. Most of it was hidden by mists that rarely allowed the sun to shine through it was dominated by dark, dripping vegetation and muddy ground. All sounds were strangely muted and all colors slightly off.
Couldn´t the bleeding rats agree to some set-piece battle and be done with it? The Landwehr Major snorted at the notion the enemy might agree to his plans and climbed the turret of his tank again. Rest was over, time to kick Skaven ass.

400 Meters AGL, Blighted March, same time

"Storch 06 for Wacht actual-approaching coordinates now. Ground visibility is zero, repeat zero"
"Wacht actual to Storch 06-drop your token then and get out of there."
"Wilco"
Nathan overflew the area where INS and RDF told him to go and dropped an engraved stone out of his window. Pushing the throttle far forward he cleared datum fast-he had seen this before. Nearly 50 kilometers from the pilot a Celestial Mage bend over his stone-looking quite similar, including the matching break across the side. Acting on the law of similarity he cast his spell on "his" stone whereas the effects took place somewhere else.
The German pilot watched the mists that covered the landscape like a funeral cloth suddenly develop ripples and small vortex here and there until things settled into a stead strong wind that cleared the sight in minutes. As radar and infrared had already hinted at the rats were using a major tunnel opening to assemble a large armed force on the ground. Several war machines were in evidence from Screaming Bells to Warpstone Cannon. Given that the 1st Landwehr was not far off it was likely that the Rats wanted to stop them.
No matter-to Nathan they were ugly moving targets and needed to be taken care of. Switching on a camera under his plane and keeping it focused on the mass under him he contacted base.
"Storch 06 to Wacht actual, I have upwards of 3000 Skaven at coordinates with more emerging from a large underground exit. There are several war machines including cannon."
"Wacht actual to Storch 06, acknowledged, keep station and stand by to paint the hole and the cannon. Video is received fine."
"Storch 06, will do."

Changing attitude and speed in irregular intervals was second nature and proved to be a wise precaution when green fireballs and tracer went in his general direction. He chuckled evilly when a warpcannon shot went really awry and burned a gap through the Skaven masses. He still had a uneasy feeling about the weapon-while it could probably not hit you when everything for the Skaven went right but it could tear you from the sky when things went wrong.
"Rhino 02 for Storch 06, I hear you have some customers for us"
"Storch 06 to Rhino 02-there is enough for everybody, come and get them."
"First two bird have Laserhead, ETA 1 minutes-please paint the tunnel entrance."
"Storch 06, acknowledge 2 Laser birds for tunnel entrance."
Nathan brought his plane a little close to the tunnel entrance and turned the laser that was mounted in parallel to his camera on. Unless he made some really radical maneuvers the laser spot would be held there by electronics.
"Storch 06 for Rhino 02-music is on"
"Rhino 02 for Storch 06 then let`s dance"

Nathan saw the low-flying shapes of the Phantoms just for the shortest period of time when they tore over the battlefield. Both dropped their bombload when they were in the "basket"-the section of space which allowed the bombs seekers to acquire the laser spot provided by Nathan and which allowed them to fly into the target from their attitude and speed.
The bombs guided well and all exploded inside the tunnels mouth, collapsing it completely and cutting off the Skaven`s retreat. Nathan grinned when he saw tracers and fireballs chasing after the first plane and trailing it considerably as the low fast approach surprised the rats. The laughter struck in his mouth when one of the warpcannon`s beams missed the leading Phantom by a large margin, just to hit the trailing plane through the middle.
"Rhino 2, Mayday Mayday Mayday. We have been hit and both engines are on fire. Ejecting."

Simone Rausch could not remember ejecting. One second she was flying a doomed ship and tried to coax some more attitude and distance from the battlefield from it before it exploded under her and the next she hung under the parachute that had deployed automatically.
Scanning the ground under her she found a lot of small islands in the middle of fetid-looking lakes. The islands were covered mostly by shrubs and sickly looking trees while the green-blackish water really did not invite a landing. Pulling the risers of her chute she tried her best to use the steady wind to make sure she would land on one of the lager islands. She barely had time to look for her WSO who dangled under his chute not so far away.
The impact came as a surprise, which was good, and she managed to roll with the impact all right. Releasing her chute she got up to her wobbly legs and made for the next shrubbery-best to get out of sight in Indian Country. When she was reasonably sure that there were no Skaven nearby she used her emergency radio.

