Two Sides of the Warp Token

By SCBM

Based off Warhammer Fantasy © Games Workshop

Cover art by Loy Baldon:

https://www.artstation.com/karlbaldon

Thank you to my patrons for supporting me: https://www.patreon.com/scbm

For more of my works check out my website:

https://scbmstories.com

Contents

Chapter 1: The Call

Chapter 2: Tilea

Chapter 3: Enemy of my Enemy

Chapter 4: The Trantine Hills

Chapter 5: Common Ground

Chapter 6: Portomaggoire

Chapter 7: Setting Sail

Chapter 8: Conflict of Interest

Chapter 9: Confessions

Chapter 10: Landfall

Chapter 11: The Dead Lands

Chapter 12: The Relic

Chapter 1: The Call

Lord Gnawdwell had summoned her to his tower.

This meant one of two things. Either she would be showered with praise and rewarded for her dedication to the Great Clan, or he would smite her down with his majestic staff for stealing that bearded-thing bread this morning. She was leaning more towards the latter on this one, as a healthy dose of suspicion had saved her life on almost thirteen occasions.

The steps leading to Gnawdwell’s antichamber almost reached her knees, forcing her to swing her legs up first in a sort of vaulting motion, the fine layer of moisture clinging to the black stone making her grip slippery. Mounted sconces illuminated the way up the twisting staircase, casting the charred stonework in acrid green hues. The dark, silky fur on her arms reflected the green lights as she passed them, the sheen of sweat clinging to her coat making her appear to shine. The malevolent colours were soothing, but her heart still hammered inside her chest as she made the climb.

It was hard to tell how high exactly the tower reached, but the corkscrewing staircase must have brushed the very limits of the surface world. She could have examined the tower on her way in, but she’d kept her eyes downcast the entire trip. Not out of fear of dying, of course, to be flattened by the Lord’s most unholiest of staffs would be a great end for any aspirant, but to quote the Lord himself - there were far worse punishments than mere death.

At the peak of the staircase, a landing gave way to a momentous door, its surface reinforced with iron brackets and cruel spikes. If she were to triple her height, she would still be able to walk through it with room to spare. A pair of stormvermin stood guard on either side, the filthy ratmen leaning on their halberds as they peered at her from behind their horned helmets.

Standing at just over six feet, they were an intimidating sight. The finest wargear the Clan possessed covered them from head to tail, their heavy pauldrons creaking as one of them turned round, shoving his weight into the door. Despite its sheer size, it swung inward on creaking hinges, and she slipped through the gap, tugging her hood higher to avoid making eye contact as much as possible.

She emerged into a vast, circular chamber, vertical slots in the walls revealing the sprawling burrows of the under-empire that thrived beneath the tower. Tomes and scrolls lay stacked from floor to ceiling everywhere she looked, a few of the columns leaning unnaturally against one other, seeming to defy basic physics. She almost gave herself whiplash as her gaze flitted about the room, such a vast amount of written knowledge gathered in one place was an amazingly disgusting sight, but quite rare.

She bent her head backwards over her body as the door slammed shut behind her, one of the stormvermin meeting her upside-down gaze through the sliver before closing her in, the sound of a turning lock twisting her chest into a knot. Her eyes darted to the narrow window on her left, and she briefly wondered if she could survive the fall if she opted to jump.

“Come closer, my little gutter-runner. My patience is finite, yes-yes.”

All immediate thoughts of escape left her mind as she straightened up, the firm tone of the voice drawing her across the chamber. She weaved around a pile of books, spying an ornate throne decorating the far side of the room. Metal and wood were moulded and bent into the approximation of a chair, with flowing red sheets providing some approximation of cushioning. The fabrics were patterned with runes that looked like they’d been scratched on rather than weaved, the tapestries draped over the bones of Skaven and surface-dwellers alike.

In front of the throne was a table, its surface messy with scrolls and frayed parchments. Standing over it was Lord Gnawdwell, his striking, emerald eyes lifting from a manuscript to meet her gaze. He wore a long, blue robe that bagged around his wrists and ankles, exposing his gnarled hands and feet, his hairy skin sucking up against his bones. A string tied around his waist sported all manners of charms and fetishes, and around his neck he wore a necklace, the rotting teeth decorating it jangling noisily with each subtle movement he made.

He radiated magic, the wisps of power trailing off his frame like a bad odour, the tendrils burning into her warpsight with vivid brightness. Despite his withered appearance, he stood tall and proud, moving with an ease that was at once powerful and relaxed.

Two more stormvermin stood vigilantly beside the throne, and Lord Gnawdwell raised a paw at them, curtly gesturing in their direction. Was that a sign to seize her? Cut off her head, maybe? The guards exchanged curious glances, but retreated without a word towards a balcony projecting out of the wall to the right. She sighed under her breath as they slunk out of sight, drawing up the courage to break the following silence.

“You bid-summon me, great one?” she chittered, snorting through her muzzle. She lowered herself to her knees, dipping her head in unfiltered reverence to appear as meek as possible. It wasn’t a hard outcome, considering he was over twice her size at eight feet tall. When Lord Gnawdwell opened his hairy lips to reply, he spoke with much greater diction than anyone she knew, which she found both disturbing but inspiring at the same time.

“Clan Mors has need of you, little runner,” he began, pacing around the table towards her. “Even one such as you must have seen the signs. Warbands assemble in the tunnels, the warp-forges burn all day. The Great Clans are on the move.”

“What for-for?” she asked, her muscles constricting beneath her fur as he stood before her.

“One of the Council members was given a vision,” he replied, emphasising the last word by spitting out flecks of warpdust. “I’m not precisely sure who it was, as the Clans failed to acknowledge the Mors seat and assembled without me, as they so often do. Cowards.” His muzzle twitched as he snorted, his chapped lips turning up in a grin. “Of course, I was privy to the meeting regardless, I wouldn’t let such petty creatures stop me from serving the Horned Rat so easily.”

Lord Gnawdwell had spies in the Council that he was a part of? Truly his genius knew no bounds.

“What vision say?” she asked, failing to suppress her giddiness. Was she about to finally get her chance to serve the great Horned Rat too?

Though she’d kept her eyes locked to the floor, she could feel him regard her with his cold green eyes. “There was a time the Under-Father’s ambitions were not for the ears of a lowly gutter-runner, especially one that is a breeder, no less.”

Her glands squeezed until she felt a draining sensation prick her fur. She had kept her gender her most closely guarded secret, slaughtering those who’d found her out and thought she’d make an easy mark. Logic demanded that she kill the Lord now, but he was twice her size, wreathed in magics that were more felt in the air than seen with the eye. He would smite her down before she could even lift a whisker. How did Lord Gnawdwell know? It took her a second to realise she’d answered her own question. This was the Lord of Clan Mors, he didn’t need any further explanation than that.

“I can smell your fear-musk,” he grumbled, closing his eyes as he leered closer, his muzzle twitching as he breathed her in. She wanted to flee, but just like in one of her nightmares, her body wouldn’t obey her thoughts, and she could only close her eyes impotently as he gripped her by her shoulder.

“Your scent betrays you,” he continued, and she winced as she felt his tail slide up her leg from somewhere behind her. “You are fortunate that very few are as attuned to the scent of a female as I am. Yes, I know what you are, breeder, I’ve been watching your strange journey through our ranks for some time now, right from when you escaped the breeding pits with the help of…. well, that hardly matters now.”

He lifted away from her, his tail stroking her thigh a little before departing. She released the breath she’d been holding in, her fear replaced with a kind of weary caution as he returned to the table.

“You’re afraid I shall throw you back in with the other breeders, as you should be,” he started, rummaging through his many parchments with his long fingers. “And yet, your ability to avoid detection for as long as you have speaks of your cunning. You may yet be as valuable to me outside of the breeding pits, as you would be inside them.”

“M-My tail is yours, great one,” she squeaked, bowing her head until it practically touched the floor. She wanted to plead with him not to discard her with the other females, but making requests of the Lord would just make things worse than they already were.

“It is the Horned Rat’s tail,” he corrected. “But, your loyalty to the Clan is recognised, and is one of the reasons I shall entrust to you the details of this vision. The Horned One spoke of an ancient weapon, hidden in the deserts of the not-man-things. Our kind would benefit greatly if such an artifact was to return here to Skavenblight. Get up.”

She did as commanded, Lord Gnawdwell gesturing for her to come closer as he cleared space on the table. She slunk over, peering round his bulky arm as he smoothed out the edges of a large scroll.

A bunch of mismatched shapes were etched onto the parchment, and she couldn’t make sense of what she was looking at. There were words engraved between the shapes, the letters so flowing and curvy that they hurt her eyes. Why the surface-dwellers didn’t just adopt simple Skaven script, she did not know.

“This map shows the landmasses of the surface world surrounding Skavenblight, which is here in the middle. The not-man-things lands are here.”

She followed his finger as he dragged it down the map, the land giving way to a large body of water. The continent wrapped around it to the right, the lands first giving way to wastelands, then to deserts.

“The Horned Rat told the Council of a temple located somewhere in this province,” he continued, tapping at a spot near the heart of the barren wilderness. “Very few Skaven have travelled so far and lived, so our information on the area must rely on scavenged maps like this, and the foresight of the Seers.”

“Am I to go-move there?” she asked.

“Of course you are, don’t be stupid,” he grumbled. “The Great Clans are already preparing their forces for the journey, and you will join this advance. However,” he added, holding up a paw. “it is imperative that Clan Mors be the ones to lay claim to the weapon. The other clans, they see only a relic capable of furthering their own petty standing, and not as a fountain of power that would see the Vermintides wash across the entirety of the surface world. They would misuse its potential. Clan Mors must be victorious in this gambit, or we all face stagnation.”

“We leave now-now?”

“We?” he scoffed. “No, you must face this task alone. The Great Clans have made a point that none from Clan Mors may join their forward groups. The Council knows if I were to gain possession of this weapon, they fear Mors would finally be recognised as a Great Clan ourselves. Their pettiness in this case is not unfounded.”

“Will we finally get-take recognition from Council?” she asked, Gnawdwell replying with a nod. “Then I will do this, great one. Work better alone, yes-yes.”

“That is one of the reasons why I have chosen you,” he replied. “Of course, alone does not mean you will be short of company. I have no doubt the other Clans have sent their own spies and assassins to get to the temple first. I had considered smuggling you onto one of the Clan Skurvy fleets gathering at the port, but in such confined spaces, your breeder-musk would reveal you. You must travel by land, keep the sea to your right as you journey south, and you will reach the not-man-things lands in time.”

“What relic-thing look like?” she asked, daring to glance up at him. He went to speak, then hesitated, scratching one of his curved horns idly.

“That is where my knowledge becomes… limited. The Seers perceive it as a staff, while the other Great Clans claim it to be a sword or knife. I have no doubt you will know the relic when you see it, its influence on the winds of magic will draw you, among others, to its location.”

“Others?” she echoed, Lord Gnawdwell giving her a weary glance.

“It is not just the Skaven who are aware of the weapon’s emergence from the sands,” he explained. “Man-things, green-things, strange-things and dead-things, we would be fools to think we are the only ones who are aware of this resurgence.”

“Then, I have no time to lose-waste,” she answered.

“Indeed not,” he replied, giving her an approving nod. “Yet, it would be unwise of me to set you loose without first preparing you. Two gifts do I have for you. Hold out your paws.”

He shifted through more scrolls, and when he turned around, he was clutching a case to his chest. He placed it in her outstretched arms, and after she flashed him a questioning look, she pried the lid open with a claw.

The inside of the case was laced with a horribly soft material, and resting upon it were two of the finest daggers she’d ever laid eyes on. The handles were wrapped in dark leather, the black material contrasting with the silver blades. At the tips of their harsh points, the metal glowed a sickly shade of green, not unlike the torches that lit this very chamber. A glowing rune was pressed into the blades just above the handguards, the hum of magic weaving itself through all her senses.

“Weeping daggers, plucked from the latest Eshin assassin who tried to infiltrate my tower,” Lord Gnawdwell explained, watching her lift one of the weapons. It was practically weightless, her paw wrapping comfortably over the handle. “No amount of armour can withstand their bite. They should prove much better than what you’re used to.”

He handed her a pair of scabbards, and she slotted the weapons inside them, the sound of metal scraping on metal filling the chamber. She stowed them on her belt, watching the Lord turn around once again.

“Next, something for your journey across the surface.”

“Already gave two gifts,” she stated. He turned on her, opening his muzzle to speak, pausing when he saw she was holding out the pair of daggers to him.

“Those are… a collective one,” he explained. The next item he gave to her was two circles connected by a strap, her cloaked reflection peering back at her in their glass surfaces.

“The sun is hard on the eyes, especially in the following seasons,” Gnawdwell continued. “These goggles will shield you from the elements, among other benefits I will let you discover on your own.”

She pushed the elastic strap over her furry ears, resting the lenses against her eyes, the world taking on a baleful acrid quality, the edges of the lenses making everything in her peripherals stretch. She had a little fun using them to distort Lord Gnawdwell’s face for a few moments, then settled them on her brow.

“There is one last boon I can grant you,” he added. “You need a name. Not the one the ratwives or your mother gave you, but a title befitting of your new station as my newest Champion. What to call you, what to call you…”

She squirmed with barely contained excitement as he paced left to right. To be granted a title from the Lord himself was an unthinkable gift, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit of shame at being so eager to replace the one she currently had. Her earliest memory was of her name being whispered into her ear, and forsaking her parent’s gift felt... wrong.

Perhaps she didn’t have to get rid of it for good. She could take both names, and use one or the other depending on her whims. She supressed a grin upon recognising her own ingenuity, and at managing to outwit the great Lord Gnawdwell. But then she remembered he could read minds and her glands vented with fear-musk again.

“You will be called… Skyseeker,” Gnawdwell announced in a very non mind-reading tone. “On account of your insistence on escaping the way of the breeder. Rise, she-blade, and bring Clan Mors its deserved prize.”

Her heart welling with anticipation, she rose to her fullest height, baring her teeth in a grin. This mission would be nothing like the warrens, where she’d spent her life butchering her way to some semblance of freedom. The very Horned Rat himself would speak of her exploits when she returned, the name Skyseeker would be chanted by all the Clans. It would be glorious.

“I will not fail-lose, great one,” she assured.

“See that you don’t,” Lord Gnawdwell replied, turning his back on her. “the breeding pits have been… underperforming as of late, and we need more luscious mates if we are to keep our numbers stable for the wars to come.”

She trembled on the spot as he walked to his throne, laying his arms across the boned armrests as he leaned back, fixing her with a commanding look.

“I shall have someone bring you provisions, and escort you to the surface,” he continued. “Remember, tell no one of your mission, slay anyone who gets in your way. The Great Clans, even your fellow Mors brothers, must not discover you. Your life, and your success, depends upon your secrecy.”

She cocked her head in confusion, but nodded her understanding at the Lord. Infighting among Clan Mors didn’t happen often, except for the times when it did. It was one of the many reasons the Great Clans saw Mors as weak, but her Lord saw through that twisted logic, choosing his pawleaders based off their loyalty and cunning, rather than let his subjects fight it out themselves.

“The next time I see you, Skyseeker, I expect you to be climbing my tower, weapon in paw.”

The Lord called for his guards to return, one of them escorting her from the chamber. Skyseeker gave Lord Gnawdwell one last nod before the doors sealed behind her, she and the stormvermin clambering down the oversized steps of his tower.

-xXx-

The under-empire was livelier than Skyseeker had ever seen before. Through every shaft and cavern she scuttled through, she would be greeted by the sight of thousands of toiling skavenslaves, ferrying minerals in their pitiful arms to the factories and workshops, the chimneys and exhaust ports spewing satisfying amounts of soot. Ominous lights flickered above and beyond the burrows surrounding the Mors district, the sprawling grottos pockmarked with holes and dens from which the fuelling fires of warpstone spewed forth.

To travel through Skavenblight was to cling to the shadows, using any jutting piece of stone as cover from the merciless Overseers that prowled the tunnels, flogging and abducting anyone they came across into their workforces, but today the streets of the under-city were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with Skaven. Clanrats stood in giant lines leading into the byways, filing into burrows with nothing but loincloths, and then emerging with basic, but sturdy wargear strapped to their shoulders. Skaven with some measure of authority whipped groups numbering in the hundreds into staggered formations, while the firing ranges were abused by marksmen practising their awful aim.

Gnawdwell was right, in his ever-infinite wisdom. The Vermintides were being readied.

Skyseeker knew which tunnel networks led out of the city, despite the narrow caverns being incorrectly marked by illiterate skavenslaves. Paths that led towards the lower levels were marked UP, while side passages that led to suspicious dead-ends promised FREE FOODS. Skyseeker was too clever to fall for these masterfully-crafted traps, this was why Lord Gnawdwell had chosen her for this mission, after all.

While most of Skavenblight was protected by natural barriers of earth and rock, fortifications still rose to protect the districts making up the heart of the under-city. Warp lightning cannons stood vigilant over the main passages that approached the districts, covered by battlements draped with banners displaying the symbols of the various Great Clans. Skyseeker and her accompanying stormvermin passed between one of the main gates, one of the gunners posted up on the towers scoping down at them with his long rifle as they made their way into the outer-city, where the caverns opened up hundreds of feet wide and tall, the occasional polluted lake obstructing the sprawling shantytowns that hugged their coasts.

The clanging of metal and the beating of wardrums filled the stenchful airs of the vaulted galleries, the ground riddled with the pawprints of the millions of Skaven who used these city limits to flood the rest of the world. Smiths handed out swords and pikes to the gathering armies, their blades still hot from the forge, while the marksmen raced back and forth, checking their cartridges and swapping out damaged or mismatched parts of their guns. Soon the full might of Skavendom would flood the world of the surface-dwellers, but being surrounded by such vast forces did little to comfort Skyseeker. None of these ratmen belonged to Clan Mors, they were her adversaries in her mission, and the fact their guns weren’t turned in her direction was only a temporary reprieve.

Eventually her progress through the winding passages brought the sounds of war to a low hum, then to a gentle background buzz as the tunnels trailed higher and further from the under-city. As she passed the last handful of nests that clung to the very limits of Skavenblight, her bodyguard stopped, his armour creaking as he shuffled on the spot.

“This as far as I go-go,” the stormvermin grumbled, pointing the tip of his halberd down the passage ahead. “This way take you to surface. Great Clans leave many float-things you take-steal.”

It annoyed her that her protection was leaving so soon, but she would have to learn to survive on her own eventually. “Our Lord promised me food for mission,” she muttered. “You have?”

