Nagarythe, Ulthuan, same time.
Lurhel Blackheart saw only the few meters of ground in front of him, not because the weather was so bad, but as lifting his head any higher would have been too much of an effort. He was chewing a string of dried meat for the last 20 minutes or so, but had not swallowed a single bit of the rubberlike food as it had not yet softened enough to do so. He did not think about how far they had to march today, about fighting the enemy or anything but placing one foot in front of the other one.
A wind full of wet cold seemed to bypass his clothes magically as if they were not there and chilled him to the bone.
Several hours before dawn the Auxilia had resumed its march into nothingness. It had seemed like he had not slept at all when the order came to get up, that his pack had somehow gained weight during his slumber and that his legs had transformed into lead. Only a chunk of Bentwort had allowed him to get up, organize his team and get marching at all. The effect of the root had worn off hours ago and now he was marching through a landscape in which a ground covered by dirty grey-white snow blended into a sky filled with grey-white clouds.
No amount of marching seemed to bring the mercenaries closer to their target, whatever that was and Lurhel had to search his mind to find sufficient reasons to continue marching despite everything. It needed Manfred Richter, who had taken the heavy weapons Platoon under his wings now that Areta was somewhere, two tries to get Lurhel`s attention.
"Get your team on the back of that ridgeline over there. Provide overwatch to 4th company. Pull back in 30 minutes or when the bleeding Asur do not take no for an answer. Understood?"
"Get to ridgeline, provide cover for 3th ah 4th Company. Pull back in uh pull back in 30 Minutes or if the assholes really want it."
"Get to it then."
It was a sign of Lurhel`s exhaustion that he did not even think about the amount of double timing that he would have to do to rejoin the unit later. He thought that he might not make it and was totally unmoved at that expectation. That finally stirred something up in his mind and made him dig in the pockets on his belt for another slice of the Bentwort. He was still chewing it when he and his team reached the place on the reverse slope that the German had indicated and watched the rifle company take up positions a few meters in front.
He sat on the small saddle fixed on top of the machine gun carriages trailand watched the empty white plain before him. Sitting down and stopping to walk felt wonderful for a moment-until the wind picked up again and the chill seemed to redouble. Clenching his hands and stomping his feet moving a bit-nothing seemed to help.
And then nothing of it mattered any more.
One moment there was only the unending white that was barely broken by ridgelines in front of him, the next seemingly hundreds and then thousands of riders crested the next line of hills. Even in his exhausted state and filtered by a hate thousands of years old Lurhel had to admit that the High Elves looked impressive. Clad in white, grey and blue, riding in perfect formation on horses that moved through the snow as if it were not there and holding arms and banners that would make human artists weep with envy. It would have been pretty if they would not all have tried to kill him. The Asur stopped the very minute they spotted the Druchii and fanned out to the sides of the road.
Blackheart watched how rapidly the Dragon Princes formed their broad lines, how little confusion and stumbling there was and spit on the ground. He did not need to see his team to know that they were getting fidgety. Hardly surprising, there were very few of the Auxilia and a great bloody lot of the cavalry. Yet getting nervous wasn`t helping and running was out of the question, so it was time to do something about it.
"Ain`t the horse buggerers pretty? Gotten themselves dolled up for the dance after they finished their much needed beauty sleep, didn`t they?"
He heard the small chuckles behind him and to the sides.
"Oh Prince Tyrion, look, did I do my makeup right?" It had to be Iliasses of course, the two loaders were too slow, but they were fast enough to catch on and a minute later a bit of laughter came from a four Druchii team staring down a couple of thousand Cavalry out to kill laughter froze in the Lurhel`s mouth when the cavalry started its charge. There was a distance of more than a mile between the two kinds of Elves. The cavalry`s charges had something of a formal dance or a game of chess-the moves they would make were quite predictable. The cavalry would start on a canter, accelerate to a trot and charge at a full gallop only when in range of the enemy so not to wear out horses and riders as well as to keep formation. If the rifle company timed things right they could get off their 5 or 10 rounds and then run before they Asur could run them down.
