800 meters below ground, Skavenblight, same time
"I said toe the line exactly, idiot idiot. But you have 9 more toes if you want to repeat this error, maggot maggot." Gleepk thought he had been afraid when the Germans had dropped their bombs on him. He had been wrong-now he was afraid. He was together with 50 other drivers and other former workers who were now induced into the army of the glorious clans Mors in a large cavern lighted by flickering flames and green warplight. It illuminated all too clearly the object of his fear-a big, scarred and experienced Clanrat wielding a rusty, freshly blooded halberd that was to train and command them. He currently walked up and down the line of recruits and berated them for their failures, real and imaginary. Everybody tried to toe the line exactly, stand as still as any Skaven could and not draw attention to them in any way. Well, everybody but the unfortunate who might or might now had his feet a millimeter in front of the line. He was also quiet but the blood on the floor and the severed toe would draw attention anyway.
"You are the worst excuse for Skaven I ever had my eyes on on. You too stupid even to follow the easiest orders orders. I said "toe the line line." Everybody can do that. I have human slaves that can do that and giant rats can do it too. But you are too stupid to do it. You are weak-livered cowards who will vent their panic gland the first second they see a human human. But I will train you to bet better and you will be become better-or you will be missing parts parts."
Gleepk was very very afraid-but not of the Germans any more.
Dragon Gate, Ulthuan, 11. Bezahltag, Brew Time
Isa of the House Heras was good at hiding things. She was 418, yet neither Asur nor human could even guess the right century from her erect stance, fine slender figure or even unlined skin. Her financial straits were dire, yet neither her clothing nor her household reflected that as she was making sure to extract the most value from what she had and worked hard to maintain her belongings well.
And now she was aghast at what Korhal had done to her, it was an affront of the highest order and the loss of face in front of her equals that would result from this indignity was driving her mad but she went through with it with grace, and even face and a welcoming smile that never reached her eyes. As her husband had the bad taste to die in battle some time ago and the unusual fertility and the fate of House Heras dictated that she had to give adequate dowry to no less than three daughters her finances were not good. The Dragon Gate garrison had therefore had made a point to move long-term guests into her house to give her a source of income, something she was glad of. Currently she housed several Sword Masters which reinforced the all of that did not make her an animal minder, damn Korhal`s eyes. And still she managed to keep her countenance up while she was sullied so.
"Lady Heras, I have been told that your House would extend its hospitality towards me and my men. I could hardly believe my luck and thank you for such a generous offer. I can barely recompense such an offer but would be overjoyed of you would accept a small gift of spices."
"I welcome you to my humble abode Oberleutnant Hartmann, you and your armsmen are guests of my house as long as you wish. Thank you for the gift, I am sure that they will improve the meager provisions of this house."
"Lady Heras, please let me introduce my armsmen. This is Staff Sergeant Blascoviks, this is our Sniper Zimmermann and Medic Kühn."
"You too are welcome in my House."
She went through the rest of the introductions and the tour of her facilities like a well-made automaton, every word and gesture prescribed by custom and century-old practice. That the Germans were conforming to these customs was so unlike her expectations that she was glad she could hide her unease behind the façade of etiquette and manners until she could come to grips with the unexpected. The Germans were scrupulously clean and well maintained where she had anticipated dirt and smells. They were soft-spoken and quiet where she had expected loud-mouthed boasts and insults. They were clean-faced and –limbed where she had guessed for scars, warts and awkwardness. They were showing Asurian manners that were worthy of a youngster or a child at least where she had anticipated ignorance.
In some way that was making it worse-instead of harboring dirty apes she was now the host to shaved, clean apes that could perform tricks and mocked the true Elves. She hated the Germans already and their leader in particular, but even an Asur who knew her would not have guessed so by listening to her.
Isa was good at hiding things.
120 Meters below, Skavenblight, 11. Bezahltag, Brew Time
"HESH up"
"On the way"
The 120 mm cannon roared and send a round downrange. It flew for less than 400 meters until it hit a low structure of stones and concrete that blocked the way. It sported a warpcannon and several ratling guns which made it worthy of the tanks attention.
When the round connected to the bunkers wall it did not penetrate the walls, but collapsed and for a brief moment left a patty of explosives there before detonating. The resulting shockwaves ripped through the stone and concrete, ripping off huge parts at the far side and shooting them through the room inside.
