250 Meters AGL, Bay of Druislla, Naggaroth, same time
Hartmut Klawiter was still busy, but not as bad as before and had actually gotten used to riding on a bleeding Dragon as an observer. Things had gotten better with the last shipment they had received from Germany. He now had a very well made bad-weather motorcycle overall, a helmet with intercom that connected to his 70 cm wireless set and a helmet for his Dragon Rider that allowed for better communications. So he was still riding a murderous beast that would rather eat him than carry him at the mercy of a Druchii Dragon Rider who from time to time described in loving detail what she would like to do with him if she were allowed against an enemy he did not even know. But at least he was reasonably warm and dry doing it and had gotten over his occasional vertigo by now.
"Flyboy to base-Convoy has reached entrance to bay, nothing else to be seen."
"Base to flyboy-very well. Be advised that base is fogging in and is unlikely to clear up anytime soon. Sorry, but you have to take the alternate site."
"Flyboy to base, acknowledged and fuck you very much"
Wonderful-he got to spend another night at the Railhead inside Naggarythe, being the only human among an untold number of psychotic torturers.
"Yerena-Base called and said that they have too much fog for us to land, we have to go to the alternate site."
"Ah, too bad, I wanted to take that boytoy back from Jusilf, he must have cheated anyway. Well, tomorrow evening then. I have gotten these new paingloves, I really want to try them out. Ah well, just you, me and lots of time…."
"I am still not interested thanks…"
This was going to be a long evening and night.
Naggarythe, Ulthuan, same time
The small cave was damp in the autumn evening but for many reasons nobody would light a fire. Even the white unnaturally bright light produced by the German`s lamps was only possible as there were two sets of blankets between this part and the well-concealed entrance.
Currently both the camouflage clad Germans and the blue-grey clad Shadow Warriors looked at the pictures given by a small "Tablet" held up by Ernst Hermann.
"These are the pictures we took from the last flight of the "Luna" drone using infrared and low-light TV. As you can see there are no signs that the Druchii use modern weapons or mercenaries with German equipment. But there are a couple of developments that you should be aware of. First off here you can see newly constructed Dragon Pens, but we do not see any more Dragons-yet. I would not be too surprised to see more Dragons coming in soon. The same goes for this here: Here you see more latrines being dug and some more space cleared. The Darkies are expecting reinforcements."
"I hear you Ernst Hermann. This is not the kind of news we want to hear but the kind we need to have. I do not believe that you could sell us this "Luna"?"
Cales was quite happy that Herleas, the Shadow Master was taking the Germans so well. Their orders of "recognizance for German involvement, but no combat we cannot avoid" did not go down so well, but given that he had seen the pile of dead Druchii they had caused at the Dragon Gate he had taken great care to hide his disdain. That the Germans were actually able to move through Naggarythe covertly had been an added Bonus and now they kept their promise to share all intelligence gained.
"I am sorry Herleas, we cannot sell this to you as it was obviously broken during the last trip together with the ground station and the solar charger. We will leave the remains with you as they are too hard to carry back."
Both humans and Asur moved their faces in something like a smile would it have contained any humor. Ernst Hermann had indeed seen a lot through that drone-quite too much in fact. The drone would probably not last long with the Shadow Warriors, but as long as it lasted it would confer them with an advantage that they dearly needed.
"What about the trip to these "rails" that you undertook with my Asur?"
"A very mixed message there. First off they are simply pieces of seasoned wood on the top of which a strip of iron has been nailed. They are connected by cross-ties made from more wood and everything about them says "hasty emergency construction". You might see similar tracks with the Dawi who use them in their mines or probably the Skaven, but I am no expert there. Us Germans have not produced such Rails for 150 years or so and the Empire never did. All of that does not prove or disprove that German mercenaries aid the Darkies I am afraid. But there is one thing."
"What?"
"The rails measure 1435 mm across-exactly like German rails do. This is a very strange and makes me wonder."
"Uh, that is not much to go on, right?"
"Unfortunately no. But we will be around for a couple of more days and see what can be found."
The Wireless set attached to the German`s webbing used that moment to beep.
"Sorry Herleas, one second please."
"Base, this is Spot-I have something that you should see."
"Spot, this is base-how urgent."
"Base, just send a runner, you can see yourself."
"Herleas, could you please send a runner to the OP?"