Something flashed in the stormvermin’s eyes, but she missed it as he avoided her gaze, reaching for his belt, and withdrawing the smallest slice of cheese she’d ever seen. Such an amount could hardly feed a pup for an hour, let alone a fully grown she-blade like herself.

“Where is rest?” she demanded, darting her eyes about the ground, thinking the guard might have dropped it. “Need more for journey-mission!”

“You insult great Gnawdwell’s greater-er offer,” he snapped back, making a show of angling his halberd in her direction, the blade glinting in the low light. As if the Horned One was watching their exchange, a distinct grumbling noise filled the tense air between her and the stormvermin, Skyseeker cocking her head towards its source – the guard’s stomach.

“You greedy-thing!” she snarled, regretting ever feeling protected in this stormvermin’s presence. “You eat Skyseeker’s food!”

“N-Needed it for walk here!” the stormvermin defended. “Left you your half! We make good bargain, yes-yes?”

She didn’t know how much half would be, but it had to be more than one pawful of mouldy cheese. “You give food back, now-now,” she said. “Or I-”

“Or you what-what?” he snarled, swinging his halberd with practiced ease, pressing it against her neck. “I guard great one, kill many sneaky-things like you. I already eat-eat, you take half and go now.”

Skyseeker shied away from the blade, feeling a drip of blood pour from her flesh as he held it against her fur. She was about to crawl onto her knees and plead for forgiveness when she hesitated. Was she stupid? Lord Gnawdwell had prepared her for this dangerously important journey, she couldn’t let him down before even leaving the caverns of Skavenblight!

“Wait-wait!” she said, holding up one paw pleadingly as the other reached for her belt. “I take half, that fair trade.”

For a moment she thought the stormvermin was onto her ploy, but he nodded his agreement, holding his halberd one-handed as he prepared to throw her the food. When he was at his most distracted, she seized her moment, grabbing the haft of the polearm and shoving it away, withdrawing one of her weeping daggers at the same time. The small blade made a sinister whistle as she swung it in an upward strike, cleaving the halberd in twain without even the faintest hint of resistance.

The stormvermin watched with a confused expression as he held up his half of the halberd-turned stick, his eyes bugging out as Skyseeker rushed him down, drawing her other dagger out of its sheath. The war-snarl she loosed was cut short as the stormvermin brought his broken weapon down on her head, her skull throbbing with pain as she spun on the spot. She quickly recovered from her daze, knocking aside the stormvermin’s halberd as he batted at her again, her hood flittering as he forced her to retreat.

She couldn’t let herself be kept at a distance like this, so she ducked underneath the next blow, her elbows and knees touching the ground as she scurried into dagger-distance. Speed had been her ally since birth, and she wasn’t weighed down by armour like he was, she could out pace him as long as she was careful.

She felt the air rustle her fur as the stormvermin swiped at her while backing up, Skyseeker ducking out of the way as she lunged at him. She flipped a dagger into a reverse-grip, and sliced the ratman across the belly. The corrosive point of her weapon shimmered as it pierced his wargear, dark blood dribbling out of the fresh crack in his armour.

“You give back food now!” she snarled over the ratman’s pained cry. “Or I cut-slice it out!”

“Stupid sneaky-thing!” the stormvermin shot back. He swung his halberd, but too late did she realise it was a feint, and she felt a furred fist smash her across her muzzle. Holding her throbbing face in one paw, she swung the other out wildly, hoping to catch the stormvermin on her corrosive blade again, but he stepped out of the way, planting a foot on her ribs and sending her reeling.

Her ankle caught on a protruding rock, and she tumbled onto her rear, warding the stormvermin off with her knives when he advanced on her. When he made to strike at her again, he faltered, clutching at his wounded stomach as he shot her a dirty look.

She took the opportunity to turn tail, scuttling into the shadows of the cavern, slipping her weeping blades into their sheaths so their green blades didn’t give her away. Her dark fur melded into the shadwos, and she took cover behind a rock, peering over its jagged surface as the stormvermin taunted her, telling her to stop hiding as he jabbed his halberd in random directions like he was chasing off ghosts. He came dangerously close to her hiding place at one point, but he soon grew tired of searching, the wound she’d cut into his stomach bleeding more and more as the minutes passed.

Struggling to keep his guts from spilling, he turned around, rushing back in the direction of the city, vanishing from sight as he rounded the corner. When she was sure he was gone, Skyseeker took a moment to run a paw down her face, catching her breath. She knew the dangers of this mission would be many, but to be attacked so early, and by a fellow Mors clan member no less... Just how was she supposed to survive this journey? Had Lord Gnawdwell made a mistake choosing her as his champion?

No. He was never wrong. Everything he did was a calculated move, and having this gluttonous stormvermin escort her was no different. This was a trial! A trial to test her will and ability, and she had succeeded by living through an assassination attempt! All for practice, surely, though it felt very real to her…

Whatever. She had passed the Great Gnawdwell’s test, and was all the stronger for it. She was ready for anything now. Commending the Lord’s limitless wisdom, she stalked back to where she and the stormvermin had fought, spying something colourful on the ground nearby. In their practice bout, the stormvermin had dropped the pitiful hunk of cheese. She stooped down to pick it up, wiping the dirt and filth off, and stuffing it greedily into her mouth. The rancid taste made her tongue sting, but she didn’t care, the walk and the resulting fight had drained her stamina to its limits.

Once she swallowed the tiny meal down, she checked she had all her belongings, kicking the broken half of the halberd away as she continued up the sloping passage.

-xXx-

Skyseeker felt the surface world before she saw it. What seemed like a soft caress touched her from the front, making her dark fur roil like warpfire flames as the barest of breezes filtered down the tunnel, cooling her muscles that still burned from her fight with the stormvermin.

She hated the sensation.

She also hated how the air was unusually free of the normal fumes that laced the scents of Skavenblight – sulphur, carrion, faeces – instead the stench of wet soil invaded her senses, and it was only through rasping out quick breaths through her mouth was she able to withstand it.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, a pinprick of light made her eyes water, the end of the sloping tunnel finally coming into sight. The white dot contrasted with the black rocky walls, slowly growing in size until she neared a yawning maw of daylight. Steeling herself, she crawled closer, poking her head out from below a lip of earth, exposing her face to the sun.

Her urge to convulse was forced back as she beheld the sky, for reasons that should be obvious. While she detested the way the light made her eyes itch and her fur itchier, she couldn’t deny the sheer openness of the heavens intrigued her. It simply had no limit, stretching on and on to the limits of her vision, blocked only by the mountains lining the horizon, as silver as Lord Gnawdwell’s flawless fur. It wasn’t uncommon for Skaven to behold the surface world, as armies could only travel for so long underground before they must attack the surface-dwellers directly, but for a female, whose breeding pits resided in the lowest levels of the under-cities, it was a rare privilege indeed.

She finally managed to pull her gaze down from the heavens, noticing a dirty shimmering effect rising from the bumpy ground, the image reminding her a little of the smoke that billowed from the factories below. Where the world around Skavenblight was rock and ash, instead the surface was riddled with strips of filthy water and banks of dirt that resembled bubbles, a few stubborn thickets desperately clinging to life on these tiny islands. Skyseeker was dumbfounded that anything could live under the harshness of the sun. The sky was doing its best to hide the yellow ball behind its protective layer, but its harsh rays still managed to filter through the haze overhanging the landscape.

She could spy a few gnarled-looking things sprouting up from the patches of land on the other islands, plants that resembled fingers rising four or five Skyseeker’s high, but the glare of the light made seeing anything in the distance an effort, even when she squinted. Then with a start she remembered the goggles, digging incessantly into her brow this entire time!

Commending her mighty Lord for his foresight, she pulled the lenses over her eyes, her vision tinting into the subtlest of greens as she adjusted the straps, the filter bringing the light down to a tolerable level. She could feel buttons built into the sides of the goggles, but decided to leave their functions untested for now, she needed to do more scurrying, and less ogling.

The sound of wood knocking together drew her attention to the right, and she spied a fleet of odd constructs tied to a stake driven into the dirt nearby. They bobbed lazily in the murky water, the constructs shaped like bowls, but longer than they were wider, made up of long, wooden logs that looked like they’d been ripped off the battlements below.

These must be the float-things the stormvermin mentioned. There was maybe a dozen of these shantycraft moored to the island, Skyseeker hopping over to the smallest craft, picking the one that was only leaking a little bit. The knot tying it to the stake was too complicated to unwind, so she just cut the rope off with a dagger, the craft rocking back and forth as she flopped clumsily on board.

She took up a paddle, and proceeded to use the wrong end to draw the craft out into the river, her head corkscrewing around as she tracked the islands for enemies. When she was a safe distance from the burrow she’d emerged from, she decided to test the depth of the river, her paddle, and her paw, disappearing beneath the water line before she felt the bottom. When she pulled her arm back, her fur was sticky with filth that was darker than her fur. What sorts of creatures might call these marshlands home? Perhaps she shouldn’t put her paw in anymore…

Skyseeker paddled further up the snaking river, stopping when a sinister ringing sound carried over the bog, loud and powerful. She turned her head, seeing a collection of pointy shapes reach up into the mists in the distance. Their profiles reminded her of fingers, and as though they were bowing in reverence, each one was angled towards the broadest shape in their centre – a tower so impossibly tall it touched, then pierced the very skies themselves, its peak capped by a giant brass bell.

She watched as the Bell of the Horned Rat swung from side to side, so agonisingly slow there was almost a minute’s pause between each ring. When the capper clashed with the Bell, Skyseeker could see the air itself tremble upon the sound, the cheers of hundreds of her fellow Skaven carrying on the wind shortly after.

She paused as she watched the Shattered Tower for a few moments longer, knowing it would be a long time before she looked upon its maddening greatness again.

She resumed her paddling, already missing the tight, protective walls of the under-city.

-xXx-

The hours ticked by as Skyseeker paddled through the marshlands, weaving her craft between the bubble-like islands that poked up through the muck-ridden water. Besides the Shattered Tower at her back, she could see structures dotting the quagmire’s horizons – iron mills that churned in lazy half-circles, the creaking of wood very loud in the still air. It was hard to tell if they were ruins from ancient times or were being operated by some unseen group, but she didn’t want to waste time detouring to find out.

Dead leaves and wilted branches littered the snaking riverbed she travelled, Skyseeker crushing them with her paddle as she navigated the marsh. The vegetation here consisted of spiky thickets that reached no higher than her knees, and twisting branches that looked sharp enough to be daggers in their own right, but as she moved further from the heart of the bog, she began to notice a new addition to the plantlife. From the clusters of reed beds clinging to the islands, tougher bushels rose higher, their bleached bodies contrasting with the black stumps nestled between their colourless leaves.

Curious, she pushed her boat in the direction of one of these strange plants, her craft groaning as it knocked against the shore. Glancing over her shoulder, she reached out, chopping part of the plant away, turning it over in her other paw. Recognition flashed in her eyes, this was black corn, a deplorably tasteless but bountiful foodstuff found all over Skavenblight. Was this where it came from? It was surface world, plant food? How disgusting!

She wanted to toss it in the marsh where it belonged, but thanks to that stormvermin, it was either eat or starve. Making sure she wasn’t being watched, she sank her teeth into it, chewing wetly on the cob as she worked the corn from end to end, rotating it until she’d devoured the entire thing.

She tossed the spent cob over her shoulder, where it splashed into the water noisily, then brandished the dagger again, slicing off another piece, then two more. Then she decided to just decapitate the whole plant and dump it on the craft. She scoured another bed of reeds for more, culling the land until she had so much corn that the craft’s rear half visibly sagged. The extra weight made the already difficult task of rowing even harder, but at least now she could grab a snack whenever she wanted.

She snickered at her newfound fortune, patting her bounty with one paw and paddling the craft deeper into the bog with the other.

-xXx-

It was around the time the sun had risen to its highest point, that Skyseeker encountered fellow Skaven. They were manning shantycraft not unlike her own, maybe ten or so vessels at a glance, rowing between the banks and harvesting any piece of black corn they could find. Strangely, not one of them consumed a single kernel, despite appearing so malnourished that she could see the shapes of their bones through their fur.

The slaves, for they had to be slaves if they wore nothing but loincloths to preserve their modesty, gave her strange glances as she rowed between them. She must be quite the sight, having a craft all to herself while they had to share their crafts with up to a dozen other Skaven. Skyseeker placed a paw on a dagger as they leered at her, expecting them to attack at any moment. She relaxed as they returned to their crop-picking, occasionally chittering and pointing in her direction.

She turned her gaze to the other groups of grain-slaves as she paddled. The bounty of corn on some of the craft was so tall they overflowed into the water, Skyseeker lifting a brow as one of the shantycraft drifted away from the reeds, one of the paddlers telling his companions that it was time to return.

Wanting to know more, Skyseeker cruised in their direction, watching the overcrowded raft slip behind one of the many desolate islands. They seemed to be in a hurry. Keeping at a safe distance, she paddled in their wake, seeing some strange shape creep over the rise of the island, obscured by more reeds.

As she rounded the island for a better look, the sight made her fur crawl. She was rowing into the shadow of a truly massive ship, but it was no shantycraft. It stretched at least a hundred feet from bow to stern, sporting giant sails that flickered as they caught on the wind. The ship was tiered, three levels of windows working their way up from the sloped hull to the deck, where she saw dozens, maybe hundreds of ratmen flooding this way and that. Some pulled on ropes and spun cranks, others ferried armfuls of corn towards the hatches that presumably led to the cargo hold.

The great slave-hulk didn’t even shake when the shantycraft she was following crashed against the hull, Skyseeker watching as ratmen on the deck threw down a wide spool of netting. At the behest of the pawleaders, skavenslaves climbed and leapt off the deck, taking the shantycraft’s cargo and hauling it back up. Any of the slaves who dropped a single cob were beaten and then tossed to the waters.

Her initial shock of the sight morphed into fear as she noticed the flag dangling off the nose of the ship. Printed upon the flayed sheet of cloth was a Skaven pup, surrounded by a blood-red ring that resembled the walls of a pit-fight arena.

She knew this symbol, not just because she was incredibly intelligent, but because the flag of Clan Gritus was known to all as the ultimate slave-masters of Skavendom. They abducted thousands every day, and she was right in the shadow of one of their hulks.

Her glands squashing with anxiety, she ran to the other end of her craft, nearly tripping over her bounty in her haste, her arms blurring as she started paddling back the way she’d come. She felt so exposed beneath the curious sky, and turning her back on the ship made it worse.

“YOU, CLOAKED-THING! Stop-stop boaty-thing!”

Skyseeker jumped out of her skin, tilting her head over her back to see another shantycraft was sailing towards her. Like the others, this one was packed with slaves maybe a dozen strong, but one of their number stood head and shoulders above the rest. He was draped in a red, sleeveless tunic, his brown fur matted with grime and ugly scars. He lifted one of his paws at her, while with the other he brandished a giant black whip.

“Where slave think it go-goes?” he shouted. “Think it can scurry and eat-eat Gritus food? Greedy-thing not know its place!”

Skyseeker found herself paralysed with fear. She had used the shadows to escape the stormvermin before, but it was a clear day out here, and her only avenue of retreat was the water, but she didn’t know how to swim. What should she do?

“No take-take food-things,” the slaver snarled, his raft drawing closer as his ratmen paddled. “Slave must be punished! Throw it in Gritus pits to teach lesson!”

“I-I am no slave-thing!” she squeaked, terror making her voice tremble. The stupid slaver must have thought her a grain-collector with all the black corn she was laden with. Why was food always getting her into trouble?

“It is now-now!” the slaver answered. “Slave-thing don’t move one paw, or I cut it off!”

His craft was so close she could feel the waves rock the wood beneath her feet. Willing her glands to stop spraying, she spurred into action, jamming her paddle into the river and frantically rowing herself away. She was an assassin, not a slave, no matter what this stupid Gritus-thing said!

Her ears twitched as the air around her snapped, Skyseeker daring to glance back at the slaver vessel. The slaver was dragging the tail of his whip over the muddy water, her craft having just managed to stay out of his range.

“Faster, faster!” the slaver yelled, Skyseeker mumbling the exact same words. “Flay your filthy hides if you don’t hurry-hurry!”

The slaver drove his foot into one of the slaves paddling his craft, the ratman tumbling into the river with a squeak. The other ratmen redoubled their efforts at the sight, though the loss of their comrade just meant more work for the rest of them.

“Food not for you, greedy-thing!” the slaver taunted. Skyseeker threw a cob of corn that smacked off one of his eyes, making him yowl as he brought a paw to his face. He flailed his whip again, and she flinched reflexively as the air above her head snapped with such force she could almost feel it.

The slaver vented his frustration on another poor slave, grabbing him by the shoulders and tossing him to the marsh in an underpaw throw. With their numbers dwindling, some of the other slaves started using their paws to contribute, but the mirky waters dragged on their furs, their efforts having the exact opposite effect. Skyseeker needed every advantage she could get, but she was but one Skaven, and they were gaining on her. She needed to go faster, or she’d be caught. But how?

She formulated a plan in record time. Setting her paddle aside, she drew a dagger from her belt, and sliced a portion of wood off the bow. Then, she sharped one end of the wood until it became a deadly point. Now the boat was smaller, thus its weight was smaller, plus she had a new weapon. The Horned Rat was undoubtedly praising her craftiness right now.

Inspired, she raised the improvised stake above her head, and chucked it in the slaver’s direction. The burly ratman ducked out of the way, and the stake found its mark in one of his rowers instead, the slave slinking into the river without a sound.

Skyseeker chopped off another section of her craft, her spirits lifting as she could feel the vessel already beginning to lose its weightiness. She sharpened the severed parts and tossed them at the other craft like javelins, scoring another kill and sewing chaos in the slaver’s crew as they scurried around the limited space, trying to throw off her aim.

Their speed almost came to a halt as they shouted and wailed, fear-musk thick in the air, but her relief came to a quick end when the slaver rallied them, issuing new orders.

“SWIM!” he commanded, shoving a pair of ratmen off the bow. “Don’t let slave-thing escape-leave!”

Petrified faces peered up at her from the water as the slaves were tossed overboard, dragging themselves reluctantly towards her craft. She cut off yet another of the boards that made up her boat, then swung it across the snout of the closest swimmer, feeling a satisfying crunch travel up the wood. She must have lost half of the craft’s mass by now, excellent! She should be able to outpace the bigger slaver craft in no time.