The dropping barrel and the green smoke that emerged from the slits told the story, but Ulrich Stoiber was not convinced. "Stein actual from Wolf 01-I will advance to the structure, keep close but get ready to jump out of our way"
"Stein actual acknowledges"
Driving the heavy tank forward the German tank commander marveled at the huge tunnel he was in. At least the equivalent of the tunnel under the Elbe it served as one of the ways into Skavenblight and was heavily defended. He had been astonished to find such huge passageways where he had expected to find only a warren fit for termites. Instead his tank drove a cobblestones road of at least 20 meters width sitting in a succession of larger caverns and tunnels. There had been illumination in form of oil lamps and similar, not burned out as the caretakers were no longer there. Besides the lights the Germans brought there was only the sickly green light of warpstone that provided a spotty illumination.
And yet the many smashed carts that lined the roads into Skavenblight had provided the answer for that: Skavenblight was an important center of population and industry and as such had to be supplied with a great lot of materials. These passageways were absolutely essential for the Undercity as high-capacity roads were for any big German city.
Unfortunately the areas to the left and right of the road was as heavily-build up as he had expected and then some. Securing the main passageways was as important as it was easy for the Germans, but the heavy lifting would be done elsewhere.
When his tank reached the bunker he positioned it on the far side of it, watching the infantry that had followed in the cover provided by his Leo. They dropped some grenades through the slits before they entered the position. Ulrich`s monitor showed flashes through the slits where the soldiers employed their assault rifles when entering a new room and then a bigger flash and smoke. The calls for a medic via the wireless reveled that to be the result of a trap.
Fuck.
He spotted the sally from a nearby tunnel mouth at the same time than his gunner which made him fight the remote control weapons station for direction when the turret went for the new targets. Both of them opened fire with their machine guns before the bulk of the Skaven had crossed the passage which made for a nasty massacre. He was alarmed when there were several impacts against the rear of his turret-that was where the main gun ammo was stowed.
"Stein actual for Wolf 01-we just scratch some rats from your back end"
"Thanks Stein"
In the end he had to keep this station for several hours while the infantry was relieved-he had a fully-fledged NBC-system while they only had their masks and suits. Yet they could take a leak without using a bottle.
80 meters below, Skavenblight, same time
Kargan Ironbeard had already learned that all the nice new toys the Germans used had drawbacks, sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger ones. The Protective mask he wore allowed him to fight at all, the Thagoraki were just too good at poison warfare, but it had a number of drawbacks. Having to suck air in with force, the restricted field of view or the smell-all minor drawbacks gladly endured for the advantage they brought. But there was a huge price to pay which he did not enjoy at all: Vaseline.
He still remembered when the German instructor had placed a big pot of it in front of them when it came to practical instruction. "I have been informed that it is not reasonable for you to shave your beards and so I will not suggest it. The only little problem with that is that your masks will not reliably seal around so much facial hair. The only way around that is to grease your beards with Vaseline liberally, that works. So, before we go to the test chamber please apply yourself."
The trip to the room the Germans called "Gas Chamber" only when they thought nobody would overhear them immediately showed everybody why this was disgusting but necessary. Those Dawi who had not used enough of the stuff felt the CS-Gas in that room badly. He did not have to like the feeling-but he enjoyed the freedom from the Poison Wind it brought. And if you had to endure the bleeding masks and the never sufficiently damned Vaseline they brought a few new possibilities to their combat.
Currently Kargan was standing in a mixed squad of Thunderers and Germans in a room full of decrepid furniture and filth while watching a German apply a pack to the floor.
"Fire in the hole, stand back"
The explosion was muffled as it was directed downwards by a water-filled sack placed on top of the explosives. The mixed squad then went into a frenzy of activity they had exercised what seemed like hundreds of times. A Dawi ripped the sack away while two Germans dropped several grenades through the hole in the floor.
Everybody jumped back for a moment while the explosives ravaged the room below and white smoke crept from the just made whole. Kargan and three others stepped forward and jumped into the room and scanned the corners and openings. The room they were in was thoroughly trashed but had no defenders. Two of them stumbled into the rooms through a door, more than half-blind and close to suffocation due to the CS two of the grenades had distributed. It was doubtful they had sensed the assailants in any way as they ran around without direction weakly stabbing daggers at nothing. Kargan fired his shotgun at one of them, ripping off an arm and exposing most of the upper body organs, the other ran into a 3-round burst from a G3.
Kargan took a second look, saw nothing and his "Clear" was loud enough in spite of the mask and his sudden lack of breath. Four Germans piled up on both sides of the door, threw another grenade and fired a burst into the next room before storming it.