"Wacht Actual, this is Rhino 02, please come in"
"Rhino 02, Wacht actual-good to hear you made it. We are triangulating your position and are vectoring in some help. What is your status."
"Wacht actual, that is good to hear. I am not injured and have not sighted any rats so far. Have you heard of Lieutenant Fahs"
"Rhino 2 wait one – yes we have. He is mostly unhurt but managed to land in a tree. Can you hoof it westwards for 500 meters and aid him?"
"Wacht actual-will do"
Holding her pistol in both hands the pilot made her way through the island. While she did not see anything threatening the unfamiliar sounds of the wildlife and the echoes of far-off fighting made her tense. An occasional muted growl announced that the spotter in the Storch had arrived-nice to have but that was hardly going to get them away from this blasted swamp.
She had to search around a bit when she found the clearing in the low shrubs that held a single tree-and her WSO.
"Hi Simone, nice of you to turn up. I need a spot of help here."
The WSO had caught a very straight, very twig less tree that offered nothing below his position to climb down.
"Hm, I think you should hang in for a second, we need some professional help here."
"OK, I enjoy the scenery while it lasts."
That was when they heard the first squeals.

The Netherlands,Earth, same time?

Old Man Vos (nobody called him that to his face-usually) manoeuvred himself into the living room for his evening dose of TV and a cool one, trying not to spill anything. He knew better than to ask his wife to remove the stains and knew how hard they were to get rid of.
When he had finally plonked himself into the cosy chair he aimed the remote control for the TV which drew his view automatically to some mementos on the shelf besides the home cinema. One was a picture of his missing son. Not dead, not missing, presumed dead but missing, together with a whole bleeding country. Why did he have to be in Germany when the whole country went AWOL? The other was a pic of the Robin van Persie, Captain of the Flying Dutchmen, the Netherlands National Soccer team take the cup for the recent 2014 Soccer World Championship. They had beaten the acclaimed Brazilians 6-2-who could imagine any team do better?

Blighted Marches, 32. Angertag, Harvest Month

Henrik Gerber was tired. He was standing in front of his Tank and sipped some coffee, trying to get his breath back after helping to pull maintainance on the beast. As far as his experience told went this was the standard mode when on a campaign, but this one was worse. Before he had been in the 90% boredom, 10%terror-mode and had gotten used to that as far as one could. But usually one was either in some sort of combat or reasonably safe. The Marches were different-the Skaven could pop up at any damn moment and until suppressed were dangerous. That meant to be on alert any waking moment and it got old pretty damn fast.

And while the 1st Landwehr was making good advances along the road that led to Skavenblight eventually it felt like cutting through pudding. The knife went through, the knife went deep-and then the pudding closed as if nothing ever had happened. That his unit was driving down the road and killing all the Skaven that opposed them did not mean that the supply trucks that followed would not be attacked, quite the opposite. Anything of value to the Reiksbund had to be guarded at all times or it would be destroyed in short order-and that meant that there was no real rest as long as one was inside the Marches.
The landscape did not help either. Most of it was hidden by mists that rarely allowed the sun to shine through it was dominated by dark, dripping vegetation and muddy ground. All sounds were strangely muted and all colors slightly off.
Couldn´t the bleeding rats agree to some set-piece battle and be done with it? The Landwehr Major snorted at the notion the enemy might agree to his plans and climbed the turret of his tank again. Rest was over, time to kick Skaven ass.

100 Meters AGL, Blighted March

"Wacht actual from Storch 06, I have visual on the Phantom crew, both seem unharmed. There are at least two units of rats coming their way-we should get them out ASAP."
""Storch 06 from Wacht actual-SAR chopper will be in in 20 Minutes"
"That will be too late-what is up?"
"They are just bringing back some WIA"
"I can spot for some arty, that could slow them down."
"Storch 06 wait one-ok we have something for you, give coordinates and corrections."
Nathan Alpers watched the 50-meter circles that were beaten into the muddy ground and after a few corrections killing the Skaven that came under them. Problem was that while it killed a lot of the rats they just dispersed-and many of them made double time towards the island holding the two downed pilots. Even the rats knew they would be safer there. He was probably going to get a big part of the Skaven-but not all of them and not in time. Fuck.
He was about to give the next round of corrections when he saw something at the edge of visibility. Edging a little closer he managed to give both the latest corrections and spot the intruder to the battlefield.
Wacht actual from Storch 06, drop 50, left 20 and let them have it. Also, please try to contact..

