Berlin, Bundeskanzleramt, same time
This briefing was held by a staffer of the BND and its contents were greeted by the listeners with groans. The Federal security Council comprised the German Chancellor and 8 ministers and they did not like what they heard.
Not because of a new existential threat to Germany or one of the allies, but because of the potential embarrassment it would bring.
"From the reports of the BND, and at least partially confirmed by aerial recon, a group of about 130 Germans have taken to Naggaroth and are working there both as mercenaries as well as establishing the beginnings of modern industry. This is going on for at least 15 months, maybe longer.
From what we know so far they have aided the Dark Elves against several Chaos incursions and have provided a limited number of Druchii with firearms roughly equivalent to those issued in the 1870`s on Earth. This picture was taken by a Kondor a week ago and shows an industrial settlement that seems to employ Bessemer converters, a technology definitively unknown to the Dark Elves before we arrived.
As of lately they seem to have intervened in the Druchii invasion into Ulthuan."
The briefing went on for a while after that, a short break by the briefer was used by Angela Merkel to take up the reigns.
"A question if I may?"
"Yes Ma'am Chancellor"
"How could this group remain undetected for so long?"
"They left Germany shortly before the Storm of Chaos which bound our capabilities to a large extend. Many members of this group seem to have employed cover stories and legends that made a lengthy absence unremarkable so most of them are not reported missing. And because there are no official or other relations to Naggaroth they had an easy time hiding there. This is a big world with very slow communications"
"Still, we have to look for such groups more closely. We do not need to build up our enemies and it would be unacceptable to have statelets run as a dictatorship by Germans-that will not do."
"Yes Ma'am"
"Now is the question on what to do about this? Thomas, what options are there?"
"We know of this affair as the Asurian ambassador approached us about a possible German involvement some time ago. We had to take the time to verify this and we can confirm that Germans cooperate with the Dark Elves in Ulthuan. If we ignore this they could enable the Druchii to achieve major victories, something not in the interest of Germany.
Yet it will be very hard to intervene in Ulthuan and even worse in Naggaroth as most of our forces are bound in Skavenblight. Also I do not think that the citizens are ready for yet another war."
"I am pretty sure I am not ready for another war Thomas. Yet we cannot let that stand-it would send a bad signal to the Asur and would also encourage copycats in Germany. So what can we do?"
"Currently the Seeadler Group is working up in the Sea of Claws-that gives us some options. I suggest that…..
Nagarythe, Ulthuan, 10. Vorhexen, early morning
The landscape of Ulthuan was rolling under Tyrion`s feet, the forests and fields preparing for the onslaught of winter. The Landscape had become more and more "natural" and less shaped by Asurian hands the more he neared Nagarythe. The Griffon under him moved sinuously with great strength and grace, far more than one would expect of a beast made up from such disparate parts. The sun had been up for an hour illuminated scattered clouds in a breathtaking way.
None of this made any impact into the Prince`s mind. He was far too occupied with what he had seen and learned the last days. He had heard before that the Germans commanded mighty weapons, he had known that they had successfully raided Hag Graef and defeated a major invasion of Chaos.
He had also known that some Germans were helping the Druchii in some way. All of that had not really registered until the day before yesterday. Damn Osirion, how could that idiot in his arrogance not have advanced all the info he had been given. Granted-his job description contained filtering the chaff of sea story from the wheat of real information, but here he had thrown away to much truth.
Maybe he had not liked the implication that another race were more powerful than Asur but whatever the reason his omissions might cost Asure badly. The video he had seen had made a lot of what he heard before click together in new and unfortunate ways and had given him anew appreciation of the situation he did not much like.
There was no telling how many Germans aided the Dark Elves, what weapons they had and what they had given the Druchii, but whatever it was it was potentially devastating. He had been out of contact with Moravel for a week now and feared that the Caledon noble might run into something he could not handle-together with the flower of Asurs armed forces.