Kargan barely had time to normalize his breathing-for what value of normal existed with the bloody mask-before he had to take his group into the next set of rooms. It was during the fourth change of guard that he became a little too complacent. The Thagoraki were all overwhelmed by the CS and posed no real threat, especially when shell-shocked or injured by frag grenades. The Skaven that jumped from a half-buried doorway therefore came as a surprise when it moved normally-and for a Skaven that meant very very fast. He barely had time to see the primitive googles that protected the eyes or the cloth pad that covered snout and nose. The did see the green globe that was thrown in his general direction, scattering on the floor and adding green fog to the white mist already in the room. For a second nobody moved disbelieving what happened-nothing. Whatever was in that globe did not pass the filters in the masks of either species. The dagger thrown by the Plague monk arrived at Björn`s arm at the same time when Kargan`s shotgun took down the Skaven.
"Man down Man down-Medic"
100 meters below, Skavenblight, one hour later
For now Uwe Meins had exhausted the ghosts that drove him. Like all the other soldiers in his platoon he was totally exhausted from assaulting Skaven defenses again and again. The physical effort that was so much harder wearing chemical protection equipment had played its part, as well as the full-time concentration that had been necessary at all times. Looking for the Skaven, looking for their traps, looking for the tanks that were out to crush them, looking for supplies-the list was endless. And on top of that was the utterly alien environment of off angles, tight spaces and bad lighting that mercilessly revealed the smallest tendency towards claustrophobia.
Now he was leading his soldiers out of the warrens towards the surface for decontamination and some well-earned rest, having surrendered his positions to a fresh unit of Panzer Grenadiers. Marching in single file they were met by a similar formation going down. The sight made everybody stop without any orders, something that normally would have brought the Sergeant to white-hot fury. But normally Bundeswehr soldiers do not meet shuffling skeletons that were led by a somber-clad mage deeper into the warren-to aid them.
Dragon Gate, Ulthuan 13. Angertag Brew Time
Cales, Swordmaster of Hoeth regretted meeting the Germans already. They simply did not know when good was good enough. Erich Hartmann had asked him about a path he might use for exercise runs. Cales approved of such exercises even when he used a regime of calisthenics approved by the gods and perfected over many millennia. That humans were using something much more simple, like running in circles was fitting and to be expected. Looking at the German officer with his heavier chest, arms and legs which should reduce endurance he had offered to show him an appropriate path with a smile.
At first things had gone just fine with the human starting to breathe more heavily by the minute, yet and 15 minutes or so he seemed to have steadied down and easily held the speed set by the Sword Master. Things had gone well till the end of the 8-mile circuit when Cales had worked on a nice sweat and was looking forward to a bath in the sacred pool.
"Nice one, thanks for showing me. Fancy a second round?"
It was during that round that made an enjoyable morning exercise into a chore that the Asur reminded himself not to underestimate these humans, it did not pay. The day before he had indeed started to give fencing lessons to Hartmann. He had not known what to expect, yet humans in general could not match him. What was more, the German officer had protested that he was a mere amateur with the sword and had only started practicing a year before.
Which should have made things very easy-and were not. Hartmann never had a chance to best him but he made him work for it. His sword might not be able to penetrate any armor but it was light enough to be fast and allowed the German to use it effectively at the end of his outstretched arm, something his two-handed sword would not do. It also allowed his student to twist his body out of reach and the basket that protected his hands had taken away another potential target. He could push aside the German blade with his heavier one any time he chose-but that would not win the mock-combat by itself.
Hartmann`s rapier had no place on the battlefield, he freely admitted as much, but on the training grounds the German officer had made the Sword Master sweat before he was able to land mock hits or remove the German`s blade.
But that was all for the better, he actually hoped to improve the Germans sword play and thereby getting closer to him. But till then he was in a 16-mile run and found to his displeasure that he had something to prove
Blighted Marches 13. Angertag Brew Time
Captain Manfred Berger watched the MAN truck lay down another stretch of folding pathway. At least this time he did not have to use them as miserly as the last time. The Bundeswehr had ordered great loads of them after the Battle of Middenheim and the endless work to make the roads there usable. The new ones were simpler and made from galvanized steel instead of costly aluminum. On the other hand he did not have a great Quarry and huge dump trucks at his disposal. There was some of that but not so much as he really needed.
Currently his engineers were improving a stretch of road that the Skaven had built towards Skavenblight. The Rats had done an acceptable job of it, laying great heaps of ballast into the swamp for a dam and then topping it off with cobblestones. Their rickety, iron-wheeled carts could hardly drive on anything else. Unfortunately the drainage of the swamp made parts of the foundations sag and made his people fight an unending battle to keep the roads passable.