Blighted Marches, same time and place

And another thing he had never seen, experienced or expected. Kargan Ironbeard was pretty sure he had seen more new things in the last two months than in the last 20 years before them. This time it was an ugly noisy box with big propellers at one end. It had neither weapons nor armor and its only saving grace was that it could carry a shitload of cargo anywhere in this blasted swamp pretty quickly. The Germans called it a hovercraft and he and his guys had taken more than one look at it. From what he heard they ran with comparatively low power and could possibly be made by the dwarfs themselves.
The lack of weapons meant that he and four other Thunderers were asked to ride shotgun on the supply runs to and from their little fortress in the swamp. Given the boredom in that place there was no shortage of volunteers. Currently he was watching the swamp on his side of the hovercraft which had gotten much more interesting in the last two minutes. The Germans were basting a part of the swamp pretty thoroughly. He was therefore surprised when the German driver punched his shoulder to get his attention.

"We have a request from the flyboys to recover some of their pilots. Looks like the Skaven are close. Are you up to it?"
"You are kidding right? Of course we are manling."
"Here we go then."
Ironbeard learned something new again-the hovercraft was capable of a lot more speed than he had seen so far. Belching black smoke from the exhausts, diesel engines roaring and vibrating as if trying to get away from their foundations and trailing a plume of spray that was far higher than the speeding craft-what better way was there to go to battle.
The German diver brought the transport between the Skaven and the small island that was the target of their mad dash. Kargan and his compatriots loosened a few shots at the rats they could see but even they were pretty sure to have missed at this speed.
Quickly enough the hovercraft climbed up the "beech" that divided the "water-with-lots-of-mud-in-it" part of the swamp from the "Mud-with-too-much-water" part.

The driver turned the craft around so that the cockpit faced the waters and pulled a MP7 submachine gun from below his console. "Take the wireless and go where the flyboy tells you to, I´ll mind the store."
"Be back soon man..Gerd"
Kargan walked a bit in front of the rest of the Thunderers-it was more than enough if one dawi walked into an ambush, no point it having all of them do. And if a Tagoraki stepped forward he was pretty sure Griselda would take care of it-Griselda being his new shotgun.
The Island was not very big and the tiny voice of the human above them gave pretty clear directions. He was pushing himself through some wet-leafed bushes when the shots started. That got him and the other Thunderers into higher gear.

Simone Rausch was in a mental state that is reserved for people who are sure to die very soon. At the same time she felt a strange detachment and felt every sensation with a clarity she had not experienced before. She felt the humid air, every smell, the slimy feeling of the grass under her feet and the recoil of her pistol when she pulled the trigger again. This time the bullet actually hit something-the head of an extremely ugly, extremely big rat that promptly disintegrated. She seemed to have all the time in the world to acquire the Skaven next to it and pull the trigger again. Nothing happened but the click of the hammer on an empty cartridge chamber.
She still fumbled for her spare magazine when the rat was hit by something that emptied most of its chest and sprinkled the surrounding vegetation with entails. When she turned into the direction of the shooter she was greeted by a sight that was possible only this bright new world.
Reaching barely to her armpit but being twice as broad as her a number of dawi emerged from the bushes. Clad in a mixture of leather accessories, homespun cloth, Paratroop boots and German load bearing equipment wielding German weapons they were a strange sight by any measure-but welcome no less.