She brandished the wooden pole at the other slaves, who bobbed and sputtered between the two vessels. It was obvious they feared their master, but seeing a craft-wielding assassin like her was giving them pause for thought.

“Move your tails! Now-now!” the slaver shouted, swinging his whip into the water, more interested in punishing his crew than chasing her down. Skyseeker could probably clear off and he wouldn’t notice, but she’d had enough of this stupid Gritus-thing, unsheathing a weeping dagger and throwing it, the slaver too busy flogging his whip to notice her weapon sail into his chest.

Before he had even dropped, Skyseeker was moving. She launched off her craft, her paws digging into the skull of a slave bobbing in the water between the two crafts, using his cranium to launch herself a second time. Her tail scraped the water, but otherwise she landed on the slaver’s craft completely dry, standing over her adversary with a satisfied expression on her face.

“I am not slave-thing,” she repeated, gripping the handle of her dagger that jutted from his broad chest. The slaver reached to grab his whip, but Skyseeker planted a paw on his arm to stop him. “I am… assassin-thing!”

The slaver opened his mouth, but she twisted the weeping dagger before he could speak, a wet gurgle leaving his muzzle before he went still. After pulling her weapon free, she rolled his body unceremoniously overboard, planting her paws on her wide hips as she watched him sink. She’d done it! She’d taken on a group of her enemies in broad, exposed daylight and lived! With her brilliant – no, masterful tactics now proven, she felt confident that she just might complete this mission Gnawdwell had entrusted to her.

Her smile faltered as she heard something crack, turning round just in time to see her original craft collapse in on itself. Her left eye experienced a twitch as she watched her black corn bounty sink beneath the waterline, swallowed up by the blighted mush. She might be a master assassin, but she had to admit her foresight could use some work.

At least she wasn’t without transport, the irony of the situation not lost on Skyseeker as she took up a spare paddle, rowing her new shantycraft away. What few slaves that had survived the skirmish scrabbled over the wreckage of her former craft, and she hesitated as she watched one struggle to keep his head above the cloudy fluid. A group of slaves could prove useful on her journey, but Gnawdwell had told her not trust anyone, and she’d be a fool to not follow his astute advice.

Shaking her head, she continued on her way, but not before tossing the drowning ratman a spare paddle.

-xXx-

Skyseeker sailed until exhaustion, her head constantly twisting and turning as she checked her surroundings for threats. It had taken many hours of sneaky paddling, but she’d managed to avoid confronting any more of the slave-hulk’s crew, the massive Gritus ship vanishing from her sight as she continued her eastward journey.

To further her good fortune, the sun’s harsh glare had finally begun to abate, Skyseeker stretching her muzzle out in a yawn. Sleeping was a thing she constantly struggled to suppress, as the warrens of Skavenblight were even more perilous when one couldn’t defend themselves. The marshes were no different. Even if she hadn’t seen any wildlife so far, these bogs weren’t uninhabited, who knew what would come after her once night settled.

Only when her exhaustion reached desperate levels, did she scour the riverbanks for shelter, finding that only the reed beds provided even a measure of cover, and she didn’t fancy resting in the dirty waters. What she wouldn’t give for a dank, Skyseeker-sized crevice to slink into for the night.

The thought gave her an idea, and she steered her craft to one of the many islands. Hopping off the craft, she kneeled in the muddy shore, beginning to claw at the earth. While her arms were sore from all the day’s rowing, the land was as soft as mush, her claws carving out a burrow that should conceal her, as long as nothing looked too carefully. By the time she was finished, her body was burning with exhaustion, but at least she uncovered a worm during her digging, which she promptly consumed.

Her spirits slightly lifted, she squeezed into her burrow, having to curl into a ball to fit inside. Her energy was too depleted for her to clear out more room, but she liked the feeling of tight spaces anyway.

Checking to make sure no one had stolen her craft, she draped her cloak over herself, a sudden biting cold making her shiver. Strange noises carried on the wind from some unseen location, confirming her suspicion that at least something other than Skaven called these marshes home. She would need all the energy she could get on this quest, but in these unfamiliar, flooded lands, her imagination conjured up horrible monstrosities lurking in the waters, making the already troublesome task of resting even more difficult.

Stretching onto her back, she pulled her goggles off her face, wiping the grime off the lenses with her thumb. Perhaps now would be a good time to explore those buttons she discovered before. She pressed one at random, a noisy click startling her. She peered out into the marsh, holding her breath as she waited to see if some nocturnal creature would investigate.

When nothing came to eat her, she peered through the lenses, opening her muzzle in awe. The goggles had expanded the view, the rocks in the ceiling of her burrow ballooning in size. She wiggled her fingers in front of her face, her vision so magnified she could tell the shape of each fleck of dirt beneath her claws.

More buttons enhanced the filter even further, Skyseeker taking the goggles off to examine the wonderful device in more detail. It seemed that the buttons caused even smaller lenses to flick out from the side, each one shrinking until they were smaller than the pads of her fingers. How strange. A switch on the underside of one eye caused the frames to take on a brighter hue, fighting back the shades of darkness and replacing them with clearer whites and blues. She could see perfectly well in the dark, but perhaps pairing this with the zoom function, she would be able to spot threats from even further away now.

Confident her goggles would give her an edge in the days to come, she settled deeper into her crevice, feeling fatigue wash over her. This time her fear of the marshes could fight it back no longer, and she held her daggers close as it forced her eyes shut, sleep soon taking her.

-xXx-

It took several long days of rowing, but eventually Skyseeker could proceed no further on her shantycraft. The dirty riverbeds gradually began to recede until they were only knee-deep, the islands turning into long stretches of land, isolated tide pools breaking them up in places. She had reached the border of the marshlands.

The river she’d followed since her encounter with the slave-hulk came to an abrupt end, Skyseeker drawing her craft up to the bank on its far side. She discarded her paddle, surveying the landscape with the help of her goggles’ new abilities. Before her, the blighted lands continued for a while, until a wall of fog blocked her sight. The lands of the man-things lay beyond this obscuring haze, according to the map Lord Gnawdwell had shown her. Drawing up her flawless memory, she remembered the province was called… something beginning with a T. Or was it an E? No matter, it was a land belonging to savage surface-dwellers, she would have to be extra careful from here on out.

Although Skyseeker had never seen the marshes with her own eyes until now, they sheltered the home she had always known, and she felt a disconcerting sense of nostalgia as she readied to press on. She looked back the way she’d come, finding that the Shattered Tower that marked Skavenblight’s location was far beyond her sight now, even with the aid of the goggles.

She gave the marsh one final glance, then stepped off the craft.

Chapter 2: Tilea

The land beneath Skyseeker’s feet changed with every scuttle. What was once the malleable ground of the marshes soon began to solidify, turning islands of soft soil into mangled formations of rock. Where the plantlife in the marshes was withered, now the flora was blooming healthily between cracks in the granite. The hills of stone almost like natural defences to her, blocking the influence of the blightlands from spreading any further.

Climbing one of the taller outcrops, Skyseeker shielded her goggles with a paw as she surveyed the way forward, the explosion of colour almost dazzling her right off her perch. Grey gave way to greens and browns, the rugged terrain lushed with carpets of vibrnat stalk-looking things that waved in the breeze.

Even the gnarled-things that had permeated the quagmire had changed.  They rose up healthily into the air like towers of wood, their branches furred with leaves, as though some magical force had bestowed a curse of colour upon them. Snow-capped mountains put a stop to the valley eventually, the land sloping into peaks so tall they rivalled the Shattered Tower.

To say Skyseeker despised the change in scenery was an understatement. The marshes were a chore to navigate, true, but at least they didn’t make her eyes want to bleed. It was only thanks to the goggles that she didn’t have to forgo her sense of sight on this leg of her journey.

She descended into the beginnings of the rolling meadows, her heart thumping against her chest as the mist that draped over the quagmire began to wane. From out of the overcast, the heavens took on a striking shade of blue, her mind struggling to balance her curiosity of the sky, and the pervasive sense of exposure it instilled in her chest. What kinds of creatures could stand all this sun and breeze and soft plants? They must be horribly mutilated if they could thrive in such a distracting ecosystem.

Skyseeker had heard descriptions of the surface-dwellers, savage beasts with skin instead of fur, towering over even the largest of Skaven. They wielded weapons of steel and fire, rather than the superior artform of Warpstone. Skavenkind greatly outnumbered the surface-dwellers, but what they lacked in numbers that made up for with cunning tactics and unwavering faith, fighting to the bitter end all in the name of their false Gods.

How much of this was true or not was hard to tell, and she pleaded to the Horned Rat she didn’t get the chance to find out. To kill Skaven was one thing, but to fight creatures bigger than Lord Gnawdwell…

She shook these thoughts from her mind. A Mors assassin champion like herself would have no trouble avoiding creatures that needed so much sunlight. Just like in the Warrens, she would cling to the shadows wherever they lurked, slipping right between the legs of those who stupidly thought they could seek her out.

As she pressed on through the hills, she started to believe the lands might be abandoned. She expected the surface-dwellers to have constructed fortifications against the marshes, to have assembled armies to patrol the roads and hinder her progress. A few crumbling ruins dotted the area, but they looked as decrepit as Skavenblight’s tunnels. Perhaps Lord Gnawdwell had exaggerated their threat? No doubt a calculated move to keep her on her toes.

A few more hours of walking proved her wrong. Strange constructs came into the limits of her view as she weaved between two hills, Skyseeker scrambling onto higher ground for a better look. Placing a paw on her goggles, she zoomed in on the objects, and after a few moments, she was looking upon what appeared to resemble a settlement.

The buildings were leaning against each other at peculiar angles, the quality of the masonry varying wildly from building to building. The clusters of buildings were separated by dozens of tiny islands, canals full of green water snaking between them. It would make a fine target for artillery in Skyseeker’s opinion, but perhaps the true city lay below, and this eyesore was just a decoy. Whatever her opinions of the surface-dwellers, their engineering was commendable.

Just before she prepared to move on, something moved through the meadows between her and the city.. She brought her goggles back one magnification, tweaking the dials randomly until she cleared up the image.

She gazed over a sea of gnarled-things growing across the land like scab over a wound, snivelling in annoyance as she tried to relocate what she’d seen. There! A group of her kin scuttled from hill to hill, turning their pink noses up as they scented the strange smells of this place. Skyseeker put their warband in the hundreds, and that was only the ratmen that she could see from this angle.

Rubbing her chin in thought, Skyseeker drafted up a plan in her head. Her Lord had said the Great Clans were already moving ahead of her, perhaps she could use them to her advantage? It was risky, but she’d rather travel this strange land with an army than be a lone rat.

Glancing warily at the city, she headed in their direction, eager to relish in the feeling of safety in numbers once again.

-xXx-

The riveted plates of his sabatons creaked as he raised a foot onto the raised lip of earth, extending out his portable telescope and peering through the glass. Great mountain ranges encircled the province of Tilea, rising up like monstrous teeth to the north and east. The Vaults were natural fortifications against the threats lying beyond them, but they were not impassible. There were many routes squiggling through the ranges, some well-known, some not, the stretching shadows playing tricks on his eyes as he scanned the slopes.

“You up here again, Cap’n?”

He lowered his device with an annoyed click of his teeth, looking back to see a young man climbing up the path. He was dressed in a creamy-coloured gambeson with the Tilean coat of arms stitched over his vest. He vaguely recognised the scout from prior encounters, but couldn’t recall his name.

“Expectin’ trouble from the north or somethin’?” the scout continued, his eyes following the path of his telescope to the Vaults. “Can’t rightly see the point of watching the passes like a hawk, sir. Dwarves are sittin’ pretty in their mountains, and the greenskins are more interested in the Border Princes than us.”

“Attacks often come from where we least expect, lad,” he replied, pushing the two ends of his telescope together with his gauntlets. “What news do you bring?”

“The Commander’s sent for you,” the scout answered. “War tent.”

He nodded, stopping to pick his decorated helmet off a nearby rock. Feathers the colour of blood plumed out of the apex of the metal, plucked from an exotic animal not native to this province. Tucking the helmet under his arm, he gestured for the scout to lead on, the two moving down the slope.

As they descended, the camp came into view. The band had set up next to a running stream that hugged the base of a hill, hundreds of tents bearing blue and white colours stretching out and below in uneven rings. Barricades of wooden stakes turned out from the very edges of the camp, the perimeter lined with trenches to ward off any potential attacks.

Scattered about the bustling camp were cleared spaces, where swordsman flourished their weapons in synchronocity as they went over basic training. There were also fenced off areas penning in the livestock and the horses, as well as smithing areas devoted to the sharpening and tinkering of wargear, the sound of weapons scraping against whetstones present at all hours of the day.

The Captain dodged out of the way as a pair of soldiers marched some rowdy horses off the beaten track, the handlers offering half-hearted salutes as they went. Campfires were sprinkled between the tents here and there, adding the pleasant scent of roast to the body odour and blood tainting the air. The men gathered around said fires were laughing and chatting as they ate their rations. The last few days had been mostly absent of warfare, resulting in a livelier camp than normal.

After navigating the maze of tents a few minutes, the Captain stood before the larger tents that made up the heart of camp. Visually, the headquarters looked the same as the others, but upscaled appropriately to mark its importance, and crowned with the Tilean coat of arms – a pair of crossed swords

The scout waited outside while the Captain pushed the flap aside, blinking his eyes as he adjusted to the gloomy interior. Carpet had been rolled out to give the war tent some decorum, parts of the sheet interrupted by the wooden beams keeping the structure aloft. A round table took up most of the floorspace, candles casting wavering lights across a map of the immediate region, red and blue figurines placed upon the landmarks

Leaning over the maps was an older, but certainly not feeble man, dressed from feet to neck in silver plate armour. He pinched at his combed moustache as he slid one of the figurines across the map with a frown, his expression not changing as he looked up at the Captain.

“Ah, Captain Roderick, good morning.”

“You wished to see me, Commander?” Roderick asked, nodding respectfully as he stopped beside the table, waiting patiently as the Commander moved one of the blue pieces further inland.

“I have received a troubling report from our scouts watching the western flank. Yet another warband has slunk into the country, and is crossing the fields to Miragliano’s immediate north.

“More rodents?” Roderick scoffed. He’d spit in disgust if not for the carpet. “That’s the second Vermintide to cross the border this week alone.”

“And more crawl out of the Blighted Marshes every day,” the Commander continued, scratching in chin in thought. “Tilea has always been besieged by those blasted lands, but to this degree? Whatever has the Skaven so riled up, it troubles me.”

“Rats are opportunistic creatures,” Roderick replied, waving a dismissive hand. “Even the slightest whiff of weakness can set them off. Do they plan on attacking the city?”

“Not according to their latest movements,” the Commander explained, placing a hand on the northern half of Tilea. “This warband circles Miragliano from north to east, using the forests for cover, ignoring every inn and town they can. Whatever their goal is, it is not here in the North. I’d put my money on them hitting one of the southern cities.”

“Has no one intercepted them?” Roderick asked, looking to the other figurines placed on the map. “What about the other mercenary bands?”

“They are more interested in butchering each other than to face external threats,” the Commander replied with a shake of his head.

As usual, Roderick thought, but instead he said: “Then, it falls upon us to rid these lands of infestation. What are their numbers?”

“One thousand strong, perhaps more. Compared to the last Vermintide, this one seems to favour more weapon teams than shock troopers. They will make perfect targets for your cavalry, but we must lure them away from their infantry first.”

“A sound plan,” Roderick said. “What do you propose?”

The Commander explained the plan in detail, and when he was done, Roderick nodded in supressed enthusiasm. The Tilean Commander was a born strategist, if nothing else.

“We must move swiftly,” the Commander continued. “lest the Skaven cross further afield and cause untold chaos to my lands.”

“I’ll assemble the knights immediately,” Roderick said. He was about to turn away when the Commander held up a hand.

“Before you go, some news. I’ve come to the conclusion that your service to the company has exceeded my expectations as of late. Bring Tilea victory this day, Captain, and I’ll consider our arrangement fulfilled. You have my word.”

Roderick’s brow furrowed. In these lands, it was more convenient to trust a man’s purse than his word, but he had little choice in the matter.

“The rodents are as good as dead,” Roderick declared.

“One last thing,” the Commander added.

“Yes, sir?” he replied, the prospect of freedom leaving him eager.

“I wish to know what these ratmen are doing,” the Commander mused. “Why they pick now of all times to march east. This request may strike you as… unusual, impossible even, but if you can bring one of these Skaven back alive, you would be doing Tilea a great service. Do not compromise the lives of your men for this task, but if it’s at all possible, bring one to me.”

“I… I will make it so,” Roderick replied after hesitating. The Commander didn’t add any more, and he took that as a sign of dismissal, donning his helmet and stepping out into the light.

-xXx-

It wasn’t very difficult to infiltrate the warband.

Right before making her move, Skyseeker had rolled around in a pool of mud for a few minutes, making sure each individual strand of her dark fur was caked in filth, setting aside her goggles and daggers so they stayed clean. They were gifts from the Lord himself, and she’d treat them as such.

Once she was sure her breeder-musk was hidden beneath the horrid stench of earth, she retrieved her gear, and stumbled through the underbush towards the warband’s rearguard ranks. She’d watched the Skaven column for long while, waiting until they delved into the dense forests before starting her infiltration, using the broken sightlines to her advantage.

She soon spotted a group of gutter-runners, stumbling over the protruding roots as they struggled to stay in formation, Skyseeker hurrying towards them. She rushed a little too hard and fell clumsily onto her front as she tripped on a root, purely to help sell the image of course, but as she slipped into the ranks, none of the ratmen even batted an eye in her direction, her relief palpable as she quickly absorbed herself into the masses. They probably assumed her goggles were scavenged from some other dead Skaven, and as long as her prized daggers stayed hidden under her cloak, none would be the wiser. Another outstanding victory for Skyseeker.

While sneaking into the tide was easy, maintaining her composure was not. Pawleaders ensured that the stragglers kept pace with the warband, and her unit of gutter-runners was full of lazy welps. Whips were flailed across the scurrying Skaven, the resulting cracks bringing her straight back to the marshes when she’d killed that slaver. She had to fight the urge to sever the paws of the Skaven lashing the gutter-runners into shape. While her confidence had been boosted since the marshes, killing now would just draw more attention to herself.

With a resigned sigh, she swallowed her pride, flinching as one or two whips were sent her way, drawing stinging cuts on her back and arms. All for the mission, she told herself as she clutched her wounds, the pain would be worth it once she succeeded in her task.