For about the 10th time since he had started today`s flight Tyrion had to stop himself from pushing the Griffon he was riding to greater speeds, the magnificent animal was going as fast as possible anyway and still for the Elven Prince he seemed to stand still.
Nagarythe, Ulthuan, 10. Vorhexen, same time
Wolfgang Böhler watched the grassland gently dropped downwards from his position through his binoculars. Beyond the wetly gleaming vegetation a vast army arranged itself into orderly rows. Cavalry was forming blocks, spearelfs were marching forward shielding large units of bowelfs. He had to watch the enemy shake itself out as they were forming out of range for most of his weapons and he needed to reserve his long range hitters for priority targets. Which was why he was here-and his new mage.
Hellebane was a riddle clad in a mystery, having shown up only days after Jasla had gone AWOL and offered her services. That she was capable was without a doubt, what made her seek employment with the Black Company was a matter of much discussion. She had indicated that reporting her whereabouts to the Witch King was possible without problems, but apart from that it would be best not to publicize her employment too broadly. The current consensus in the Company was that she had fallen victim of her Convents internal policies. Sending her to Ulthuan with Wolfgang seemed to be the best bet to keep her around and nobody wanted to be without the services of a mage when going into combat.
Where Jasla had been a cold beauty Hellebane looked like she was older than dirt with skin that barely covered the bones, more wrinkles than one could count and wispy grey hair. She also managed to outmarch even the seasoned troopers of the Auxilia.
"Do you think we had enough misery last night or do you need more rain in these temperatures?"
"No Specialist Hellebane, that was fine. Any more and the trenches would flood and that will not do. But I did not call you to talk about the weather, I need to know where the Elven mages are."
"So you expect me to battle the decadent wenches that call themselves elves all by my lonesome?"
"No, I expect you to stop anything the Asur get through. We are going to make sure that not to many of them will try."
"That I have got to see."
"If you do not point them out soon you will not do that indeed"
"Yes Yes. You might want to try the far side of that hill over there and in that hollow."
"Thanks, that is what I needed to hear. Karsten, call Major Richter and tell him to fire upon Hill 422 and the ground in front of Hill 451. Then call Mr. Klawitter and tell him that now would be an excellent time and yesterday would be better. Manfred, call the unit commanders and tell them to be ready-I am pretty sure we have visitors soon and would hate to disappoint."
Behind the series of hills occupied by the Black Company small wheels were turned on bipods, small bubbles in sights were observed and when the laying was done 16-kilogram projectiles pushed into waiting barrels. Two 120 mm mortars fired at each target, yet the gunners could not see what they had wrought. Instead their commanders watched observers on the ridge-line who moved flags about. More turns on the wheels, more propellant disks added to the tail, more projectiles dropped, more flag waving-and then the order "Fire for effect"
Now the back-breaking part began for real.
Into the waiting mouths long projectiles with a tubular tail and find for stabilization were dropped. When they hit the bottom of the tubes a pin struck the small cap at the end and ignited it, followed by the propellant that was stored as disks around the projectiles tail. Propelled onwards at a leisurely 250 meters/second they reached out the 3 kilometers to the other side. As their acceleration was comparatively mild Torsten Breitkopp had gotten away with making them from a very brittle cast steel. At the end of their trip 3 kilogram of explosives in them reacted to the instant fuses and converted the projectiles into so many razors that traveled at the speed of sound. Each ripped through the Elven mages and their helpers like a scythe through grass-and each mortar threw 12 such shells per minute. The fire mission did not take long-just a little less than two minutes, but it did devastate the elven mages that had thought themselves secure when out of sight.
Wolfgang Böhler just saw the smoke emit from the places he had indicated. He did not have to ask Hellebane for any effects, the dry laughter he heard behind his back were confirmation enough and managed to raise even his hackles.
Still-there was no time go get sensitive about these things-the Cavalry attack went in without much preparation as he had hoped.