And that was exactly what the Dragon Princes were not doing. Horns pleated, shouts and oaths could be half-heard and then the charge went in. And yet things were very different this time. This time the cavalry accelerated to a full gallop right from the start, shortening the time the Auxilia had to shoot and scoot dramatically. Lurhel saw that the Company Leader waivered for a second before the company moved-into a square. The infantry`s eternal answer to cavalry charges, a time proven remedy to a new stratagem. But the company`s square looked tiny in comparison to the charging horde and Lurhel had the sinking feeling that the long lances wielded by so many Dragon Princes would break the square had to make a decision. If he stayed to support the rifle company he could probably kill another hundred cavalry before they killed him. If he ran now his team might survive and his orders had been to go when the enemy would "really mean it"-and how much more could they mean it than that? And he certainly had no time to make the right choice. In the end it was easy.
"Saddle up-we move."By now the machine gun crew could handle these things like a Formula One pit crew and needed less than 30 seconds to hitch the machine gun up. Heaving muscles and whipped animal combined their strength to push the gun from its last position. They managed to be inside the infantry square before the charge hit and were only a few meters behind the Germans who had a far lighter rifle company had started shooting nearly a minute ago. Well rested and prepared, with ammo in attendance and on the leisurely atmosphere of the shooting ground the rifleelfs could manage 12 rounds per minute. Cold, tired and hungry they managed more easily and were shooting at an enemy that was by necessity densely Asur were good, even in his hate Lurhel had to give them that. Across uneven ground covered by snow they rode at a speed that would guarantee instant death if a mishap were to happen. Even at this breakneck speed they managed to keep good formation even when horses and men were killed every second. In a moment the lances would lower, the riders would pick targets and their 18-foot lances would easily bypass the bayonets that the two ranks of rifleelfs presented them and that seemed so short and useless in the face of the avalanche of horse, armor, hate and steel that was thundering down on them. By that time Blackheart was turning the crank as fast as he possibly could and new plates were fed into his gun in an instant-and it was like stopping a wildfire with a garden could by now see the open mouths of the elven horses that strained to muster a little more speed, the rider that concentrated on their target and were clad in such fine, useless armor, the mud and snow that was thrown high behind moving hooves and the sharp points of lances that came for him and that would not be denied.
He was totally surprised at the shadow that blocked the light for less than a second and the gust of wind that made the snow dance. The Black Dragon flew so low that his tail nearly touched the rifleelfs heads and made a beeline from the square to the Princes that arrogantly had taken its name. For once no special German weapons rained on the Asur but an unending stream of black smoke tore through the middle of the charging High Elves. It hid the cavalry for a second and when it dissipated it revealed death and destruction. Horses and Elves lay on the ground, the lucky no longer moving. Horses who missed most of their skin were kicking in pain at everything in range, elves were clawing for eyes that were no longer there or tried to pull air through airways that were swollen never saw the Dragon fly back to the Auxilia`s line with all speed, never saw the magnificent beast being covered by nets and what few vegetation was to be had. He was too busy shooting the enemy and screaming with joy while he did middle of the great charge was broken, the Asur on the flanks were just bypassing the square and got shot for all of their troubles. They barely stopped at the foot of the next ridgeline to reform for another charge. They were dressing their ranks nicely and cheered themselves up for another go when the ridge seemed to change shape. Just a undulating line of grey against a lighter grey one second it grew a veritable forest of rifles and bayonets the next. The fire from three rifle battalions and the rest of the heavy weapons company ripped through the Dragon Princes. One moment they were a proud army, the best of their kind, about to commit to a killing, the next a mob of screaming Elfs and Horses looking for a way out.
This time there was no need to double time, Lurhel could make the way back to the Auxilia at his best speed which was slow indeed. The rifle company were greeted by their General, Wolfgang Böhler."Thought you guys and gals could use a little help and we could sit down for a decent meal together afterwards. What do you say folks."Lurhel found to his amazement that he still had the strength to shout.
