Dragon Gate, Ulthuan, 32. Brunntag, Brew Time

Ernst Hartmann walked through the mud between the walls of the Asurian fortifications with a mixed bag of emotions. He was not unhappy to leave soon, as this post managed to be dangerous and boring at the same time and being looked as a barbarian barely acceptable in polite society rankled after a while. On the other hand there was a feeling of failure. He was pretty sure that something was wrong about the Druchii assaults but could not put his hand on it. Given that the Asur had forbidden any recon into the territory held by the Dark Elves there was no point in staying longer. Well too bad about it, but another look from the walls could not hurt.
He made the way to the wall together with the ever-present Cales, Sergeant Blascoviks and his sniper Zimmermann. Their medic was already packing his stuff. Normally he would "loose" a lot of his supplies to the locals but as they were pretty sure the German equipment would be dumped as soon as they were off everything went back this time.

The small party stopped at the tower that guarded the way to the last walls. Cales was already inside to obtain approval for their move to the first wall when the world turned on its head. He could never say if the explosions made him stumble or if well-honed reflexes had put him on the ground. He and his small group were protected from the flying debris by the tower in front of them. Yet none of this could explain the screaming. All Asur he could see were writhing on the floor in cramps and their faces were testament to the immense pain they experienced.

The only thing that the German felt was a hot spot on his chest where the Dragon scale he had earned during the Battle of Middenheim rested. The other screams came from the Druchii who scaled the walls that were no longer defended and happily butchered everybody they could find.
That finally got some sense into Hartmann`s head. "Into the tower, quickly. Blas-defend the door. Dirk-get to the top floor and do your thing."
Pulling Cales writhing body behind him Hartmann closed the sturdy door and placed everything that weighted something against it. By that time he could hear the first shots from above and it did not take very long till the first thumps could be heard at the door. He immediately sent some rounds through it, but if that would help long time he did not know. Best to prepare for a breech.
The sniper on top of the tower did not waste time to regret the absence of his "real" sniper rifle or an observer. His Mauser rifle and its scope were perfectly serviceable for the job at hand and he had such a target-rich environment that an observer was superfluous. That both of this meant that he was unlikely to survive did hardly register as he had a job to do and a lifetime opportunity to do it.

He came from a school that regarded 90% hits on a human sized target at 500 meters with this rifle as "barely acceptable" and he had a host of them in less than 300. He could not and would not count the many Druchii that scaled the wall in front of him and ran past his tower. Instead he acquired a target that came above the parapet, took center of mass and fired, about once every other second. The scope, while nowhere near as good as the one on his M-82 lend a terrible intimacy to the kills. It reduced the apparent distance to the Druchii to a dozen meters or so and revealed the grimacing faces, the wide-open eyes, the well-made gear and the grisly wounds his hits caused.
He could not care less.

Cales was not unconscious, he was just unable to fight or walk or do anything but barely breathe for the cramps and the pains that wracked his body. How the Druchii had gotten that spell through the defenses was beyond him, that he would die for it certainty. He barely saw and felt that the German officer pulled him through up the stairs to the first floor. There he was placed in an uncomfortable side position that allowed him to see.
The Germans both fired at unseen targets in the ground floor again and again. Crossbow bolts flew up but could not penetrate the soldier`s armor. Twice the soldiers passed some boxes like the ones that hung under their rifles upwards where the last member of their party supposedly was. For Cales he was detectable only by the sounds of his shooting that came with metronomic regularity.
He knew things were over when the Germans placed a grenade close to each of them and Hartmann started to use his sword for lack of ammo. As the Sword Master had predicted he was unable to penetrate the Druchii armor but managed to keep them at bay long enough for his Sergeant to shoot them. Finally a well-placed spear bent the sword into uselessness before the owner died – and then nothing happened. Nobody tried to make his way upwards anymore and the Germans seemed to relax a bit. But most importantly of all-the pains and cramps relaxed. He could move again, albeit with all the speed and strength of a four-year-old.
He had reached Hartmann when the sniper came down the stairs. "The Darkies go back over the wall, there is a counterattack from the Gate."
"So?"
"No ammo left."
"Ah"