Moravel commanded what was in his mind the finest cavalry in the Warhammer World. The Elven horses were the apex of the equine kingdom and had about the same relationship with the horses used by the lesser races as a human might have to an ape. Far more intelligent, capable of deep empathy with their riders and moving with a grace that would make a human dancer weep with envy they were the finest mounts a warrior might wish for. They would traverse even the worst terrain with ease and exceptional speed while keeping their riders so stable that they could ride with no reigns and fight without having to concern themselves with such trivialities as keeping in the saddle or steering their mounts.
Their riders were likewise special beyond the recognition of lesser races. Thought to ride when they were barely able to walk often centuries ago, having mastered the lance, the sword and the flail to perfection they were the death of mere infantry and more than the equal of nearly anything else that moved on the battlefield. Their equipment was as good as wonderfully gifted artisans that had practiced their trade for many a human lifetime could make.
The Dragon Princes chosen weapon was the lance. Made from unbreakable starwood they had 15 feet hafts tipped by starmetal heads that were of razor sharpness and still pierce nearly any armor when propelled by many kilogram of Elf and horse at more than 30 kilometers and hour. Mere infantry had no chance against a well-executed charge by the Dragon princes and Moravel was about to prove this one more time.
He was up in righteous fury at the underhand attack at the mages and would have liked the Bowelfs to make some preparation at the Druchii, but this was no longer possible in his mind. Another look showed him that his Princes were where he wanted them. They were a heartwarming sight-white and blue tabbarts, gleaming armor and tasteful banners aloft. Holding his lance up for all to see he projected his command voice as best as he could under the circumstances.
"Princes of Caledor, you are all Asur. I am you leader. Attack!"
Horns were blow, oaths shouted and the Cavalry started its advance up the slope at the enemy who were so close and so few-they would learn the wrath of the true Elves.
His charge had just started when he learned just how sodden and slippery the ground in front of him was which slowed down even his vaunted elven horses. At the same time he started wondering what the blinking light were that started all along the Druchii lines.
Lurhel Blackwater was silently cursing his fate. This was nothing unusual-he had to do it silently anyway as Druchii would see such a habit as a weakness which was not a survival trait. And he did it more than usual for a Dark Elf as he had been beset by a string of misfortunes that could only be the work of a jealous god. He always had a taste for the ladies and asking for permission was for the lesser races. Unfortunately he had chosen the wrong wrench more than once and their relatives had made joining the Auxilia seem like a clever move. He had tried to continue his ways there only to receive a memorable beating from his chosen target and being nearly thrown to the wolves. It was just that Wolfgang Böhler had looked for volunteers for a special project that had saved him. At first this had just entailed pulling an ammo cart wherever the army went and working like a slave of a low race. Ruthless drill had taken most of the desire from him and ruthless applications of the whip had made sure that he fulfilled those that were left on slavegirls. When he showed that he could make the three other unfortunates that had a similar situation work as a team he had been granted reprieve and they had received training for a new weapon that came out of the Neustadt Small Arms Factory.
And just when things were looking up he had to be assigned to Platoon Leader "Hardass" Areta Henbane and send to Ulthuan. Now this was a place where he could win glory while having fun at slaughtering decadent Elves. Yet his dreams of such fights had taken different forms that digging large and deep holes and wait inside them for frigid hour after frigid hour while winter rains lashed the dark landscape in front of him.
And when the whether finally cleared up and the combat was about to commence the biggest baddest Asurian army ever was just across the field and no tales of decadence could make him assume that the Auxilia could win on this day or envision his personal survival. Some days he really wondered which Gods he had pissed off and feared he might find out in a few hours.
The shrill whistle that got him out of his reverie was followed by the equally shrill voice of Areta
"Get ready you louts, prepare to fire."
"Yes Platoon Leader."
When Iliasses, his loader went to his station he made sure that his wallet was well covered. The Druchii had shown an uncanny talent as a pickpocket and his back was mute testimony of the work it had taken to wean him of that habit. Still he had his uses as had Brugles and Kerleas. Both were not so very clever and had failed to win any sponsor that could make good on their strengths until the Auxilia had swept them up. They had nearly flunked the marksman training and just their willingness and the ability to pull a heavy ammo cart nearly anywhere at any time had secured them their place in the Heavy Weapons Platoon. That they were able to work with the Hung ponies when most others were unable to do so and had learned their job as no 3&4 for his weapon had cemented their place.