"Consider it done."
Roughly an hour later the same people watched a small video made by their resident marksman Dirk Zimmermann. Together with a Shadow Warrior he occupied a small Observation Post overlooking the Druchii railhead. The Video showed a huge, black Dragon setting down in the middle of a field close to the railhead. That was nothing special in this new world.
The very obviously German-clad human that climbed down from the Dragon`s back was indeed special. The photo of his face would be in Germany in days.
Skavenblight, 21. Festtag, Kaldezeit
Lord Nurglich had a look at the delicacy in front of him. Ever since a few days these pieces of cheese were appearing all along the front where the Skaven and the allies clashed, often left behind by scouting or raiding parties. After the first unfortunate incidents a standing order insisted that all such finds had to be brought to Clan Pestilens for safekeeping. The best of these morsels were reserved for him obviously, and the newest one did certainly not disappoint. The taste would have been nice, but various illnesses had removed his taste buds and some of his smell. The indigents on the other hand were a marvel to behold. There were trace elements of heavy metals, one of which he had never encountered before. If he were to let it settle in his bone marrow it would give him a lovely cancer there for sure. Then there was an anti-coagulant that would cause a normal Skaven to bleed out of every orifice within days of ingestion. There was a bacteria down there that would have him develop pustules and high fever-that sounded lovely. Maybe he would allow it to work for a while. And that arsenic left a nice aftertaste. Who knew that the Germans had such an appreciation of Nurgle`s gifts? He was looking forward to what morsels the next days would bring.
Skavenblight, 22. Markttag
The Plague Monks were mad, quite literally mad. They had not been too stable ever but these days they were totally rabid. It had been an unspoken truth as it would give their clan too much recognition, but together with secrecy their gifts were the best defense Skavenblight had. Any normal army that would have invaded their domain would have been in the clutches of ravaging diseases before long. By their masks, their suits and whatever arcane rituals they seemed largely immune to whatever the Plague Monks had to offer for the fight. That they had to provide their protective gear for any Skaven who fought the Germans did not help in any way, but this was the only way to fight them at all. Otherwise the Poison Wind the Germans used would make any fight impossible, clogging noses, making eyes tear till blindness and breathing difficult.
Everybody in Gleepk`s company kept as much distance to them as they were really mouth-foaming crazy. Wielding poisoned daggers, clutching the near-useless globes to themselves like beloved offspring and psyching themselves up to the point where it was not clear whether they were able to differentiate between friend and foe. Still they managed to protect some of their even more enraged members in their midst.
In the dark of the cave they were in the muted squeals, groans and shuffling made for a frightening background, even when the proximity of so many Skaven was reassuring. And finally the sparks and glow from the far end of the cave signaled that things were getting started. Clutching the shaft of his halberd even tighter Gleepk waited for the go.
When the roar of "go go go" sounded and all the training Gleepk had received made his legs move towards danger as fast as they could. Still, this was not so fast as the opening that had been cut by the Warp Grinder was not so very big. Before he cleared that bottleneck he could already hear explosions, rapid shooting and exited squeals. The air rapidly filled with the white fog of the German Poison Wind and one of his eyes promptly started to burn and water. His breathing went more laborious too-but he found quickly that was just nerves.
When he finally was into the open he found himself in a wide tunnel. He did not see any enemy but the Skaven to his right tumbled into him, bleeding from several wounds, another just dropped. Scambling to the side as fast as he could Gleepk tried to spot the source of the shots but only saw a milling mass of diseased fur-the Plague Monks tried their best. Gleepk could not see which way the battle went, he just heard shouting and more explosions.
Everything seemed to stop for a second when a hissing sound drowned out everything and flame covered one the Skaven closest to the Germans.
Screaming warriors ran forward and back others tried to distance themselves and all the while the horrible shooting went on and on. Gleepk actually saw the smoldering pack fused by the flame to a dying Plague Monk by the hellish fire. He managed to drop behind one of the countless corpses before the world ended.
When he came to he had simply no memory what had happened. He was surrounded by smoldering dead and whimpering wounded. He started crawling away as fast as he could without thinking about where to-just away. He bonked into something he had not seen and found to his horror a human arm grabbing for him. Only a second look revealed the burned skin and the feeble flails of the nearly dead soldier. The tunnel behind him had collapsed from something that Gleepk thought he should remember and several dead or injured Germans were half-buried in the rubble.