The lowering water table also changed the landscape in other ways. It had not been beautiful before-the stagnant waters, the black trees dripping with condensation, the poisonous-looking corn that was left on some fields. But now it was on the verge of dying and got even more disgusting when preparing to rot.
The eternal mist that had shrouded the March was partially lifting even without the help of Celestial Mages as there was less water to evaporate. Normally Berger would appreciate this more if it would not reveal the details of the "Skaven-formed" landscape so much. It also made the soldiers Miragliano had sent stand out more, their brightly-colored uniforms were the only specks of color in this blasted swamp. No skin of Berger`s nose-if they were more visible the Skaven were more likely to attack them instead of his men. And Cosimo had rejected German-style BDU`s if the scuttlebutt could be believed.
The engineer had heard that their commanding officer, one Marcello di Cosimo, continuously applied for his unit to be employed inside Skavenblight where the "real fight" was supposed to be. Berger had tried to explain the importance of good supply lines to the Tilean noble just to learn that said noble did knew about that but cared for his reputation in his home town. Ah well.
The patchy cloud cover also allowed him to spot the Storch plane that patrolled the road endlessly, currently the pilot circled slightly ahead of the engineers towards Skavenblight. Berger knew the signs already and moved back to his unit so he was at hand when his wireless operator told him of approaching Skaven. He was not the only one to notice as the salvos from the Miragliano soldiers and from the machine guns of one of his trucks proved.
In the end he never saw a Skaven in this assault as they had been spotted far too early and retreated when they came under heavy fire. Most of them still died when a pair of Phantoms dropped a couple of cluster bombs on them.
Much better than yesterday-there he even got to shoot himself, but not as good as the day before which had been the first day without any assaults at all. Yet, any day he did not lose a soldier was a good one nut this one was not over yet.
Skavenblight, 20. Koenigstag, Brew Time
"Up and at them" Joakim Vos shouted the command that sent most of his command running for the building in front of him. He stayed behind, like 3 others and shot their "Baseballs" through Windows or the door leading into the warren on the side of a main Passageway. The deep rumbling explosions of the thermobaric warheads were muted by his helmets headset. The flames, smoke and bits of a ratling gun that ejected from the various openings told the tale of a successful strike and prompted him and his half-squad to run for the sides of the door while the others already entered. By now the reports of single shots and the lack of wireless chatter told the Landwehr Sergeant all he needed to know-no unexpected resistance.
Clearing the Skaven housing was pretty much routine by now. Most of the Skaven could hardly fight as they were overwhelmed by a combination of concussion and CS-gas, but there seemed to be more of them with googles and snout pads. He just stormed a room that had been prepared by a hand grenade seconds before when two of these emerged from a doorway to the side. One wielded a dagger, the other a complicated looking pistol from which a round grazed along his pauldron. Two quick bursts from him and his second finished that nonsense and the rest of the building got itself cleared easily.
When Joakim went out he could feel every joint and bone in his tired body. His squad could work through any opposition the Skaven could offer like a stake through an eyeball-but there were very many eyeballs around. He was called whenever heavy, well protected firepower was called for and could not be provided by vehicles, and that was very often in this bleeding warren.
Walking from the front door into the passageway again he spotted a Bundeswehr regular in a tattered uniform missing his weapon that staggered towards his team.
Jens already stepped forward when Joakim stopped him by extending an arm. Something about the man irritated him.
"Halt and be recognized" was projected from two loudspeakers at a volume that would have done a Heavy Metal band proud-but did not faze the figure that approached.
"Halt"
"Halt or we shoot"
Joakim was getting frantic when the figure dissolved himself in an explosion. Not a very big one, but sufficient to shower him and the squad with body parts and to drop him on his ass.
Explosions are strange things, totally destroying one thing and leaving the other unscathed. From where he lay he could see the remarkably intact head of the human still in its helmet. Now he saw what had alarmed him, the still open eyes were emitting a slight green glow.
Camp Hohenstauffen, 13. Angertag Brew Time
Sleenek had wolfed down the last piece of Emmenthaler cheese and found that the monitor had no more pictures for him to name. Instead "his" German moved his chair so he could watch him without the device in the way.
"Thanks for the
"I will not give you any secrets secrets Mathias, even for more Chocolate, I will not"
"And nobody say you will Sleenek. I won`t lie to you and say that we are not interested in them, but I know you are a strong and honorable Skaven and will not do this. But that brings me to another thing and that is your future."
