Castle of the Takanashi Clan, Nippon
"As you command, Takanashi-sama."
After receiving her orders, the kunoichi moved back into the shadows and was gone moments later.
Takanashi Toshirou, leader of the Takanashi clan was feeling delighted.
His intelligence had been true.
As soon as Yuriko, the master assassin in service of his clan, and her team brought him the head of his enemy, his clan would enter a new era of prosperity.
Many things had changed in Nippon since this 'Doitsuland' had appeared in their world.
Other hadn't changed at all.
Having learned about this other Nippon, their country was doing its best to modernize, while preventing many errors and problems the others had encountered.
Wealthy merchants with new ideas were gaining influence, while the clans tried to adapt.
And the easiest way to adapt to an unknown situation still was the assassination of someone that was adapting quicker or better than oneself.
Takanashi Toshirou sent a servant to bring him his favoured sake.
Only a few days and he would have everything…
Near Takanashi Castle, Nippon (Two hours later)
The former servant was quickly running through the woods.
His yearlong mission had finally ended.
Lord Takanashi was dead, killed by his favored sake.
His assassination plot was doomed to fail, as his own master had leaked enough information so that the shinobi would be killed, and the fault would fall onto the Takanashi.
Plans, hidden amongst plans.
Just simply assassinating an enemy was no longer an option, as the authorities were beginning to search for the culprits amongst those that had gained the most by the assassination.
So one had to prepare many layers to protect oneself.
While belittling the stupid former head of the Takanashi, the assassin suddenly felt a prick at his neck.
His training kicked in immediately, but it was already too late.
A poison dart had found its target, when he fell to the ground, his life had already ended.
A dark scheme approached the dead, searched his body and belongings, making sure to remove everything that might lead to his master.
The scheme didn't knew why this man had to die, and it was better so.
Many valuable assassins and servants had been killed to preserve certain secrets.
Plans, hidden amongst plans, which were kept secret by the dead.
He already had killed three people this week, five others were still awaiting their untimely deaths.
And while the scheme was preparing to leave, it repeating in thought the mantra that had kept away the grim reaper since many years:
I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know nothing…
Haltdorf Werktag, 4 Sommerzeit 2526
"Beeep Beeep Beep"
A beefy hand crashed on the small table, an inch beside the small box that gave off the annoying sound that had woken Karl Hermsdorf far too early.
"Sigmar damn that bloody good-for-nothing silly box of stupidity. Broken again it can never be that late.."
Some blind fumbling allowed the hand to find that too-small switch and Karl`s eyes opened enough so he could push it in the right direction. That effort brought him to the point where he was awake enough not to go to sleep again. His old unit had presented him with the solar-powered radio/alarm clock combo when he had mustered out. He liked it a lot, but it made waking up hardly easier.
Swearing inventively, he pulled himself upright and swung his legs from his cot. Pushing with his hands against his crutch allowed him to lever himself upwards till he stood with nearly no sway at all. He breathed hard a few times before he made his way to what made for his vanity.
He needed the crutch so early in the morning, he could walk without it these days pretty ok if the ground was not too broken. A big improvement from the year before last when the Skaven had taken a fist-sized piece of meat from his tight and poisoned his lungs to the point where anything more than a simply walk made him short of breath. Normally he would have checked if the stubble was already so bad that he`d really have to shave, but this was not a question today. Today he had to look as sharp as a tack, there was no way around that at all.
There was still enough water inside the jar so he poured it into the bowl. It was cold but he hardly expected anything else. The Sisters of Shallya had drummed the used of soap into him with a determination that rivalled any drill instructor he had ever met including himself. They had been far more polite about it but got the message across nether the less. "Nurgle`s Bane" and all that.
They had been equally relentless in their effort of what they called rehabilitation. At first he had taken it as needless cruelty, who had ever heard of treating the sick anywhere but in bed. Instead they had taken him out pretty soon, practically the minute he had been sent back from K-Town, had made him exercise in ways that bloody hurt. Yet after a while it made sense after all, especially when he could walk with only one crutch at first and now even without it once he had gotten up.
They had to use less persuasion to get him to brush his remaining teeth, anything that promised to realistically fend off a visit to the dentist was to be praised. He lathered himself up and still marveled at the mirror before him. A few years ago they had been so expensive that only the rich could afford one, now even a lowly ex-noncom such as him could check on what he was doing with his face. He also liked the new razors that were becoming all the rage now. His face had received more than a few crags when he had lost a lot of weight during the first weeks after the battle. That he had to balance on one leg with more power meant that his hands had their share of tremors and so using his old dagger for shaving would have resulted in a blood-bath.