And now they would learn if all that toil and sweat amounted to something or if they would die before the hour was over. Taking his position on the small saddle on the tail of his weapon he loosened the clamps that secured it and made sure that the blocks were set for his area of fire pushing a lever forward Illiasses pushed a plate in the recess made for it and he pushed the lever forward again. Rising his voice a little he reported.
"Gun no two ready to fire"
"Targets are cavalry in the open at 800 meters-wait-wait-FIRE"
Lurhel had made sure that the sights were to the correct bracket before aiming through them. The ring at his end made a ghostly rim around the speeding horses in his sight. When the command came he turned a crank to the left side of his gun as rapidly as possible and a "Braaat" sound could be heard from the 47 barrels grouped in the tube before him that were discharged in the time he needed to turn the crank. Ripping back on the lever Illiasses oh-so-fast fingers ripped the discharged plate that held the rounds out and replaced it in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Lurhel had learned not to watch it but to keep his targets in sight. Neither the reloading at the gun nor the passing of more ammo from the cart had any bearing on his task-shooting the enemy. This was a team, by chance and hard work and everybody would have to play their part.
"Up"
Again the crank turned and again the targets in his sight dropped, again then plate went in.
"Range now 600 meters-adjust your sights"
Fuck-fuck-fuck, how could he have forgotten. Seems that "Hardass" Bane had her place in the scheme of things after all.
Pulling the sights to their next dedent he continued to fire as fast as new ammo was put into his gun. And yet for every Elf he killed a new one filled his sights-and the rapidly shrinking distance made them look bigger and bigger.
Wolfgang Böhler had the itch again. He could see the Elven commander clearly. It would take just seconds to take his Mauser from its protective sheath and get that worthy from the saddle, easy as cake. It would damage Asurian morale for sure and then he could take some more of-no he could not. The Auxilia was his weapon these days, not the sniper rifle he loved so much.
He owed it to them to lead them as well as he could and not indulge in his personal penchants. And the little fact that he might wind up dead if he screwed up provided additional motivation.
He could see that his inspiration had worked, the rains he had ordered on the terrain before him slowed the Elves down markedly. Still the Asurian cavalry was far too fast for his liking. By now the Mitrailleuses he had brought with him to Ulthuan were all firing at a frightening clip and the German machine guns were taking care of the places where their work was not enough. More than 2000 rifles were fired downrange as well and wrought a terrible carnage on their attackers-but he really was not sure if this would be enough.
All depended on the small line held up by the row of posts in front of the Auxilia`s position which he could barely see in his Binox. If it were to hold things would liely work out. If not...it did not bear thinking about. And then the cavalry, while far fewer than just a few minutes ago reached that insignificant line-and was stopped as if they had run into a wall.
The first rolls of barbed wire that hed been prodced in Naggaroth had just shown again how the death of cavalry looked like-barbed wire and the machine gun. When the first hand grenades started to explode among the horses they did not add much lethality into an already deadly mix but they finally convined the nobles to retreat.
By the time the cavalry was out of range less than half of those who had started the attack were still on top of their horses and moving fo their own violation.
The first round had gone to the Auxilia-but it was just the first of what was probably many.
200 meters AGL, Nagarythe, Ulthuan, 10. Vorhexen, shortly before noon
Even when it seems otherwise, even the longest fight ends sometime. Prince Tyrion had sought the end of this flight dearly as he feared his army could run into something it could not handle. And yet, now that he had reached its destination he was or a moment unsure if that was a good thing. His view of the field in front of him was clear and full of details and yet he was aghast at what he saw. He currently circled over the hills occupied by the High Elven army and while it was far from the enemy there were two areas dotted with beaten circles of raw earth and bloody bits of clothing. Around these many healers could be seen at work, yet several places also held the rows of those they had to give up. These were long rows.
