Tower, Hag Graef
The wind pushed snow into Isilvar Darkmoon's face and left cold rivulets that made their way down into the Druchii's coat. He ignored them, like he ignored anything else around him except for the picture in his binoculars.
The landscape before Isilvar was nearly featureless under a layer of white, pristine snow. Darkmoon knew that the lesser races tended to use such snow for fun and games. The Druchii knew better, the snow was the sign of an eternal enemy. It covered the ground like a burial shroud, hiding the ravages Nagaroth's winter inflicted on all living things. It knew neither friend nor foe, had no allies and no favorites. It simply killed the weak, the careless, those without resources, and anybody exiled into its cold embrace. It was beautiful, like an assassin's blade. Until very recently it either confined the true elves into their cities and fortifications or drove them on their long raids abroad.
And yet the elemental threat of Naggaroth's winter was the least dangerous thing in Isilvar's sight. Small dots of off-white moving deliberately towards Hag Graef had been the first signs. The ugly shapes of Golems crested the ridge-line behind them and more infantry followed in their wake. The most ominous sight were the cannons pulled by more Golems. That was bad, very bad indeed. Hag Graef's walls had withstood many an attempt storming them. The Germans had shown Malus Darkblade how useless they were in the face of modern arms and other Germans had taught ways for how to build better defenses. Given the price of the lesson taught by the German raid, Hag Graef's ruler had been eager to implement these lessons when others were still lamenting their cost and aesthetic deficiencies.
The same lesson had made Malus take another gamble, one that would either make or break him. All Druchii rulers clamored for Neustadt arms, they were the only means to defend against DawiZharr and Druchii alike. Meting out these weapons to the various Lords was a way Malekith could exert his power in a society where having no power was just deadly when one was lucky.
Malus Darkblade was Malekith's chosen general, the tip of his spear and the face of his shield against the Chaos invasion from the Chaos desert. Malekith regarded these troops as his warriors and had equipped them lavishly with Torsten Breitkop's best equipment. It was just that some of that equipment was not with Malekith's army in the north, it was right here in Hag Graef. And by the looks of it, Isilvar Darkmoon would need every rifle, every cannon and every round that had been siphoned from the Witch King. If he survived the coming siege he could worry about that, but not before.
Leviathan, 128 kilometers from Site Alpha
Raimund Scheer tried to watch the bridge crew, the course, and the radar at the same time. On Nordsee he could allow himself to relax far more, here a crew thrown together at the last minute tried to master systems and a ship new to all. That the ship was experimental and many systems needed pampering did not improve this in any way. He watched Leviathan's wake with disgust, it was supposed to be a straight line and not resemble a snake's track. As much as he would have liked to have the helmsman get the hang of it himself, interfering seemed the lesser evil.
"Helm, ease your rudder to right five degrees . Nordsee, indicate 108 rpm, 20% pitch."
"Meet her, Aye. Coming to new course 260 Nordsee 108 RPM at 20%, aye."
Raimund Scheer watched the compass needle move to the desired course imperceptibly. The ice ship had yet to reach 260 degree, but he had already given the order to counter-steer. This ship had such momentum that everything had to be planned ahead by ages. Scheer had seen Seeadler a couple of times, the converted container freighter being a brute of 170,000 tons. Here he was commanding something three times its size.
It made any course change an exercise in boredom and he was pretty sure he could tear off a calendar page before Leviathan reached its projected top speed which was certainly not fit to write home about. Given the comparatively low power compared to the ship's size and the broad beam anything else would need magic and that played already a far too big role on this vessel.
The ship did not react much to wind, the superstructure being rather minuscule compared to the huge hull which was really deep in the water. It turned away from the seas quickly, for whatever values of quick applied to this megatub. One good thing that could be said about the ice ship was that it was easy on the roll and seasickness was not a real problem, yet.
And then he saw that the compass needle was still moving despite the earlier rudder and power shift.
"Bow thruster 50% to port."
"Bow thruster 50% to port aye."
Leviathan still passed 260 and settled on 262, damn. He managed to keep his annoyance and frustration from his voice, but barely.
"Helm, "Left full rudder, Come to new course 260. Handsomely, Klauensee indicate 108 RPM at 20% pitch"
He and the bridge crew would better get a hold on this pronto. In very few days a series of ships would start docking with Leviathan, and then holding course would be even more vital than usual.