He managed to shave with only a minor nick and moved to the clothes he had laid out last night. Compared to the uniform he had worn when he mustered into the army they were simple and bereft of color, compared to the field-grey he wore on that fateful day he received his injuries they appeared fanciful. That he had been given two full sets of clothes on his discharge had been a sign of how much the times had changed. So he pulled on these "jeans" that were quickly becoming the answer to all male trouser needs these days, the plaid shirt and the simple belt. The belt buckles still read "3/34", you could take the man from the Reiksguard, but not the Reiksguard from the man, even if it was "just" the City Detatchment.
There was some bread left over from yesterday, some cheese and butter in the icebox, it was as good a breakfast as he could expect.
At least to him the times changed for the better. A few years ago he would have hardly survived and if he had he would have been crippled far worse than his current state. He would have been given a license to beg and would have spent his last sorry years on the streets of Altdorf.
Instead he had been placed into "retraining" and if he had any illusions that things would become easier after rehab he had been sorely disappointed. He had been about to quit twice and had been very close to flunking things. The same determination that had had allowed him to hold his squad together in battle had made him stay and the comrades in his class had helped when his own ability to learn had reached his limits. In the end he had persevered and when the first stage of training was done he found that the experiences gained in his former occupation actually worked. His German teachers were not too enthused but during internship he had performed well enough. All of that meant that today he would have to do it all by himself and as one of his teachers was so fond of saying: "There is only one chance to blow the first impression."
Looking again into the mirror if everything was just so he decided that any further delay would serve no purpose and actually make him come late as not only the clock but also the low-level clamor next door indicated. Squaring his shoulders, he walked forward with the limp he had come accustomed to and opened a door that led to a much larger room.
Four rows of tables held two children each, with each row having kids of different age. They had been taught to stand up when he entered, that was obvious, but they needed their time for that. That would change soon enough, he was sure of that.
"Good morning children. I am Feldwaibel a.D Karl Hermsdorf. You do not know me yet but you will get to know me for sure. As we will spend a great lot of time together you may call me "Herr Lehrer". (Mister Teacher)
Karl had been retrained as a teacher, he would do his damned best to drum reading, writing, arithmetic, geography and history into the young heads before him. He would see his school grow to the point where a second teacher was necessary and would teach four classes at the same time for a long time. He would be admired by some, feared by many and respected by all.
For Karl Hermsdorf times had changed for the better.
Köln Feiertag, 7. Erntemond 2527
The Skaven tunnel`s floor and walls were worn smooth by the passage of a million feet and furs, the ceiling darkened by the diverse lights that had been used to illuminate it so that the rodents` huge eyes could see their way. Joakim Vos saw it in the strange colors that his helmet display used to show the input from various sensors like low-light and infrared. The Skaven`s high metabolism made them stand out on IR like red and orange dolls. Brighter white and splashes of cooling liquid resulted whenever his shots connected and when the 40 mm grenades were called for the screen bloomed out for a second with only the various icons for ammo and squad position and status remaining. The bloom was not long, far less than a second, yet when it faded the rubble from one of the tunnel`s walls told a story of an ambush via a concealed entry. The rifle in his hands hammered when he sent about half his magazine into a group of pestilence monks which emerged from the tunnel. There were obviously more behind the first group, a call from his squad leader indicated a another breach behind them and the low-frequency shriek of an Abomination bypassed the headphones in his helmet and transmitted directly to his bones.
Joakim stepped back and found that he was covered in cold sweat while his heart hammered away as it usually only did when in the midst of combat.
"Jesus, you got that one right. Helmet display is very close to what we use and the feeling of those tunnels is as claustrophobic as the real thing. I am really surprised how good this looks."
The swarthy, dark haired CEO of Crytec beamed at Joakim`s words.
"Thanks, that is really great to hear. We got ourselves this new graphics and game engine, makes our old Crytec engine look sick. Very sleek and from the most unlikely of sources."
"Who made it then?"
"Don`t know, we bought it from the government. I think they got it from the last data-transfer from Earth, but I have no idea who made it there. Does not seem like a development of anything I know like the Unreal engine.""
"Uh, I have certainly no idea either, but if it makes an old computer show such graphics it is certainly an achievement."