"What about it it?"
"All wars end sooner or later, right?"
"Yes Yes. So?"
"And when this war is over there will still be Humans and Skaven."
"Yes?"
"And somebody has to lead the Skaven, somebody has to speak for the Skaven. We would prefer somebody strong and honorable, like you. Would back somebody like you in fact."
"Is that so so?"
"Yes. No need to tell me anything now, think about it and just talk to me when you have questions. Till then-there is a courtyard to sweep I think-and you are the Boss of the Day if I am not mistaken."
"Need to think, yes yes. Talk later."
Sleenek found it very hard to sleep that night, he had far too much to think about. What the Germans offered made sense-somebody had to lead the Skaven. And getting up in Skaven society was the goal of any same male, the means to get there purely secondary. He had learned much about cooperation and rules for everybody in the last weeks, the Skaven could use such changes. Need these changes in fact if they wanted to be a power to reckon with.
The last conscious thought before he was asleep was seeing himself in the robes of a member of the council and he had the equivalent of a smile on his face.
He went into the territory of dreams but the place he arrived was not what he was used to. Things were too strange even for a dream-and at the same time they felt so real. He flew-or he would have flown if there was any up or down which there was not. The not-sky had colors for which he had no name which swirled in patterns which made no sense.
He was surrounded by millions upon millions of small-well best call them lights. When he got close to one he was sure that the light was another Skaven but could not say how he got that impression. He knew he was moving somehow but could not get a sense of direction. Yet he got closer to something he could not identify. It was big, bigger than anything Sleenek had ever seen. It looked like an immense mountain range but the shapes were off.
It was when a part of the thing moved that his mind connected the dots. This was a body, these were claws, those were horns and those were teeth. Sharp, serrated claws that belonged to a predator, grey-white furred limbs of immense size and greenly-glowing horns. The bottomless glowing orbs that were bigger than the Camp he was in were eyes. Eyes that for the shortest and most terrible period of time focused on him.
The next morning Sleenek managed to kill Manfred Urban, his "minder" and injure two guards within an inch of their lives before a third took him down.
Skavenbight, , Brew Time
The fingers that put the lantern with its warpstone light inside the trailer creaked alarmingly but did not break off or freeze. The hands owner shuffled off to the sound of clattering bones and made for another round of collecting warpstone items.
None of this were audible-not for the Unimog`s idling engine which towed the trailer or the sounds of the other undead who delivered the take. The overriding sound was the harangue of Otto, Priest of Morr.
"This is an abomination, an affront against all what is holy, a desecration of souls, an insult that is smearing Germany and the Empire it is…"
"Necessary. The undead remove all scraps of Warpstone from the areas that we have so far taken. Actually we have halted out offensive until such time as we have cleaned up the areas so much that we can rest of troops down there without the need for them to be under chemical protection. And the faster we can do that the faster this clusterf… is over. Both of us know that we can hardly remove the warpstone using soldiers-they would become ill in short order. And we certainly do not have enough drones to do the job till Hell freezes over."
"Major Gerber, do not think me an idiot who is ignorant of all that. Still, that gives you no right to abuse the souls of the dead in such a manner. Do you have no shame, no sense of decency?"
"Otto, we have not created a single undead-what we have done is woke up those who were resting under the March. None of the undead we are using is having a soul-these are simply animated skeletons and their souls has long gone to Morr. We will wake the more animated undead as times and resources allow and will give them to you to lay to rest immediately. But these we need a little longer and then you can do the same.
If we would not have interfered these skeletons would have lain like this for all time or have risen up at an inopportune moment and threatened the living-something they will not do now. So either I can risk the lives of allied soldiers and leave these where they are, or rouse them, use them and give them to you. What is it going to be?"
"You have not heard the last of this-I will protest with your government and petition the Emperor.."
"I wish you all the best with that. My only question is-will you help lay these here to rest when the time is up or will you stay disgusted?"
Camp Köln, close to Tobaro, 25. Markttag, Brew Time
And another new thing, but this time something he could wholeheartedly approve of. The only thing he did not like was the name-how does one pronounce "Picatinny rail" correctly? But apart from that-what an idea. Thunderers always modified their arms to suit their personal preferences and tactical needs. And here the Germans had come up with something that allowed mods on the fly which could be redone in mere minutes. Marvelous.
Currently he discussed options with the armorer he had been referred to, a human of maybe 50 years that sported a decent-sized paunch and obviously knew what he was doing in more ways than one.
"So you`ll help me to mount 3 additional rails to my Bessie?"