Looking around Gleepk found an extremely sharp knife that a Plague Monk would no longer need. When the only survivor of this assault brought back news of a stopped German attack and the heads of five soldiers Gleepk the driver was dead and Gleepk the hero was born.
Skavenbight, the deep level
The huge workshop was lit by green light and occasional white sparks. Some of the walls and many of the workbenches were littered with half-finished projects or outright failures. In other more accessible places finished products were exposed. One of the first Ratling guns and parts of a warpcannon displayed the pride of Irklit Rodsnap, master Warlock Engineer and Inventor. Many of his so-called equals would call him slightly unbalanced, which was of course wrong. He was totally of the scale crazy in most things. His hygiene habits were bad, even for a Skaven. Once he had put a needle between his eye and the bone for an experiment and his warpstone consumption was considered excessive even by other Warlocks. Most damning-he shared information with others-how crazy was that?
Currently he was enraged and exhilarated by a challenge at the same time. He was to copy one of the German's weapons that had been captured by some assassins. He was not to use it as inspiration, not to improve on it-simply copy it, and be quick about it. The pressure for fast work and no failures had been high enough to bypass even the warpstone-fueled self-confidence. It seemed like the battle far above his head was not going well. Nobody would say as much of course, but the lack of loot and slaves was telling. Now the council hoped that the weapon before him would turn the tide. It was said to penetrate more than an inch of iron armor plate with ease, said to shoot more than 6 times a second, said to be easily transportable by a small team and most alarmingly never to explode or fail. Especially the latter made Irklit think he was hearing tall tales. The very best Ratling gun he could build failed roughly once per six salvos. Much more seemed unrealistic, but he would see what he would see.
Currently the beast was mounted on the bench in front of him, aiming down a tunnel that at the end had a couple of iron plates mounted at an angle so that ricochets would not harm the shooter. It was a heavy weapon of more than 30 kilogram and had an adapter for some pintle mount. On top were some runes-he had to make sure to copy them as precisely as possible. Whatever "Heckler&Koch M2 0,50 Caliber" meant. To the right side of the gun a chain with what seemed to be the ammunition. That alone was genius-the chain links were simple metal things with the rounds as pins and surely they would simply disintegrate when the rounds were used. Some experimentation showed him that he could lift a lid on top of the weapon which revealed a lot of the inner workings. At first glance this was not so complicated-a pawl there would withdraw a round from the chain, then put it into the barrel. These curves there would make the belt move with these claws. The handle he pulled backwards travelled more than he had expected and moved the inner parts less than its way-some sort of firing mechanism and the lock that kept the barrel locked to the bolt carrier did not reveal itself yet, but that it would do once he had dismantled this weapon. Interesting, it was so simple for a device of such power. He was sure to have it copied in the time allowed. But now for a real test. Closing the lid he looked for the weapons trigger and found an arrangement which looked like a butterfly with handles on each side . Well, here went nothing. When he depressed the trigger the weapon roared in the small confines and nearly ripped free of the vises that help it. The iron plates downrange were penetrated instead of bouncing the rounds. By the Horned Rat-this was a powerful device.
It took him a while for his helpers to make him a tool that would slot into the screws at the end of the weapon. He did not trust any of these imbeciles to dismantle the beast themselves. The screws moved with little effort but for the last one. He was looking at the screw when it finally made its last turn and was beaten senseless by the parts which were ejected violently from the weapon when the back plate gave.
Skavenblight, Camp 200, 26. Bezahltag, Kaldezeit
The cave that had been assigned to the Armored Infantry platoon had mostly natural walls, a few partitions of olive tarpaulin, a smell of something rotten that never went totally away and a mixture of German and Skaven furniture.
Joakim Vos was typing the report about their latest engagement into his Laptop while he had an eye out for his squad. Most were reading or taking a nap. Felix Jaeger had donned parts of his armor and practiced swapping magazines on his Mauser. Everybody did that at times, the bullpup layout of the rifle and the added clumsiness of the armor conspired to make this something you needed to drill a long time for. Jokim mused that Jaeger was actually doing very well while Gotrek still had an unfortunate tendency to get into the platoons firing lines. But Jesus could he take down the biggies in a rush when necessary and he was the go-to guy for the first to storm a room.