"Yes, but it will only run on Windows D1."
"That does not make much sense."
"Between you and me, it makes us all wonder as well. But more importantly, how did you like the game?"
"Great work I am sure, looks great. But I`ll never enjoy it, sorry. I have seen too many good people die down there for real, I do not need to wake up the old nightmares."
"Battlefield Skavenblight" would become a great hit despite that, a classic that would be played for years, have a couple of sequels including the "Citadel of Lead" and be modded to death for a decade.
Hamburg same time
The Gröninger is a rather unusual restaurant, but if a very good one if your tastes run to hearty food and craft beer. The latter was a bit of a misnomer as the Gröninger had been brewing beer since 1260 or so, so they had been doing "craft" beer a bit before it ever became a fad. The beer was good, there was freshly baked bread and warm smoked ham cut to thumb thickness. All of that was served in rooms more than 200 years old and in the midst of the cooper pipes and tanks needed to brew beer. Cranneg Barrson thought it very nice and very close to some of his favorite hangouts in Barak Varr. He enjoyed the company around him a great lot and loved his current assignment. Life should be perfect but it was not.
He had to pay for all of that. He had to pay for it as he had stupidly lost a bet. Cranneg was of the Sea Engineers who had been sent to the yard that would build Barack Varr`s newest and most mighty ironclad. When he had arrived at the famous German yard he had been overwhelmed by the size, Blohm&Voss itself was bigger than all of Barak Varr, by the capacity to turn steel into ships and by the scale of heresies committed.
The Germans did not lay a keel as was right and proper, they build "modules", fitted them out and welded them together. They did not connect the engines to the screws directly but used this fancy electricity. There was not a single, good steam engine in view but these Diesel engines. They did not use the time-honored composite armor of oak wood and wrought iron, but used something called face-hardened rolled armor so thin that he laughed at the idea that they would be able to stop a cannonball or catapult bolt. They made the armor the skin of the ship where it was applied and used it for load-bearing as well. The fact that they could make these plates in a curved shape, of such even thickness and of such precision that this was possible made him green with envy and voice guarded admiration. There was a demonstration of the armor planned and if things went like they had during the last weeks they would probably bear the Germans out. He had tested the plate himself and it was remarkably flexible for something that hard.
Yet the worst of all these heresies against the ancestors and the way they did things was that they did not rivet the hull, they welded. Everybody knew that welds were brittle and prone to failure when things went cold and a storm would put real stress on them. He had registered his protest when he learned that the dreadnaught was to be welded throughout and threatened to ask King Grundisson to stop construction of such an obviously flawed ship.
The Germans had produced "slides" and calculations, had shown him the results of laboratory tests and the hull of one of their warships. He had not been convinced, their ships were to evade damage and to contain it when they received it. This ship was to take any shots and deny them, not enable some damage-control party to make good of it. In the end Blohm&Voss had given him the tools and materials needed to make a hull section as best as he could and welded up a different section themselves before testing both to destruction.
It should have been no contest, Cranneg had driven his first rivets more than a hundred years ago and knew how to drive them the right way. Several other Sea Engineers helped and the yard lend him the services of several workers and apprentices. When they were finished he was justly proud of their work.
The German engineers ran all sorts of tests on both hull sections-tore it apart at high and low temperatures, bent it, ran acid over it, rammed it and even applied some explosives. They had been wrong when they predicted that his riveted section would have at least 20% less strength than their welds. Their section was roughly 25% better overall for the same weight and they could do the job in about a third of the time.
Hence he had to pay the tab for the engineers who had taken the bet, the workers and apprentices ho had helped him and the Quality Control engineers who had made the test possible. At least he was able to share the bill with his fellow Sea Engineers but given the prices the ham did not taste as well as it could and neither did the beer before the third one.
Eric Müller-Kusche occupied the seat on the other side of the table and saluted him with one of the German glass tankards. The Quality-Control engineer had set up and run all tests that laid Cranneg`s doubts to rest and lightened his purse.
"I will not lie Eric, that was a good job. Seeing is believing and all that."
"Well, it settled your doubt and got you out of everybody`s hair and that was the idea. And I finally got to see how you rivet, good job I say, but even so it had no change to be as good as good welding."
"So what will you do next?"
"I`ll go back to the project they pulled me off when you were not sure about welding. The new freighters needs checking out. They are still new to us, so big job."
"What is so new about them?"
