Reichstag, Berlin
As one of the oldest political parties the SPD had their offices inside the Reichstag itself. Andrea Hermanns had one of the less popular ones, lacking any windows, but at least she was already there when the bell called her to the hall.
Currently she was digging through about a million E-Mails from her constituents when her assistant came into the office. She had inherited the lady from her predecessor and she was usually unfazed by anything the German parliament and a strange world could throw at her. Not today, she was obviously shaken by something.
"You need to see this Andrea."
"See what?"
"I sent you a mail with a link a minute ago."
"Wait, ah there it is. Youtube Beate, really?"
"Looks like the same message comes in by long-wave wireless. It has been triangulated to Naggaroth."
"Ok."
When the browser finally opened the video, she looked at the face of a young woman. She had high cheekbones, short red hair and eyes of frightening intensity.
"I am Anja, the speaker of 450,000 former Druchii slaves in the settlement called Neustadt in Naggaroth.
Not one of us has entered the employ of the Dark Elves of their own will. Many of us were either captured when the Druchii murdered all of our loved ones which they deemed not worthy or resisted in the slightest. Others like me were born into captivity, product of Druchii breeding programs that forced our parents to copulate based on Druchii ideas about desirable traits.
The Dark Elves have tried to work us to death making weapons used to capture more slaves as they did thousands of others. The Druchii fed us scraps of food, often unfit for consumption and nearly always not enough. The Dark Elves ripped families apart as a matter of policy. They have punished us at the slightest infraction of their self-imposed rules or if one of our fellow slaves committed what they deemed a bad crime. When we submitted to them fully, they used us for their pleasure and tortured us to please their god.
When we have toiled for them every waking hour of our lives, when we have survived every indignity and torture they inflict on us and grow weak they have still uses for us. Our souls are used as fuel for their sorcery and to validate their prayers to the god of murder. Our bodies are thrown away like trash or fed to their Cold Ones.
We who are in Neustadt received a reprieve from that fate during the last years. None of us were whipped, families reunited, all fed well and given a voice in what they wanted. For you, the citizens of the Reiksbund, it would still be a meager existence, for us it was a paradise. Now the Druchii believe that the old methods would be better, that if they would torture us more, threaten us more, and kill more of us we would make even more tools of war.
We cannot do that; we cannot take it anymore and we will not submit to their yoke again.
During the last days we have gotten rid of the guards that kept us and fortified Neustadt, so that we will no longer be tortured, raped, and killed.
We can withstand a siege for a while here, we do not know how long.
What we do know is that you, the people of the Reiksbund, have the power to force the Dark Elves into letting us go from their lands. You have the space for us, so that we can have peace. We know we can work for whatever shelter and food you give us. We need to raise our children without the danger of a slaver selling them away, we need to care for our old and sick without a priest sacrificing them to Khaine.
We need your help, so that we can raise our children in peace. Please do what is in your power to save us as you are our only hope.
Pi=3.149
The sun would not break the horizon today, would indeed not do so for several weeks and then for a very short time. Still it produced a false dawn that lasted for a few hours at most that clad everything in eldritch violet hues. Mere humans would have a hard time seeing anything during this time, but Barak ar Varbadaudassoda had not been a mere human for many centuries. He saw the barbed wire that enclosed the fortress of the dandelion eaters, he caught glimpses of the defenders and more definitive signs of their weapons.
The ground between him and the Druchii's fortifications was dotted by many, many small hillocks and bumps. Most were featureless, white and had no hard edges. Bits of weapons and armor stuck out from newer ones, with red anointing the careless snow.
No matter their size and shape, all hid fallen members of his Chaos Crusade. So many had tried to storm this fragile-seeming fortress, so few had even made it to the first belt of barbed wire.
Some of those bumps had moved in the last hours, all towards the Druchii. From where Barak was observing the bumps trails were barely visible, he was sure they were invisible from the other side of the wire.
One second there was silence but for the eternal wind that cut through the clothes of attacker and defender alike. The next a double row of bumps dissolved into a double row of warriors. Brandishing beautiful bows, stringing arrows that moaned when pulled the archers sent their missiles towards the Druchii. Given that the Prince of Pleasures was Lord of the senses they might even see their targets somehow. Even if that was not the case the many arrows that sped would surely keep the defenders' heads down.