Tower of Cold, Naggarond, Naggaroth, same time
Thorsten Breitkop had been saved by his gut. Not any gut feeling, his gut had slowed him down so much that he had not reached the Black Company`s bunkers in time. Together with some others he had been caught by Druchii a few hundred meters from the entrance that had promised a false salvation. He had been tossed and freshened up a little and frightened a lot. The Druchii had asked him about secret entrances into the bunkers and he had truthfully told them about all entrances he knew. The damned Spitzohren had of course not believed him, which had cost him two finger nails and a tooth among other things. None of that mattered when the explosions came and killed nearly every friend and ally he had in this world. He had fully expected to die while around him Spitzohren argued, screamed, fought each other and ran. He had just sat there and had barely registered it, even if it might have well been the last moments in this life. And then more Spitzohren had arrived, had cleaned him up, magicked him up and hustled him over here. Now he was properly afraid as he was facing the Witch King all by his lonesome-and even to the engineer it was more than obvious that Malekith was in a fool mood.
The voice which emerged from the helmet above him was flat, gravelly and full of a hate that could have seared worlds. Somebody had taken what Malekith regarded as his, used it, broke it and now was unable to make amends. To add insult to injury the German engineer had to relate bad news and he was not sure if he would survive that and if survival was the best thing that could happen to him."So Thorsten, son of Breitkop-you are alive when the others died. That is at least something. Tell me human-can you continue the task I have given to Claus, son of Tolles."Yes Highness-and no.""What are you telling me.""Sire, I am no military man-these have all perished or are still in Ulthuan. Also missing or killed are a lot of the chemists and engineers that worked at Neustadt, so I cannot train or lead more troops. Can also not continue to expand the industry at Neustadt at the same pace than before. But I can, with the help of the survivors and the slaves that we have trained keep up the workshops that have survived the attack. I can teach more people so we can expand slowly in future. But to do more we either need the missing people back or hire more from Germany.""Forget the people missing for the moment. Hiring might be difficult, your government wants me to arrest you.""There still might be ways Highness. If covert contact could be made there are more people who would like to live longer than usual.""Can you help with such contacts even if you have to stay here?""Yes Sire, think so.""Then Thorsten, Son of Breitkop, you are now the first human Dread Lord. You will take over the workshops and other holdings of the black company and I will be your liege.""Thank you Highness.""You are also invited to a cultural event that will transpire this evening. We have finally rounded up all of Silvar Bloodcrests wives. They will provide the entertainment, you might enjoy this."The German managed to hold back throwing up till he had left Malekith`s throne room.
Bay of Thrones, Ulthuan, early morning, 2. Brunntag Vorhexen 2523
Wolfgang Böhler sat on his horse with less elegance than a sack of potatoes. This was not due to his failures as a rider but to near total exhaustion. He had led the Auxilia in one of the most difficult maneuvers possible, a fighting retreat and succeeded as well as anybody could. Now all he could do was wait and that leeched whatever energy he still had right out of him.
The Nagarythe winter at the coast made for a chilly and humid cold that crept into him and made him shiver. The feeling of being watched by nearly 4000 beings that waited for his promised salvation did not help any either. Their long march had come to an end in the bay last night. This morning would show if his plans would amount to something or if things would end here in ignominy and death. Together with lots of others he watched the waters of the Bay which were cold, black and partially shrouded in fog. And they were empty of anything but a few pieces of flotsam. The cold outside was balmy compared to the feeling that went through him. Icy despair clawed at him and the thought that an elderly hunter had no place trying to outgeneral beings that were next to immortal and had practiced warfare much longer than he was alive. Three years ago he had been a Landwehr member who was taking potshots at Druchii Corsairs, what place did he have in leading a regiment of them to their deaths? What the fuck had he been thinking?
Behind him the murmurs were getting louder and he started to wonder if he had to bother the Asur for his demise or if his own troops would do him the favor and put him out of his misery. When the murmurs turned more excited he lifted his gaze before turning around. Before he could address anybody something registered in the corner of his eye. Something small and black could be seen above the fogbanks that shrouded most of the bay. A small black and slender pole that got itself a neighbor within seconds and that moved towards the shore. A sudden gust of wind revealed what had been hidden and then the cheering started.
There was no longer a need to talk to the troops, the sight of "Khaine`s Spear", the coaster Bärbel and a small gaggle of sailing merchants ships lifted the mood much better than any rousing speech Wolfgang might have made. Which was a good thing as he ordered them to dig in, something which they really did not like to do after such a march.