He was about top key in the ammo expenditure when there was some commotion at the entrance and a small group of Dawi and Humans entered the cave. Their leader approached Joakim right away.
"Are you Sergeant Joakim Vos?"
"Lieutenant Vos these days, and you might be?"
"Sergeant Kargan Ironbeard, well met Serg-Lieutenant. Ha-hard to recognize anybody with these bleeding masks, let alone your strange helmets."
"I heard of it. What can I do for you?"
"Well me and my squad just wanted to say thanks for pulling our asses from that ambush."
"Ah, that. Kargan, I think you did quite well for yourself there, but you are very welcome anyway."
"Let no one say that the Thunderers do not repay their debts. Your rifles have the standard bayonet mounts, do they."
"Yes, they do."
"Well, then you might want to have this."
Unwrapping an oil cloth the Dawi exposed nearly twenty blades, all with the dull sheen of well-made steel polished to prevent cracking and the runes that seemed to waver slightly like a sun-heated road.
"This is a rune of fire, and if you stick it into an enemy it will burn him right and proper. No more regenerating for these Skaven beasties that is for sure. And some arseholes can only be beaten with magic weapons, well, here you have them."
"Wow, just wow. I do not know how we can repay you."
"Don`t fash yourself. But of you`d have any more of these single-use flamethrowers…"
"I think something can be arranged there."
Skavenblight, 100 meters up, same time
The two soldiers clutched their UZI submachine guns and both looked into the corners of the room they could see from their respective side of the door. A third threw a grenade through the door which was followed by another one from a fourth. The muted bangs of the grenades mixed with the "gogogo" and made the soldiers vault through the door and spray the room with a short burst each. One turned in time, the other found an enemy just in front of him who punched his chest with a stick hard enough to hurt. The next burst by a soldier who came through the door made him hold up his arms for a while, then blow a whistle.
When the Miraglinese company had assembled Uwe Meins had to speak through Prince Cosimo as only a fraction of the men spoke Reiksspiel and the few words of Tilean the Paratrooper had learned were not suited to sum up the exercise.
"All in not bad people, but for a few problems we should be able to get out in time. First off the obvious-when you enter a room, you check the bleeding corners. The next guy who stabs you won`t do that with a broomstick, capisce?"
"Si Sergeante"
"Ok, next-you need to turn your heads more. When you are full of fight your peripheral vision-uh your ability to look to the sides-goes down. The masks do not help at all. So if you do not turn you heads and look around you will be killed by what you did not see. Do you get me?"
"Si Sergeante."
The postmortem continued for a while before Meins could sit down with Prince Cosimo for a glass of chilled Vinegar.
"Udo, my friend, I have to thank you again for your training. Now the men can do so much more, even if it is hard."
"Don`t thank me Cosimo. I have given you and your men an opportunity to get themselves killed. As long as you guarded the supply lines-which is a vital duty, mind you-your men were more or less safe. If command deems you fit for assault duties you can be as good as you want, you will take casualties, massive ones."
"Yes, I know. But we will die killing a great lot of Rats and that's what counts."
"You do not do your duty by dying for Miragliano Prince. You do it by making the Rats die for Skavenblight."
"Ha-good idea. But Uwe-I understand what you say and my mind says you are right. But my heart says that we have to fight the Skaven, fight them as hard as we can until they give or we are no longer. You have not been in Miragliano when the Skaven came for us, and I just arrived in time for the last assaults when we marched back because the warning your ambassador gave us. I cannot describe to you what we found when we entered the city after the final battle. But whatever happens to me that sight will never leave nor will my hatred for the Rats."
"I understand Cosimo. But in all that hate never forget that the Company is greater than our wishes and the mission is greater than both."
"Ah-the mission. Mission-type tactics, I had never thought about such a thing."
"Small surprise. Your warrants have shown the men their places to a centimeter and your common tactics do not allow anybody to deviate from the plan. But have you seen any free open fields lately where your general can see everybody and issue orders on the fly?"
"Not really."
"And that is the lesson: Tell the people at the smelly end of the stick what you want them to do, not how. If they cannot hack that get new people."
"That is a hard lesson to take."
"Yes, do it anyway-and that I tell you as your friend."