"Nothing spectacular, they are just a lot more suited for this world than what we did before. Less draft as we often need to go into harbors never properly dredged. Several same-sized Diesel as a single main engine is too dangerous these days. Self-Loading is a must, so cranes. Quarters for passengers, space for more crew than we used to have, integral self-defense weapons and space for more of them-the works."
"Sounds pretty normal to me."
"Yes, you have always been on this world, we ain't. We need to adapt."
"As do we. Do you know that us Dawi do not have Quality Control Engineers, actually do not have a word for "Quality Control"?
"Nope, but I am not too surprised, we did not have them for a long time as well."
"I would not want that job in a hundred years. Any Dawi whose work you check will take it as an insult that you doubt his work."
"I know lots of Germans who have a similar attitude. Unfortunately we can no longer afford that."
"Why, did your workers become shoddy?"
"No, on average they did not. The ships are so much more complicated. I am pretty sure that one of the diesels in the "Varr" has more parts than one of your ironclads. Most of these components come from outside as well. And all of these parts have to work together right the first time, every time. Without QC this is not going to happen."
"Oh joy."
Cranneg filed this away with the million others things that he wanted to bring to Barak Varr. Last week he had already added autonomous welders to that list that held such things as angle grinders and such forbidden fruits as laser cutters. This was the third time he thought it would be great to have a human in his Karak`s yard for a while. The mere thought would have been preposterous six months ago, but as he said himself "seeing is believing."
"Say Cranneg, did I ever told you about what I believe your clan could build and which would fit you well?"
"Don`t rightly think so. So what would that be?"
"Lots of nations here have a lot of coal while oil is still a bit restricted. For your warship you fuel in harbor and that will probably never leave the South Sea that is fine, but for some customers a coal-burner might be preferable."
"Might well be. So?"
"Ever heard of a Skinner Uniflow engine?"
"Palena", Ocean of Dread Werktag, 7. Pflugzeit 2528
Like any other ship not traveling in a convoy the Container freighter "Palena" was equipped with a self-defense suite. A 10.5 cm gun could take care of any ship that she might encounter, a couple of 0.5" machine guns were fully capable to kill all and any flying critters and were handy for small boat swarms. Besides these "Palena" had a couple of other options and even thinking about using one of them made Jörg Seitz sick. The first officer could not believe that the Captain could be that cruel.
"Captain, you cannot do that."
"Shut up 1O, I`ve had it with these assholes. They will never ever try that again."
"Captain please, think about it for a second."
"What is there to think about? Every idiot with a bloody rowboat and an ax thinks can board us and take what is not theirs when we pass through here. If the waste-of-oxygen that is the Maharashtra cannot keep his house in order I will teach them."
"Captain, some of them seem quite young…."
"Fuck this, Geneva is in another universe."
This accompanied the pressing of a button usually hidden behind a small slide. There were good reasons for doing so as was evident only seconds later. Seitz`s binox displayed the would-be pirates agonized faces all too clearly and even the relatively muted backblast of the ship`s "non-lethal" defense system made the officer cringe.
A parabolic dish was aimed for the small gaggle of boats that tried to close with "Palena" while she was negotiating the Dragon`s passage and had to slow down. There were a couple of arm-thick cables connected to it to supply the juice to one of the most powerful directional loudspeakers ever built in Germany. Even inside the bridge, outside of the cone of noise projected by it it was deafening, inside it things got to the point where the victims were voiding themselves involuntarily if they got too close. Doing anything was practically impossible for the sheer violence of that noise but the makers had given the weapon`s users another more insidious option.
It could be used to play music at apocalypse-level volume and was often used to scare hopeful pirates away, something that the ship`s captain had done a couple of times already. He was obviously in a fool mood today, Helene Fisher was bad enough, but Justin Biber? How could he be so cruel?
Seitz pressed his hands against his ears so using the Binox was out of the question. He could see the first pirates jumping overboard well enough without them.
Leipheim Wochenend 7. Nachgeheim 2528
Sir Eberhard von Roon deliberated the next move. His opponent was good, very good indeed. The elderly ex-Luftwaffe mechanic headed the maintenance team that looked after his Jagdfalke and played a mean chess game. He suspected the old coot was thinking at least four moves ahead, something he only mastered when he had a really good day. Still he could see something there, something that would force Jens Heim to choose between his Queen and the King and
"Hoot Hoot Hoot"
Eberhard`s feet were running already before his brain had really registered the alarm. His Helmet met his head when he ran from the Gazebo erected close to his plane. Two mechanics helped him inside the plane and fixed his belts while a third ran down the checklist with speed while his fingers never stopped moving.