The boat took 15 minutes to row to the shore and in its bow were two women, one Druchii and one Human. One woman saluted smartly once she had firm beach under her boot, the other flew towards Wolfgang and dropped at his feet.
He lifted her up and showed the assembled Auxilia that even in his age one could kiss his wife for more than a minute in one go when he had not been sure if they could ever meet again. He put Ludenka back on her feet before addressing Areta Bane.
"Looks like you did a good job Company Leader Bane. Your report please."
"When we went back to Naggaroth we tried to explain things to the captain of the "Spear". He had a problem with understanding but his First Officer was not interested in becoming fish bait, so now he commands the ship. Captain Diebitsch and the "Bärbel" were whereyou said they would be. I took first and second Platoons to Neustadt and contacted your wife. She met us two nights later and brought most of the people that you said you wanted. We put in a quick raid to the Neustadt Small Arms Factory, got what we could carry in a short time and brought out all theslaves. We did not lose anybody on the way back to the coast, thank Khaine and set sail. Only problem was that we were packed too tight already and so we convinced some freighters from the supply fleet that they should join us. They did not all see things our way at first, but these cannon can be quite convincing."
"Well done Company Leader, very well done indeed. Actually I suspect that there is a lot more to the tale than you let on, but that should wait a bit. We have to get the Auxilia on board and I would be surprised if we have much time for that. Please present me and the staff to the captains, we will work something out then."
Kreideklippe, Sea of Claws Coast, same time
A few days before a small low-pressure area surrounded by a high-pressure one had been the birthplace of the storm. The vastness that was the Sea of Claws was where it grew to its full size and the coastlines of Germany, the Empire and Kislev were the places where it spent all its adult fury. By now the Germans had given him a name, Cyril, and its power mocked human accomplishments. The humans in these parts of the world cowered before its might, securing their belongings and hoping the beast would pass them by without doing too much damage. Only in a few places heroes could be found to battle the beast and some of them were unlikely ones.
The sky above was grey and full of clouds that moved far too fast for comfort. Gusts of rain lashed a landscape mostly consistingof pastures. The road that led behind the seawall was a muddy one and nearly nobody was on it exceptfor two horse-drawn wagons. "Faster Bessie, faster" Master Commers flicked his driving whip barely above the horse's head in an attempt to accelerate the old mare. He knew quite well that this was pretty hopeless as the wagon he was on was heavily loaded and Bessie was much more used to pull the plow than racing a cart. Still every second counted and so the Captain repeated the process. He was having quite a rush that he could only compare to the few times he had to fight for his life. Totally awake despite the hour, feeling everything from his surroundings like it was new and fresh and a heartbeat he expected to be audible outside of his head. And while he was driving to a struggle of sorts, it was no combat. Instead it was the wildest of wild ideas, something he had picked up the first time he had been to Germany and when he had explained it back at Kreideklippe he had been looked at as a touched man.
And yet-it was an idea of the Germans who often had totally crazy ideas which worked. So enough citizens stated they would join, the burgomaster of Kreideklippe had written the letter that Master Commers had recommended and for all wonders they had received an answer. An answer, equipment and training to do something they had never tried before. But by Mannan, did the first test of that have to come so soon?
Despite Bessie`s plodding the two wagons reached the point where they could cross the seawall. When they had negotiated the climb the assembled Kreideklippe citizens were greeted with a sight out of a seafarer`s hell.
An unending line of white-topped breakers were marching towards the shore and breakingon the shoreline, sending shivers through the ground into the booted feet of the men. The storm drove droplets of rain and salt water to a speed where it hurt the skin and the men had to bend forward to compensate for the force that wanted to drive them from the seawall. A series of rocks and a sandbar could sometimes be seen when the waves wreck of a Barque just like his "Frederike" had been smashed against one of the rocks and now lay in two halves on one of the sandbars. Most of the hull was awash with every new breaker but some crewmembers had taken refuge on top of the main mast's stump.