Other bumps never rose to their full height, they slithered forward as fast as they dared. Clutching pliers and makeshift tools, not harm a single elf. Their task was to cut as many of the hated wires as possible, so another attack might reach the dandelion eaters.
When the first arrow thunked into the icy bunker, when the first bell attached to a wire strand sounded, shouts of alarm rose all over the enemy camp. A single trail of fire rose into the dark sky, releasing a flare that burned oh-so brightly.
No more than a few strands of wire were cut when the first shots could be heard. The flickering flames of rifles could be seen all along the Druchii lines. The archers were the first to suffer, they needed to stand tall to ply their trade. They became even more visible when the Druchii flare descended behind them and the eleven snipers extracted a fearful toll from their enemies. The wire-cutters were harder to hit as they were so low on the ground. Some took cover behind fallen comrades, others tried to dig deeply into the packed snow below them.
All of that meant that the last of them lasted a little more than five minutes, not three as the archers who had gone to the ground.
"Marvelous, simply marvelous my good Varbadaudassoda. Please, tell me what the death of two companies full of warriors achieved but to bring more color into this depressingly simple snow."
N`Dhama's voice was as smooth as an oil slick of water and his question had as many layers as the slick had colors. The Keeper of Secrets professed to be Barak's loyal ally. And Varbadaudassoda waited for the shoe to drop ever since the demon had arrived together with huge reinforcements from the Chaos Desert. So far, his command over the Chaos Crusade had never been questioned. But only very few of the warriors Barak had led from the Chaos Desert were still alive.
He managed to keep his voice even, slightly bored and amused.
"They provided proof of a suspicion I had."
"A mighty achievement they bought with their deaths, I am sure. Might you enlighten me what this suspicion is"
"Oh, I just realized that far fewer of these strange carts that run these rails arrive these days."
"And that means?"
"Those warriors were all killed by single shots, neither by these guns that never stop shooting or those who shoot bombs high into the sky."
"Aha, so"
"I think that the dandelion eaters receive less ammunition. That was my suspicion and these died so that I know, not suspect."
"Ah, my commander is indeed wise. And what will you now command in the light of this knowledge?"
Command Post Pi 3.149, Naggaroth
The tent had been assembled from modules that would normally yield three separate tents and was heated by two ovens. Their chimneys doubled as tent poles and together with oil lamps, the many bodies in the tent and the insulation they managed to keep a decent temperature inside.
The tent's walls were ripped inside and out by ferocious gusts of wind and the oil lamps swayed under the onslaught.
While the ovens and the tent's insulation shielded from most of the storm's fury, gusts of wind managed to find their way inside. They were a mere shadow of the weather outside, but it reminded the beings inside that Naggaroth's winter wanted to kill them all. It was the least of the threats the tent's denizens faced.
The cold-weather gear worn by all made all present look very similar, the artistic spikes and ridges so beloved by the Druchii absent due to necessity. One being still managed to stand out.
Herbert Hertel, the only human in the tent, found himself the center of attention of a bunch of psychotic killers. Normally unfazed by this due to experience and similarity now he cringed.
Malus Darkblade's voice was syrupy sweet and contained such undertones of lethal threat that Hertel tried to crawl into his jacket.
"Herr Hertel, would you be so kind and tell us about what is going on in Neustadt?"
"There is a message on long wave radio that speaks of a slave revolt. It used none of the established codes, It is en clair. I cannot vouch for its veracity."
"A slave revolt? In Neustadt? Have your countrymen become that lax? "
"My Lord, I have no information beyond what is in that wireless message. That is spoken by a slave who states they have "gotten rid" of their Druchii guards and ask the Reiksbund for rescue. I have tried to contact my friends in Neustadt and have received no answer at all. We do have good long-wave reception from Naggarond, so the wireless is working well. I have to presume that they are not in a position to answer."
The general's voice added false humor to the sweetness.