"To friendship then and absent friends"
Berlin, 28. Angertag, Kaldezeit
The only illumination if the office was a small desk lamp and the glow of the monitor. The lighting did not favor the face of the older woman that sat in front of the computer and highlighted both every crow`s feet and the somewhat heavy jowls. Never a particularly lovely face it was now drained of all emotions and seemed to be set in stone. The video had some sound but she had turned that off, it was not necessary. She had watched the small film three times now and that was enough-more than enough.
Taking up her phone she had contact nearly immediately.
"Thomas, this is Angela. I need to know what is happening in that hellhole they call Skavenblight."
"That is good to hear. Thomas, if the Council does not want to negotiate or cheat us, we cannot leave this place and the job is not done. If needs be we should think about something drastic."
"Yes, I have seen the bloody video and yes it influences my decision making-as it should. Just make sure we have a Plan B-and if needs be a Plan C-and whatever happens, this kind of thing needs to stop, forever."
"Thomas, I knew I could rely on you, please present the options in the Cabinet meeting tomorrow if possible."
Angela Merkel prided herself on her calm, rational decision making. Given what she had just seen in the video from the Skaven slavepens what she had just set in motion was a rational decision.
Skavenblight, the deep levels, same time
By now Rodsnap was able to eat solid food again and it was not the first time that he had lost a tooth. He was now looking at the ammunition of the weapon before him and if anything it was even simpler than the weapon itself.
Just three parts and they contained everything to shoot the bullet and even provide the force that operated the weapon. Clever, very clever. The brass casing contained a grainy substance that burned very well, very quickly and surprisingly cleanly. That was probably why the warriors stated that the human weapons rarely emitted smoke. Well, he would try to get some other Warlock engineer to analyze this, chemistry was not his strong suit. There was a small cap at the end of the casing, and he already found that it would explode when struck the right way. If they could not copy both he would just substitute with Black Powder or simply with warp ammunition. Maybe if he put a little warpstone inside and some water and had the firing pin mix the two-that could work.
The bullet on top was also strange. It was very much pointed, the other end shaped like a boat-and why the hell had they gone and brass-plated this thing. Well, humans liked pretty baubles, didn`t they? So he would go with simple lead, that would save time.
He looked at the gun again. He had disassembled and assembled it several times now and was very sure he knew how it worked. The assassins had provided him with more ammunition, around 50 rounds. He would fire of some more rounds-he could see if the vises would hold it now-besides it was fun.
Getting behind it he gripped the handles with both paws before pressing on the butterfly trigger briefly and the heavy machine gun fired for about 3 rounds before it exploded, throwing its barrel downrange. The assassins had failed to provide the timing and headspace gauges for the gun and Rodsnap would not have known what to do with it anyway.
Troop transport "Khaine`s Will" Sea close to Naggarond, Naggaroth 32. Markttag
The Winds that blew down the bay were cold and laden with humidity. They cut through most clothing as if it were no really there and chilled everybody to the bone. The high cliffs to each side did not show snow yet but the air tasted of it already.
The human in the greatcoat who stood by the Quarterdecks rails did not see much of it and was glad to leave the little he saw back. Wolfgang Böhler was not sure what this new campaign would bring but anything had to be better than Neustadt at present.
Things had been interesting for a while-not only building up a regiment up from scratch, but also seeing industry and infrastructure grow from humble beginnings into a promise of a good thing. And while he hated the slave-keeping habits of Naggaroth at least the ones kept by the Germans were treated far better. But now things went sour and with a vengeance. He had never been enthused when Jasla was brought into the Black Company, but she had done her part and that was enough for the former sniper.
Yet these days the witch was extending an influence through parts of the Mercenaries that was corrosive to say the least. She was using her charms mostly on the egghead commando`s, the engineers and chemists of the company . All of them had been a little special before, but now they reveled in things that made Böhler`s stomach turn. He was no stranger to violence and was reveling in his specialized kind, but the senseless torture and killing done by these was beyond the pale. And it was bad for business too. The last month for the very first time he had to send out troops to catch escaped slaves, something unheard off ever since the Black Company was in business.
Well, now he was going for a Campaign and thinking about anything but that was different-actually he was looking forward to it. The Druchii and Humans in the 4 ships that made up the little convoy made up the enlarged 1st Auxillia and a German heavy weapons platoon handpicked by Wolfgang. He had even managed to pry Bruchmüller from his cannon and leave him to his …tastes.