"So you`ll help to a cask of Bugmann`s-yes. But for the disposable flame throwers I need a filled out requisition form signed by your commanding officer."
"I am commanding the 121st Thunderers manling."
"So, fine, fill out the form-here it is."
"That is 4 pages."
"So?"
"What does that cost?"
"Ah-that. Now, I have a couple of guys who would like a rune on their rifles or bayonets in case they run into something magical, can you help with that?"
"That is worth more than filling in some papers."
"For the right kind of person I might find a 40 mm grenade launcher that would clip under your Bessie. I`d even fill out the forms…"
"Deal"
Skavenbight, 25. Markttag, Brew Time
Uwe Meins had learned already that firing a machine gun practically vertically down is not that easy and had wedged the Bipod of his MG3 behind a convenient ledge. While he was doing his best to keep the bucking weapon under control he had grazed the big hose that went past him into the warren below. By now it should no longer matter, but even the chemical whiff he received by now set his hair on end.
The bullets he sent down were catching a number of Skaven who tried frantically to scramble upwards on a set of ladders. There were plenty of bodies on the floor to show that this was not a good idea but that did not keep the Rats from trying, no doubt motivated by the same smell that disturbed the Paratrooper Sergeant.
He was about to change belts when a hand dropped on his shoulder. "Out out out" which sent Uwe running down the badly maintained corridor towards the main passageway where he passed the rest of his platoon. He flattened himself against the next sturdy-looking wall just before he was hit by a push followed by a deep rumbling from below. The mouth of the corridor he had just cleared was briefly filled by fire followed by a lot of smoke.
His Platoon together with some engineers had just successfully tested the newest way to clear of the Skaven warrens-fill it with Propane and ignite when the mixture is right. When he reentered the warren later they found it to have worked quite well with having killed nearly all Skaven and as a Bonus many of the traps the Rats liked so much had been triggered by the shockwave.
As long as the Germans were assaulting downwards and the tanks could be brought this should work just fine.
Dragon Gate, Ulthuan, 27. Bezahltag
The room was a testament to elven aesthetics and craftsmanship. The medium sized rooms had proportions that seemed to be just right, the windows gave exactly the light needed at the right time and lend a small gleam of additional colors. The furniture was slender, gracefully curved and looked like it had grown into the shape needed which might even be true. Still everything was artfully understated in sparse pastel colors in a sea of white and off-white so not to distract from the business conducted in this room.
Ernst Hartmann`s BDU, his Laptop, Beamer and assorted equipment clashed badly with these elegant surroundings, something that several of his listeners reflected in barely susceptible way.
"Gentlemen, I have been asked to present the KSK`s findings so far. First off we received the results of the chemical analysis of the soil samples collected from the site of your recent battle. They indicate that the explosive used was dynamite, an explosive often used for demolitions in Germany. It is several times more potent than Black Powder."
"So you Germans sold this to the Druchii"
"Korhal, we have yet to determine the source of this explosive, but I can assure you that the German government has not sold anything to the Druchii and we have not given export licenses to anybody to do so. Actually there is no direct trade with the Druchii at all. Yet Germany uses several thousand tons of this stuff every year and keeping track of every kilogram is difficult. On top of that Dynamite can be made by everybody with access to standard chemicals and the right chemistry book."
"So you cannot even control your books?"
The German officer and the Asur looked at each other with incomprehension for five eternal seconds before Hartmann gained an understanding.
"At the very moment there must be hundreds of thousands of chemistry books in Germany and the information is available on Computers connected to the Great Net."
"Impossible, even you Germans are not that rich"
"Korhal, such a book costs the equivalent of a good meal in a restaurant, not its weight in Silver or Gold"
"What? And even if it were so why do you distribute such knowledge so freely?"
"Because in a technological civilization a basic level of knowledge is necessary for everybody and even for an advanced level there have to be many experts."
"But this is dangerous?"
"The alternatives are worse."
"So you say."
"Yes, I do. But there is more. We have both observed the Dark Elves from the walls and have made numerous overflights with our drone. Here you can see the pictures we made of the overflights. While the Druchii are here in strength we cannot find any evidence of modern arms or other devices."
Hartmann played the video several times and did not offer any other comment as the Asur were too busy memorizing what they saw. This was possibly the best intel on their enemy they had gotten in a long time. While the German was officially neutral his sympathies were easy to place and a bit of quid-pro-quo never hurt.
"I do believe that the best chance to learn more would be with the Druchii more close to the Bay of Drusilla. Did you have a chance to consider by request?"