In the seat behind him Hermann Bolte went through a similar routine. His Weapons System officer or wizzo powered up systems that he had not even known to exist a year ago, now they were aiding his mission. Two starter carts were employed at the same time and the fighter-bomber`s engines lit up on the first try.
All of that was critically observed by a Luftwaffe officer who did nothing but take a few notes. A second Jagdfalke similar to his own was going through the same procedures as his and when he saw the last light go green he looked towards it.
He had the wing of the old man himself and Andreas Hoppe finished his start-up routine about five seconds slower than he did, something that would gain him a "Kochbock" in the bar when this was over.
Two minutes and 46 seconds after the alarm was sounded Eberhard von Roon heard his commander`s voice in the earphones.
"Leipheim Tower, this is Hawk flight, ready for rollway."
"Falke flight, you are cleared for rollway."
Eberhard looked to both sides where his mechanics presented three breaking chocks and a couple of small flags at the tips of some wires. The latter had secured the onboard weapons as long as the plane was on alert, now his plane had serious claws.
The IRIS missiles at the Jagdfalke`s wingtips were the heavy hammer that accompanied two 30 mm cannons.
He brought his plane into position behind Hoppe`s craft and both moved down the rollway till they had reached the start of the runway where both aligned themselves in line abreast.
"Leipheim tower, this is Hawk Flight, request permission to runway and takeoff."
"Permission denied Hawk Flight. We have to wait for the helicopter takeoff."
Oh now the high and mighty Luftwaffe pilots had gotten their birds ready. Both he and Hoppe knew that they could have taken off without any danger to the helos but both had come to expect exactly this.A minute later the two Mils had clawed for the sky and the tower gave them permission to fly.
Eberhard applied the brakes and increased engine revs way up before releasing the brakes and changing prop pitch at the same time. The sudden thrust that worked on his plane made it accelerate like a good sports car and both fighter-bombers were airborne and climbing within seconds.
While von Roon settled on the course that would let them intercept the bogey that had appeared on two different radars with neither a flight plan nor a valid IFF code. He still marveled at the climb rate and acceleration that his new plane was capable of.
The wings` lower surfaces and the leading edges as well as the lower half of his fuselage was covered in an aluminum-fiberglass laminate that provided several times the strength at half the weight of the plywood it replaced.
Modified engines had gained nearly a thousand horsepower and both a radar and FLIR graces the nose.
The Jagdfalke was not much faster than the Falke he had flown before but kept the speed with a heavier payload, accelerated better and kept the speed in tight curves. It also cost about three times as much as his old crate.
Ten minutes later both planes spotted the target and started to swear.
"Control South, this is Hawk Flight, we have bogey sight, repeat have bogey in sight. It is that Falrauch again and the guy on top should be Herzog. Unless otherwise directed we`ll escort them back to Leipheim."
Some angry arm-waiving later the two planes settled in front and behind the great Dragon. Both had to apply flaps and drop their landing gear to keep station with the magnificent beast that had still not gotten the idea of flight plans and a transponder and neither had his rider, the famous filmmaker. Probably wanted to celebrate the weather and the success of their film, which was probably nice if this would not have been the third time both had been the cause of air defense intercepts.
The long ,slow flight back to base allowed Eberhard to muse that the reception they would receive were probably warmer than what he and Hoppe would have to expect. The Reiksbund needed more planes to fill the many missions it had to undertake.
Some blokes from the Exchequer and Nuln had proposed buying "Falke" fighter-bombers from the Nuln Aircraft Works as they were much cheaper than anything built in Germany. The Luftwaffe had protested so loud that it had made the media several times but could not prevent a test program which deployed a group of the planes at Leipheim, giving them the same tasks as the Helikopterbrigade and the interceptors.
The fact that so far they had managed all tasks set before them well enough made Oberst Crüwell spit nails and the Reiksbund pilots pretty unpopular with the Luftwaffe who wanted to buy more helicopters and Typoon planes. These were even better than the Jagdfalke but about ten times more expensive to buy and run. He would prefer it to be otherwise, but he would certainly do his very best to prove his plane to be up to the job. It was.