"Lass, let us go, there are more Tagoraki coming."
"We need to get Peter down first."
"Peter..oh shit. Well, nobody can say Kargan Ironbeard leaves allies behind. Snorri, Ulf, Holm-cover us. Björn, help me, I need your rope."
The German pilot watched the Dawi size up her WSO dangling from the tree.
"Manling, can you help us?"
"Yes, how?"
"We will throw you a rope. Put it over that twig above you and make it fast against you belt. If you can cut yourself free we will lower you down.
"Sounds good and thanks."
Simone watched how the dwarf managed to place the rope slightly past her WSO`s shoulder when the second dwarf turned to her.
"Watch the beach lassie that is more useful than gawking."
Getting the spare magazine into her pistol she wordlessly took a position to do exactly that. Her rubbery knees told a story of too much excitement in too short a time and she had a hard time to force herself watching the surroundings and not trying to push everybody to get it done.

She saw the Skaven that entered the clearing in from of her at the same time it saw her. Pulling the trigger in haste sent the first two bullets awry and only the third managed to do damage. By then several more Skaven had found the clearing and her new allies had shot them in short order. In the silence that followed she heard even more squeals and nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand touched her arm from behind.
"We are done lass, let`s go."
Simone found herself in the middle of a file, with two of the dwarves in front of her and Peter and three behind. The pace they made over the island was brisk and she could hear the Skaven all around them at times. Still they managed to get to the beach without another fight where she was greeted by a big, ugly, diesel snorting and most beautiful hovercraft.
She was scrambling with the others to get in when a grey shadow seemed to flow over the rail and made for the brushwork. Gunfire chased it but did not get the fleet-footed Skaven. The leading dwarf jumped on board just to scream in disgust.
The German pilot climbed on board just to find a killed German and smashed controls. She nearly collapsed from the hopelessness.

She heard more shots from her WSO and her would-be saviors and pulled herself from the cockpit to the hovercrafts rail to fire her remaining ammo at the line of Skaven that emerged from the brushwork when the Rats just disappeared is a double line of fire, smoke and unidentifiable parts. The screams of 4 J-79 engines and the ripping cloth sound of 2 Vulcan cannons reminded her that Rhino flight looked after their own.

It was a grand gesture and good flying-but she doubted that the Phantoms could keep enemy off her long enough for the choppers to arrive. She looked skywards to get at least a shot look at her comrades just to be treated to a totally crazy stunt. Nobody and nothing with fixed wings could land on that clearing-it was just barely 3 times the length of her F-4. And yet there was this glorious fool flying a spit-and-glue kite with flaps hanging as low as they could and land at a speed she was pretty sure to be able to match by running.

And the fool managed to land with room to spare. She was running and exhorting the others to follow before the Storch had turned around. The dwarf that led her saviors kicked two grenades into the hovercraft before running behind her. She found a medium sized man working furiously on the quick-release catches of a sensor pack that hung under his plane. When it did not release immediately he kicked it hard and on the third try it dropped into the grass.

"Get in, get in-I think the natives are getting restless."
"You think you can take off from this?"
"If not you won`t be complaining for long-take the left-hand seat."
Climbing into the unfamiliar cockpit she was reminded of basic flying training-but even the Grob trainer she had flown then seemed more substantial than this craft. The door she slammed shut seemed to twist like a tent flap and everything else was "lightweight". The instrument board was sparse and very very anlaog, the view from the windscreen at a strange angle due to the taildragger landing gear. Even under so much pressure her pilots sense told her that something was "strange" about the plane. When she saw the last dawi climb aboard she saw the glowing rune of flying-so that`s what it was. And then the Storch rattled even more, the diesel growled much louder-and nothing moved. Only when the revs were up did the pilot change prop pitch and the plane got rolling. Rolling so damnably slow-it took speed with a eagerness of a sloth.

And incredibly-before the wheels hit the muddy waters-it lifted off. Lifted at a speed when she would taxi her Phantom, lifted at a speed when her F-4 would long ago dropped from the sky-and this crate climbed.
She managed to find a spare headset which she dropped on her ears. "Thanks for the rescue Lt.."
"Lt Alpers at your service mam. You are Captain Rausch I presume."
"One and the same. Fuck-I thought we`ve had it."
"Not this time!"