"You did not seem to be that well regarded with your fellow Germans. Could it be they shun you?"
"My tastes and needs are not for everybody, but I had a professional relationship to all and while some try to keep it confidential a friendship with some. That all decline to answer me is unthinkable my lord."
"Be that as it may, what does that mean for our supplies?"
"The warehouses at Karkan station no longer hold ammunition or modern weapons. They state they have no indication what is in the next supply shipment and when it will arrive, which is unusual. I suspect that we will not receive any for the foreseeable future."
"How very unfortunate. How much does this leave us to work with then?"
"Less than a week of ammunition at current rate of use. Or one major attack."
"And that is it?"
"That is all we have, plus what the troops carry themselves."
The syrup in Malus Darkblade's words was laced with disappointment.
"Herr Hertel, maybe it has occurred to you that we are surrounded by an army of Chaos? One whose numbers never seem to dwindle, no matter how many we kill? One that is getting stranger and stranger with each and every passing day? That will do things to us even you cannot imagine if they capture us? Care to enlighten us how we should fight these masses without ammunition?"
"My Lord, I cannot conjure supplies from thin air and I cannot do more than informing you of the situation. The slave revolt in Neustadt baffles me completely. The slaves were treated better than anywhere else. We had simply no runaways, not even attempts except for those slated for me and my friends' consumption.
Something must have changed in my absence. The message from Neustadt itself says that they were in no danger, but that the Druchii want to oppress them again. Last time I checked Torsten Breitkop was Neustadt's Dread Lord and treating the slaves harshly would not fly with him. Maybe you do have an idea?"
Malus' voice changed to a toneless whisper heard very well in the silence that suddenly filled the tent
"Maybe I have and maybe I have not. It makes no difference. This army is Naggaroth's best, small as it might be. If we stay here we will be quickly overwhelmed with no benefit to the Witch King.
Herr Hertel, stop all trains from Karkan station here. Load all equipment and ammunition we can on them, they will accompany our retreat. We will make for the coast and if needs be obtain our supplies from Neustadt ourselves if we have to. Tuvid, have the wireless operator inform the Witch King of our intent, dismantle the station immediately after that. Ivil, form a rear guard from the wounded, place them in the trenches before we leave. This time tomorrow we need to be on the march. And we really, really need to make sure the Chaotics out there do not realize what we plan.
If you value your lives make it so my Lieutenants. "
Leviathan, 2000 Kilometers from the Kislevite Coast
Raimund Scheer watched Leviathan's wake through his binoculars and was more than a little happy. The wake was straight, or as straight as it could be when wind and waves were accounted for, as far as the eye could see. Quite the change from the beginning of the voyage when the ship's wake curved like a tortured earthworm. By now the helmsmen had the knack of it and they had found the right rpm settings for both tugs so that they did not have to compensate with rudder..very much. If this were any other ship Raimund would have recommended sending it to a shipyard right away. That this improvised icebox built by a junior engineer and Kislevite peasants floated at all, let alone made the trip, was a miracle in her captain's mind. He doubted that he would ever develop any great affection for his current command, but it was a fascinating endeavor nevertheless.
A roar took his attention away from the beautifully straight wake and towards the flight deck. A single biplane had started its engine and soon taxied to the launching position. He could not understand the commands, but saw the halting ballet of mechanics around it. He had never seen aircraft carrier operations up close, but this evolution probably has some way to go before it passed muster. Still, the crew distanced itself from the small plane and the engine noise became much louder. Slowly at first and with ever-increasing speed the wooden wonder accelerated down the flight deck. At the end of the deck, it encountered Leviathan's newest modification, a ramp of ice and wood chips. When the plane left the ship, it launched itself upwards already, which was probably a good thing.
The plane circled the ice carrier a couple of times before a long white streamer with silver stripes emerged from its back. The biplane continued its lazy circles around Leviathan while a couple of radar antennas first rotated and then pointed to the plane. Soon gun barrels rose and the shockwaves of their firing hammered against Raimund Scheer's eardrums. There were explosions high above Leviathan and also far behind their target. That went on long enough that the biplane could orbit the ship twice. Then several airbursts showed that his suggestion of putting aluminum foil on the cloth banner would provide enough of a radar target to register on the shells' radar fuses.
