Close to Blacklight Tower, Naggaroth
Lord Silverhawk tried to see better, so he bent down even more than before. He pressed his eyes against a present made for him by Torsten Breitkop. He had hardly appreciated it when he had received it, it was obviously made from parts which belonged to other items and lacked any aesthetics. At the time he had received it, it did not make much sense and some would see it as a slight. It was certainly not Druchii. Lord Silverhawk let that slide as he was as well disposed towards the Germans as any Druchii in Malekith's employ could be. Without their intervention and without their doctor he would have died with a Hung pole in his rectum a long time ago.
They had brought him fame when he led the campaign against Dechella the Outcast and smashed a Chaos army several times bigger than his own forces into tiny bits. He had worked well with them and it had been his forces who had rescued the few survivors after Bloodcrest's bloody failure to capture them. That had forged a bond with Neustadt's denizens more solid than most. And that paid off in spades, Lord Silverhawk's troops were not so well equipped as Malus Darkblade's , but they were a close second. Among the many weapons he had received during the last weeks had been this gift, called a trench periscope. He had nearly disdained it and used it only as a curiosity at first. By now it had saved his life at least three times, be it un-Druchii or no.
It offered a limited view of the battlefield before him. While it had decent magnification and no optical flaws it limited his field of view considerably, making him turn the periscope here and there. It was a bit like trying to watch the battle through a straw and the only thing it had going for it was that it took his head out of the line of fire. But that was a very important thing indeed.
Limited the view might be, but Lord Silverhawk was pretty sure that live officers command better than dead ones. And there was still a lot to see. There was the barren ground around the road that led to the Blacklight tower, with lots of gravel and rock and nary a green spot in sight. Far off, on the ground below his line of sight, he knew the enemy to be and to prepare his next attack. The signs of the last one were strewn all over the ground from the place when the ground dropped below his sight to the very few lines of barbed wire that he had.
Silverhawk did not need the periscope to watch his own troops, not that it would have revealed all of them. He had heeded the advice of the Germans and had them dig trenches. It was such a far cry from the proud true eleven armies and the only way to survive in the face of the firepower that the Chaos Dwarfs could bring to bear. He saw a couple of crossbow shooters from where he was. The complicated repeating crossbows had been the pride of their owners before, now they were a mark of shame. There were still melee troops around, strictly to defend the trenches if the enemy broke into them. Many of his troops had the older single-shot rifles which were far better, but not as good as what the enemies had. His elite had the repeating rifles that were at about the same level, but even they were not his heavy hammer. That honor went to his heavy weapons platoons which had a couple of machine guns, a few precious mortars, and some surprises. Granted, half of the machine guns were the old mitrailleuses, but…
Lord Silverhawk shook his head when he realized that he thought weapons barely six years in the Druchii's employ old and outdated. Yet there was no denying they were and that itself was a sign. There was a race for better weapons and equipment that Silverhawk barely understood and knew the true elves had to master if they wanted to survive. Speaking of survival, the whistling of incoming rounds and the crackle of rifle fire stated that the enemy wanted to have another go. And this time they had brought a big friend with them.
Towering over the battlefield like a scarecrow over the rabbits in the field a golem rose from the depression. A cannon on its arm started to fire in Silverhawk's general direction. It caused several small impacts, but not much more. The main threat was the flamethrower occupying the other arm. It had acquired a nasty reputation with the Druchii in a short time. The golem did not charge Silverhawk's line with all speed, there were two of its smaller companions whose shattered remains showed the folly of that. Instead, it stepped around the places where the ground was dug up, clinging to the meandering road. Its seamless stone surface promised safety from the few mines the Dark Elves had managed to employ. One curve slowed it down more than a little bit, which was entirely foreseeable.
Silverhawk did not spot the cannon before it fired despite knowing where it was. It had been concealed well, which was rather necessary. If the Chaos Dwarfs had learned of it they would have smothered it with their own artillery. He knew it to be a rather unassuming sight, using the same barrel as his mortars in a mount that allowed low-angle fire. Its base plate had been replaced by a breech that seemed simple even to his eyes. When the gun finally fired on the golem that had nearly stopped the report wasn`t that loud. A blue streak indicated where the projectile flew. It hit the golem's leg with an almighty crash and shattered it, dropping the war machine to the ground.
That was a very good thing as Lord Silverhawk's artillery train had only ten more rounds. They were solid pieces of steel inscribed with the sigils that the Druchii used to apply to the bolts in their seagoing bolt throwers. They accelerated the bolts to speeds normally expected from cannon, even when shot from a comparatively low-powered catapult. What they did when shot from a cannon, even such a poor one, was obvious enough. The DawiZharr stopped their assault when their golem dropped, a questionable decision when under so much fire. Many used the fallen war machine as cover to gain safety, a great lot did not have that opportunity and died.