Miragliano Airport, O-Club, much later that day

"Who is the King of Heaven?"
"The Seven-Eleven"
Everbody in the two containers that had been attached side by side raised their steins to the smoke-hidden ceiling before drowning the Warsteiner they contained?"
"Sorry to ask, but what was that about?" Nathan Alpers had not been in here before as he was Army, not Air Force. On the other side of a rickety collapsible table at Simone Rausch who had joined the toast.
"When we were still flying Phantoms from Wittmund there were 2 Fighter squadrons to the JG71-the 711 and the 712. Most of us are from the 711 and were the better squadron of course?"
She saw the slightly raised eyebrow of the army pilot.
"Let me tell you of the exercise we had against the US pilots from Scotland over the North Sea. 4 Phantoms against 4 F-15 escorting a "transport". We shouldn´t have a chance in hell and managed to win 4-1."
"How did you pull that one of?"
"Oh we..."

Even later that evening and after a couple of beers more the Captain inquired about the silked band that was knotted from Alpers belt.
"A token of affection from Ermine of Wolfenfels. She gave it to me before I flew to Tilea."
"Nice, why did she do that."
"Their customs-she gave her Champion a token for the campaign"
"How did that happen and why are you her Champion?"
"Uff, long story I used to fly out of Middenheim and..."
The sash kept both of them from doing something very human and terminally stupid that night.

500 meters AGL, Blighted March, 32 Festtag, much too early in the morning

Nathan realized that dropping the old recon Pod had another positive effect besides survival via takeoff. The new one he had received offered better resolution and was less likely to freeze if he changed the view too often too fast. Currently he was watching the old one through the optics of the new one as it was dragged through the Island by a couple of Skaven.
"Storch 06 for Rhino 04-Music is on"
"Rhino 04 for Storch 06 ETA 1 minute"
The new pod did also show its shorter whiteout time when confronted with sudden heat signatures, such as the explosion of two 500-pound Laser-guided Bombs. Five minutes later four similar bombs ripped the burned-out shell of the hovercraft apart, together with about 20 Skaven.

At the same time a daily dose of reports and messages that were sent to Karaz-a-Karak. Contained in the file that was printed out by the German embassy for the Dwarven High King and his government were a request made by one Kargan Ironbeard. He asked that a Grudge be put in the Book of Grudges. For the killing of Gerd Meins, hovercraft pilot and comrade-in-arms to the Dawi, 35 Tagoraki tails were to be collected. His request was honored.
The video of the bombing Nathan presented to his former dawi passengers convinced them that Gerd had a decent pyre worthy of him.

Irrana Mountains, close to Isonzo River, 1. Markttag, Brew Time

Heinz Albers tried to find any position he might sleep in-and found he could not. The bunks inside the bunker were narrow and hard but that was not the problem, neither was the damp and slightly cold air that smelled of the packed earthen walls of the room. The problem was the clamor emitted by the 155 mm Artillery that was at it again. It was nothing new-ever since last week the Skaven were trying again and again to retake the German position now that they had learned what they had done. As it seemed that there were no convenient tunnels nearby they emerged from the marshy lowlands roughly 20 kilometers from where the blaster tried to sleep and that put them in a world of hurt.

The 4 guns that the airships had deposited on the mountainside had a nearly unlimited amount of ammo and used it freely to curbstomp every assault so far. As Albers was here as a blaster and not as a Captain of Landwehr he did not have to put up with watch after watch and was veteran enough to be thankful for the boredom he had instead. He managed to get something that charitably could be called sleep yet found himself grabbing for mask and rifle without any memory what had made him do that. It was the muted sound of a machine gun salve that provided explanation-the more subdued but different sound had alerted him. After a wait that lasted for 20 minutes and felt like 20 days a call via the field telephone declared the alert over.
Drinking a coffee despite the taste and what it did to his middle-aged stomach Albers learned from an artillery major that some Skaven had tried to infiltrate the compound and had made the mistake to show up on the infrared.
"Oh fuck, not again. Couldn`t they think of something new?"
"I prefer them dumb like that."
"You think they will stay that way?"
"Usually no, but here I do not see they have much choice"
"Hear Hear"

Undercity, Skavenblight, same time

Quiet had returned to the Council of 13, not the relative quiet of gravitas and composition but the quiet of being under great pressure and observation. Showing any weakness now would be fatal, even for a Lord of Decay. Especially for a Lord of Decay as the tendency to find a scapegoat, a reason for their current misery that they could excise and find a way from their current situation was nearly overwhelming.
Everybody was watching everybody else to make the first move, the first mistake despite they all knew this kind of infighting would be utterly insane. And then they were known to the world as Lords of Decay and for good reason.
Still Lord Kritislik knew he had to break the standoff, not only because he had the news everybody needed but also as he was the least to blame. Still, the nature of said news made it hard to step up to the plate. Killing the messenger was not negatively connoted in Skaven society.