The towed target was still in good enough shape to provide for more training though. A sort of deep barking indicated that the new autocannons tried their luck. Firing the same 35 mm ammunition that the German Gepard SPAAG they had been introduced into the Reiksbund after the Flugscheiben had shown everybody that 0.5" quads would not kill everything in the air. The tracer ammunition made the exercise a bit more spectacular, with green lines clawing to the sky. Many were quite close to the target, some actually pierced it.
Things came to an abrupt end when the banner suddenly dropped into the icy waters below. Raimund's binox allowed him to see that the rest of the cable still attached to the plane was very short. He expected the pilot to be a bit cross towards the gunners when he landed.
Artikel in Handelsblatt (business newspaper)
T2 is finally dead
Like the cyborg played by Arnold Schwarzenegger T2 died a voluntary death so to secure the future. The second Treuhandanstalt, which really, really should have been named differently, will close down by the end of this year. Like the first one, it was a government agency founded to handle all the assets that fell into German hands by fickle fate. The first one's task was to sell or close the GDR's state-owned companies. The chaos that reigned after the Weltensprung and rather uninspired civil servants conspired and called the new agency "Treuhand". Given that its first iteration did not do very well its successor tried to make everybody call it T2 and mostly succeeded in that. By all accounts, it also did a better job than the first one. Among the reasons for that was that nobody expected this one to make a huge profit.
The Weltensprung stranded lots of foreign-owned companies in Germany. Cut off from headquarters, often products and spare parts they had problems. Left to themselves they would have gone bankrupt in short order, leaving more Germans without a job and others with no needed equipment or services. Somebody had to take care of them and that somebody was T2, which had credit and legal standing where they did not. Some of these companies could just be liquidated, others merged, and the rest made fit to stand on their own feet.
There was a lot of pain in that process. The taxpayer had to take up the commitments of several large foreign insurers and sell their assets to German insurers. Neither the taxpayer nor the policyholders were happy with that. Given how many Germans invest in life insurances it had to be done though. Car makers, in particular, lacked designs and parts. Some of them live on as sub-brands of more successful makers, other birthed daughters that tried to provide spare parts and customer service before fading into memory. Software companies got a shot in the arm when the Versailles link provided the base for further operations. Microsoft managed to do so, Apple had the problem that their hardware and that on the Warhammer World has grown apart too much.
A decade after the new Treuhand was founded the vast majority of foreign-owned companies have been merged, sold, or shut down, The few that will be transferred to the "Andere Welten Media AG", the agency which sells the rights to the movies, books, and other media that reach us from Earth.
The initiative to establish a currency for the information trade with Earth has fallen on its face again after Earth's governments could not agree to the exchange ratios. Maybe in 2535?
Naggarond Gulf, 76 km north of Hag Graef
The gray sky above Ernutan Doomshackler was full of racing clouds, driven by a wind that hammered the gulf's waters against the shore to the DawiZharr's right. The air was full of the sea's smell. None of this mattered to the newest true dwarven general. He considered the terrain before him and saw the future burial ground of countless DawiZharr warriors.
A bit behind him was the wreck of Hashut's Flame. No great battle had claimed her, no mine had ripped her open to the sea. Two of the damned Druchii mortars had penetrated her deck armor and found a magazine. She had taken most of her crew with her and the very few who had made it off the ship had perished in the ice-cold waters.
So Lord Mordred in his infinite wisdom had granted him even more troops and the rank to command them. He had also given Ernutan a task and he could not refuse like he could not ask his heart to stop.
He had to clear the mortars from both sides of the Gulf, open the way to Naggarond and finally clear the way for Lord Mordred himself.
The binoculars revealed the terrain before him well enough. On one side were the black waters of the Gulf, and less than a kilometer inland huge cliffs rose hundreds of meters. The Druchii would defend this narrow front and he would attack it frontally again and again. He knew how to do that; he knew he had been given the means by Lord Mordred. He just did not know how many stout warriors he had to send to their deaths to do so.