Vampire Coast, Lustria 2528
Luthor Harkon had cycled through his personas several times while on the march through the jungle. Sometimes he was cautious to the point of paranoia, fearing a return of the invisible killers that screamed. At other times he had to exert every ounce of self-control not to turn around and assault the cowardly Germans with just a fraction of the troops he brought. At times he grieved for the troops he had lost, recounting their century-long services to him, at others he could be heard muttering that he could raise ten times their number when he felt like it. Whatever personality rose to the front, all of them hated the Germans and vowed revenge.
The march had been long and frustrating for him and whenever the more rational personalities rose they tried to plot a course on how to play this loss before the captains at his lair. He was Luthor Harkon, he was the admiral of the Undead Pirates, he had been about since forever, but even he could face mutiny. He had not yet decided on a course, he was probably going through a couple of personality changes before that.
He was still deep in thought when a bat tried to get his attention and when it finally did he allowed it to pull him up for a better view. He lost it, then and there. The bat nearly dropped him and left a mewling, screaming, raging bundle to the ground. His eyes had seen the craters that had replaced his lair, his memory provided the places where shipyards, warehouses and houses used to be.
The places now occupied by craters, rubble and burned-out ruins.
He burned out the first rush of anger and grief with a mad dash towards the ruins of his lair, the place he had painstakingly built up during the last centuries. He stumbled through the ruins with the lack of arrogance usually only given to his lesser undead. He hardly saw the faces of the survivors, did not hear their cries of anguish and rushed here and there. He finally collapsed into one of the craters that was close to the cliffs. Luthor dropped into the depression like a doll with cut strings and came to rest at its sandy bottom.
He laid there for quite some time before he started moving again. Turning on his stomach he pushed an arm to the ground to lever himself up. The hand rested on the sand for a second before giving way. He was still marveling at the universe's ability to anger him when the complete bottom of the crater started moving, pulling him into a hole in the ground that was not there a second before.
An ordinary human would have died for lack of air during the next minute while the shifting sands pulled him ever downwards. For a second Luthor feared that he would be buried in some cave never to return when his plunge accelerated and he dropped into a huge cave from above.
Such caves were not uncommon in the Vampire Coast, the soft stone that made up the cliffs and mountains were easily carved by water and wind. This one was of middling size and had no connection to the sea that Luthor could see. The cave would have been pitch-black dark for a mortal, Luthor obeyed different rules. He looked around for a way out when he saw the thing that occupied most of the cave. At first he thought it was a dead sea monster, but it gave no signs of having been alive. It had too even lines and when he touched it he touched painted metal. So this was mechanical, something made by the Dawi maybe? He had heard they built submersibles. But even for them this was too smooth and lacked a smokestack, might it be something else made by the Germans? And how did it become struck in this cave?
His search brought him to the bows of the strange craft, something was written there in a very simple clear script. He could make out the letters, they were close enough to Reikspiel, but he could not make any sense of it.
What did S-647 Minerve mean?
Imperial Palace, Weijin, 2534
The room was the same that it had always been, the right size for a Lady to receive an honored guest for tea. The servants had already come and gone, the tea and the small bits of food delivered to a table so low that one had to sit cross-legged on the cushions provided.
JinJin the Golden, mother of the Center of the real, the Celestial Dragon managed to do so without showing any discomfort and looked stylish while doing so. While he was probably of the same age and fit Wolfgang Böhler failed to accomplish the same.
JinJin poured the near-boiling water into the cups, drained them into the tablet provided for that purpose, poured tea leaves and more hot water into the same cup and stirred lightly. Wolfgang had become used to drinking the tea without swallowing the leaves. The slurping sounds this inevitably brought with it were totally acceptable in polite Cathayan society, JinJin still managed to do it much more elegantly.
The priceless cups were back on the tablet when she smiled at the mercenary.
"Wolfgang Böhler, I have always said that you are a fresh wind that brings new ideas to this court. Like the idea that the Dragon would send his best and newest troops to far-off Naggaroth to fight against the Chaos Dwarfs and prop up this slaver Malekith. Oh, my son is rather taken by this and you promised Malakith would pay for the endeavor. "The troops will gain combat experience" Still, do you have any idea how preposterous this proposal is? The Celestial Dragon's armies cannot be seen as mercenaries for hire, especially not in the employ of this inhuman monster."