Several hours later Ernst Hartmann shared a steam bath with Cales, which was a first. "So these rifles are what makes you Germans so dangerous, yes?"
"No, not really"
"How can you say so. We have not counted them exactly yet, but your sniper has killed what-300 Druchii? This is something we will remember for a very long time."
"Yes, Dirk had a good day today, that is for sure. But first off-even the best rifle does not shoot itself and Dirk is pretty special in that regard. Only a well-trained soldier with such a rifle is dangerous. And they are practically our least weapons?"
"What would be more dangerous than that?"
"The real killer of the army is the artillery-they can kill anything on the ground within 30 kilometers where they stand, if needs be even more. The tanks can withstand practically any assault you can throw at them and we have yet to find anything mobile on land they cannot kill. Even we footsloggers can do better-a machine gun fires the same round than the rifle you admire so much-but 1200 per minute. The grenade launchers can drop up to 400 grenades 2 kilometers away in the same time-that is firepower. I have used this against the Chaos army-believe me that works. But all of that is not what makes us dangerous to our enemies."
"What is it then?"
"If you ask Mauser in Oberndorf nicely these days they can make 1000 of these rifles in 24 hours-that is what makes us dangerous."
"Khaine wept."
"Yes, he will."

Karak Eight Peaks, 2. Bezahltag, Kaldezeit

Dwarves live a very long time by human reckoning and it was obvious that King Belegar had already lived most of the time allotted to the Dawi. Yet his face and voice gave testimony that these were not the only forces in play reducing his once-imposing figure, forming the many crags in his face and whitening the beard. The voice spoke of an jaundiced mind, of a King that had seen too much fighting, too much dying and too many losses of his people and who barely could muster the force to go on. Yet he did, as duty made him.
Currently his white beard was moved by a stiff breeze and his eyes made to squint by the clear light of a sunny fall day on the roof of his fortress. He refused to look impressed by the craft that had brought the visitors or by the goods they unpacked from the platform that had lowered itself from the German "Zeppelin".

"So Herr Proktor, you guarantee me that there will be no payment asked for, no assistance required and no favors asked."
"No my King, we will not."
"Even you Germans are not touched enough just to give such things away."
"No we are not. The only requirement we have is that you use these weapons fighting the Skaven or the Goblins and do not sell them or gift them to others."
"Then why dive them to us at all?"
"Because you fight the Skaven, as do we. Anything that hurts the Rats is good-and you will hurt them with this, I am sure."
"I hear things about your weapons but have to see for myself."
"And you will. Now let`s see what we have for you. According to this there are 600 Assault rifles, 100 machine guns, well, see for yourself. Please sign here."

Wang Chan, Southlands, Autumn 2522

The third "Arrival Day" was coming closer and the lone Thai town was preparing a feast, with a laughing and a crying eye. Laughing because despite all the chaotic events of the last 3 years they were still living and standing. And crying because they lost their homeworld, not knowing where they came out. Unlike Germany Wang Chan hadn´t had the tools to find out where they were stranded. The little city had few things Warhammer at all and the descriptions of the Southlands in there were not distinct enough to make comparisons. In fact, the Warhammer world was just one of several options the Thais contemplated.
Except for that non-knowledge, life in Wang Chan went on, if differently than before. Using improvisation and experimentation, the people of Wang Chan had built an "industry quarter". Often crude, but servicable workshops helped preserving and even slowly (re-)developing some basic tech frem Earth. The four local tribes which had allied and later fused with Wang Chan, were worth their weight in gold. Their shamans had saved the town several times against magical or chaos attacks. Several citizens of Wang Chan were now apprentices of the shamans to build up own magic-users. The tribes were very knowledgable on the (for the Earthers) mysterical fauna and flora. Food was plentiful and fertile soil easy to find, if one remmebered the teachings of the Natives.
Wang Chan lived a basic, but good life, mostly that is. The fruits of their labour had been hard-earned. Skirmishes with other local and regional tribes were a regular occurance. Luckily firearms were not used in this piece of world, so Wang Chan had a trump. Most frightening was Chaos and it´s assorted lackeys. The town had paid a bloody price the first time Chaos showed it´s head and some further encounters were close calls.