For better or worse the Black Company was going to Ulthuan and their name would never been forgotten.
Camp 200, Skavenblight 2. Königstag, Ulrichszeit
Major Ulrich Werner hopped off the Unimor Truck that had driven him down here and searched for the entrance he had been given directions for. There was indeed a side-branch that was used quite a lot and he went there just to find himself looking down the barrel of an assault rifle.
"Name and purpose."
"Major Ulrich Werner for Oberst Stein, I am announced."
The Major impatiently waited while a soldier was waiving him down with a warpstone detector and another one was not pointing a gun at him by about 2 cm.
"You will be picked up in a few minutes."
"I`ll make my own way, I want to look around anyway."
"Yes, Sir. First door on the left, then through the hall and then to the left."
"Thanks Corporal."
Walking down the corridor the Major found another entrance quite different from the official one he had just passed. The sign "Non Gratum Anus Rodentum" resolved themselves into a „Not worth a Rat`s ass" in his classically-schooled brain and would have gotten a smile but for the other door decoration. A row of what had to be Skaven skulls had been arranged in a neat row above the entrance. Bad, bad, that had to go immediately.
Straightening his back he went through and it was like stepping into a different world. That this would be a cave was clear-this was called Camp 200 for a reason. The décor was not so special as well-mostly folding cots and tables with some collapsible lockers thrown in. Lighting was provided by a lot of LED lamps as well as petroleum lights here and there. What was catching his attention were the men-and Dawi that populated the cavern. These were the Cave Raiders, a unit of renown that had won fame with the Battle under Middenheim and the storming of the Shaman`s Cave during the Storm of Chaos. That they had expended like mad was not a real surprise, these soldiers were the "Experten" the heavy hammer command used when they met something hard underground. A mixed unit of Germans, Imperials and Dawi from the start it had absorbed marital traditions from all three.
He had not expected people to stand at attention at his entrance, but besides some looks he got he was hardly noticed. He watched soldiers lying on their bunks reading or snoring away the hours, he saw small groups at various games which took cards or dice. A smaller branch of the cave held a small congregation of Sigmar followers who listened to their priest-and Ulrich could see more than one German in that group. Others were taking care of equipment or practicing…something.
All of them had the haggard faces of beings that did not sleep enough, ate when there was time and and seen and done things they had rather not.
"Can I do something for you Sir?"
Caught by surprise the officer turned on his heel to face a huge Sergeant that saluted him. A dress inspection of this warrant would not go well, but his gear seemed in meticulous order, even if some of the things in his webbing were certainly not Bundeswehr issue.
The Sergeant saluted like he had not done that in a while-probably true, given that it was forbidden in the front lines so not to point out the officers to the enemy. Answering the salute Werner needed a second. "Major Ulrich Werner for Oberst Stein, I am expected."
"Then you took the wrong way, the Office is down that corridor to the left."
"Ah, yes I will do that. Sergeant..Meins, I have noticed a number of Skulls above the door-they have to go, immediately. They give a wrong impression."
"With all due respect Sir, that is not a good idea."
It was as if the air around Ulrich chanced temperature and consistency all of a very sudden. And while the officer had not spoken loudly he had all the attention he had been missing minutes before and then some. Unfortunately it was the attention usually given to something that is about to get into the pot and has not realized that yet. It might also be the kind of attention given to people who kick the family dog for barking.
The body language of humans and Dawi was close enough that Ulrich realized the scope of his mistake. He had screwed the pooch in a den of killers. Stone cold killers, hopefully disciplined killers but mainly of beings who`s daily business was breaking things and smashing people. And they looked very capable of what they were doing.
He was looking for a way out when an "Attention" at sound level to rival a gunshot brought everybody to immediate attention. Turning he found himself face to face with Oberst Stein.
"Are you Major Werner"
"Yes Sir."
"Then come with me and leave the men their rest."
"Yes Sir."
A couple of minutes later the two officers found themselves in a small office of tarp walls and ugly dented furniture.
"So Major, what brings you here?"
"I am with the PR staff Sir and have orders to arrange for a press visit to your unit. After the reports about the Slave Pens we really need something positive to send and the Cave Raiders are the best bet-or so I thought until five minutes ago."