The field between the armies must have been grassland before, but the galloping of many horses had converted them into a mud field only sparsely broken up by green spots. Far too many white figures laid on it, some still moving but most of them horribly still. Many horses could be seen staying close to their former riders trying to get them to move again while others ran all along the field crazed by injury and pain. Through this chaos cavalry was streaming back to their own lines and from the detritus of death Tyrion concluded that this was at least the second attempt at storming the frail-seeing Druchii position.
To the sides a block of elven archers could be seen, yet a great lot of their number was stretched on the ground while other were pulled to safety by their peers.
He tried to get a view of the Dark Elves and their allies but a couple of projectiles whipped uncomfortably close to him when he approached so he decided it was more important to get control of the mess below him than gathering additional intelligence.
When he landed he had to push his way through the units to find Morveal trying to organize another attack.
Making himself known and ordering a private exchange of information Tyrion could hope for the closest thing to the truth when the Caledor noble did not have to fear additional loss of face.
"Prince Morveal, what has pertained here? It seems that your attack against our misguided cousins did not go as planned."
"My Prince, the treacherous curs refuse honorable combat and have taken refuge in deceit and fighting from a great distance. First they attacked us with some horrible magic before the battle was declared and then they shoot us with weapons like I have never encountered. They sound like muskets but have a much longer range and fire so very fast.
They also have made a strange barrier of some cutting wire that stops even our elven steeds. Now that we know how they fight we can take them with the next assault."
"So what will you change for your next assault?"
"I will incite the fury of the sons of Asur so that they will take the Druchii and their allies by storm. Our spirit will overcome their treachery and in their cowardice they will flee before us."
"I applaud your courage Morveal and I am sure that you are able to do as you say. Yet I fear we will lose too many Asur that way. We should take a short break and see how we can reduce these losses. If the Druchii can kill at such long range we should think about attacking at night."
"Sire, the ghosts of the valiant deaths cry for revenge. We have to ride down these…animals as soon as possible no matter the cost to lay them to rest."
"Morveal, no Ghost will rest easier if we squander precious elven lives. I understand that you have led two charges and want to finish the task at hand, but we need to step back and think before we incur irreplaceable losses."
"Sire, how can I live with myself when…"
"Morveal, do you think you are the first Asur to lead failed assaults, especially against an enemy with capabilities we did not know about at first? I would have made an assault too Morveal, probably with the same tactics and the same result. Now pull yourself together, we have an enemy to kill."
"Yes Sire-and thank you?"
"What do you thank me for Morveal-you did the bleeding so far? I could not arrive in time."
When Tyrion made his way up the hill to have a look at the possible approaches he silently wished that his tasks would not include pampering the mentally infirm.
It was some hours after the last assault that Lurhel finally learned why he had to cut trees, loop off branches and pull them all over creation hundreds of meters from the Auxilia`s position. He watched the elven Spear-carriers and archers stumble over what the Germans had called an "Abatis". Their normally well-ordered blocks which marched in good order had broken up into an ugly pile-up and units were mixed with each other still out of bowshot range.
As he was on the right flank of the Auxilia`s position he did the watching through the sights of his machine gun and fired at them as quickly as Iliasses could change the ammo plates in his gun. And despite some burns his loader had suffered to his oh-so-quick fingers that was very fast indeed.
The crew of machine gun no. 2 had been brought up with the stories of great Druchii heroes that slaughtered their enemies, took terrible revenge upon those who opposed them and took whatever they wanted. Being borderline failures themselves the four could only dream of such exploits and yet on this day they slew more enemies than all of their heroes in personal combat combined.
The Asurian army that opposed them had yet to experience combat with modern weapons and tactics. They might have heard about the new style of combat that took place in the Old World but had probably dismissed that as a foolishness of the lesser races. Chance the way they did combat when the old one had served them so well in several millennia-hardly so.