The two biggest concerns of the city council, now the de facto Government of Thailand-"in-exile" were the Dark Elves und the observed ship convoys. Up to now, Wang Chan had been able to evade a meeting with the cruel Elves. The "demon Longears" as most local tribes called them, were one of the few real threats beside Chaosspawn.
By the standards of this world, the Dark Elves were a major faction, their slave hunters feared. "Naggaroth" was able to overrun the small city they all called home with sheer numbers. For a time, the Elves had nearly vanished from the sea around Wang Chan, but now they had returned with greater numbers of ships and more regular, a development nobody in Wang Chan saw positive. Wang Chan could fight off small bands of the Elves, hard-won area knowledge and the small tech advantage would see to that, but a real fleet would be too much for the Thai city, even if the allied tribes helped.
This horror scenario was the reason that the city council had finally reached an agreement to cautiously try to contact the people they believed to be maybe Germans. As far as radio or the wireless went, there was nothing in the air except the local radio station and the weak transmitter had no great range. The wireless was equally empty, with no satellites or transmitter chains here that reach was equally limited.
There was the rumour that the convoys sailing by every 2 months had wireless traffic, but the small town had no even halfway expert on signal tansmission, so nobody knew for sure.
But since the next ship convoy should pass Wang Chan within days, unlike most other convoys they were always on time, with a 9 : 8 majority the city council decided to send a strictly volunteer motor boat to make a first contact roughly 60 sea miles from Wang Chan away.
That it would bring change was clear for the council, just how much, nobody had envisioned.

Dragon Gate, Ulthuan 2. Bezahltag, Kaldezeit

The same meeting room held roughly the same people again, and again the Germans contrasted badly against the tasteful surroundings and elegant Asur. Yet the mood was quite different which was obvious to both parties without a spoken word about it.
Cales watched the proceedings with well-hidden amusement. It seemed that his fellow Elves had finally come to the same conclusion he had arrived at some time ago. The Germans were not strange barbarians-they were strange, tough and dangerous barbarians that had their uses. Currently Korhal was having a look at the Dragon scale usually worn by Hartmann.

"Yes, this is definitively magically active, even if in a very different way that we practice it. Dragons are known to be quite resistant to magic, seems like the scale confers some of that to its wearer. This is also why you were not affected by the Druchii spell-it was designed to go through our defenses, not this crude approximation of magic. Where did you obtain it?"
"I took it of a Wyrm that me and my men killed last year."
"How did you manage that? Are your rifles that powerful?"
"No they are not. It was a teamwork between us and a troop of Reiksguard knights. We took three Dragons that day, two with a heavy machine gun and one with a rocket. We lost two knights and had some wounded."
"That would make for an interesting tale for another day. Yet, in the light of your surprising fighting prowess the Shadow Kind has decided to take you to the Bay of Drusilla for a recognizance. He only asks that you share all results."
"That is most agreeable."
"You will see if there is truth in that when you enter the Shadow Lands-they inhospitable to everyone but the Shadow Warriors, and even they hate them."