"So you did not like what you saw Major."
"Well, ..no. I know that these men are under heavy pressure, but does that really justify what I have seen. I thought we would bring the light to the barbarians, but it seems we become them ourselves. Jesus, they keep Skulls above the door, pry to Sigmar and I am not sure what would have happened if you would not have shown up."
"The men would have brought you here one way or another. They kill Skaven, not humans. So you did not like what you see and talk about pressure? I tell you what-you do not know pressure till you have been here. These rooms are reasonably safe-we did not have a single assault for the last three days. But whenever you step out of the doors and get closer to the front-such as it is-your life is in danger, every bloody minute of it. The Rats can come out of some niche some tunnel-from everywhere. They love to poison their weapons, they use flamethrowers that leave just ashes if they get you, they are in love with their Jezzails which demand amputation in nearly all cases that do not kill you outright. When they are not there their lovely traps remain and of you have cleared them nearly everything in these rooms wants to kill you with warpstone till they have cleared that out. Cleared that in a manner which still gives a lot of my men the creeps. Of course you can have all that fun in a one-man condom and a mask which will leave you breathless and sweating if you so much as climb some stairs. And all of that is before we have a mission to fulfill-then it gets double ugly.
Major, in the last three months this unit had losses exceeding 30%, of which more than 10% are simply dead. No matter how clever I plan and how well we execute the mission-we always have losses. "You have to go out, you do not have to come back-that is what they say." For whatever reason there are still enough volunteers, even if I`ll never know why. The survivors, the men you just met and you do not like are the ones who adapted to this environment. They are good at what they do and nobody likes it, least of all themselves. And of that means they use modified bayonets or munitions-let them. If they prefer listening to a priest who tells them that it is good what they do, that they do a blessed job and who can actually take some of the pain and fear away-let them. And if they collect the skull of every kind of Skaven-Let them. But pray we can straighten them out when we put them into "civilized society" again, because anything else would be a tragedy."
"Sir, I understand. No I do now really understand but I hear what you are saying. Just-what can we do, I have my orders to arrange something."
"If I take make some of them clear up their act sufficiently for your dog-and-pony-show it gets off to their spare time, the rest they need. So do you have anything to offer?"
"Um, well I am not sure if this would be appreciated. But you do know that "Unheilig", "Eisbrecher" and "Grungier`s Slammers" are giving a concert for the troops at Miragliano airport? I might get some backstage passes if you think the men would be interested."
"Oh, now that is certainly a deal."
Skavenblight, 22. Markttag, Kaldezeit
For the first time ever Günter Koch was glad that "his" special Wind was Necromancy. Unlike Helga Meier with her nightmares, he had only one such sleep. Günter too had seen the horrors of the breeding and Slave pits and barely reached a place to throw up without having to wear a mask. Like so many soldiers fighting here, be it German, Imperial, Dwarf or Tilean the pictures, sounds and smells had burned themselves deep into the brains. After a nearly sleepless night, he only got the rest of exhaustion, Günter Koch had talked with Graf von Carstein about the memories.
There were few colleges or schools of Magic which could heal massive psychic scars. Some "Lesser Magic" and specialist spells or rituals existed and the Necromantic Ways had several too. Since there was no time for a full thing, the war did not stop, Günter with help and guidiance of Manfred von Carstein could at least cast a quick and dirty remedy for himself. He put the emotions coupled with that special memories to rest. Günter could now recall the events in the pits with full clarity, but no emotions to torment him. His normal emotional expressions were unaffected, just that special set of recall. While there were more complete and refined solutions, that had to wait for after the War against the Skaven.
Günter talked with several officers, who were certainly worried with the psychic morale of the soldiers, about the magical solutions. Within hours, requests for more Light, Heaven, Life and Death Order sorcerers and German psychologists for the etappe had been written. Equally Germans in magical training who showed talent for healing should come to the camps above ground for learning purposes.
Günter´s engagement for saving the sanity of his fellow soldiers had a nice side-effect for him. His comrades warmed up to him a bit. Being one of two guys able to command the creepy skeleton formations was not good for your social standing and Günter had been hurt by that. Intellectual he knew why the people around him reacted so, but it did not make it better. "Upstanding Necromancers" were practically unheard of, but Günter was convicted to try at least for himself to regain reputation.