"Thank you for reminding me that us Germans brought so many ideas into the Dragon's realm. One of them is the knowledge about DNA, the substance that contains the blueprints for our bodies. Our bodies shed small parts of themselves all the time, like there would be some in your tea right now, or your son would leave them on the rifle he likes to shoot so much every time he uses it. Even the dead contain this still, it can be extracted from their teeth even after a very long time."
"I fail to see your point Böhler?"
"I wonder if that is really so honored JinJin. You say my proposal is preposterous, maybe it is as preposterous as the idea that a concubine of low rank would be the only one to bear a living male child of the Dragon-that-was. Many tried to do so, but they never succeeded. Only you did and I wonder that if this was really so. Before we Germans arrived such an idea would be baseless slander, but these days we can prove such things. You could not."
"Do you really believe you could pass such outrageous ideas to a public that is so loyal to my son?"
"Only if that particular version of the truth needed to be spread. Which, by the way, it would if I am not back in my barracks later this evening. So, who was it, the bloody gardener?"
"How did you know that? Wolfgang Böhler, I took you for a man of honor."
"And the Dragon-that-was took you for a faithful concubine. Goes to show that even the best of us can err. Madam, my faith is not towards the Dragon, especially now that our contract is ending. My faith is not even with Germany, but with this world and my people. And we need to fight the Chaos Dwarfs, or this world will burn sooner or later. Please provide you assent, then we do not have to recruit from the shambles that Cathay would become if doubts about the Dragon's origins would become public."
"You will never enter the Dragon's realm again."
"If that is the Dragon's wish so be it. But we need your help as we provided the Dragon in his hour of need."
"Be damned Böhler"
"I am already Madam."
Ruprecht-Karls-University of Heidelberg, Germany 2534
The lecture hall was old, the radiators and windows told this to anybody with a bit of knowledge. Nothing spoke of that more clearly than the wooden benches, colored by age and many generations of students. It was a part of Heidelberg University, one of the oldest and best known in Germany.
The lecture was coming to its close, still the students paid rapt attention, among other things as the lecturer's German could stand some improvement. Still, he was the greatest expert on the subject without any doubt and to sit here and listen was an honor.
"King Settra's second unification of Nehekhara was mostly finished by 1151 bCE, even when there were some holdouts in Ka-Sabar. The old town was far away from the main fighting and protected by wards older than human existence in Nehekhara. From that time onwards King Settra's rule was again absolute.
This concludes today's lecture, I would ask you to dwell on the reasons for his rapid victory over the opposing Tomb Kings. I will see you next Bäckertag then."
There was a polite round of applause from an audience which was mostly German.
The hand that switched the projector off was inside a glove that had too many places where sharp points struck out. The glove disappeared inside a robe that hung rather loosely on the limbs and the face above them was swaddled in bandages. When he moved there was a creaking of joints and abused tendons. Any human who made such noises should be screaming in pain if he were not drugged to the gills. Ramhotep the Scribe had been human once, now he was something different, among other things undead.
Of all the people who had attended the lecture only one remained, a red-head Ramhotep would have found very attractive when he was still alive and who was still pleasant to his eyes.
"Herr Ramhotep?"
"You must be Frau Wagenstein-Vos, is that so?"
"Yes, I am her."
"Ahla Saba Frau Wagenstein-Vos. Is it time for our interview already?"
"It is Herr Ramhotep, nice to meet you."
"Likewise. Please come to my office, you will probably appreciate a chair more comfortable than these benches."
"Indeed."
A quarter of an hour both had settled in a small cubicle that contained tons of books and scrolls. To Sophie's amazement, Ramhotep had called a secretary to make some tea for her and somehow managed to radiate an old-world charm that was at odds with his undead existence.
"I am honored by your willingness to be interviewed and amazed at your mastery of German Professor."
"Oh, when you do not have to sleep, eat or shower you gain a lot of time to study. Not using Facebook, Whatsapp and playing "Skavenblight assault" or chasing the other gender helps too. And in my first life I had to learn many languages, it seems that knack for that is still there. I granted this interview as you proposed an interesting topic. I've had several reporters barging into me without a date, that lacked respect. And even those who took the pains to ask for one in advance all asked the same question: What do I feel? And all I can answer is that I cannot explain, no more than you could explain colors to a blind person Frau Wagenstein-Vos. You were the one who asked what do I and what does my realm want. What motivates us, what drives us and what are our goals?
Now, these are worthy questions and these I will gladly answer. As you can imagine, undead existence is rather different than life as I remember it. We no longer need to eat, to drink, to breathe and sleep is something we can forgo for long periods. We obviously do not procreate in the manner we used to do and physical attraction is something lost to us. So, what does remain, what do we desire?