"Assembled Lords Lords, hear me as I have news news."
Still nobody made a move, none at all.
"We have lost the Farsquealer connection to Foul Peak and Miragliano and from the first report it seems again due to flooding. The Germans find these tunnels without fail fail-we do not know how how. Gutter Runners have seen German ships at the point where tunnels go under rivers and they seemed to drill down down. These were the last connections we had to the rest of the Under-Empire. We can contact other Grey Seers with magic but no farsquealer, no reinforcements and no material will reach Skavenblight for a long time through these."
Everybody seemed to shrink a little bit at the news-Skaven find safety in numbers and their connection to vast parts of their domain had just been cut off as well as a possible bolt-hole for the Skaven elite. Still nobody wanted to contribute as not to be associated with this disaster. Well, Kritislik certainly did not want to be the only one talking about it.
"Lord Morskittar, how soon can your clan restore the tunnels?"
"Hard to say say. Many tunnels are flooded for between the locks. Clan Skryre clever clever and has put lockthingie on both sides of river river when tunnel goes under them. But to repair we need to go in river-very difficult, yes yes. The rivers are flowing fast and the Germans may watch watch. So we have to kill Germans or we build second tunnel tunnel, but need to dig quietly. Takes much time to dig quietly under river, yes yes."
"The slowness is noted noted. Then we have another problem-one of the rivers into the March is blocked blocked. The water level is falling with every day and if we do not have heavy rains the swamp will become dry. The humans will be able to move much more freely freely-in our own domain. This is unacceptable. Lord Paskit-you wanted to kill the Germans that block the river at the mountains mountains, kill kill."

"There no tunnels close to the Germans Germans due to Clan Skryre negligence. The closest exit to the enemy is nearly 20 kilometers. As soon as brave warrior Skaven exit the tunnel German shoot them with guns they never see see. Sometimes they also drop many small bombs. My warriors die die without ever seeing enemy enemy. Even clan Skyre cannot shoot back back. And Clan Eshine does not even try try."
"Silence ignorant fool. We have sent many many assassin-they all disappear. Somehow Germans can see them."
"Use better assassins."
"Send more assassin we will. Send better is not possible, already used good ones"
Even under this kind of pressure nobody wanted to anger Lord Sneek any more, he was the Master of all assassins after all.

Kritislik saw no choice but to continue. "We have reaped all the Black Corn we could before the advancing Germans. We also have great stores of it and the mushroom farms. In some parts where we could not gather the Black Corn in time time or where the treacherous humans destroyed tunnel entrance we let Clan Pestilens at Nurglitch, by now the Germans should be diseased and too weak to fight but they do do? Why do the humans not die?"
The rasping blubbering speech that emerged under the cloaking swarm of flies and bandages should have been the hallmark of a Skaven about to die-yet the Lord of Clan Pestilens was alive and kicking since hundreds of years.
"Germans kill the flies and bugs in the March somehow. They dare kill the pets of Grandfather Nurgle. They bring their own water and food while they scorn the bounty of the March. They wash themselves more often than painted whores-it will be a much much work before Clan Pestilens can bring them the blessings blessings. But wait till they get into the city city-there they cannot avoid accepting the gifts and Nurgle will bring them such gifts as they have never seen."
"Let them into the city? Are you insane. This is where we live. This is where we build our machines, where be breed our servants, this is where we worship the Horned Rat. We need to kill them before they reach the city city."
"And how do you propose we do that Lord Verminkin? I have not seen Clan Moulders creations do any better better than the rest of us us"
"We…"
"Let them come to us us. Let them come to the city and I will welcome them. They will all die die"

The voice was arguably the voice of Lord Burr, Guardian of the Temple. Yet it seemed to come from the middle of the table, where the empty seat reserved for the Horned Rat was. Lord Burr would recall hearing the words but would always deny speaking them. However that happened, it ended the discussion.