Skavenbight, 4. Angertag

Gleepk fingers were twitching around the rim of his bowl, he salivated uncontrollably and swayed a little. Nothing unusual for a Skaven in the clutches of the hunger. His species burned energy like no tomorrow which made them fast and strong for their body size. But if they could not eat in time the hunger debilitated them to the point of madness and quick death.
Ever since the surface and its fields of Black Corn were lost to the never-sufficiently-cursed humans everybody was on rations. Which was all fine and dandy if you were not undergoing basic training which burned even more calories-and of course no allowance for that was given. Gleepk fought the impulse to push the Skaven ahead of him in the queue aside with increasing desperation till he went in front of the pot. The helpers dropped a heavy load of gruel into his bowl which even held some chunks which might be meat. Another dropped a slice of mushroom into it and off he went. The cavern they were in was huge, used for training and had numerous branches. He scrambled into one of them to eat the barely edible but vital food.
His spoon had nearly reached his mouth when a rough kick from behind nearly made him spill it. When he turned and started to hiss he found himself snout to snout with three burly Skaven holding clubs.

"Didn`t you forget something maggot maggot"
"NNNo no superior oen one, I did not see you you."
"Then you see us now now. Give, give, or do you like the pain pain"
"Yes, yes I give. No pain please please."
One of the bullies spooned off nearly half of the food that Gleepk needed so badly into a pot he carried.
"Not so much please please."
"Fuck you maggot, we leave you more than you deserve deserve. Never forget us again."
"Yes, yes."
Gleepk watched the receding group with a mixture of elation and nervousness. They were part of a group that had been drafted en block, having worked in the loading docks before. Being the biggest subgroup inside the training group and no strangers to violence they had quickly established their position. Which, of course, meant that they ate well while everybody else was too weak to do something about it. In principle the former driver could admire that if he were not so hungry. He dropped the half-empty bowl and tore into the mushroom to stop his stomach from killing him.

Forcing himself to wait for an eternal 15 minutes he carefully made his way for the nook in the wall favored by the bullies. When he came closer his nose already told the story so he was not surprised when he turned the last corner and found the Skaven who had just confronted him cramping on the floor and squealing in great pain.
He stepped back and waved his paw about, which made others step forward, bringing an assortment of clubs with them.
"Remember, no broken bones, bones. If they cannot make muster tomorrow there will be trouble trouble."
None of these words slowed him or his co-conspirators down. All bullies were mercilessly beaten as they could not possibly fight back. Gleepk was laying into the Skaven that had just browbeaten him. "Stupid idiot idiot. Only brains for loading but no brain to think think. You should have waited for me to eat first bite bite. Now you all eat black mushroom mushroom and will shit yourself. Do not do this again again or it will be worse worse."

All the while he was beating his club on the insides of the Skavens tights. That hurt like hell and would hurt even more tomorrow during training but would not incapacitate. Some movement in his periphery caught his eye and made him swivel around before he froze in fear. Their instructor and leader stood there and watched the beating commence. Utterly unmoved by the violence he seemed to smirk when Gleepk and the conspirators ceased and presented their throats in supplication. He watched for what seemed an eternity and then simply nodded and went his way.
Unnecessary to say that the beating got even harder than before.

Camp Hemmingen, close to Skavenbight, 6. Sigmarstag, Kaldezeit

Heinrik Gerber found his favorite seat in the Command tent again. By now the "Tilea Corps" had lost the feeling of an ad-hoc group and acquired the cohesion of a team that fought hard together. Which of course made each loss harder for all concerned, that could hardly be helped.
General Wolf had the podium as ever-the delegation of such tasks to staff had not caught up with the Imperial yet-and went through his briefing.
"Gentlemen, I hope you have not become too attached to this Camp as we will break it tomorrow. We received news that enough space was cleared underground that we can set up a camp closer to the front. For this we all have to thank Major Gerber. I know that many of you found his idea crazy and the execution distasteful to say the least. But it allows us to have this fight at all and we did not lose countless soldiers in removing the warpstone. Gentlemen, we are in this fight to win and we will do as we must, not as we like. Am I understood."
"Yes Sir"

"Fine then. Situation first: We have by now cleared the surface of Skavenblight from all Rats and could cut down on infiltrations to a minimum. We have killed any major group of Skaven up to the 250-meter line and are closing down all major avenues for incursions. We will probably never get all passageways but the Skaven are reduced to platoon-sized attacks, these we can handle.
With this line we have gotten as deep into Skavenblight as we can as long as we were forced to get all soldiers out there after 12 hours or so. Currently the engineers are establishing new quarters at the 200 meter line, free of Warpstone and with filtered air. This will allow us to resume the offensive on next Angertag.
While we would all like to finish this quickly we will have to undertake at least two more offensives like this till we are at our primary targets. Our next target is a series of caves and warrens at the 400 meter-line where we thing the Rats have major breeding pits and manufactories. Destroying or capturing them will seriously hurt the rats.