Skyseeker couldn’t get a good look at the warband’s numbers until many hours of marching passed, when the procession crested a hill, leaving the rearguard at a higher elevation while the rest of the Skaven extended out and over the meadows like a furry stain of fecal matter. She could see scores of ratling gunners and jazzails composing the middle of the column, with a smaller, but no less numerous amount of clanrats heading the procession. Here and there, banners poked up from the army, the symbol of Clan Skryre catching her eye. That explained why there was so much ranged weaponry.

Doing a double-take, she realised this wasn’t the only Great Clan banner she could see. There was also one of Clan Pestilens, even the Eshin symbol if she wasn’t mistaken (which she never was). Her Lord had warned her about this, but actually seeing the Great Clans working together troubled her greatly. Mors was a powerful Clan, but not nearly enough to challenge an alliance on this scale, however fickle it might be…

Many hours of lashing and marching went by, the skies starting to darken, until word travelled up the column for an order to halt. Skyseeker collapsed alongside her fellow heaving gutter-runners, noting that even the Pawleaders looked tired, though that was likely because they had hardly ever let up all day.

Minutes passed with no movement from the idling warband, Skyseeker taking the opportunity to shut her eyes. She tried imagining herself in her personal burrow in the tunnels below Skavenblight, how her favourite stone felt so comfortable if she laid on it at just the right angle.

She was snapped out of her fatigue by the stomping of heavy footfalls, she and the other Skaven darting their heads round in search of the source. Something big was coming up from the forward ranks, she could see the heads of the ratmen part like water as a hulking figure stalked through the troops, the sound of a pained howl reaching her ears. Some of the more fearful gutter-runners whimpered as they turned their heads away, as though readying themselves for punishment. She would have asked them what was going on, if she wasn’t shaking beneath her cloak as well.

The waiting was terrible, but soon the hulking figure was mere paces away, and she watched with a hanging jaw as what appeared to be a hand made of plates and gears shoved a pair of ratling gunners aside, the sound of cranks and winches very loud as a hush fell over the warband.

The figure looked like a Skaven in the most basic sense, as she could not see a strand of fur on it, save for the few whiskers protruding from beneath its sloped helmet. Out of the collar of its armoured neck, tubes snaked out to connect to a harness that probably weighed more than she did. The wargear was covered in all manners of valves and dials, the suit constantly squeaking and hissing as wisps of unknown gasses slipped out of the seams in its armoured limbs.

Mounted on its back was a giant tank, similar in design to the packs worn by the warpfire-throwers, the signature green glow of technomancy seen through the many eyepieces covering the machinery. It was big enough she could have crawled comfortably inside it, but the hulking figure showed no signs of discomfort.

One of its arms wasn’t an arm, but a warp-blade, protruding from the spot where a Skaven’s paw would be, the weapon linked to the harness by more pipes and devices she couldn’t begin to guess the function of. The other arm, while somewhat the familiar shape of a paw, was instead entirely metal, ending in three flexible grippers tipped with dagger-sized claws. It was anyone’s guess to whether the Skaven’s limbs were hidden beneath all the equipment, or completely replaced by these mechanical counterparts.

“Listen to my greatness, stupid minions!” a low, powerful voice called out, its owner obvious enough. The Warlock Engineer bobbed its helmet as it spoke, the grill fixed over its muzzle giving its voice a menacing effect. “The enemies of Clan Skryre are many in these tainted lands. They shall all die-die for the glory of Great Horned Rat. But first!” the Warlock added, warp-lightning travelling along a circuit wrapped over its harness. “Nap time!”

The exhausted warband’s cries were equal parts pain and joy, the Warlock waving a mechanical arm as he ordered camp to be made, Skyseeker relaxing as he turned his back on her. The Warlock was so imposing, the blending of machine and magic as strange as it was unsettling.

Axes were handed out, the copious amounts of slaves taking them to the surrounding forests, hacking away at the tall wood-things. A few unfortunate ratmen were caught in the path of the felled plants, their shouts of alarm cut short as they were squashed. The sight elicited much laughter from the rest of the warband – morale always spiked when food offered itself to the ration piles.

Skyseeker joined her fellow runners, hacking away at the wood-things with a handaxe and hauling the pieces towards the firepits, the Warlock casting a spell to ignite the wood once enough was gathered. The blazing fires fought back the encroaching darkness, Skyseeker looking out across the forest to see many other pits blooming across the area – there must be other spellcasters supporting the warband.

Cradling her rumbling stomach, Skyseeker made her way to the ration piles, and for the first time in her journey, nobody tried to steal from her. The warband had an abundance of food, so all she had to do was wait until everyone else had eaten, then gather up her scraps.

After eating her fill of corn and a few strips of unrecognisable meat, Skyseeker searched for a spot to rest. The slaves were retiring to their freshly dug burrows in drives, Skyseeker already hearing hundreds of snoring noises from the many holes in the earth. Skaven slept in piles to share warmth when they weren’t killing each other, and while sleeping underground was an appealing prospect, Skyseeker wasn’t about to trap herself beneath a hundred horny ratmen for the sake of driving off the cold.

She picked a spot far enough away that she wouldn’t be disturbed, but close enough that she could run back to the safety of the warband if some nocturnal creature happened upon her. She could already feel numbness spreading down her limbs as she distanced herself from the fires, but nobody said her undercover mission would be easy.

As she crawled into the cover of a patch of ferns, she noticed that the sky had changed at some point. The bright blues she’d seen in the day had turned black, though not quite as dark as her fur. All across this new, vast canvas were points of glittering light, the sight enrapturing her. There had to be thousands of them, sprinkled throughout the heavens with seemingly no pattern or order. She wondered what they were, magical flares? Comets of Warpstone?

It felt odd to lay there and just… stare at the sky, but in a pleasing sort of way. She could almost forget she was in the nightmarish hellscape of the surface world, forget her rearing paranoia for a few brief moments, and just let her thoughts wander to nothing in particular. She tried to touch these twinkling points with her paw, but she couldn’t reach them. Perhaps if she climbed that wood-thing over there she might be able to…

Despite her protests, fatigue crept over her, and she curled into a ball, the afterimage of the sky burned into her eyes as sleep took her.

-xXx-

The warband marched through the forests, armour and weapons clanking, paws skittering across the many pools of light painting the ground where the sun penetrated the dense canopy. Wood-things and ferns, that was all the surface world had to offer, the monotonous landscape quickly boring Skyseeker as the hours blended together.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before a landmark appeared. The land dipped into a vast trench, stretching from left to right, and sitting at its lowest point was a bubbling river. The water wasn’t green like the underground ponds in Skavenblight, nor murky-brown like those of the marshes, but as clear as crystals, transparent enough that one could see the moss covering the submerged rocks. Did that mean it was poisoned? The skavenslaves leading the warband didn’t seem affected as they crossed it, perhaps its contamination didn’t affect her kind.

As her and the gutter-runners descended the slope, she spotted a Skaven running the other way from where they were marching, moving up the column’s flank. He seemed to hold some measure of rank on account of the whip in his paw, but he looked as spooked as a slave, his beady eyes stretching out of their sockets as he threw his hands out.

“M-Man-things!” he shrieked, his limbs darting about like he was in the midst of a stroke. “Man-things on hill-mound! Warlock say make-form line now-now!”

The ratling gunner pairs hoisted their weapons above their wastes, their loaders keeping the cranks clear of the water as they formed ranks. At the front, the skavenslaves fanned out, creating a wall of bodies on the far bank, spears and swords aimed up the incline. Skyseeker could see the Warlock Engineer at the forefront, waving his mechanical arms as he shouted orders at his minions. She couldn’t hear him, but in typical Skryre fashion, it was probably a rousing speech about how he’d kill them if the man-things didn’t do it first.

Her and the gutter-runners were ordered to hold the left flank of the formation, her legs kicking up splashes of water as they took up position in the winding river. She peered up the slope, where maybe fifty paces of open ground separated the shore of the river and the top of the hill, the crest obscured behind dense clusters of wood-things.

Every rustle of leaves and creak of wood filled her with anxiety, her eyes flicking about as she scanned for her enemy. The urgency of the messenger implied an immediate attack, but there was nothing, and there continued to be nothing. She counted the seconds until they reached the hundreds, the tension in her chest reaching a boiling point when she reached the thousands and then lost count.

“Where-Where man-things?” she asked, trying to sound as male as possible and failing miserably to her own ears. She was asking no one in particular, but the runner on her left answered her.

“Patience!” he chided, tossing his knife from paw to paw and dropping it on the third throw. “Man-things always make us wait for attack-charge.”

“They scared of Skavenblight-might!” another added, yowling in pain as a Pawleader hit him with his whip.

“Silence!” the Pawleader snarled. “No talk, more wait-wait!”

And wait she did. She could feel the sun switch directions as more time passed, her feet freezing as she held her ground in the water, her face hot as the sun bleached her fur. This was no warband! All the tales she’d been told of Skryre’s vast schemes of war involved overwhelming numbers and firepower, not standing around and doing nothing.

The runner that told her to be patient eventually decided it was nap time, Skyseeker wincing as he had to be beaten awake. He wasn’t the only one beginning to tire. The ratling gunners had nothing to brace their heavy weapons against, their thin arms trembling as they tracked the hill for targets. The warplock jezzails sitting far to the rear faired a little better, as they could rest their long rifles on their pavise shields and dose off when nobody was looking, but it was clear that restlessness was giving way to fatigue, perhaps an intentional move on the man-things part.

Skyseeker lifted her head, exposing her teeth in a yawn, watching a flock of feathered-things flap their wings overhead, soaring down to perch on a branch down the river to her left. As her boredom began to outgrow her lingering anxiety, it happened, and it happened quickly.

A low-pitched wail rang out over the forest, the noise coming from seemingly all directions. The uneasy sound soared in volume until it reached its pitch, oddly musical to her ears, and then as it deceased, gruff shouts from the undergrowth rose up to continue the foreboding call.

Skyseeker turned her eyes to the line of wood-things up the slope, watching figures emerge from between the roots. They were dressed in striking, bright colours that matched the sky, their wargear contrasting against the oppressively green surroundings. Some of their faces were covered in fur, while others were clean and naked, Skyseeker able to make out pink, soft-looking skin covering flat faces.

The man-things raised swords and shields, their war-cries making her fur stand on end as they charged out of cover and descended the slope. Some of the skavenslaves bounced on the spot, blibbering and crying, while others turned tail, batting aside their counterparts as they made to retreat. The latter of which were quick to be punished by the ranked Skaven, which helped to keep the former in check as their fellow ratmen were beaten for their cowardice.

“Ahead-forward!” a guttural voice called out somewhere to the right, one belonging to the Warlock. “Throw your pathetic tails onto them, minions! Quick-Quick!”

Unleashing a call of their own, the skavenslaves advanced, thousands of scurrying feet leaving the water to meet the charge. The man-things were halfway across the open ground now, and more still were coming from out of the forest. They just kept coming, dozens reaching the hundreds, but the skavenslaves still vastly outnumbered them.

The crank of winding gears drew Skyseeker’s gaze to the back ranks, the ratling gunners bringing their chain-guns to bear, their loaders beginning to crank the warp-stream tanks. Dozens of rotary barrels began to spin, spewing bullets that started off slow, before gradually building up into unbroken streams of warpstone.

The firepower arced over the skavenslave ranks, splashing into the paths of the oncoming man-things. She watched as one of the surface-dwellers took a burst of warpstone to his chest, his war-cry cut short as he rolled to the ground, tens of the man-things forefronting the charge succumbing to the warp-hell.

The other man-things didn’t falter, instead raising their shields over their heads, the warpstone barrage ricocheting off their concave surfaces. The ratling guns accuracy was much to be desired, so the weapon teams couldn’t target their exposed legs reliably, only saturate the hill with overbearing firepower and hope for a lucky hit.

Skyseeker watched as scores of the man-things were cut down, the ones lagging behind forced to lead over their fallen kinsman, but the charge didn’t stop, the mass of blue and white figures spearing into the oncoming skavenslaves. As the two sides met, the clash of metal on metal was almost as loud as the barking of the chain-guns, Skyseeker’s fear-musk spraying as a cluster of slaves was swept off their feet by a man-thing wielding a hammer the size of the average clanrat.

More of the man-things survived the warpstone suppression, hitting the skavenslave line with devastating force, their tall frames slightly obscured behind the scurrying troops. Skyseeker thought the ratling guns would cease fire, but that was not the case. The gunners angled their barrels lower, bringing their fields of fire over the skavenslaves, catching dozens of Skaven troops in the crossfire. She waited for the Warlock to order them to halt, but none came, a look of horror on her face as the warband suffered more casualties than the man-things did. Skyseeker knew that sacrifice was a way of life for her kind, but to see this display troubled her, and she thanked the Horned Rat that she belonged to the noble Clan Mors.

The butchering only stopped when the ratling guns needed to reload, the weapon teams slapping fresh tanks of warpstone into the ammo packs. Some of the teams of two started arguing about how slow the other was being, resulting in a few short, but significant delays, as Clan Skryre relied upon their guns more than anything when it came to combat.

The skavenslave line began to visibly bulge inwards, as swords and spears flashed through the air, the towering surface-dwellers threatening to split the warband right down the centre. Skyseeker clutched her daggers until her paws hurt, she wanted to get in there, take her first man-thing kill, but no order to advance was given. There must be some tactical advantage having the runners stay put, but she’d never been in a warband before, and had no idea what that could be. All she and the other gutter-runners could do was watch the fight and slowly lose their nerves.

She was momentarily drawn away from the battle by a chirping sound, flicking her head round to spy the flock of feathered-things she’d noticed before. They’d flitted from their perch, the sounds of war failing to spook the tiny creatures until now. Strange. She glanced below their perch, her eyes widening as she caught movement from further down the river.

Emerging from the forests was another wave of man-things, carrying themselves upon the backs of strange creatures. Their mounts had four legs that ended in hooves, with elongated faces perched upon equally long necks, their manes of fur shaking as they galloped through the ankle-deep water. There were dozens of them, fifty at the least, their riders brandishing a mix of rifles and spears.

Skyseeker’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ of surprise as the mounts carried their riders swiftly into the flank, close enough that she could make out the eyes of the man-thing at the head of the riders. He was dressed in a suit of armour the colour of silver, the clanking sound of the plates overlapping the thunderous pounding of the charge. His helmet was the same colour as his suit, except for the top of it, where it extended into a blossoming trio of feathers as red as blood. Most of his face was obscured behind a grill, all save for his eyes, peering out of a sideways-angled visor.

His arm extended out, a pistol in his grip, his limb snapping upwards as the top of it seemed to explode. This weapon wasn’t like those the Skaven used, there was simply a spark of fire, a whoosh of air, and the gutter-runner to her left was dead, a bullet between his eyes.

Time seemed to slow as the rest of the riders raised their guns, many of the gutter-runners still preoccupied watching the front to notice their approach. She thought she could feel the lead rider’s eyes meet hers for a second as he raised a spear with his other arm, angling it towards the closest Skaven.

Skyseeker flopped to the ground, choking on dirty riverwater as she clutched her head in her arms, the thunderous report of a volley making her ears ring. Gutter-runners toppled around her by the dozens, dead before they even hit the ground, blood darkening the water. Those that survived the guns finally noticed the new threat, readying their weapons, but knives and daggers didn’t stand a chance against descending riders, the man-things trampling into the Skaven in a wave of sharp spears and stomping hooves.

Scrambling out the path of an oncoming rider, Skyseeker crawled out of the river on all fours, the wet gravel pinching her elbows and knees. The ground was quaking, like a Vermintide was burrowing up from below the earth, the hooves of the man-thing mounts shaking the earth with their ferocious charge. Everywhere she looked, crisscrossing legs of the mounts filled her vision, some close enough she could have reached out and touched them. Through the dozens of blurred legs she could see her fellow runners being skewered on spears, lifted off their feet by thrown javelins, crushed beneath the weight of the mounts, or a few morbid combinations of the three.

Fear threatened to paralyse her, but she summoned up the willpower to keep crawling, the forest and the underbrush that hugged the riverbank promising cover and safety. Darting her head to the right, she watched with a look of horror as a rider was moving straight towards her, the man-thing pulling the reigns of his mount so that she would be trampled in mere seconds.

Rising into a crouch, she leapt to the side, brandishing a weeping dagger as her feet touched the ground. Holding it out sideways, she slashed the abominable mount across the flank as it passed by, drawing a cut across its smooth, brown hide. The corrosive blade was so sharp she felt no resistance. The creature wailed, tossing its head back as its thin legs gave out beneath it, its rider flung from his saddle as it came crashing down. He hit the ground hard enough that the impact dented his plate armour, but the tough man-thing started to get back up, pushing his gloved hands into the silt.

Her tail flicking in anger, Skyseeker jumped on top of him, the man-thing grunting as she put her insubstantial weight on his legs. Keeping her dagger in the reverse-grip, she angled the blade down, and drove it into his back with a snarl. The armour barely resisted the corrosive power of the enchanted blade, Skyseeker feeling a soft crunch as her weapon tasted his flesh.

The man-thing jerked, then relaxed, as limp as his dead mount. She ripped her weapon free, blood sprouting from the pierced point, bouncing on the spot as she tried to cover all her angles. The rest of the charging man-things raced around her, giving her a wide berth, and at first she thought this was because she’d shown them how a breeder fought, but this was not the case.

As the stampede tore through the gutter-runners, rather than turn around for another charge, the man-things spurred their mounts on, rebuilding their momentum as they prepared their weapons.

The runners had been butchered in mere seconds, and the occupied ratling gunners stood no chance, the man-things crashing into the rear ranks in a heartbeat. The riders pummeled furiously into the teams, ratmen keeling over with spears sprouting from their chests, cries of dismay carrying across the battlefield.

A great ball of green flame erupted as one of the riders fired at an ammo pack, the flimsy machinery obliterating every Skaven and man-thing in a large radius around it. A few of the more fortunate gunners had managed to reload in time, Skyseeker seeing a pair of riders be caught in a cone of warpfire, but the man-things prioritised their targets, turning the powerful rear ranks into a group of unarmed, fleeing ratmen in seconds, the pride of Skryre reduced to a cowering mess.

She heard the call to flee rise above the sounds of battle, as well as those ordering the Skaven to hold, Skyseeker watching as two opposing ratmen voicing these orders began to fight each other, while riders dashed from left to right all around them. Like a disease, the confusion spread to other nearby Skaven, the warband turning on each other while the man-things continued to press the attack.