Before Hag Graef
Ernutan Doomshackler hated what he saw, but disliked what he did not see even more. The background to his view was provided by the slender high walls of Hag Graef, of obsidian blackness, topped by menacing spikes and towers. Those would fall quickly enough once the artillery started working on their foundations. As a bonus they would bury those defenders behind battlements under tons of rubble which would provide a nice ramp through the moat into the city. So Lord Mordred had taught his chosen and so it had proven to be, praise be to Lord Mordred.
He could also see the barbed wire which was strung out a hundred meters before the walls, a crisscrossing net held up by poles. There were sharpened spikes mixed with these and Doomshackler was sure that whoever erected that belt would have wanted more wire. Still, it would be a rather nasty obstacle for infantry by itself. There were defenders who would shoot anybody who tried to remove the wire, he just could not see them. He could see trenches and some snowy mounds were a bit too conveniently placed to be natural. If the defenders had rifles and machine guns this could become bloody right quick.
He could clear a path through the wire with his Battlemechs easily enough. They would also provide some mobile cover for his warriors. But if the dandelion eaters had one or more of their anti-mech guns then this too could become a killing ground, especially when the Mechs slowed down to trample the wire properly. And he could afford to lose Mechs even less than he could waste warriors. Decisions, decisions….
Kopernikus Station, Orbit around the Warhammer World
The sight from the viewport was nothing short of spectacular. A tapestry of unblinking stars provided a background for a spaceship unlike any other docked at the space station. While spacecraft that operated exclusively in orbit and beyond showed their girders, tanks, tubes, and pods to the world without any cover, this one was different. It had long, bulky plates on both sides of the hull, giving it a smooth look from this aspect. Two centrifuges managed to crest them, a couple of sensors stuck out, but otherwise it seemed much simpler than its cousins. Several off-colored patches in the long plates indicated where the phased array radars were mounted. This was not as if the spaceship had any way to enter atmosphere in any other way than as a flaming comet. The plates were armor and the ship needed them as it was the first human space warship.
There was a name on the armor, currently lit by a couple of working lights.
Morgenstern (Morning Star)
The view was taken in by a few humans, a dwarf and something that looked like a large, solidly built suitcase with a monitor on it.
The voice from the speaker was without inflection, the face shown in the monitor on Hypatia's travel case emotionless. By now she still managed to grate on everybody's nerves.
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, are you telling me that this is the most reliable ship you have?"
"Yes Hypatia, it is the best we have. It makes use of all we learned in the last decade and also uses a lot of the hints provided by you and Nathan."
"So, you do not understand half the systems on it."
"And neither do you as some of our most important systems are based on magic. The last update brought us to four Tungsten Rune of Fire engines, another Kislevite heat sink and the Gold Order reinforced the whipple shields. We installed a VASIMIR engine to take advantage of the increased power generation. You wrote the software for the APAR radar system yourself if I remember correctly."
"So, you believe that a spaceship that is hard pressed to reach one G of acceleration, that is armed with chemically powered missiles, some recoilless guns and a laser that won't boil water at any distance will be able to protect us?"
"We won't know it till we try it. Since we got our orders that we will."
Before Hag Graef, Naggaroth
The sky above Hag Graef was glorious, with hundreds of stars visible against the back ground of the local galaxy. None of the moons were up at present, allowing for the best star gazing to be had. None of those present had any eye for it though. Ernutan Dommshackler's mistress love was burning, at least that was how the snow felt in the fierce Naggaroth winter. He had buried himself inside that burning snow as much as possible. Lesser races would find the darkness of the night impenetrable, but both the true dwarfs and the Druchii were better than that. Frostbite was a nasty killer, but not as dangerous as the dandelion eaters and their blasted rifles. And so close to Hag Graef's walls they were a lesser threat to the machine guns and mortars. Showing oneself for any length of time would bring a swifter death than the cold could.
His binoculars had acquired a shade above them that would keep the glasses from reflecting too much light and he breathed inside a shawl that would hopefully keep clouds from forming. He could see the breach in the wall from here, it was hard to miss. They had been made from Obsidian, such a hard material. Hard and brittle. When the specially made projectiles had pierced the foundations and exploded it had fractured immediately. Less than a day of bombardment left this part of the wall resting on rubble and it had gone down in a satisfying crash. In the old days that would have been a major achievement and storming the breach would have followed immediately. Yet the barbed wire would stop his warriors as well as any wall ever built. His mechs would stomp the wire into the ground, but the enemy had shown that he had emplaced mines which could bring the war machines down. The gaunt figure of a Vulcan bore mute testimony of that, lying 50 meters before the wire.