So, in the face of overwhelming fire the High Elves eschewed cover and tried to maintain orderly formations and tight spacing-something that had brought them victory time and time again. Here and now it converted them into so many targets for a people that hated them with a vengeance and who had brought a lot of ammo for a long siege.
And yet not all Asur fought that way. Herleas had put enough twigs and foliage into a net that covered most of his body that he would resemble a walking bush if he were to walk upright-which he was far too clever to do. The Shadow Elves had used the woods to the sides of the battlefield to pass the Druchii force. Having witnessed the slaughter of the cavalry they nevertheless decided that just cutting the hated invaders off was not enough, they had to be attacked. During the last three hours the well-camouflaged Shadow Warriors crept ever closer to the Auxilia without ever being spotted. By now Herleas should have been completely miserable-the cold from the wet ground had seeped through his clothing and negated whatever insulation they had offered. Several creepy-crawlies had found the opening in his garment and were now busily looking for body fluids to consume. Since he had left the treeline he always ran the risk of being spotted or shot upon. Even worse-it would be sufficient that one of his comrades made an error and was spotted and he would likely die with the same chance of fighting back as a pig led to slaughter.
All of this he felt-and all of it was overshadowed by his burning hatred of the Druchii. That the Dark Elves had destroyed the part of Ulthuan his people lived in during the Civil War was bad. That they raided his homeland again and again, destroying all attempts to make a civilized living here was worse. That they tried to stay here and to take even bigger parts of sacred Ulthuan was intolerable. He would have gladly crawled over broken glass for miles just for the chance to kill one more of the hated traitors – this here was nothing.
The last half hour had been spent traversing a small depression dotted with shrubbery which had provided some cover, but now he was as close to the enemy as he dared to go like this. He was pretty sure the Druchii and their strange human allies were distracted as the Prince`s army was staging another assault and the racket from the other side of the field at risen to the level of a real riot.
Looking at his comrades to the left and right he lifted his hands minutely and indicated one minute to go, knowing that the signal would be silently relayed. The next signal was for 30 seconds and while his heart hammered at such a speed that he was marveling that the Druchii could not hear it for a miracle he had not been spotted yet. There was no next signal-instead he simply jumped up, dropping the biggest parts of his camouflage while doing it.
Running silently to the battle he did not need to look whether his fellow Warriors were following, their hate was such that it was noteworthy that they had held back for so long.
The enemy was seen from only a very few hundred meters and the distance to them shrunk as quickly as his legs would move him. He saw the first guards raising an alarm, saw his few archers drop as many of them as possible. He saw the first Druchii turn to him and even from this distance he could make out the mouths opened in astonishment and the ripples of surprise that went through the enemies ranks. One unit started to turn in his direction and started to shoot, but this was not the extremely rapid shooting that had killed so many of his fellows. He could see a human who was much bigger than the other carry something which looked bigger than an ordinary rifle. He dropped to the ground and the sound of a giant sail ripped apart filled his ears. To his right a group of Shadow warriors dropped like puppets with cut strings, but it was not enough to stop them, nothing could do that. And he heard that the firing from all of the Druchii was slacking when they registered they had enemies in their rear.
And then came the glorious moment when he closed with the enemy. He extended his sword as far as it would go, he wanted to convert the momentum of his run into a first kill when he was met by a Druchii that wielded a rifle. It had a knife at the end of it and made for a surprisingly good melee weapon. He found himself drawn into a prolonged combat and could just hope that enough of his comrades would penetrate into the enemy`s midst to make a difference.
Lurhel knew something was wrong when he heard the shooting so close to him that had the wrong sound. He wanted so much to check what was up-but that was not his task. And his task was killing the Asur in front of him-somebody else would keep his back clear. For a Druchii this was hard to take but all of his training had made one thing clear: You are part of a team. Do your job so the others can do theirs. This was not easy to swallow, but one thing helped, one thing he would certainly not admit to his comrades and even only rarely to himself: He was more afraid of Hardass Henbane, drillmaster Haggerd and most of all of Böhler than the enemy. And so he operated the lever, turned the crank and killed and killed even when the sounds of fighting in his rear became louder and louder. He did not turn when he heard the sound of a German assault rifle and not when he heard the pistol of his Platoon Leader. He did not even turn when he heard Kerleas grunt and blunt objects met flesh-and then the sounds grew quieter again and he still kept from turning and kept on killing.