"We have contacted Alith Anar, but he presently sees no reason to conduct non-combatants through Naggarythe. Some of the places you would have to cross are holy anyway and humans would not be allowed anyway."
"In this case we have to continue our mission from here."
"For whatever worth that has, yes."
Neustadt, Naggaroth, same day
"Urmel for Jim Knopf..."
"Jim Knopf hears."
For ten minutes, the two men connected by the scrambled wireless talked about the events on two continents and the general situation, then the routine of the regular talks changed.
"Jim, one question: How often or can you meet one of their leaders or a Drachau at all?"
"It can be done. Why?"
"We are transfered to this world forever. There might be a minority who still hopes for a return ticket to Earth, but that is a pipe dream. So we have to make the best of it and this means Germany needs options. Options for special cases. Tell them there is the possibility of trade, more or less official for a start. We will send an envoy, who better will be returned in pristine condition. I am sure their greed will them make interested."
"Urmel, you know you are a Hurensohn? These Elves are sadistic assholes with a capital A."
"Yes, I know, but Germany needs options. Nations might sometimes have friends, but mostly they still have just interests. - By the way, how did you guess my second name? Until then. Urmel out."
Several thousand kilometer away from Naggaroth Ottokar Proktor turned of his wireless, happy that part of his daywork was now rolling on.
German Field Camp- Sorcerers training section, Blighted Marches, 2 Days earlier
"Open your soul to the Winds, Günter, see it with your being..."
Günter Koch let reality mostly fade away and saw the world through his "Windsight". The colourful Winds of Magic blowing over the world, the swirling undercurrents of pure Chaos energy and the energies of life and death alighting creation. Just seeing it could entrance people with the sight for hours, not doing anything, just letting creation fill the senses.
"You can do much by just forming life and death, as you already did when you had to defend yourself from the dirty Skaven attack, but you can so much more if you weave in the Winds."
"Isn´t that called Dhar, Master, I mean Manfred?"
"Yes and no. I know that most imperial Mages, luckily not all, have swallowed the lies of the Elves. Teclis was a canny guy back then. Forming, using 'Dhar' is nothing but an admittedly cruder form of the so-called High Magic of the Elves. But they feed the other races lies that this is bad, dark magic. It is not. It is the only way for humans to work High Magic, but the Elves are jealous and arrogant by nature.
The Elves are extremly longlived and spent many millenia just fine-tuning their art, so an Elf weaving a spell naturally looks graceful. Humanity, even many Vampires or other Gifted simply lack a tens of millenia old lore to draw on and many live just a fraction of the years an Elf does. So it is just normal that their attempts at High Magic look less refined.
The Elves bathed themselves in their supposed superiority when it became known that other races could only handle one wind or less potent mixtures safely. At least until they found out that there is a small, but still comparatively numerous pool of humans and other races who have the talent and/or the longevity to reach, maybe even surpass the talent of most Elves. 'Mammals' wielding the power of the Elves? Unthinkable - So the Elves looked for something to frighten the other races with. And 'Dhar', black magic was born. It did not help the other races that many practitioners of 'Dark magic' did so for decidedly selfish reasons and the Elven propaganda took hold.
Do not misunderstand me, so-called Dark Magic is not easy to wield. In one thing the Elves were right. Even if providence gifted you the talent and body able to channel this great might, in can be dangerous. But it is not only Tzeentch´s curse, the biggest obstacle you face and you will face it often, is the taste of power. Understanding your gift and resisting the lure of a power-trip upon understanding, is the key. Many, maybe most stumble here."
Close to Skavenbight, 27. Bezahltag Brew Time
General Wolf looked suspiciously at the metal boxes in front of him. They were closed and only the yellow triangular symbol on them warned of their contents. There were a lot of these containers and until about 30 minutes ago they had been stored in small groups well separated from each other. Bad things were said to happen when too much of this was stored in one place for too long. He was standing before the biggest mass of warpstone any human had seen in a very long time. The boxes contained the warpstone removed from those parts of Skavenbight that the allies already held. It was time to do something about it.
He turned to the woman to his right. It was easy to look into her eyes despite her ample breasts as she was his size and her clothing did not hide her strong physique. She also put out airs that forbid such liberties immediately.
"High Matriarch, I think all is in readiness. You may start at you convenience."
"Thank you General. Kindly step back then."
Wolf walked back behind a low wall and watched the Matriarch and her helpers paint symbols around the cases, light candles and assemble for a choir. He was unable to make out words but it was obvious that the sisters were invoking something powerful and frightening. Something seemed to pull at realities fabric and the clouded sky above him showed movements for which the gusty winds he could feel offered no explanation.