The sight made Commers cringe with commiseration and doubly thankful that he had invested the 500 Euro into a marine radio that had given warning of the storm three days ago and had made him keep his ship in the harbor.
A couple of years ago nobody would have gone out and tried to rescue anybody, instead the wreck would have been plundered when the storm was over. And a survivor would have been lucky indeed if somebody helped him and not just put him out of his misery when nobody was looking. But these were the new and crazy times and things were different now.
Hannes, the Burgomaster came up to him. "So how do we do this?"
"Only one way-Breeches Buoy"
"They will not know what to do with the line even if it reaches them."
"They are seamen, if they do not know what to do with a line they are dead anyway"
"Let`s try."
And so the 12 men set to unpack their equipment.
Leaving their whaler on the second wagon they got their gear from. the first one and brought what they had to the seawall. Hannes led the men who were anchoring the tripod in the ground while Master Commers and his Boatswain Felix took care of a couple of hexagonal containers. Frederike`s Captain could not help butto check on the work done by the others. Hermann the butcher, Josef the baker and Mathias the candlestick maker usually did very different things but had been wildly enthusiastic about this "rescue the shipwrecked" thing. Now they seemed to do a good job, but his boatswain would check unobtrusively later. Master Commers took a small stick from another box and ripped a cord. The Bengal light went off with an intense red flare and the captain wavedit above his head. It did not take long for the survivors on the wreck to waveback.
"Aim to starboard Felix, wind is from there."
"Yes yes"
Holding the container under his right arm the Boatswain pulled a cord. A small bang was practically inaudible in the storm, the small exhaust trail of the rocket could be seen only from a few meters. Both men watched the weight at the end of the cable that played out from the container which was making a beeline for the wreck-until a gust of wind pushed it to the side and dropped it uselessly into the sea.
"Manann damn this storm-again Felix."
This time the line went out perfectly and passed under the feet of the survivors without any chance for them to grab it.
"Third time lucky"
"Better be, we do not have so many of them anymore."
And the third line, to both men`s relief, the line went over the heads of the men clinging to the wreck and one caught it. The men on the wreck did not need very long to decide that they should haul in the thin line and were rewarded by a far thicker hawser at the end. Commers could just hope one of them could read the "Fasten securely as high as possible" note fixed on the end of that hawser, but that seemed to work out as well.
So the easy part was over, now came the hard one.
Master Commers changed into one of the two precious cold weather suits that the Germans had bequeathed them and then sat himself into the breeches buoy. It hung under the hawser like the misbegotten child of a too-wide trouser and a life buoy and was supported by a tackle running over the hawser. And now came the moment he had dreaded ever since they had decided on this mad venture. Pulling himself along the overhead hawser he pulled himself away from the seawall and towards the wreck. As soon as his feet had left the ground he was swayed from side to side like a ball on a string by a playful cat. Every meter forward was a fight-and he had not yet reached the breakers. It did not take too long and he was over the part of the beach where the waves impacted and the top of these waves seemed to grab for him. At first it was only the feet, then the legs were pummeled by the powerful waves again and again. When they came in he could only hang on for dear life and hope the wrecked seamen he had never met would indeed know how to tie a knot. Water ran inside his suit and made him shiver despite his backbreaking efforts till it had warmed a bit. Despite everything he refused to give, taking only short breaks until he had reached the other side.
There were seven survivors who had lashed themselves to the few meters of main mast the storm had not put into the sea. They were very cold and had to watch how the angry sea had demolished their old home around them while they faced a death by drowning or hypothermia. Even when the line had been dropped to them they did not know what to expect, only hope that something would save them. The wail of the storm was too great to allow anything but the most talking.
"Mannan..praise you"
"Thanks. Now get your people into this thing here, I willhelp"
Commers lashed the line he had kept with him to the mast and then helped to put a boy of some ten years into the breeches buoy. Pulling on the second line a couple of times he watched as the device was pulled back to beach and safety, playing out another line by it. It took a small eternity till the buoy was at the other side and then they had to haul the buoy back. The next to go inside was a middle aged woman, supposedly the captains wife and things repeated themselves.