Seeing no point in giving her life to a Great Clan that couldn’t hold itself together, Skyseeker chose to make for the cover of the forest, along with the rest of her fleeing kin. She was paces away from the protection of the underbrush when the crack of a dangerously close shot rang out, followed by the worst pain she ever felt travelling down her arm. Crying out, she tumbled to the ground, rolling a few times before her momentum brought her to a stop.

Skyseeker nursed her ruined shoulder as she propped herself up, looking behind her to see the rider with the red feathers ten paces away, his pistol trailing a wisp of smoke. The man-thing began to reload, Skyseeker baring her teeth at him as she drew her daggers out of their sheaths, holding them above her head in preparation for a throw.

The man-thing was almost done loading his handgun, when a metallic, hulking figure stood between the two, swiping a giant warp-blade over its shoulder. It was the Warlock Engineer, his harness whistling as the internal clockworks empowered the swing of the strike.

The plumes on the man-thing’s helmet bobbing, the rider reared its mount back, the creature shrieking as the warp-blade missed its legs by a whisker, slamming into the ground it had been standing on a second ago.

“Eat-taste my warp-lightning!” the Warlock snarled, punching a switch on his harness. His arm-blade began to glow, streaks of lightning cocooning along the length of the weapon from hilt to tip. The man-thing shot him in the face, chips of armour falling away as the Warlock cradled his mask.

Instead of doing as the Warlock requested, the man-thing steered his mount away, narrowly dodging another electrified swipe of the warp-blade. The man thing brandished his own sword, a pitiful lump of steel compared to the Warlock’s weaponry, holding it aloft as the Warlock moved in to cut him down.

It looked like the two were about to duel, when the man-thing kicked the flanks of his mount, riding out of the Warlock’s reach. He began to shout something, drawing circles with the tip of his sword in a strange gesture, starting to ride back down the length of the river.

The other riders began to follow suit, cutting down a few Skaven on their way to rejoin their leader. Were they retreating? Did they not want to face a breeder and a Warlock head-on? She couldn’t blame them.

As quickly as they had arrived, the riders departed the battlefield, following the water until they vanished out of sight into the forest. The man-things engaging the slaves were also falling back now, most of the cowardly skaven too afraid to take advantage and run them down. The warplock jezzails, free from the harassing riders, picked off the straggling man-things as they retreated, filling their backs with musket shot. With one final volley of warpstone, the last man-thing was slain, the rest of them shuffling into the trees and out of sight.

“Another pitiful enemy destroyed by the mighty Clan Skryre!” the Warlock cheered, raising his mechanical arms in victory. The surviving Skaven cheered with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but the battle didn’t appear like a win to Skyseeker. For every dead man-thing, there were ten slain Skaven, and the weapon teams were all but decimated in that charge.

“Reequip yourselves, minions!” the Warlock shouted. “Clan Skryre will destroy these insolent man-things, make an example of them, yes-yes! All part of the Great Plan!”

The survivors of the warband began to pick over the corpses, Skyseeker joining them as she kneeled in the dirt. She had looted her dead foes her whole life, so she held no pity as she turned over the dead gutter-runners, looting their knives and stashing them in her belt. One could never have too many knives.

When she was loaded down with as many weapons as she could carry, she turned her attention to her wound. The stupid man-thing’s bullet was still rolling around inside her flesh, the amount of blood trickling down her fur making her head dizzy.

Using a claw, she delved inside her flesh, rolling her digit around in search of the bullet. Once she found it, she levered it out, sneering at it as she admred the crunched metal. She would make that man-thing eat this bullet.

Washing her wound in the water, she bit off a part of her cloak, wrapping it around her shoulder and tying the two ends together. The pain was worse than any stab or cut she’d felt in her life, but at least the bleeding was slowing down.

“Time’s up!” the Warlock shouted, his voice somehow amplified by his obscuring mask. “Sprint-march, minions! Find the man-things! The Horned Rat demands retribution!”

The Warlock ordered the warband to assemble, and Skyseeker took up her spot in the depleted rearguard, her thoughts drifting to that man-thing with the feathered helmet. His mount had been so swift despite its immense size, and so easy to control too. Such a speedy mount could cut down her travel time to the south significantly, all she had to do was get her paws on one – the lead rider’s would do. Of course, she didn’t know how to control a mount, but she had a tried and tested solution that always worked whenever she needed something to go her way – threaten it with death.

“Follow their man-stink!” the Warlock ordered, smacking a skavenslave that wandered out of formation. “But do not fight-attack until I say so! I am hatching a brilliant scheme, and it requires complete discretion! If I hear so much as a squeak, you will all die-die!”

-xXx-

Roderick gave the reigns a harsh tug, his mare slowing to a trot as they passed through the east gate, the rest of his cavalry following in behind. The Commander was waiting for him just beyond the palisades, his armour reflecting the light of the sun, watching Roderick expectantly as he dismounted.

“You’re early,” the Commander noted. “How fair the new horses?”

“A little more flighty than I’d prefer,” Roderick replied, stroking the horse’s mane.

“And the raid?”

“Decisive and pummelling,” Roderick announced, handing off the reigns to a nearby stablehand. “We crushed at least a third of their forces before they reorganised, while our casualties were low, as expected.”

“Excellent!” the Commander said. “if a blow like that doesn’t force the Skaven to crawl back into their marshes, I don’t know what will.” He glanced beyond Roderick, bringing his voice to a low whisper. “What of your… secondary task?”

Roderick hesitated, recalling the dozens of ratmen flailing in the river, each one an opportunity he had chosen not to take. “Sorry, sir,” he said, shaking his head.

The Commander chewed his lip. Instead of reprimanding him, he merely waved his arm dismissively. “Bah, it is of no matter. When it comes to Skaven, we Tileans know there’s always a next time. Come,” he added, planting a hand on Roderick’s pauldron. “We can celebrate with the men once I’ve gotten your report.”

While kegs of ale were passed around for the fatigued cavalrymen, the joy of victory placing the camp in high spirits, Roderick and the Commander retired to the war tent, the sounds of revelry muffling as they closed the flap behind them.

What followed was a short while of thorough debriefing, Roderick recounting every frantic second of the raid, from his arrival at the river to his hasty retreat. His encounter with the Skaven leader was of particular interest to his superior.

“A Warlock leads the vermintide?” the Commander mused. “Troubling. Might be wise to send for a sorcerer of our own, I hear a wizard appeared down in Portomaggiore not long ago, perhaps he is for hire.” He gave Roderick a curious look. “You are truly skilled indeed, Captain, to engage a Skaven Warlock, however briefly, without suffering a scratch.”

“What are your plans for the Skaven now?” Roderick asked.

“We’ll continue to harry them with our hit and run tactics whenever possible. It has worked thus far. Until we eliminate every weapons team they have, we cannot afford to engage them in a direct assault.”

“I would recommend relocating the camp soon,” Roderick added. “Staying in one place for too long risks the Skaven catching our scent, and they know we’re operating in the area now.”

“Sounds like someone is averse in strategy,” the Commander mused. “You ever led an outfit of your own, Captain?”

“Never,” Roderick lied.

“Pity, something tells me you would suit the role well.”

“Regaining my freedom is a little higher on my list,” Roderick replied, tapping his foot. “So, about our arrangement, Commander…?”

“You did a splendid job this day,” the Commander admitted. “More than that, you used a small team to sow chaos against a superior force, that is no small feat. You surprise me, Captain,” he added, again giving him that strange look. “What few Imperials I’ve had under my employ over the years are all talk and no bite, and I thought much the same of you when we first met – you laying at the foot of the Vaults half-dead and all that.”

Roderick grimaced at the memory. His body dumped in a ditch, a slash across his side from shoulder to stomach. He’d never seen so much of his own blood before. For all his battles and duels, a group of common bandits had gotten the better of him right after a long, cold journey through the mountains. Roderick had thought it would be the end of him, to drown in his own blood a thousand leagues from his homeland, but as luck would have it, the Commander’s band had happened upon him while on patrol that very day. They had brought him to safety, tended to his wounds, and with all his possessions robbed, Roderick had only one thing he could offer his saviours in return.

They had put him to work shovelling excrement and tending to the horses, his affinity with the animals eventually drawing notice from the riders. It wasn’t long before his skills as a horseman were taken advantage of, and he was saddled, first for a few skirmishes, then finally put in command of the cavalry group. It wasn’t his most glorious few weeks of life, but he imagined it would make a good story for his little brothers.

“I wish my men were half as persistent and resilient as you,” the Commander continued. “Perhaps they will be in time, with you working for me. I can pay someone as useful as you very well.”

“As tempting as offers go,” Roderick replied, hoping his sarcasm didn’t come off too strong. “I must be on my way. I’ve tarried here long enough.”

“This isn’t a request, Captain. Someone with your skillset doesn’t show up in my outfit often, especially not out of the blue. You will train the men and make us a real show of force to our enemies.”

“… What are you trying to pull?” Roderick demanded. “We had an agreement – one more raid for my freedom.”

“Now we have a new deal,” the Commander explained, his tone so casual they could have been discussing their favourite theatre group. “You will be assigned to training duty, I’ve hired a new batch of recruits that will arrive in the morning. One, maybe two months of shaping them up, and I’ll consider rediscussing the terms of your debt.”

Roderick blinked. “Surely you jest? I never agreed to train your mercenaries, I-”

“You offered the life debt, Captain, not I,” the Commander interjected. “I strongly urge you to consider your next words. Many people would gladly kill for your position right now, and there’s plenty of gold in it for you.”

“I seek something worth far more than mere gold,” Roderick replied. “Summon what little honour you have left, and keep to your word.”

“If you don’t wish to be paid, that works for me,” the Commander said with a shrug. His dismissive demeanour shifted, the two men staring one another down as the tension began to rise. “Come now, Captain, you wouldn’t refuse the man who saved your life, would you? What would Sigmar say of such an… honourless act of defiance?”

“He’d say that someone was trying to pull a fast one on me,” Roderick grumbled. Never mind the fact the Commander given Roderick his word. He should have known not to trust a man of the Southern Provinces, where allegiances and promises could swap at the tip of a hat. Or perhaps tip of the coin purse was a more apt way of putting it. Damned mercenaries.

“I need to clear my head,” Roderick said. “if there is nothing else, Sir…”

“Don’t let me keep you,” the Commander replied. “Go, grab a drink for your nerves, join the celebrations. You’ll see how fortunate you are after an evening of rest. Shall I see you at the training fields at first light?”

Roderick nodded curtly, turning to take his leave. He could feel the Commander’s eyes on his back the entire time he walked, thrusting the flap out of his way, the hot sun beating down on him. The infantry from the raid had arrived at some point during the renegotiations, the swordsman drinking deeply from mugs of golden ale. Merriment surrounded him, but joy was the last thing on his mind right now.

Roderick made his way over to the feasting soldiers, but he had no intention of joining their celebrations. To say he wasn’t interested in the Commander’s deal need not be said, but his reasons went far beyond his unwillingness to basically become a glorified slave. He could take his chances and just walk out of the camp, but without a mount or a weapon, travelling Tilea would be a death sentence. He needed to make a few preparations first, but one way or another, his time in this camp ended tonight.

-xXx-

At first light, Roderick pulled himself out of his cot, fastening the straps of his armour as he paced his tent. The festivity had continued on well into the night, but a silence had eventually settled over the camp as the weary soldiers retired to their bunks, Roderick waiting for half an hour to be sure the revelry wouldn’t start back up again when he made his move.

Checking one last time that he had all his possessions, he slunk out of the his tent, glancing both ways as he disappeared into its shadow. The crescent moon shone brightly overhead, casting the campgrounds in a faintly blue glow that would make sneaking difficult, but not impossible. Roderick stuck to the shadows whenever he could, squeezing himself between the tents, gently working his way to the far side of camp, the snoring sounds the soldiers made inside their bunks helping to cover his footsteps and clanking armour.

He could see auras of torchlight move back and forth in nearby parts of the camp, the chatter of the nightwatchmen carrying over the distance. From the way they slurred their words, these men had one too many drinks during the festivities, that should make evading them a little easier.

He could smell burning wood as he slipped through a cluster of tents, peeking around one such tent to see a pair of men throwing fresh kindling into one of the many firepits dotting the camp. These were probably serving boys under orders to keep the flames lit in preparation for the morning meals. They wouldn’t be on alert for potential intruders, nothing to worry about.

Roderick waited until their backs were turned before crossing the path to the next gathering of tents, the canvas of the shelters rippling as the breeze picked up. He shuffled between the tents as quietly as possible, taking care not to catch his foot on the stakes hammered into the ground, the ropes attached to them making for nasty tripping hazards. As he rounded the next tent, he emerged onto a path, his breath hitching as he heard someone chuckle under their breath behind him. He turned, spying a trio of men coming round the bend, their chainmail armour glittering in the light of their torches.

They hadn’t noticed Roderick yet, but they would spot him before he could slip back behind the tent. Taking a swift risk, he batted aside the flap, emerging into a small space that may have belonged to an officer or scribe – with silk sheets draped over a bed on one side, a writing desk complete with pots of ink and quills on the other.

The owner wasn’t anywhere to be seen, fortunately, Roderick holding his breath as the footsteps drew closer. His fingers brushed the dagger clinging to his belt, had they spotted him? As Captain of the cavalry, he had no real reason to fear being seen by his lessers, but if they spotted someone dressed in full plate sneaking around in the middle of the night, what other conclusion would they come to? Desertion was frowned upon by all armies, no matter what creed or race, and mercenary bands were no different.

The footsteps swept by the tent, one of the men making a joke about rats, the laughter of the other two growing faint as the men continued their patrol, Roderick taking a peek outside to be sure they’d gone. He could see the light of dawn was growing stronger with every minute, but he waited to make sure they wouldn’t come back before pressing on.

His progress was methodical, slow, but Roderick reached the edge of camp without another close encounter with the sentries, the tents reduced to a few scattered handfuls the closer he got to the palisades. Adjacent to the perimeter wall was a relatively empty space walled off by a post fence, and sitting inside it was a series of hollow wooden awnings six or seven long, roofed by large sheets of tattered cloth.

Roderick made his way towards them, vaulting the fence, narrowly avoiding a feeding trough leaning against the post nearby, dashing across the open space towards the nearest awning. His hasty entrance startled one of the horses taking refuge inside the shelter, the creature whipping its head back and forth and snorting loudly.

He soothed the mare with a couple soft words, moving into the improvised stables carefully, stroking the mount when he was close enough. Recognising him as its rider from the battle yesterday, the horse relaxed, stamping its foot as though trying to convey its annoyance at having its rest disturbed.

Bales of straw lined the three walls, creating little alcoves for the four or five other horses crammed into the space, the creatures standing still as statues as they dozed. Roderick took a knee, pushing one of the lumps of straw aside, revealing a small hole in the wall, where a leather saddle rested just inside.

Lifting the tack with some effort, he hoisted the saddle onto the horse, the creature chewing on the straw as he looped the straps over his flanks. Once it was fitted, he returned to the alcove, reaching in deep and taking out a shortsword and a pistol, along with a bag of powder charges and pouches full of basic travelling supplies. He’d gathered whatever essentials he could find the previous afternoon, his status as Captain affording him some measure of discretion to stash the gear safely away in preparation for his departure. He would have preferred a rifle, but that kind of firepower wasn’t as easy to smuggle from the quartermaster as a pistol was.

He fixed the saddlebags to the horse’s tack, brushing off the stray bits of hay, tugging the belts so they wouldn’t come loose when he started riding. When he was as ready as he could be, he slid his weapons and helmet onto the loops, fastened them, then moved over to untie the horse from its hitch.

“Keep still, damn you,” he muttered, the mare shaking its head as he placed the bit in its mouth. Perhaps it had been too shaken by all those ratmen by the river, and he couldn’t blame it. He’d steal another horse, but the tack was ready to go, and he didn’t couldn’t waste time redoing it all.

He calmed the mare as best he could, then led it out into the moonlight. Sneaking around with a mount was bound to draw attention, so his plan was simply to ride out before anyone could react in time.

As he lifted a leg into the stirrup, he paused, noticing torchlight out of the corner of his eye. A group of four men were ringing the fence, stepping through the gate and into the paddock. They were all dressed in full plate armour, their faces obscured behind heavy helmets, all save for one, his features slowly defining themselves as the group made a beeline for Roderick.

“Tell me one thing, Captain,” the Commander began, passing his torch from right hand to left. “In the Empire, what is the punishment for absconding with military property? Ten, twenty lashes?”

The three soldiers fanned out, creating a loop around Roderick, hands on the pommels of their swords. His horse shuffled on the spot, Roderick stroking its neck as he replied.

“How did you know?”

“Do you take me for a fool?” the Commander asked. “I’ve had your tent watched since the day you showed up. I really am disappointed in you, Captain, you could have been my right hand, we could have accomplished many great deeds together.”

“Killing rodents, and slaughtering your own countrymen is no ‘great deed’,” Roderick countered. “Then again, it’s rather difficult to tell Tileans and Skaven apart, so you’re commendable in that respect.”

The Commander frowned, his usual stoicism faltering at the insult. “I gave you a chance of a lifetime,” he growled. “and you threw it away, all for what? Your pride? Your duty to your Emperor? Your Empire is dead, Imperial, it cannot even hold its borders from simple beastmen, chaos spreads through your lands unchecked, while your idle governments do nothing but bicker like children. The very gods have forsaken your world.”

“As long as even one Reiklander lives, so does our Empire,” Roderick defended.

“Then your homeland will lose one more of its sons this day,” the Commander replied. “Unless you’d rather take the lashings. Come quietly, and I may yet show you mercy for this little transgression of yours.”

In response, Roderick drew his shortsword out of the saddle, brandishing the blade defiantly as he took up a defensive stance. Two of the soldiers were moving round his flanks, while the third stood between him and the Commander, their blades scraping their scabbards as they unsheathed their weapons as well.

The Commander shook his head. “Fool,” he muttered, waving his men forward. “Chance after chance I give you, why are you Imperials so stubborn?”

“Part of being Sigmar’s servants, I’d wager,” Roderick replied, turning to the men advancing on him. He couldn’t afford to get surrounded, so he took the initiative, pouncing on the one to the right with as much speed as he could muster. Perhaps he should have grabbed a warhammer instead of a sword, fighting men wearing plate wasn’t the best matchup for a blade, especially when he was outnumbered, but he’d planned on avoiding confrontation during his escape.