The beam of orange light that came in from above took his breath away as much for the surprise as for its beauty and impressive size. It was gone so fast that he saw it mostly as an afterimage and its passing was announced by a rumbling thunder. When he searched for the containers he found nothing but some blackened ground.
He got his explanations during the lunch he had arranged for the Sisters of Sigmar.
"My order has been very active in Mordheim all these centuries ago when the Great Comet had deposited so much Warpstone there. All sorts of lowlife then tried to gather this damned substance for earthly gains or nefarious purposes while my Sisters wanted to remove it from the world. We had stored much of it in our vaults and found how dangerous it was at great cost.
The chronicles say that our Sisters prayed and fasted long and in the end they were granted a vision which gave us the gift that you just saw. Our heartfelt prayers open a portal to the warp for the briefest of time and everything we have duly consecrated will be taken by the will of Sigmar"
"Very useful and a great sign of your devotion for sure."
"Thank you General."
"I guarantee you that the German government would be most grateful if you could repeat this feat in a place called Gorleben High Matriarch."
"Is that so Oberst Grube?"
(for the non-German readers. Gorleben is the place where Germany stores its high-risk nuclear wastes)
Skavenbight, 29. Angertag, Brew Time
"They are at North 20, Gutter Runners and Clanrats-get going." Kargan Ironbeard heaved himself from his prone position and went to the front of his mixed platoon of Germans and Dawi. The dwarven sense of orientation belowground beat the humans equivalent by miles and if they needed to be somewhere fast it was better he lead.
Instinct told him to double-time it as there were comrades under fire. Unfortunately his mind insisted that this was not too clever. He could of course be faster-the next corridors were all as safe as they would get in Skavenbight-but then his warriors would arrive on the verge of a heatstroke if they would not pass out from oxygen deprivation first. The German suits and masks were making it possible to take the battle to the Thagoraki at all, but they were not making it easy. His breathing sounded unnaturally loud in his mask, and together with the rubber smell and the heat gave him an eternal feeling of suffocation. His faceplate started to fog in from the sides, despite the chemicals he had smeared on them that made his eyes sting. Sweat ran down inside his suit and made the many irritated patches of skin left by wearing the suit far too long burn. Shuffling forward at hardly better than a fast walk they reached a cavern where a few Bundeswehr regulars traded space for time.
The cavern was lit by chemical flares and muzzle flashes which highlighted black furry creatures that ran towards the Germans who killed as many as they could before retreated another few meters. Kargan was wondering why they had to do so at all when a couple of greenish lightings emerged from the mass of Skaven and hit one of the soldiers who dropped with nasty burns on his legs.
"Thunderers-to the left" made his platoon take their places. By now the Germans in the ad-hoc group reacted to it as well and he certainly did not mind having them.
"Fire" unleashed a torrent of bullets. The masks made aiming difficult but the close confines and the many Skaven resulted in a lot of hits anyway. The green lightning came back, missing mostly but scarring the armor of Snorri. Still the many Rats covered the source but Kargan had an antidote. Lifting his rifle a bit he pulled the second trigger that was before Bessie`s magazine. The recoil was hardly noticeable and the darkness swallowed the projectile that left the tube under the shotguns barrel. What was quite definitively not hidden was the impact on the caverns low ceiling. Burst by an impact fuse the weapon distributed a load of burning red phosphorous, burning at terrible heat. The Skaven under it did not die immediately as and probably regretted that immensely. The cask of Bugmanns had been well spent.
The Rat`s assault immediately devolved into a panicked furball that was shot at by far too many rifles.
Kargan kept a weary watch over their remains and the far entrance into the cave while the humans performed first aid, something they were a lot better in than his Dawi. He had about gotten his breath back and had managed to draw some water through the masks port when the relief came. The medics accompanying them checked the tabs worn on the outside of their suits.
"You are in here too long-get out ASAP."
"I have no orders for that."
"You will have in five minutes."
And wonder of all wonders-so he got them. Which just meant that he had to march for what felt like miles-even slower than before-and felt their exhaustion, the small pains and the utter weariness even worse than before now that the rush of combat was gone. He led his platoon towards the box-like vehicles the Germans called MTW or sometimes M113 and which drove him towards the far-off surface. He started to peel his protective suit off as soon as he was in the protected interior only to find that the suits liner had dissolved again and had colored his skin as black as coal. Oh well.