Special meeting room Altdorf Palace, Altdorf, the Empire
"The first drink was poisoned, but that was something I more or less expected from my host. These boys and girls have a seriously warped sense of social gatherings..."
The few people in the room, both Imperials and Germans, made up in power what they did not have in numbers. As stipulated in the Treaty of Talabheim, the first meeting of Humans and Necrarch about the exchange of knowledge had been held only days before. Emperor Karl Franz, Chancellor Thomas De Maiziere and the concerned ministries naturally wanted to know what happened and a poisoned drink was not really something they had anticipated
Günter Koch knew what questions were forming on the lips of his audience. So he lifted his left hand in a stopping gesture.
"Please let me continue, I`ll explain in due course. All Necrarch are not fully right in the head, they are not mad per se, but obsessive in what they do. Likewise they all hold the opinion that nobody who is not a necromancer can really understand their magic. They wanted to prevent us 'tricking' them with sending a wizard of another specialty.
If you are a necromancer, the poison does nothing, because it interacts with the magic you wield, so no harm done. While technically it was a violation of the Treaty, I knew or at least predicted something like that based on our knowledge of the Necrarch Vampires."
"OK, if you do not want to press charges-"
"No, the treaty is more important than something we at least predicted."
"So what happened after the poisoning attempt?"
"It was obvious despite the ugliness of their features that the Necrarch were rather happy we did not 'try to cheat' them with a magician from another faculty. The five Vampires in attendance became relatively open during our evening.
In a way, the Necrarch are one of our most dangerous enemies and in a certain way they are not. Their long-term plans for the Warhammmer world are nothing short of monstrous, but they do not see it like that. I do not think they would be able to see it at all. From their perspective, they would make this world a gift. One which at the same time would be a major strike against the Chaos Powers.
We can never allow the Necrarch`s plans came to fruition-"
"So we have to wipe them out?" It seemed some officials were actually looking forward to something like that, considering the undertones in the question.
Günter took a sip from his Cola, which he liked more than the pre-weltensprung stuff. One good thing about the Warhammer Tropics was that the Kola Nut existed and in substantial numbers. Before Germany arrived, the Empire got several shiploads of it each year from their colony in the Southlands, where a sizeable forest of Kola trees grew.
The Imperials had experimented with the nuts, a side product of the colony, over time, but it had not spread far. Mostly alchemists, wizards and special food stores used the Kola nut in small numbers.
That changed with Germany´s arrival. On Earth, with artificial flavours and cheap caffeine from the process of decaffeinating coffee, the Kola Nut was quite expensive to use in Cola drinks, despite Cola made from it being better digestible and tasting better, so few producers still used them.
While Germany could still produce artificial Cola flavour after landing on Warhammer, coffee was bottlenecked like hell. Even today, despite the "Coffee Front" getting better each year, the coffee market was fundamentally different these days. Meeting for a coffee and a chat was not a total luxury anymore like in the early days after arrival, but Ersatz variants still held a substantial marker share.
Without large quantities of coffee to be decaffeinated worldwide, dirt-cheap caffeine for other things was not in the cards any longer. So to the delight of the consumers, the German soft drink producers returned to using Kola nuts. Even the Empire now produced two variants, Reiks-Cola and Mootland-Cola.
To the horror of some traditional dwarfs, because with Cola widely available in the Empire, another German habit spread, the mixing of Cola with Beer. Several Karaks outlawed what they see as heresy: Bugman´s Colabier.
Günter enjoyed the taste of his drink and then answered the question.
"No, not now and maybe never. Like all beings for which time is not a problem, they think in different categories. Even a concerted effort by all Necrarch now might accelerate this Great Plan by a millenium or so with several millenia still to come.
They might not look like it anymore, but this Vampire Family is scholarly and curious. Their plan of a 'World of Undeath' is their final goal, but there are so many things, events, whatever which gain their attention, that this Grand Plan of theirs gets pushed back step by step. They are really good researchers, if spleeny and obsessive and unlike other dangers only a problem because of the end plan, which is not a short term problem. It is more likely that Warhammer is hit by the next Ice Age or Heat Age sooner than the Necrarch will just be halfway ready to enact their plan.
No, right now they are even useful. They have an enormous amount of knowledge, no matter that most of it is specialised. And I think every magical Order, be it Imperial or German, would really like to find out how so many Necrarch became their own magical Nexus points. At least 4 of the Vampires at the meeting were this. That is well above chance, the Necrarch must know or at least know the general direction how to do it."