Unsurprisingly not so much as before and most of us are not interested in any existence between the times of duty to their lieges. So many of us lie under the sands, in the tombs or inside our once-great cities and rest, only to get up when the call comes. And they come, every time they are asked to as none of our motivations is greater than the duty to our lieges, to our country and to King Settra, may he reign forever.
Others still vie for status, they want to come up the in courts of the various Tomb Kings or even Settra's court himself. They no longer want to be Lich Priest, they want to become Hierophant. They are no longer happy to command a small unit of infantry, they want to lead a combined arms regiment. And given the huge hole that Nagash and his machinations ripped into our armies there are many opportunities to do so.
All our aspirations, all our hopes and desires pale against those of our High King, the Lion of the Desert, Settra. King Settra has made his desires plain to everybody: He wants Nehekhara's glory restored and he wants safety for his subjects.
The first object asks that we restore our once-glorious temples, erect new palaces over the ruins of the old ones, provide dwellings for those who need them and restore our roads and channels.
It means that we have asked for a great dam to be erected at Assawahn. It will produce a lot of electricity to power all of that and the industries you Germans want to build there for your purposes and those of my glorious king. The dam will also shield the lands from the annual floods that deposit layer after layer of poison on the soil. The great expedition to the source of the River Mortis has removed the items that poisoned the river once called Vitae, but it will take a long time to become its old self again. When the great river is restored, when the poisons have run their course we may remove that dam, for now, the soil has to be purified by Ptah's light.
The Lion of the Desert has decreed that there will be a joint venture to exploit those rare earths in the Halabi Depression and the oil that is off our coasts our coasts. Mighty Settra has invited companies to invest in factories in which our workers will toil without rest. With this, we may earn German coin to pay for tools, materials, and lore for restoration.
It will take the work of many decades, but we will see Nehekhara become a garden once again, so Settra has decreed and so it will be. And in the fullness of time, we and you will learn to make new living bodies into which we can transfer, to make Nehekhara whole again and to reunite it with our old gods.
Before this can come to pass we have to make Nehekhara safe. Ever since my land became a mausoleum, robbers and raiders have tried to rob our resting places and to defile our bodies. In the past, we have taken revenge on any and all that tried. Now it is possible that we may no longer be able to. If a Dawi clan would attack us with modern weapons or Tilean adventurers use the arms gained in their campaign against Skavenblight our losses would be terrible. So mighty Settra has offered great treasures for your arms and the Reiksbund has agreed to sell us a limited amount of them so that we can defend ourselves.
He is aware that we will receive weapons of great might, but we will have to buy ammunition and replacement parts from you. We will be dependent on a nation made up from the living, on an alliance which contains beings who abhor our very existence and would end it. Settra acknowledges this and he has vowed to bring Nehekhara to glory again.
And this brings us to the thing that motivates many of us, the thing we are as passionate about as we can be in the absence of the glands which power your excitement. The quest for knowledge. When Settra and the Tomb Kings went into their graves they expected to wake up in a paradise. They woke up to something more like your hell, but now for me and those like me, that promise finally came true. Now we have access to a lore we never even suspected exsisted. We can travel to many places around this world and we can read about so many more, we can watch videos and listen to recordings. You Germans opened up these opportunities for us and you provided such a wellspring of knowledge by yourself. None of us dreamed that the mundane world held such power, such intricate secrets, and such promise. We may have a diminished existence, but one that never ends and now the opportunities to learn are endless. Truly, for those of us who thirst for knowledge, we have found the paradise we have been promised.
And to be able to partake in such lore we are willing to share our own, and my tenure here is a small part of that.
This knowledge, when combined with the raw materials and the machines that we can buy and build ourselves will bring Nehekhara and Settra to even greater glories than our great past held."
"Thank you for this statement, it is very frank and will be of great interest to my readers. For me, the most interesting issue is that you talked about new bodies. How is that possible?"
"Oh, it is not possible with the current state of the art, but who knows what the future will hold. A mere dozen decades ago you built the first rickety machines that barely made it off the ground, now your spacecraft roam the solar system. At the same time the simplest of Nurgle's gifts was enough to kill hundreds, now you debate the best way to heal as you have so many of them. With the knowledge you already have and what you develop it will be possible to grow new bodies for Settra's subjects and we certainly know how to transfer ourselves into them once they are mature. You might not see it, but ours is a long existence. Nehekhara will live again and I will see it if the gods are willing."