We know from recon drones that the Skaven are fortifying the passageways downwards and dig new tunnels to outflank us. The Tilean Corps will advance down the 2 major passageways-here and here, reducing the fortifications as we go. As the new fortifications seem formidable we have been attached the Wolfpack, an engineering company and two Gepard tanks from the Bundeswehr.
We will resupply from Camp 200, it will be supplied by the Bundeswehr as well. Oberst Grube will give out the orders for the individual units. Oberst, your turn."
Ok, so the General had learned a little delegation after all.

Skavenblight, 12. Angertag, Kaldezeit

Ulrich Stoiber was fidgeting in his seat. Tankers do not like to stand still in open sight and that was exactly what he was forced to do. The Passageway he and his Wolfpack were tasked to take was spiraling downwards and a gentle angle that allowed the anemic Skaven carts to negotiate the incline. That meant that he could see roughly 200 meters or so forward, then the tunnel dropped out of sight. He did not like what he saw much. To the left and right of the road there were countless windows in the walls that led to whatever rooms the Skaven had established there. All of them were potential parts for using Jezzails and Ratling guns, drop bombs or attack the allies in other ways. The road itself was blocked by many deeply rooted steel bars and pyramidal blocks of stone and concrete. His tanks could definitively not cross that. Behind these obstacles were several emplacements that used to have even more ratling guns, warpstone flame throwers and Warpcannons. These weapons he respected-while they would not penetrate his frontal armor they could rip off the remote weapons stations, tracks or overload the electronics.

As recon had shown these before he had used the smoke dispensers before driving beyond the last curve. The Skaven were forced to fire blindly while his thermal sight allowed him and his fellow tankers to eliminate the bunkers one by one. They were mostly still there, but the HESH rounds they had used had emptied their insides-or so it seemed as they no longer fired. He had advances his tank and No. 2 against the antitank obstacles with a Gepard close behind. Together they provided overwatch to the engineers that started to remove the obstacles. At first there was a lot of fire coming from the Windows from both sides. He had fired into some as had the no two tank while the Gepard took care of the higher elevations their main guns could not reach. By now infantry was in the warrens on both sides of the passageway to clear them and a "Badger" engineering tank started to remove the obstacles. As he was inside the turret he only heard a deep grumbling that he could not place at all. The monitor in front of him showed the case-the warrens on both sides started to slide into the passageway, burying the obstacles, the engineering tank and cutting off the infantry in the warrens that were not demolished. Fuck, he had seen Jezzail fire from one of the Warrens when it started to slide- the Rats were killing their own to isolate the advance infantry.

Uwe Meins was just getting his breath back when the ground started to move under him. There was no time for giving orders, no time for thinking-just running. He pushed all soldiers he could see in the direction he thought safe and ran as fast as he could. The walls and the floor developed cracks and went down, he was barely able to stay ahead of it. The darkness came in from the periphery of his vision and swallowed everything.

Kargan Ironbeard swore like only an experienced Dawi could, describing the failures of the manling plan and the perfidy of the Thagoraki in explicate detail including several educated guesses about their ancestors. None of which kept him to take control of his squad and several Germans that had been separated from their unit. Taking cover had been what-right another new thing for the Thunderers who could not have loaded their old weapons lying down. Yet they had learned and learned fast in a school where the price for succeeding was continued respiration. A pile of rubble looked a good spot and Kargan herded everybody inside.
Some of the Germans got their wireless going enough to get some data through and told the Dawi that both passageways were blocked. They would remain so for a while for tanks but infantry should be able to get through soon. Kargan was willing to sit tight till that happened when the roar filled the cavern. What the fuck.
Pulling the hated NVG to his eyes the green low-resolution picture allowed him to look farther than his Dawi vision in the darkness. It revealed moving shapes, far too many of them. And too big ones, in shapes that should not belong to living things.