His warriors could find and destroy the mines, but they would do that under the fire of the dandelion eaters. He did not have that many sappers and he would need every one of them in the coming fight. So, he had gone with stratagems he had found in a German book, a gift from Lord Mordred himself. They were totally untested by the true dwarfs and his opportunities to train with them before they were used when the red wine was served were strictly limited. He embraced his mistress even deeper when the hammer of artillery fire assaulted his ears.
Fire blossomed on the Druchii walls, cracking obsidian and throwing splinters that were a lot sharper than any razor. Mortars dropped high explosive shells close to and into the trenches before Hag Graef, hopefully killing at least some defenders. Hidden by the sound and fury other shells detonated high above the battlefield. The explosions were muted things, inaudible in the general din of the battle. The darkness managed to hide the streamers that dropped from them for a moment until they blocked the stars and then all sight. The shells were rare and expensive, their manufacture regularly killed skilled slaves and true dwarfs alike. Their results were worth it. Pieces of white phosphorous were exposed to the cold air and ignited immediately. They produced a thick, white smoke that streamed downwards. Where they touched the ground they formed a dense fog that filled every trench and depression. Ernutan could not see inside the Druchii fortifications, but he could imagine the bombardment's effects. Whoever was unfortunate enough to be hit by a burning fragment would wish he'd died as the fire could not be extinguished. Everybody else would be disoriented and cut off by anybody at less than arm's length. Even worse, they would have a very hard time breathing. The true dwarfs might stand this, they were doubly blessed by Hashut and Lord Mordred. They were also used to the smoke rising from the countless fires burning in ZharrNaggrund. The dandelion eaters were not and they would suffer.
Still there was fire coming from both the walls and some emplacements along the Druchii lines. Machine guns could deny terrain, whether the crews could see their targets or not. Still, most of it was too high to hit Ernutan's warriors that crawled towards the enemy. Most of them tried their best to keep their weapons free from the snow, other pulled and pushed on tubes. When they finally reached the first wire strands most warriors tried to become one with the ground while others pushed the tubes under the wire. When one had disappeared another was fastened to its end and the lengthened construct pushed further.
All around them the true dwarfs suffered. Druchii mortars were trying to find the range, dropping their hate among DawiZharr who could do nothing but cling to the ground and hope. Bullet streams mostly passed over their heads, leaving a whizzing sound in their wake that promised mutilation and death. Others found their targets, turning promise into reality. And while Doomshackler's warriors bled and died his sappers cursed, wrestled with gear they hardly knew and pushed for all they were worth. Finally, they managed to put wires into their creations and the survivors crawled backwards.
When Ernutan was sure that there would not be any more survivors he lifted his weapon up high and squeezed the trigger. The weapon had not much of a recoil, but a fiery trail pointed an accusating finger at him. Before any retribution could come his way a red star blossomed in the sky, painting the battlefield in a baleful light that reminded Ernutan of home.
The explosions were powerful, hammering the ground against his chest. Even the smoke would not contain their fury, blurred blossoms made their way past the many particles in the air. When their rumbles subsided the mortars' fire shifted deeper into the smoky gloom. The ringing in Ernutan's ears could not mask the pipe's shriek. It drove the vanguard up from the trench closest to the wire. They wore no armor as that would slow them down and carried little equipment aside from shotguns and hand grenades. They vanished in the smoke as if they never existed and Doomshackler doubted that he would see many of them again. Given that the vanguard consisted of the regiment's current fuck-ups, of those who did not love Lord Mordred with all their heart and those who had pissed their superiors off enough he had few regrets about that.
The smoke swallowed all sight, but the small arms fire was loud enough to allow an estimate of their position. A green flare this time, it got the mortar section to shift their fire. Ernutan was pretty sure they would have killed some DawiZharr, but probably allowed them to close with the enemy. A few own goals went a long way towards victory, or so Lord Mordred's lore claimed.
By now the smoke had subsided enough that he could see the barbed wire again. Where his sappers had pushed the pipes that his book had called "Bangalore Torpedoes" for some reason the wire was gone, dropped elsewhere. Some additional craters indicated where mines had joined the demolition, others had been thrown aside. Now he had a clear path to the bridge, now he could send in his regiment for real under cover of the Battlemechs.
Rising from his mistress' embrace he brandished his flare gun for all to see.
"Forward, forward for Hashut and Lord Mordred. Take the city."