Wolfgang Böhler had broken his promise to himself and had taken up his rifle-and that was a good thing as otherwise he would be feeding the crows. The assault from the rear had been a nasty surprise and he was more than happy that his reserves had spotted them barely in time to make a stand. Still this was not good. Now that he had enough room to take another look it was obvious that the Druchii in front of him had taken advantage of the slackening fire and advanced. They had paid badly for that but if they got the feeling that the Auxilia was weakened enough they might advance despite the losses. And when an army of this size came to grips with his Auxilia it would be over but for the shouting. A fleeting bit of shadow alerted him to the newest danger. When he looked up he saw a veritable cloud made up from Elven arrows that moved rapidly in his direction. Scheiße-the elven archers had taken the chance to close the distance and could now fire on his command. He dived for his trench and could only hope that they would offer enough protection for his beleaguered unit. When he had found his position he pulled out two hand grenades and placed them on the rim before taking out his pistol. He might need it soon.
Hartmut Klawitter thought he had seen all the Druchii Black Dragons were about. He had flown on the back of one dozens of times by now and had overcome most of his fears about the magnificent beasts and their sadistic riders to the point where he actually enjoyed a lot of the missions. But now he had a new and rather inspiring experience. Instead of flying solo recon missions for the Elven Navy or the Auxilia he was now surrounded by 11 other dragons and their riders that kept close formation. At this distance he could appreciate the frightening beauty of the beasts first hand. Flying at several hundred meters he had a grand view of the Nagarythe landscape and the battlefield below him. Like small figures in a game units ranged here and there, flashes could be seen from the Auxilia`s line and clouds of arrows went back. Fuck-the Elves had come too close for comfort, that was for sure.
He pointed the archers out to Yerena who held up her hand in an "acknowledged" sign and her arm signals made 4 Dragons take course towards the Elves that were pelting the mercenaries with arrows. The beasts lined up and went into a shallow dive while Hartmut viewed his targets through a rough box that contained a few wires. When the moment came he hacked at the cord in front of him and the Dragon surged upwards when the huge load was taken from it. The Dragons around him followed his clue and did likewise.
Black Dragons killed with their poison breath, their teeth and claws and they did that very well. Unfortunately that brought them into the range of forces that could kill them. A single elven arrow had nearly zero change to hurt one of them, exposing oneself to many of them were tempting fate. And when one landed to use claw and teeth there were such things as Bolt Throwers and lances-all things that could end a millennia-long life in mere seconds. The success Torsten Breitkopp had with the Druchii ships and the use of Dragons for recognizance had led a couple of Dragon Riders approach the German engineer if he might have something for them. And yes, he had.
The nets that were opened by the Dragon Riders and one German observer contained two different weapons from Neustadt`s workshops. One was a large load of sharp metal darts. Sporting a needle-sharp hardened tip and fins that forces the little arrows to spin the projectiles had nearly the energy of a crossbow bolt when they were dropped from some hundred meters. The dispersal pattern was arranged so that any human-sized target under them would be hit at least one.
Other nets released a lot of small balls that dropped parachutes once they were released. Drifting to the ground at a speed that would have injured any human the 2-kilogram balls erupted in a long string of detonations once they hit.
Already under the fire of mortars and machine guns alike the sudden and unexpected onslaught caught the Asur off guard. Looking for their latest tormentors the Elves that had so suddenly lost comrades they had often known for centuries saw monsters that put the fear into the heart of all but the stoutest warrior. Who had started it was of no consequence-that the Elven Warriors who had just minutes ago threatened to storm the Auxilia`s position streamed back in what would be a headlong flight in any other race. With the Asur it looked more graceful though.