"Rat Ogres and Rats to the front-fire"
He ripped the NVG down as several illumination rounds went out in the first salvo and put everything into an extremely harsh white light that flickered madly. It revealed a mass of Skaven that rushed his position from the depth of the passageway as well as coming from various openings in the side. The light was absorbed by a mass of dark fur, dirty wood and rusty arms and reflected by teeth and claws. At the same time the middle of that road was taken by a different threat. Being far too big for the small corridors and tunnels of the Warren a group of Rat Ogres were led to the battle by their tamers. In the back something rode a huge beast which could only be a brood mother. The bright light mercilessly detailed the many faces that tried to push through the skin of this particular abomination.
Against this the small group that had taken cover in the rubble seemed pitiful but they far without teeth. Two machine guns fired long salvos that tore into the mass of Rats at short distance. Short bursts from the Battle Rifles and the single boom from the Dwarven shotguns seemed to do little in comparison but added to the amount of flying metal. The Clanrats went down like ninepins, the Ogres were more difficult. Kargan had fired off his first magazine and changed to one from a different pouch. The recoil of his weapon was ferocious already with normal ammo, yet now even the sturdy Dawi found the kick nasty. Instead of a mass of balls nearly 20 mm projectiles made from sintered metal went downrange, punching through the thick skin of the Ogres with ease and shredding internal organs. Yet the Ogres were used to incredible pain and injury and some would say were simply too stupid to die.

By now the enemy had approached to less than a hundred meters and closed fast. Several grenades arched from the defenders and crashed into the approaching mass. The opened circles full of bloody fur and entails, which were closed by even more Skaven in seconds. Kargan shot the last round from his magazine before pulling the second trigger. The disposable flamethrower ejected the mass of burning phosphorus into the center of the Skaven line, hitting most of the Ogres.
The burning particles could not kill the mindless giants, not so fast, but they took out the last tamer. Enraged by a pain they did not understand and that nearly overwhelmed even these jaded nervous systems they flailed against anything near them. Tearing into the Skaven who of course tried to fend them off they did what Kargan and his compatriots could not do by themselves-stop the Rat`s assault for a few precious moments. Moments in which the machine guns tore into the blocked mass, moments in which more grenades shredded legs and opened belly's and where more accurate shots eliminated leaders.
The figure on the Brood mother could be seen turning his mount when too many shots came too near and thus opened the way for a headlong retreat by the Skaven. There were no cheers-air was too dear und the masks. Instead everybody checked his pouches for spare magazines and rounds-nearly none could be had.

Uwe Meins came to in a world of hurt. His legs hurts, his head seemed to be assaulted by a hammer and when he moved his head he had to concentrate not to vomit into his mask. The world outside of said mask consisted of shots, stroboscopic light and madness in equal parts. He found himself still inside the warren, but at the warren close to the passageway. When his mind cleared sufficiently he saw two of his men firing a machine gun at something outside their window. At other opening soldiers were pouring fire into unseen enemies while an explosion from further down the corridor he was in probably was about somebody sealing of avenues of approach.
He cringed when a hand hook his shoulder. "Hey Sarge are you with us again? How many fingers are here?"
"One.. What happened?"
"You ran a little fast, pushed us too hard and did not get enough air I recon. When you dropped you head hit the ground less than well and.."