The soldier met his charge with an underhand swing, Roderick side-stepping out of the way, the miss causing the soldier to leave him wide open. Gripping the blade of his sword in his gauntlet, Roderick struck with the pommel, the soldier’s helmet ringing like a bell as he stumbled back. He followed up his attack with a savage kick, planting his foot into the soldier’s belly that sent his opponent tumbling onto his back.

The soldier reached for his dropped weapon, but Roderick kicked it out of his reach, angling the tip of his sword towards the fallen man’s visor. Before he could finish him off, Roderick turned his attention to his rear, the two other soldiers circling behind him, their armour creaking. The one closest to him delivered a swift strike to his arm, Roderick gasping as white-hot pain travelled down his limb. The armour would save him from any mortal cuts and slashes, but being hit by a sword was still a painful experience.

The soldier came at him again, thrusting his sword out in a stab, but Roderick was ready this time. He let his weapon rest in one hand, using his free glove to catch the soldier’s weapon mid-strike, the segmented plates on his digits keeping him from slicing off his own fingers. He pulled the solider off-balance, driving his sword into the wrist joint of the soldier’s gauntlet.

The soldier dropped his weapon, loosing a pained cry as Roderick’s blade poked out from the other side of his arm, impaling him halfway up the blade’s length. Roderick tugged his weapon like he was wrenching an axe free from a tree, ripping the man’s hand off with all the ease of slicing off a piece of pork, the soldier falling to his knees as he nursed his ruined arm. The severed hand hit the grass with a thump, the index finger still twitching.

The third soldier, looking to save his wounded comrade, charged in from the side, Roderick batting his sword aside, metal clashing on metal. The soldier threw his weight into an attack aimed at Roderick’s unprotected face, but switched angles at the last moment, pulling their swords to the side and smashing Roderick’s jaw with his elbow, his mouth filling with blood.

Roderick lunged for the solider, their armour clacking loudly as they interlocked arms, the two men trying to overpower the other, too close to use their swords. Roderick managed to twist one of the soldier’s arms, punching the man with his armoured fist. The blow sent the soldier reeling, his head banging against the inside of his helmet.

He shoved the soldier back, giving himself enough breathing room to draw his dagger, holding it in his off-hand. Between the pauldron and the cuirass was an exposed joint in the armour, and Roderick plunged the knife into the soldier’s side there, burying the blade up to the crossguard. He gave his wrist a pointed twist, the soldier contorting as his internal organs were ruptured.

The soldier dropped to his knees, clutching his side in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding as he keeled over. Roderick turned to see the soldier he’d engaged first had picked himself up, reversing the grip on his sword so the pommel was facing away from his body, swinging it like a mace. He tried to parry it, but Roderick reacted too late, the air emptying out of his lungs as the soldier struck him on the belly.

Roderick took a few steps back to keep distance, sheathing his knife and holding his sword out as he waited for the soldier’s next attack. Roderick was getting short on breath from all the hits he was taking, but his opponent was leery of engaging him, glancing at his companions lying on the ground around him, one wailing in agony as he clutched his stump of a hand, the other relaxing as a circle of blood pooled beneath him.

“You say I slaughter my own countrymen, but look how you butcher your former men!” the Commander snarled, Roderick maintaining eye-contact with the soldier. “Hold back, Amici, I’ll kill this traitor personally.”

The Commander stepped over the soldier who was minutes from death, reaching down to pluck his weapon from his stiff fingers. Roderick might have gotten the better of the soldiers, but the Commander was an experienced warrior, and if it came down to a duel of attrition, Roderick was at a disadvantage.

“Nobody else has to die this night,” Roderick said, wiping his bleeding lip as he addressed the soldier. “Amici, right? Step aside, lad, I’ve no quarrel with you, I just want to take my leave.”

“Alert the camp, soldier,” the Commander barked, his gaze never leaving Roderick’s. “Awake the whole garrison, I want everyone to see this traitorous Imperial fall by my hand.”

As the soldier turned to flee, he was frozen in place. In the corner of the paddock, the land had begun to bulge, like a giant plant ten feet across was rapidly growing from out below the earth. Roderick could feel vibrations travel up his armoured legs, the sensation growing and growing until it felt like the beginnings of an earthquake. The Commander felt it too, looking over his shoulder as he watched the protrusion of dirt rise, the sudden, strange sight making the men forget about their duel momentarily.

Like a burst pimple, the bulge splintered and ripped, a shower of dirt and dust spraying out of the cracks and into the air. As the debris began to cascade back down, muzzles and whiskers emerged from the breached earth, a pair of pink ears twitching as a creature emerged into the moonlight, its face covered in soot and dirt. It turned its beady eyes in every direction, stopping when its gaze settled on the three men. It stretched a furry shoulder out of the earth, then an arm, then finally a hand, using its clawed fingers to gesture in the Roderick’s direction.

It unleashed a guttural snarl, exposing a yellow set of long fangs, its other arm emerging to brandish a cruel, black sword, stabbing it into the ground for leverage as it hoisted itself out of the breach. It was followed by another of its kind, then two more, then a whole swarm of ratmen crawled out of the ground, oozing from the newly formed burrow like a blight, their furry, brown bodies flooding the paddock.

“Skaven!” the Commander bellowed, raising his voice. “To arms, men! To arms!”

He was trying to awaken any sleeping soldiers in the area, not that he needed too, the Skaven weren’t exactly being subtle about their attack. The ground quaked again, another burrow appearing on the other side of the fence to the right, the high-pitched war cries of the ratmen carrying over the camp.

The Commander and Roderick joined their efforts as the vermintide washed over the paddock towards them, the Commander swinging his sword like a scythe, cutting down a pair of lunging ratmen. Roderick braced himself as a Skaven turned in his direction, the creature duel-wielding a pair of shortswords and flailing them in his mad sprint. His movements were telegraphed, and Roderick cut the rodent down easily with a precise swipe across its muzzle.

Bells were carrying on the wind from all directions, the Skaven must be hitting all parts of the camp in an attempt to overwhelm the band, a common tactic. Roderick was engaged by another Skaven, he and the creature exchanging blows as he started backing up. His horse had stood witness during his fight with the soldiers, but seeing the vermintide was making it restless, loosing a whinny that was disturbingly close to that of a cry. Roderick snatched it by the reigns before it could bolt, struggling to keep a hold on it while fending off the ratman.

Felling the Skaven with a backhanded swing, he turned about, lifting one leg into the stirrup and hoisting himself into the saddle in one quick movement. Taking the reigns into his gauntlets, he looked up, seeing the Commander and the soldier, Amici, putting themselves between the wounded men and the Skaven, but they were outnumbered ten to one, the odds only getting worse as more rats still continued to emerge from the burrow.

Roderick’s first reaction was a deep guilt in his chest, a part of himself insisting that he should dismount and help his fellow men, but he reconsidered. He had been simply defending himself, they’d chosen to fight him, not the other way around.

His cold reasoning didn’t make him feel any better, but it gave him the willpower to spur his horse on, his mount dipping its head as he kicked its flanks, bringing it to a steady gallop. A pair of ratmen were flung clear as the horse barrelled through the tide, Roderick blocking an errant strike aimed at his leg as he fled the paddock.

“Coward!” the Commander bellowed, continuing to taunt him even as the Skaven surrounded him. “The mighty Reiklander flees! Sigmar curse you, traitor!”

The Commander’s words faded as Roderick’s horse leapt the fence, man and horse grunting as they landed on the path with a thump. He pulled the reigns to the side, the horse turning about. The east gate leading out of camp was a straight shot from the paddock, Roderick spotting archers posted up on the palisades, the men loosing arrows down at a group of Skaven scurrying about the foot of the walls. How had the rats found the camp? And how had they recovered so much to stage an ambush of this scale? He couldn’t hear the telltale sound of weapons teams, maybe this was an entirely new force? In any case, his best chance was to get clear, and leave these mercenaries to their fate. Perhaps he truly was a coward, but what other choice did he have?

“SNEAKY ATTACK-ATTACK!”

Up and behind him, Roderick watched as a Skaven leapt from the top of a nearby tent, its cloaked figure framed by the moon as it reached the peak of its jump. For a moment it looked like it would land a good few feet clear of him, but its outstretched arms gave it the reach it needed, seizing the horse by the saddlebags.

The mare loosed a terrified cry, the last of its resolve crumbling at the unexpected sensation of the newly added weight. It began to bolt, its hooves thundering across the path as it made for the gate, Roderick pulling on its reigns in a bid to slow it down.

He heard the Skaven cackle under its breath, looking back to see the rodent brandishing a wicked dagger, the blade’s edge glowing a sickly green. It poised the dagger over its head, driving it towards his leg, Roderick intercepting the strike with his sword, swiping the rodent’s weapon aside. The ratman’s dagger must be corrosive, because the part of his sword that had made contact with its weapon started to slag, Roderick watching with a perplexed expression as solid steel liquefied before his very eyes.

The Skaven’s cloak rippled as the horse sprinted at full-kilter, the world around him seeming to blur as it picked up speed. He parried another swing from the ratman, the rodent clinging stubbornly to his saddle even as the movement from the horse caused it to flail around wildly.

As dextrous as a snake, the Skaven crawled over the horse’s flank until it stood upon its spine, hunching down so it didn’t lose its balance. Roderick batted it away as it made to close the distance, the snivelling creature squeaking when his blade came within an inch of its pink nose.

It was hard to face the rodent with it placed squarely at his rear, making his swings awkward and unbalanced, and the panicked horse wasn’t helping either. At least the Skaven was similarly affected, its attention divided between clinging to the horse and fighting its rider. As they exchanged blows, Roderick was just barely aware of the palisades shrinking away in the backdrop, the horse charging through the gate and into the wilds hugging the camp, the blue and white tents vanishing from view as it bolted over a hill.

The sounds of battle gave way to the calls of crickets and other nocturnal animals, Roderick starting to see trees in his peripherals. He wanted to slow the horse down, but the Skaven hijacking his mount was all he could focus on. He was exhausted enough with his fight with the soldiers, and his sword would melt clean off if he continued to parry and block its corrosive dagger, he needed to deal with this thing quickly.

The rodent seemed to follow the same train of thought, Roderick watching with wide eyes as it produced a second, identical dagger from its belt. Roderick prepared for an attack from two angles, but the Skaven surprised him but turning its blade upside down, plunging it into the horse’s spine right through the saddle.

The mare threw its head back, its mouth parting in a wail as its legs gave out, Roderick feeling his stomach fly up into his chest as it crashed to the ground. He was thrown clear out of his saddle, his feet slipping out of the stirrups, his world turning upside down as he arched over the horse’s head.

He felt something crack as his chest met the ground, Roderick bracing his hands in front of his face instinctively as he began to twist and roll. He felt the fronds of a bush encase him, a wall of sharp branches bringing his fall to a dizzying halt, his head swirling with pain.

It felt like it took a lifetime for Roderick to summon up the strength to move, crawling out of the shrub on his hands and knees. Looking up, he found himself in a small clearing, walled on all sides by trees and ferns, some of the tallest leaves bathed in yellow light. Sunrise was almost over.

To his left, his mare was sprawled out on its side, saddle still attached, its lifeless eyes confirming it hadn’t gotten off as lucky as Roderick had. His armour had kept him from falling unconscious, but the fall had done hell on his limbs, particularly his shoulder, which sent fresh stabs of agony down his body whenever he moved it.

To his right, the leaves of another bush began to rustle, and after a moment, the Skaven flung itself from its confines, its eyes shut tight as it squirmed in the grass. He had hoped the little creature would have died in the fall, but it seemed he’d have to finish it off.

Roderick fumbled for his sword, spotting it laying discarded on the ground nearby, driving the point into the ground to help him stand. Every movement sent white-hot pain though his body, his body craving for rest as exhaustion gripped him.

He leaned on his sword, even getting to one knee was a horrendous task, his vision blurring as he sucked in a gasp of air. The Skaven was fairing no better, flailing around like a fish out of water as it pawed at fresh scars on its arms and sides. He noticed it was coated in a fine layer of black fur, its shade almost the same as the hooded poncho secured around its neck.

“My head-face!” the Skaven mumbled, rubbing its eyes with one hand and nursing its temple with the other. It seemed to momentarily forget it was wearing a pair of green, tinted goggles, lifting the lenses away to press the palm of its hand into its sockets.

With an annoyed chitter, it dragged its claws down its muzzle, blinking as it turned in Roderick’s direction. For a few moments the Skaven stared blankly at him, like it had forgotten he was there or that they’d been fighting a minute ago. “Man-thing!” it suddenly began. Its tone of voice was soft, slightly on the higher pitch side. “You give four-leg-thing to me-me! Or I cut-stab you!”

“W-What?” Roderick asked, dumbfounded at the fact a Skaven had just strung more than two words together in the same breath.

The Skaven thrust a claw towards the horse. “Stupid deaf man-thing!” it snarled, jabbing its claw for emphasis. “That four-leg-thing! I have-take, ride through bright lands quick-quick!”

Its accent was strange, the rat rolling its Rs and pronouncing every word like it was an effort.

“You... want my horse?” he asked, raising a brow. “You just killed it, you dense little rodent!”

“Lies!” the Skaven replied. “Four-leg-thing is just napping.”

“You’ll be ‘napping in a minute once I’m through with you,” Roderick growled, supporting himself on his sword. He tried to get to one knee again, and this time he succeeded, his muscles aching as he prepared to lift the other leg.

The Skaven’s eyes went wide as it watched him struggle, fighting its own war with its body as it attempted to rise off the ground. It was groaning and snarling louder than Roderick was, but it eventually succeded in clambering to its feet, putting its stature at around five feet tall, maybe a little less.

As Roderick rose to his full height, towering over the little Skaven, he examined the rodent in more detail. Its hood was wrapped tightly over its muzzle, draping into a cloak that trailed down its back. There were holes all over the clothing, dark fur spilling out of numerous slashes and cuts. From the neck down its furry body was open to the air, slings and belts looped around its slim torso, each pocket filled with various pieces of weaponry.

His gaze trailed upwards, and from beneath its hood, a pair of dark, crimson eyes peered back at him, the black irises large and oddly expressive. Its face was akin to that of an everyday rat, a muzzle tipped with a pink nose flanked by tufts of whiskers.

Its short torso was lean and streamlined, a narrow waist tapering into a very womanish set of hips. It wore a simple loincloth to preserve its modesty, secured by a belt that was brimming with an absurd number of knives and pouches. Its thighs were easily the largest part of its body, as wide as the breadth of its shoulders, powerful with muscle, the legs ending in four, clawed toes.

From the tips of its ears to its feet, it was covered in dark fur, the coat so thin that he could make out every curve in its body, every shifting muscle. Its hide might have rivelled those of the finest Imperial warhorses, if the rodent wasn’t in such a horrific state.

Nearly every inch of its body was covered in filth, the likes of which even the most pathetic of beggars wouldn’t dare be caught wearing. There was slop, flecks of dirt, and what even appeared to be a few kernels of burnt corn glued to its hide. The strands of fur were angled the wrong way in places, like it had brushed itself incorrectly. Witnessing the muck made him acutely aware of its stench, and he had to pinch his nose between his fingers to hold back a gag.

When Roderick was ready, he held his sword arm at the ready, stepping forward and bringing it down in a chopping motion. The rodent looked as winded as he felt, but seeing his oncoming blade forced it into action. Like coiled springs, its legs propelled its dirty body out of the way, the Skaven landing on all fours like a cat a short distance away.

“Man-thing fights greatest assassin,” the rat said, placing a hand inside its cloak as Roderick advanced. “Man-thing should reconsider deal-bargain.”

It threw its arm out in a swiping motion, a pair of objects whistling through the air towards him. They were small, metallic objects, shaped into the approximation of a star, the arms sharpened to curved points, the spinning weapons glinting as they crossed through a dappled beam of light.

Roderick crossed his blade over his front, intercepting one of the throwing-stars and slicing it out of the air. The second star went wide, imbedding itself in the trunk of a tree, splinters of wood flying.

“Greatest horse assassin, sure,” Roderick replied. He mustered up his strength and advanced on the Skaven, intending to drive his sword through its chest, but it reacted too quickly. It stepped clear, the missed swing causing Roderick to stumble, the Skaven tilting its wide hips like it was starting to dance. A pink, scaley tail protruding from its rump curled round its flank and into view, coiling around his ankle like a striking snake. It pulled with a surprising amount of strength, sending Roderick crashing to the ground with a grunt.

Roderick lifted himself up just in time to see the Skaven aiming its dagger at his chest. Still on his back, he threw his sword out, slashing the rodent across its forearm. The creature screeched, clutching its limb to its chest as it stumbled away.

Picking himself up, Roderick brought his sword to bear, the Skaven beginning to circle him. It reached down to pull its second dagger out of its many belts, the Skaven smacking its large lips together as though it couldn’t wait to taste his flesh.

“Man-thing can’t run-flee on four-leg-thing anymore,” it taunted, Roderick turning on the spot so he was always facing it. “Man-thing has no man-things to help it, it is alone.”

“As are you,” Roderick replied. “In numbers you lot are a pain to deal with, but single a rat out, and it’s toast.”

“I am not ‘toast,” the rodent exclaimed as though he’d offended it. “I am Skyseeker! Champion of Great-Great Clan Mors! Master assassin, too!”

“Yes you mentioned that already,” he muttered. “Well come on then, Champion, let’s end this.”

The Skaven was quick, closing the distance between them in less than a second, Roderick raising his sword just in time to block a jab aimed at his stomach. He stepped back as the creature lashed out with its second dagger, countering with a slice across its exposed chest. He could feel his weapon make contact, shredding some of its cloak to ribbons, but it hadn’t cut deep enough to make it a mortal wound, the Skaven leaping clear, glaring up at him as the two squared off.

He could see the rodent was panting, its short torso expanding and contracting. It seemed to be lacking the energy reserves for a prolonged duel. As an assassin, it was probably trained to kill its enemies quickly and quietly, and he was putting it far out of its comfort zone engaging it like this. He just needed to keep it busy for a little bit longer, and he might be able to wear it down, assuming he didn’t pass out first.

Despite its obvious exertion, the Skaven wasn’t ready to give up. It came at him again, tree branches cracking beneath its feet. Roderick braced his weapon against his shoulder, ready to cut its head clean off its shoulders. Rather than duck out of the way, it brought one of its daggers up, the two blades clashing with a loud, hollow report. Momentum carried Roderick through the swing as though it hadn’t been intercepted, but his sword felt a touch lighter than before, the Skaven dropping into a low crouch with a big smile on its muzzle.