Even inside the Cold Weather suit Frederike`s Captain was chilled to the bone and his arms burned from the effort to pull on the line again and again. His eyes burned with the seawater and he felt the many places were waves had bumped him into the mast. He was still far better off than the shipwrecked and had to push even them to higher efforts. He certainly did not like the sounds of the wreck below, the increased swaying of the mast on which they all perched or the flotsam that streamed by. This wreck below him would break apart and the only question was whether they were off or not.
Finally only one survivor was left-and he was as near unconscious as possible. Commers simply had no choice and went into the buoy. Bending as far forward as he dared he cut the seaman free and clung to him as much as possible. The trip back was even worse than before. The two men pushed the buoy deeper and the sea did its level best to claim them. Three times at least Commers went under and each time he was still there when the wave receded. And then they were free of it. They were pulled in the last meters over the beech and offloaded from the buoy. Put under a lot of blankets, the way back to Kreidefelsen was far more leisurely for Commers. He did not see much of it as he still thought about his last view of the wreck while he was climbing the seawall. A series of breakers had crashed into the ship and pulled it under about five minutes after he had reached dry land.
Bay of Thrones, noontime Markttag 3. Nachhexen
The Waters of the Bay were as black as Tyrion's mood. He had finally managed to get enough troops to the Bay of Thrones with the hope to catch at least some of the embarking mercenaries. From his vast experience troops embarking to a fleet were hideously vulnerable if they could not do so in a harbor. Usually only very few boats could be loaded at a time and the beach tended to be chaos. A few arrow volleys into that, a well-timed charge by the Dragon Princes and he would have extracted the pound of flesh that was needed to placate the Caledor nobles. But from his point on the ridgeline even that seemed too much to ask for. There were two bigger ships close to the shore, one a sailing shipof a design he had never seen before, the other a German model. Flames erupted from both ships at irregular times and heavy detonations on the shoreline indicated the targets of their wrath.
Closer to the shore a couple of boats had the hated machine guns in their bows and rained down fire whenever the Asur wanted to assemble for an attack. This was not going to work. He was watching the latest eruptions from the ships when he realized how much he had silhouetted himself against the sky above the ridgeline and jumped down into a small depression. Earthshaking detonations and a rain of dirt and spent fragments that dropped on him showed the folly of that. He was not sure if he hated the mercenaries-but he sure hated the new face of warfare.
Khaine`s Spear, Bay of Thrones, evening
When the ironclad "Khaine`s Spear was laid down Neustadt had just started to make great panesof glass on a molten tin surface and so added a beautiful gallery to the admiral's cabin to show this off. Currently this cabin had been set up with the biggest dining table that ship had and around it a mixture of clearly exhausted Humans and Druchii sipped on hot beverages and waited for the man at the top end of the table to organize his thoughts.
Wolfgang Böhler looked at the beings at the table and could not help wonder about the changesthat had happened to him. A year ago nearly all of these would have been total strangers to him, now they were all relying on him for their lives and purposes. Most of these were a bunch of sadist killers who would perpetuate heinous crimes if he let them off the leash. And he feared few things more than letting them down. What he was about to do might be at least as dangerous as the campaign that just ran out and he checked again for the pistol he had clipped under the table.
"Ladies and Gentlemen-pay attention or pay the price. Currently we are embarking the last of our warriors and the last equipment we can take with us. I am rather pleased we made that with acceptable losses, it is an honor to serve with you."
Daggerhandles rapped on the table, thrice, in perfect time, loud as gunshots. The Druchii had not taken the German ways all the way, but the emotion was the same.
"That leaves us with the little problem what we do now that we have accomplished that. We all agree that Malus Darkblade has hung us out to dry. I would not be too surprised that we would have been the price he paid to the Asur for his escape."
He was getting better at reading the Dark Elves faces and he was pretty sure that most of them thought this not only likely but something they did not think out of the ordinary.
"I very much doubt that we would have found transport if we would have continued to cover his highborn ass, so arranged for some of my own. Areta Bane, please stand up. Brigade Leader Areta-this was an excellent job, and I thank you both as your commanding officer and as a husband. Congratulations for your promotion, you have earned it."
The daggers went at work again, this time longer and louder. A leader who recognized good work and who rewarded it impartially was still a welcome novelty for most Druchii.