The sound that cut the loquacious medic off was like a roar, but of nothing the two Germans had ever heard. A head that seemed to be as big as a men wormed its way through the window and bit down on the machine gunner. While the loader scrambled away as fast as he could both the medic and Meins had time to fire on the beast that had struck in the opening when he refused to relinquish his grip on the unlucky soldier. A single three-round bursts would not have been enough to kill the beast but several of them managed to find what little brain the brute had and shut him down for good.
The Sergeant, the medic and another soldier labored to get the corpse off the machine gun they needed so urgently when the reinforcements finally arrived. Their sight stopped the three men for a moment. Even in this new world they had not expected this.

From the side of the rubble that blocked the passageway and a corridor in the warren better than a hundred humans emerged. They did wear the ubiquous masks but only their normal uniforms. This was possible when one not exposed too long and actually the norm in the levels above this battle. But these were not the mottles camouflage of Germans or Imperials but the gaudy orange and red striped uniforms of the Miraglinese City Guard. These guys should be guarding the supply lines, not fight here. But here they were, polished boots, ostrich-plumed hats and stiff collars and all. A picture that belonged to a different field-as did their tactics. Forming quickly into two lines, one kneeling and one standing the line were meticulously dressed by Sergeants with their spontons.
They lifted the late-model K98 rifles and fought the only way they knew-in full sight of the enemy, with no cover and firing in well-timed salvos. It was an incredible sight and their fire was actually quite efficient-more than a 100 rifles firing 10 rounds per minute means somebody had to get hurt. Yet it was also madness.
The Skaven had enough Jezzails and mages to make this a costly tactic. One by one the Miraglinese guards fell-and every time the ranks were closed and the firing went on.
Uwe and the Paratroopers had never placed much stock in these soldiers, their lack of training was compounded by every misplaced prejudice about Italian soldiers and they would have never ever expected them to put on such a brave stand. And still-here they were not taking a single step back.

Prince Cosimo was elated-he was actually leading his men into combat, and not guarding some "Main Supply Line". This was where he wanted to be-taking the fight to the hated Skaven who so very nearly had destroyed his beloved hometown. Two hours ago his men had stood guard over another gaggle of trucks when the call for reinforcements had gone out. He had not exactly asked for confirmation when he just went along and his men found the right set of tunnels when others missed them. So here he was, killing those who had tried to harm his city.
He was amazed how much killing could be done with the new rifles his men had received. Instead of the 3 shots per minute they had managed with their crossbows they now got out 10 easily-and the rounds were far more lethal than the crossbows too.
That the enemy was able to kill some of his man-that was war wasn´t it. Screaming encouragement, waving his sword and having a look whether his men kept formation he was the picture of what an Tilean officer should be-until the lightning struck.
The Skaven had gotten ever nearer to his men and it seemed that somewhere in the mass of Rats was a sorcerer. A bunch of green lightnings emerged from the mass and went into the center of his line. A half dozen soldiers went down screaming and with smoking uniforms-too many to close the gap easily. He could never have been prouder when the rest his men never faltered and never missed a shot, not even when the second set of green bolts killed even more. He looked for the sorcerer when something else caught his eye.

One of the biggest humans he had ever seen stepped from a doorway not 10 meters from the Skaven mass, holding a machine gun as others would hold a rifle. When he opened fire at such a short distance the effects on the Rats were horrible-some of the Skaven were literally ripped apart in the middle while others just dropped without ever getting up. All along the side more and more German leaned out of windows and doors to gain a better angle and ripped into the Skaven flank like ammo was going out of style.
The Skaven held for an eternal moment-and then trampled each other in their haste to escape certain death.
15 minutes later the giant with the machine gun saluted him. "Sergeant Uwe Meins at your service, Sir."
Presenting his hat with a flourish and actually bowing down like he would for nobility the Price was stil carried by the wave of adrenaline that was slowly fading.
"Prince Caesare Luigi de Cosimo at your service sergeant. I am happy we could be of assistance."
"Prince, this was easily the most courageous thing I ever saw and I thank you for the rescue. But allow me to say you really should adopt more modern tactics."
"So far nobody got around to teach us"
"That has just changed my Prince."