Roderick quirked a brow, turning his sword so the flat of it faced him. The point of his sword was gone, the blade cutting off in a clean swipe near the middle of its length, the jagged metal glowing with a green fluid. Those damned daggers had finally weakened the steel enough to slag it through completely.

“Not bad,” he admitted, adjusting his hold on the damaged sword, wielding it like an oversized knife. “Never had my weapon sundered like that before.”

“Man-thing not face Skyseeker before,” the Skaven replied, reversing the grip on its daggers. “You surrender-stop, or I sunder paw-fingers next.”

“I’m not out of this fight just yet,” he replied. He raised his weapon, the Skaven crossing its daggers as it met his advance. He exchanged a flurry of quick blows with the rodent, doing his best not to meet its corrosive weapons head-on, but that was an unavoidable outcome in any swordfight.

Swirling its knives with all the finesse of an acrobat, the Skaven forced him onto the defensive, slicing off another few inches of the blade’s length, the Skaven clearly happy with itself as it watched the steel fall to the grass. He cut its small victory short with a savage backhand, the rodent leaping clear at the last moment. He swiped at it again, but the Skaven dropped to the ground, skittering out of his reach.

The creature was fast, but all the jumping and dodging clear was making it tire, its coat starting to glisten with exertion. Its breaths were coming out in rasps now, it was tiring, but so was Roderick. The fight with the Commander’s men, the fall off the horse, and now this? It was more than his body could handle.

The Skaven came at him again, the two exchanging swipes, Roderick creating an opening to deliver a kick to the rodent’s belly, the creature so light the blow lifted it off its feet, ending its short flight against the trunk of a tree. It crumpled to the grass in a heap, Roderick moving in to finish it off, but the Skaven picked itself up before he could close in, baring its teeth in a snarl as it scraped one dagger against the other.

Taking the offensive, the Skaven launched a series of furious attacks, Roderick forced to hold out his blade defensively. He couldn’t afford to meet those enchanted daggers with plain steel, but it was only so long before the nimble rat forced him into holding his sword out sideways in a block. It gave the Skaven the perfect angle, thrusting a dagger towards him in an upward-facing strike, cleaving his sword just above the crossguard, leaving only an inch of the blade still connected to the hilt.

“Well,” he said, looking at his ruined weapon in disbelief. “Don’t suppose that deal is still on the table, is it?”

It held a dagger an inch from his nose, Roderick raising his arms in surrender. The Skaven gestured the glowing tip at his ruined weapon, Roderick relaxing his fingers and letting it drop.

“You… give four-leg-thing to me-me,” the Skaven demanded through rasping breaths. “I should gut stupid man-thing for its stupidity! Made me go through rigmarole, only to take deal-bargain? Stupid!”

It was a wonder this thing hadn’t simply finished him off when his weapon was gone, Skaven would sooner enslave or devour their opponents rather than make deals, savages that they were, but this thing seemed to be obsessed over his dead mount.

“You want my horse? Fine,” he said, eyes flicking from the glowing blade to its owner. “Take it, she’s all yours.”

The Skaven’s beaming expression reminded him of a child about to unwrap a present, exposing its front buck teeth in a smile.

“Another Skyseeker scheme fulfilled-complete, yes-yeees. Man-thing,” it added, waving the dagger at his face. “You teach how to control-direct four-leg-thing, and will keep fingers after.”

So that was why it hadn’t killed him, it wanted to know how to ride a horse? It still seemed under the impression that the mare was still usable, maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Alright, you win,” he conceded. “I’ll teach you, just have to wake it up first, then we can start.”

He made to turn, but the Skaven sidled up to him, holding the point of its dagger an inch from his neck.

“No trick-tricks?” it asked, its tail weaving back and forth behind it.

“No trick-tricks,” Roderick confirmed. It considered its next move for a few tense moments, then nodded as it made up its mind, gesturing for him to proceed.

Leaning away from its dagger, Roderick turned around, approaching the mare slowly so he didn’t accidentally startle the Skaven. He knelt down in front of the horse, the body already beginning to permeate the air with a foul smell. He gave it a shake with one hand, moving his other towards the saddlebags.

“Time to wake up, uh… horsey,” he said, failing to make up a name on the spot. He glanced back at the Skaven. “You might want to step back, rodent, horses tend to freak out if you interrupt their naps.”

It was a blatant lie, but the Skaven had obviously never seen a horse before, and it was not even a third of the mare’s overall size. The Skaven glanced at the horse’s splayed hooves, then took his advice, paw-like feet scraping the ground as it scurried away.

Roderick bent over, covering as much of the saddle with his body, blocking it from the rat’s view. There was a sound of scraping leather, and Roderick whirled around, the Skaven squeaking in surprise as it saw his fingers were wrapped around the wooden grip of his pistol, the two locking eyes down the iron sights.

“What! Man-thing say no tricks!” the Skaven complained, holding its arms out in exasperation.

“I lied, you fool,” he said, the weapon clicking as he pulled back the hammer. “Now hold still…”

The Skaven spun on its heels, dashing behind the cover of a tree as Roderick fired, spark and smoke sending a bullet crashing into the trunk. A crack echoed through the forest, Roderick thumbing a fresh charge down the barrel, spotting a pink tail disappear into the ferns beyond the clearing. He sent another shot downrange, the shrubs parting as the bullet tore through the thicket, the shaking bushes betraying the Skaven’s location as it fled deeper into the forest. The creature must be very familiar of the stopping power of a gun if it was running so quickly.

Roderick reloaded again, sweeping his handgun across the shrubs, eyes scanning for movement, the report of his weapon fading into silence. He waited five minutes, then ten, only lowering his guard when he was sure the Skaven had fled the area, but he doubted the thing would leave him alone forever. It was probably planning on coming back with a whole pack of its kin for support. Despite this danger, he found himself collapsing on the grass, every muscle in his body craving for rest, all the fatigue from the morning’s events catching up with him.

Roderick ran a hand through his damp hair. He’d escaped the camp and chased off the Skaven, but he’d lost his horse, and was now stuck in the wilds, no roads or landmarks in sight. This was not how he imagined bringing the Empire to victory would look like.

When he started to get his heartbeat under control, he returned to his horse, untying the bags from the saddle and hoisting them over his shoulder. He had enough food for a few days, maybe a week if he was willing to starve himself. Walking would add days to his journey, he might have to resort to poaching if he wanted to get out of these damned mercenary lands.

Weighed down with all his possessions, he began to walk, leaving the horse and the clearing behind, checking that his handgun was primed and ready. He would need to keep it close now that his sword was gone, and while having a ranged advantage was a tactical bonus in a fight, it could only fire one shot at a time, and not having a backup weapon would put him at a disadvantage.

As he ducked beneath a branch, his thoughts turned to that Skaven. Every rodent he’d ever seen had fur the colour of dirt, with the exception of their Warlock’s and other leaders, who were normally silver or grey. This one was as dark as the night sky, its lean figure covered in a thin coat that brought to mind the memories of a panther he once saw in a carnival show when he was a boy.

He remembered its figure, distinctly hourglass as it danced and hopped on its muscular legs, unusually limber for a rat. Had it been a female? It was hard to tell the little rodents apart at the best of times, but the signs were there. He would have thought the rats to keep their females far from the front lines of war, but here one was, and she’d been quite the little fighter, just as ferocious as the males.

The exception being the fact she hadn’t immediately cut him down the moment his sword was ruined. It was a small, but significant display of mercy from a Skaven, the race that enslaved entire towns of men. Very interesting.

No matter, Roderick had other things to worry about than some ratwoman. He turned his attention to his journey ahead, picking up the pace as he headed south, the sun rising from the horizon helping to guide him in the right direction.

Chapter 3: Enemy of my Enemy

Skyseeker poked her snout through the wall of leaves, watching the man-thing slink into the greenery and out of her sight, his heavy footfalls letting her know he had given up his search for her. Commending herself for her flawless getaway, she crawled back to the clearing where she’d outwitted the man-thing, turning her eyes down at the mount that had somehow slumbered throughout their whole encounter.

While she hadn’t gotten the information she needed from the man-thing, a true master assassin like her always had a backup plan. Copying the man-thing’s movements, she crouched by the mount’s face, its whole head almost half her size. This thing was a monster, how did the surface-dwellers even manage to tame these things? She doubted even the most accomplished Packmasters would be able to reign one of these things down without being trampled in the process.

Holding a weeping dagger at the ready, she gave the beast a prod with a claw, telling it in a hushed voice that it should wake up or feel her wrath. When that didn’t work, she poked it harder, then harder, until finally the beast stirred, turning its glossy eyes up at her and snorting through its massive nostrils.

She knew it! She had seen straight through the man-thing’s lies! Her fear of the beast weighing heavy on her, she flourished a dagger at the thing, trying to make herself sound as commanding as possible.

“We make deal-pact, horsey,” she began, remembering the man-thing calling it so. “You take me-me to desert-lands, and I give you much Warpstone. Yes-Yes?”

The beast said nothing, the muscles in its long neck relaxing. She snapped her fingers to regain its attention, but its eyes were empty, distant. Nothing ever refused free Warpstone, that must mean the beast had passed away, she was too late.

Skyseeker slumped pathetically onto the grass. What a setback! She’d been looking forward to spending the rest of her journey upon a mount, riding the rest of her way with her feet kicked up, now she had to go back to walking once more. Curse that man-thing, he’d outwitted her, not the other way around, he must have killed off the horsey after chasing her off with that pistol, very clever for a surface-dweller. His schemes were almost on par with her own… almost.

Disappointed in herself, but not undeterred, she picked herself back up, turning her gaze in the direction of the warband. While travelling with Clan Skryre had been a brief respite, the Warlock’s forces would be tied down dealing with the man-things, consuming their flesh for the next few days. She didn’t have that kind of time to waste, the next leg of her journey would have to be done alone.

Though, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. The way she was heading just so happened to take her in the same direction as the man-thing. Perhaps she could sneak up on him and slit his throat for tricking her, or maybe interrogate him for information about where to find more horses, as he stupidly referred to them.

Still, if she was going to do this, she must be cautious of his weapon. Her arm still hurt from the time he’d shot her in the back during the battle at the river, her improvised bandage soaked through with her fluids.

Retrieving her warp-stars, discarding the one he’d broken, she scurried in the man-thing’s direction, slipping into the underbrush on all fours as she followed his putrid scent.

-xXx-

The sun was rising, as was the humidity, Roderick keeping his visor open so he didn’t cook alive inside his helmet. He was yet to come across any discernible landmarks, the tall trees the only thing he could see for miles in any direction, but at least he didn’t have to worry about running into paused out in the middle of the woods.

Roderick leaned against the foot of a tree, drawing a waterskin from one of his pouches and sating his thirst. Even before crossing the Vaults, he found the days becoming progressively hotter the further south he travelled, even in the latest hours of the night he often found himself waking up soaked with sweat. How he missed the balanced climes of the Empire.

When the sun reached its highest point in the sky, the heat was getting to him, Roderick’s body demanding that he rest. He searched for a place to stop, eventually coming across the base of an impressive tree, its tall roots large enough to hide him from prying eyes. He set his bags down next to the great oak, spreading them over a wide area so he didn’t have to sit on the dirt.

Roderick settled in, his muscles eager to relax as he leaned against the tree, his legs becoming sore, but in a relieving kind of way. He listened to the sounds of the forest for a few minutes, pausing when he felt his stomach rumble.

He flipped open one of his satchels, fishing through its contents. The mercenary band’s food stocks were filled to capacity with non-perishables like jerked meat and bread, so Roderick didn’t have to worry about his rations rotting in all this heat.

As he chewed on a tasteless piece of pork, his attention was drawn to the right. Beyond the trees, he could hear the leaves rustling, Roderick slowly placing a hand on his pistol. It could have been the wind, or an errant animal, but given his experience so far in these lands, he knew to take nothing at face value.

His feet complaining, Roderick crept out of his resting place, drawing his dagger as he peeked over the undergrowth, daring not to even chew his food lest the noise give away his location. He circled the tree, his heartbeat rising as he heard the leaves shake again, spotting the disturbed bush a few paces away, its spiky arms waving back and forth.

Careful where he placed his feet, he held his dagger up, closing in on the intruder. When he was in arms-reach of the bush, he made to strike, faltering as he watched a fox dart out of the shrubbery, its brown fur rippling in the breeze as it disappeared into a cluster of nearby wildlfowers.

“Damn it,” Roderick grumbled, stashing his dagger away. It had been nothing after all, yet he couldn’t quite shake the feeling he wasn’t alone as he returned to the cover of the roots, even when he heard no more noises. He’d been hoping to catch some shut-eye, but the idea of lingering here without some proper shelter wasn’t so appealing anymore.

He spent a few more minutes resting his feet, then continued on, every crack of a branch and shifting leaf making him jumpy.

-xXx-

By the time sunset arrived, the sky turning a deep shade of azure, Roderick was certain he was being followed. Every time he paused to rest, the snapping twigs would subside, only to then pick up again once he resumed walking. He was by no means defenceless, but being stalked through a darkening forest would shake anyone’s nerves. He would have to deal with his pursuer before he became too tired to keep his eyes open.

He wondered who it was, a mercenary from the band? A brigand? More Skaven? He would hear their cackles and chitters long before they arrived if it was the latter, so he was wagering on it being a bandit, but why try and rob someone way out here?

No matter, he wouldn’t let himself be humiliated like the last time he’d been waylaid. Roderick bided his time, pretending to be ignorant of his pursuer as he found someplace to set up camp before it got too dark. He foraged around for some kindling, the abundance of undergrowth making it a trivial matter to assemble a fire. He placed a ring of stones in the middle of another clearing, taking out a piece of flint from his pack and striking it.

Soon he had a healthy fire going, placing his helmet on the ground nearby, holding his hands up to the flickering flames. The sunlight was fading quickly, the canopy roofing the forest so dense he could scarcely see the stars.

He rummaged through his pack, producing a hunk of bread and spearing it on a stick. He roasted it over the fire, hoping the heat would drive back the stale taste, the scent of baking bread reminding him of the homeland.

After eating his fill, he put on a show of yawning loudly, holding an exaggerated arm up to his mouth. Fluffing his pack like he would a pillow, he laid his head down, closing his eyes and pretending to go to sleep.

There he waited. Ten minutes, twenty, an hour. He was starting to think his ruse wasn’t going to work, when he heard a twig snap, the little noise so quiet he barely heard it over his pounding heart.

He clutched his handgun to his chest as he heard whoever it was approach, Roderick sure he could hear his purser sniff as though affected by a fever. They were being careless, that meant his trap was working.

When he heard it draw closer to the clearing, Roderick leapt to his feet, holding his pistol out in one arm as he pointed it in the intruder’s direction. Between two trees, he saw a lone Skaven with one leg raised in the air, frozen like a burglar who’d just been caught sneaking into the wine cellar.

Its already large eyes bogged out as it realised it had been caught, dashing away too quickly for Roderick to track it with his eyes, let alone his gun. It slunk behind a tree, its tail arcing around the wood as he heard it fall to the grass.

Roderick went to fire, then hesitated, turning his gaze to the woods. Was he about to be caught in the middle of a Vermintide? He couldn’t hear the telltale rumbling of earth, nor the cries of an oncoming wave of ratmen, was this creature truly alone?

He waited for the burrows to start appearing, but it seemed no major attack was coming. As he contemplated his next move, the Skaven peeked around the tree at one point, placing a furry hand on the bark as it looked at him, as if it had to check if he was still standing there. It ducked away as soon as he aimed at its face, Roderick furrowing his brow in confusion. This one looked familiar. Was it the same ratwoman who’d killed his horse?

“I see you, rodent,” Roderick announced, hoping he could scare it into backing away from its cover. Instead, the Skaven peered at him from the opposite side of the tree, and at a different elevation, Roderick too slow to train his sights on it before it disappeared again. “You know, for a self-proclaimed master assassin, you’re not very good at hiding.”

Roderick started to circle the tree, making sure he kept at a distance so it couldn’t knife him. When he rounded the tree, he blinked in confusion, the rat wasn’t hiding behind it anymore.

He was sure he’d seen nothing move in his peripherals, where had it gone? He circled the tree completely, thinking it was trying to keep the wood between him and it, but there was no sign of it.

The sound of a mischievous chuckle drew his gaze upward, Roderick spying the rat poking its head out from a hollow in the tree far above him. Seeing he had noticed it, the rodent slunk its head out of sight, Roderick shaking his head as he watched its tail flick out into the open.

“What are you doing here, rat?” he asked, holding his pistol ready. “Why do you follow me?”

It tried to pretend it wasn’t there for a few stubborn moments, then its head appeared again, its expression twisted in a snarl.

“Stupid man-thing!” it called. “Man-thing follows me!”

“You are the one who’s been shadowing me all day,” he replied, shaking his head. “I demand to know why.”

The Skaven pointed an accusing claw at him from its hiding place. “You pay attention-listen,” it growled. “Skaven does not explain mission to hairless, smelly, ugly man-things. Sneaky-secrets is the duty of Clan Mors master-”

“-Assassins, heard that already,” he interrupted. “What’s this mission? You here to kill me? You’re not the first hired blade who’s tried, you know, though I admit I’ve never been stalked by a rat before.”

“Man-thing not my target!” it snarled. “Who’d want to kill-stab chump like you? Assassining contracts only for strongest enemies.”

“… What did you just call me?” he growled, the Skaven replying by cackling down at him. “You claim not to be after me, rodent, but you were sneaking up on my camp just a minute ago, how do you explain that?”

The rodent hesitated, bundling its hood over its head like it was ashamed. “S-Stink of food-smell,” it reluctantly explained. “Not eat-eat since bright time.”

“I should have known filching for scraps would be your reasoning, vermin,” he chuckled, the Skaven shooting him a dirty look. “But I’d be a fool to believe you. More likely you’re here to track me so your warband can do what you couldn’t, and finish me off.”

“I am no Skryre Clanrat!” the Skaven defended. “I am of exuberant Clan Mors. Told dumb man-thing twice now!”

Roderick wasn’t familiar enough with Skaven to know what it was going on about, but this rat was clearly alone, and wasn’t trying to tell him otherwise, so in that regard it was being truthful.

“Well, if you are truly not my adversary as you claim to be, then I’ll give you a chance to prove it,” Roderick announced, the Skaven tilting its head in confusion. “You let me live back in the clearing, so I’ll offer you the same courtesy. Leave now, and let us never cross paths again. But if I see so much as a whisker,” he added, lifting the barrel of his pistol pointedly. “I won’t be so lenient a second time.”