"I very much doubt that we would be welcome if we come back to Naggaroth. Anybody who wants to try his luck there can be discharged from the Auxilia with no bad feelings once we are away from here, but I certainly do not recommend this."
No daggers, no voices-just a strained silence. It was Areta Bane who found the courage to speak up first.
"So what do we do now Sir-raisethe black flag and become Corsairs-on our own?"
"Not the worst idea Brigade Leader-but I think this is not our specialization. I suggest that we stay what we are-mercenary infantry-and just look for new employers."
"But Sir-we cannot go back to Neustadt-where do we get our resupply-and where do we look for an employer?"
"I have received some interesting bits of information about that. Last month the "Pierced Eyeball" Marauders had a bit of very bad luck-they ran into a German Q-ship." Seeing that some faces sported the grins of "schadenfreude" while others looked blankly he explained.
"Q-Ships are sent by the German government to combat pirates. They look like a civilian cargo ship, maybe with engine trouble. When a pirate fleet attacks theydrop their disguise and open fire from a lot of cannon at point-blank range. That has cut down on piracy like no tomorrow from what I hear. No matter-this has severely reduced their numbers and we should be able to take their old base at the Isle of the Wyrm without undue trouble. That will give us a base and from there we can develop the rest. With a bit of luck a potential employer will also show up soon, but again, no promises.
I know this is not what you had in mind for your futures and as I said before you can get out if you want. But we have served our masters well together-do you think we can serve ourselves as well?"
The daggers went at it for real. Wolfgang started to believe he might he might live for another week or so.
Tavern Fish&Anchor, Kreidefelsen, Bezahltag, 5. Nachhexen
"To a job well done and to the sea cheated of their due"
The steins rang together loudly and a bit of ale splashed on the rough table below. The 12 men that had gone out had recovered enough from the ordeal to celebrate their accomplishment properly. They had enjoyed the piglet that the butcher had put up and had washed it down with a few ales already, but the serious drinking had not yet started.
"Hannes, have you heard something about the two at Shallya`s temple?"
"The sisters said something about pneumonia and something else-it is still touch and go."
"That would be a real shame. Did you call Commers?"
"Yep I did, and the call went through to the Germans. But as long as the Storm is like this they cannot send a flying doctor-will be tomorrow at the very earliest."
"That would be a fu..shame to lose them after all that."
"In-bleeding-deed. Well at least the others are fair and square. What did the Germans say when they were here last-"retten statt redden" rescue, not talk. And we did just that, rest is in other handsnow."
"Yea, but still…"
"You are right and we can still change nothing. Drink up man."
The 12were at their next round when a boy ran into the Tavern.
"There is a ship coming into the harbor-a small German one."
"Don`t tell sea stories here youngling, nobody goes out in this weather."
"I have seen it with my own eyes Master. It is strange-white and orange"
He did have to jump out of his way when a small stampede towards the door ensued. Pulling their coats about the men ran towards the quay to see if there was truth there-and there was. Compared to some of the ship Commers had already seen it was small and the lines were not very sleek-but it handled the storm as if it was no more dangerous than a rainsquall.
The "Harro Koebke" made for the quay under its own power, even able to move sideways for the last meters. The ropes went around the bollards quickly and it was not before long that a group of Germans in bulky orange jumpsuits made their way off the ship.
"Master Commers at your service Ser."
"Jens Wendelin at yours. And don`t Sir me, I work for a living. I hear that the local rescue has asked for a doc-we brought him."
"That was us Sir-I just did not expect you so early."
"Hey, we are in the same service-you call we come."
"Thanks greatly Si-Jens. It would have been a shame to lose the two after we got them in. I`ll get you to the Temple, please follow me."
The Imperials helped to carry the equipment while they made their way through the small alleys that made up Kreidefelsen.
"Master Commers-how did you get them out of the drink anyway."
"Breeches buoy."
"You went out into this-a thumb indicated the still-churning sea-in a bleeding buoy?"
"Yes, we had nothing else."
"You are totally crazy-good job."
The temple of Shallya was entered by a small German team and 12 very proud men.