“Why would man-thing let me leave-leave?” it asked, cocking its head the other direction

“I just said why,” he sighed, gesturing with his pistol. “On your way now, begone.”

“No shoot-fire Skyseeker?”

“You’re hardly worth the ammo.”

While he’d brought a pouch full of powder charges from the camp, he had no idea when he’d be able to resupply, and he’d rather save his bullets if it was possible.

The Skaven seemed to consider his offer for a moment. Then there was a flash of green metal, and in the space of a moment, it had brandished a warp-star, holding its arm out threateningly.

“Lies!” it spat. “Man-thing said no trick-tricks before, you lied lied then, lying now-now!”

“I give you my word this time,” he pleaded. “I’m no mercenary, I won’t break it.”

It probably had no idea what he was talking about, but it remained unconvinced, stuffing its face defiantly into the hollow, vanishing from his point of view.

“Very well,” he grumbled in frustration. “If you won’t leave of your own free will, then perhaps…”

He left the tree for a few moments, rushing off to his campfire. When he came back, the Skaven had emerged from its hidey-hole, tracking him with its large eyes. When its gaze flickered to what he was holding in his hand, its eyes seemed to outgrow their sockets, almost dropping its warp-star in surprise.

“How about I just burn you out?” he suggested, dangling the piece of firewood over the roots of the tree, the end of it crackling with flames. “A douse of oil and you’d be up in smoke in seconds, that’d get rid of you.”

“Eeeeek! Don’t do that!” it pleaded. It looked about ready to leap from its hiding place and risk the fall, but then seemed to reconsider, no doubt thinking he would get a clear shot at it if it tried to flee.

He felt a little guilty at the terrified creature’s reaction, so he decided to relent, holding the firewood away. “Alright, alright, calm down, I’m not going to torch you. Starting a forest fire would attract the wrong kind of attention anyway.”

He began to pace around the tree, the Skaven’s head swivelling on its flexible neck to track him. Either he would have to wait the rodent out, or find someplace else to camp. The latter seemed rather pointless, the Skaven would just find him again, not to mention that he didn’t have the energy for another trek, the day of fighting and walking had left him on the brink of passing out.

It seemed he had no choice but to test his patience against the Skaven’s own, looking up at the rodent with his arms crossed. “You’d best make yourself scarce before daylight, rodent,” he began. “I don’t think my sudden good mood is going to last till morning.”

He walked back to the fire, and this time he didn’t return, laying down on his back, holding his pistol close as he kept a vigilant watch on the tree. If the Skaven didn’t take all his warnings and leave before daybreak, he’d be left with no choice but to bring its hiding place to the torch.

He thought he saw a whisker appear around the trunk after a while, but it seemed the Skaven was just as suspicious of him, as he was of it, and the constant shuffling noises let him know the rat wasn’t budging.

At one point, the noises ceased, and Roderick thought the rat had leapt clear and finally left him be, but that was not the case. A new sound reached his ears, one that was breathy and relaxed, slowly growing in volume until even the crackling firepit couldn’t drown it out. Roderick shuffled onto his back, glaring daggers up at the tree.

The Skaven was snoring.

The arrogant little rodent had the gall to fall asleep despite all his threats. At first he was convinced it was trying to fool him into a false sense of security, but the Skaven’s breaths were consistent, slow, and after one hour passed, then two, he was starting to think it truly had fallen asleep in that burrow.

Jealousy overcame him. The Skaven was at his mercy, not the other way around, so why did it get to sleep while he spent twenty-four hours awake? Curse the creature and its simple-mindedness…

With nothing else to occupy himself with, he found himself focusing solely on the Skaven’s breathing, muffled by the distance, but distinctly peaceful. He rubbed his eyes as they started to droop. Damn it, he needed to stay alert. Perhaps if he just rested his eyes, he could let his ears do most of the work…

The Skaven would have an easier time avoiding him if he wasn’t watching, but his need for rest overpowered his common sense, and the urge to doze off became too strong to ignore.

-xXx-

Roderick was roused awake by the call of a bird, his mind momentarily overwhelmed with alarm, but why that was the case completely slipped his grasp he regained his faculties, rubbing his vision clear as he sat up, surveying his surroundings though itchy eyes.

The campfire had petered out at some point in the night, the clearing illuminated by golden rays of sunshine spilling in through the forest canopy in places, Roderick holding up a hand as a ray of light shone directly in his face.

He turned, flipping open a pouch in search of some breakfast, listening to the sounds of chirping birds and creaking branches, but it took him a second to realise there was one other strange noise that didn’t quite fit the atmosphere. He’d almost forgotten about the Skaven, still slumbering away up there in its hiding place, its snoring reaching an unpleasant octave.

Roderick reconsidered having a meal, the rodent had told him the smell of food had drawn it to his camp, and it would likely wake if he produced meat now. This was his chance to give the vermin the slip, if he could put enough distance between him and it, he wouldn’t have to resort to using his bullets.

Collecting his bags and pistol, he crept away from the camp, staying as quiet as a man wearing plate armour could manage. He cringed when at one point his foot landed on a twig, snapping it in twain with a loud crack, but the Skaven must be a heavy sleeper, for it did not wake.

When he felt confident he was far enough away to walk normally, Roderick turned his back on his former campsite, casting his eyes to the heavens. The rolling expanse of the woods made seeing the sun difficult, but not impossible. It was still morning, so as long as he kept it to his left, he could orient himself in a southerly direction. It would be easier once he reached the edge of this damned forest, and then he could find some landmarks to better guide his way.

He set off into the woods, welcoming the newfound solitude.

-xXx-

Roderick wound his way between the trees, the sheer density of the vegetation making his progress a slog. In his homeland, the forests were far less frequent and oppressive, the space between the trees wide enough to let a carriage pass through unhindered, but Tilea was another story. The lush landscape spread over the province uncontested, perhaps all the blood from all the countless warring mercenaries had made the land more fertile. He once read about wood elves using the corpses of their enemies to fertilize the roots of their great trees, perhaps something similar had happened here.

His thoughts briefly wondered back to the band of mercenaries. Even though he’d put some distance between him and their camp, the sounds of warfare should still carry over many leagues, and the lack of them meant that the battle must have concluded, but who had prevailed? It wasn’t that he cared for the Commander’s life, but Roderick had gained the men’s loyalty during his brief time leading the cavalry, and he wondered if he’d done the right thing, leaving them in their hour of need. They were despicable men who fought for gold, not glory, but still men…

Trying to drive these dark thoughts away, he sat down on a fallen log, sating his appetite with a slice of cured meat. He would trade his armour for a piece of fresh venison right now, but the forest seemed to be the home of nothing but squirrels and birds, and the amount of food he’d get for hunting one didn’t seem worth all the effort.

As he gave his legs some much needed rest, he felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, the familiar sensation of being watched making him tense up. He turned back the way he’d come, spying a hint of movement between two outcrops of rock nestled in the undergrowth, Roderick watching the tip of a pink tail disappear below the thicket, ten or so paces away.

“I warned you what would happen if I saw you again,” Roderick sighed, hearing the Skaven yelp as though he’d startled it. For a few moments it didn’t respond, as though expecting him to forget about it if it stayed silent, but eventually he heard it call back a reply.

“M-Man-thing can’t see me-me.”

“Yes I can.”

“No it can’t!” He saw the tips of its ears swivel as it slowly peered over the lip of rock. “Man-thing should stop testing my patience, big mistake to chase assassin tail.”

Roderick cradled his temple with a glove. “Listen, ice-brain, how many times must I tell you: you are following me. What reason would I have to chase a rodent around, anyway?”

“What is ‘rodent’?” the Skaven asked.

“Perhaps we’re both simply heading in the same direction,” he said, ignoring its question. “If that’s the case, why don’t you just overtake me? Surely a master assassin would have no trouble losing me in this forest. I’ll even give you a head start, how’s that sound?”

When the Skaven didn’t reply for a full minute, Roderick started to think it had finally gone. The prospect was shattered as he heard the crunching of leaves to his left, Roderick turning to see parts of the undergrowth shake and move as though something large was navigating through them. The Skaven was giving him a wide birth, gently circling its way round him until it stopped on the opposite side of his resting place.

It poked its head out from the top of a shrub, its pink nose twitching as it took in its surroundings. As it turned on the spot, Roderick got a look at its front, noticing its chest was pronounced, the sizeable bust contained within a sling of dark material. It was definitely female.

When it completed a full spin, she turned to glare at him.

“Which way south-south?” she demanded

So her heading was the same as his, how curious. He pointed an armoured finger behind her. “That way.”

The Skaven looked in the incorrect direction for a moment, then raised a claw at him in return.

“Man-thing take new deal-pact,” she began. “Man-thing bring me to south-way, and I don’t eat-eat it. Lucrative for both of us, no-yes?”

“Seems to me we were doing that already,” Roderick noted. “What business does a rat have in southern Tilea anyway?”

“No details!” she barked, hitting Roderick’s helmet with a tossed stick. “Mission is secret!”

“What makes you think I’d even consider making a deal with you?” Roderick asked. To say he was baffled by this turn of events would be an understatement. “You knifed my horse and tried to kill me yesterday.”

“Man-thing started it!” she replied, reaching down to pull part of her hood aside, exposing a bloodied bandage on her shoulder. It was difficult to identify the wound, but the Skaven was quick to explain. “Man-thing shot me with gun-thing, kill-killed many clanrats, but not Skyseeker.”

It declared that last part with a gleeful chuckle, Roderick raising a brow in response. He could hardly be expected to remember every rat he’d killed or wounded, but this Skaven seemed the type to hold a grudge. She pulled her cloak back over her shoulder, glaring at him as she waited for his response. The thought he should just risk the bullet and kill the rodent crossed his mind, but if he failed to hit it, he might not wake up the next time he went to sleep with a vengeful assassin on his heels.

“I’m not going to baby you across the whole country,” he finally said. “I have business of my own here. How far south are you going?”

“… Yes,” she replied after hesitating.

“What do you mean, ‘yes’? How many leagues?” When she just stared blankly at him he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Never mind. Do what you will, rodent, just stay out of my way, and we wont have a problem.”

He got to his feet, the Skaven ducking out of sight when he grabbed his pistol, Roderick just able to make out the pitter-patter of her feet as she fled. She had made a show of offering him a deal rather than attack him outright, so he was a little less worried about her being a threat.

He stooped to pick up his saddlebags, feeling the eyes of the Skaven watching him as he readied to press on. “Come along, then,” he called out. “Seeker of Mors or whatever your name was.”

-xXx-

Skyseeker had to abandon her perches up in the trees to keep pace with the man-thing, always keeping him just within her sight, always staying at his rear so she had enough time to react if he dared to attack her.

He had not reached for his handgun since she’d offered him the deal a short while ago, but that didn’t mean she was about to let her guard down. He was a tricky creature, and equally strange, Skyseeker finding herself letting her curiosity get the better of her as she evaluated her newest rival.

He was a tall thing, enough so that Skyseeker’s eyes barely met his chest when they’d fought in the clearing. He still wore that steel suit from back at the ambush at the river, with the red brush protruding from a full-faced helmet. She wasn’t sure if he was truly that bulky underneath all the armour, but she imagined it took a lot of strength to lug all that metal around.

Her eyes wondered down his torso. No matter how hard she looked, it appeared the man-thing possessed no tail of any kind. How could that be? How did it stop itself from falling over? The body plans of these surface-dwellers were so odd. Perhaps it was stuffed inside the armour?

After an hour or so of following the man-thing, the cover of the forest began to dwindle. Skyseeker found it increasingly difficult to stay out of sight as the shrubs and undergrowth gave way to flat stretches of grass, the trees becoming so thin she could wrap her arms around them twice over. The canopy was likewise affected, the clouds of leaves parting to expose blinding rays of sunshine, the primal fear of an overhead attack making Skyseeker squirm beneath her hood.

The man-thing didn’t seem all that bothered, striding confidently onward toward the edge of the forest, the border of the woodlands ending in a visible line just ahead of him. He paused in the shade of a tree, nearly motionless as he surveyed the world beyond, Skyseeker dragging herself ten or so paces to his flank, perching atop a low-hanging branch so she could see what he was looking at.

A rolling plain of grass and dirt stretched out beyond and below her, boxed in by the mountains lining the horizon to her left, but extending on forever in all other directions. While most of the land was flat, it wasn’t without its features. Gentle bumps in the earth swept the countryside, as though a hundred gigantic Skaven were in the middle of burrowing up from the underways, the fields of green seemingly untouched by structures of any kind.

While she could see small clusters of woodland growing between the hills, the sheer amount of open ground looming before her filled her heart with dread. To cross this land would be to let herself be exposed from every angle, which went against every instinct in Skyseeker’s body, the sight making her paws sweat.

Ruffling parchment drew her out of her wallowing, and she looked to the man-thing, seeing he was unfurling a scroll from his pack. What was it reading? Instructions on how to kill her, perhaps? She couldn’t get a good look at the scroll from this angle, and when she tried to edge closer, he noticed her approach, quickly stashing the mysterious parchment away.

“Giving up already, eh?” he asked her. “So much for deals. Not that I’m complaining.”

It took her a second to realise what he’d meant. The man-thing was already halfway down the slope, delving into the plains, while she was still perched in the treeline. She tried to jump down after him, but the moment she looked out over the horribly open ground, her paws froze, her body refusing her commands to press on.

Doubt broiled up inside her. How could she hope to survive so much open ground? Her mind conjured images of flying monstrosities, lurking in the distant haze, ready to pluck her the moment she left the shelter of the trees. Gnawdwell had chosen Skyseeker for her cunning and sneakiness, but stealth and subterfuge wouldn’t be of use in all this bright, empty land. He should have sent an army in her stead, or at the very least a handful of trained stormvermin, what could she alone do what the elite of Clan Mors could not?

She turned back to the forest, her shoulders heavy with guilt. Returning to Skavenblight without the relic would doom her to a fate she’d feared all her life, but and perhaps if she was sneaky enough, she’d be able to live out the rest of her days in the heart of her Clan, underground and safe.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath as she pulled herself together. If one of the other Great Clans took possession of the relic, then she may not have a Clan to go back to. Clan Mors was on the cusp of success, and victory rested in her paws. Her Lord would not have sent her if there was anyone else, was she truly ready to give up his trust in her so easily?

She had come this far, she told herself as she turned back towards the plains, forcing herself down into the dreaded expanse one step at a time. She would not let fear dictate the success of her mission.

-xXx-

She stalked the man-thing until the sun reached its zenith, the plains baking so hard beneath the light she could see the heat rising off the ground, the way the air shimmered as strange as it was intriguing. The grasslands felt like smouldering coals beneath her feet, and the hilts of her knives were hot to the touch, but she pressed on, turning her eyes every now and then towards the man-thing in the distance.

It was hard to tell with his back turned, but it didn’t look like he was fairing much better, the way he would stumble every now and then hinting at his own fatigue. It seemed even a surface-dweller like him wasn’t immune to the elements.

They were moving up the first layer of hills populating the plain, the man-thing stealing a glance back at her as he deviated to the right, Skyseeker seeing a feature through bleary eyes. Rising up from the grasslands was an outcropping of rock, bleached pale-white from the unfiltered sun, the way it sloped out and upwards reminding her of the shape of her weeping daggers. Flowers blooming in healthy shades of red and yellow were nestled in its long shadow, and it was here the man-thing was walking towards, his relief palpable as he collapsed within the rock’s shelter.

Skyseeker scrutinised him from further down the slope, laying on her belly as she watched him produce some kind of flask, sealing his lips across the neck. How pleasant it must feel to be shaded in this hellscape, both from the sun and the creatures that roamed the skies, not that she’d seen any such creatures. She knew they were out there, though, and her intuition hadn’t failed her yet.

Her mouth salivated as she watched clear water drip from the man-thing’s flask, his red face beginning to cool as he splashed it over his cheeks. She craved the coolness of the shade, but getting close to him was the last thing she wanted to do. She tried digging out a burrow right where she lay, just as she had in the marshes, but the ground was too tough and she was too exhausted, clawing at the dirt did little but blunt her claws. She looked for something else she could use as shelter, but the man-thing’s outcrop was the only feature in any direction.

Seeing she had no choice, she crept towards the outcrop, ready to dash away should the man-thing turn his pistol on her. He wouldn’t notice her approach anyway, a dumb surface-dweller like him couldn’t hope to detect a master assassin like herself.

The moment she came into contact with the shade, she threw her head back, forgetting the meaning of subterfuge as she let out the loudest sigh. It was like dipping her body into a pool of icy water, Skyseeker collapsing into a heap, her tail the last thing to leave the sunlight as she curled into a tired ball. She’d positioned herself as far away from the man-thing as possible, but the pool of shade was rather confined, and they were close enough that she could make out the individual strands of fur on the man-thing’s head.

“You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that,” the man-thing said. He was holding his pistol close, but the barrel was pointing between his feet. “thought I was going to have to cross these hills by myself for a moment there.”

“Silence,” she snapped, trying to summon up the strength to sound intimidating. “Not used to heat. Is cold where I come from.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted then,” he replied. “The Trantine Hills stretch on for hundreds and hundreds of leagues, this hill is just the first.”

She had no idea what a league was, but given the context it was probably a long distance. That wouldn’t deter Skyseeker, though, the man-thing was very likely lying in order to dissuade her. “Stupid man-thing won’t trick Skyseeker,” she replied. “Scurried all the way from Skavenblight, Tangerine Hills don’t scare me-me.”

“Trantine,” he said, his tone implying he was trying to correct her. Her nose twitched as she picked up on a curious scent, watching as the man-thing produced a slice of meat from his many bags, tearing off a chunk with his blunt teeth. His noisy chewing made her jealous, and she snapped her fingers to get his attention.

“Man-thing! Share food now-now.”

“I’m not giving you anything,” he replied over a mouthful. “Go find your own carrion, rodent.”

She moved a hand over the hilt of a weeping dagger. “Man-thing share, or will die-kill very quick!”

“You’re not going to kill me,” he replied, his confidence surprising her. “You’d have made good on that promise long ago, but you haven’t, because you need me. First to steal my horse, and now to lead you south. So save your breath, rodent, you look like you need it, the way you’re panting like a rabid dog.”

Horned Rat damn this stupid surface-dweller, he was more clever than he looked. Sulking, she planted her chin in the dirt in defeat, closing her eyes as she tried to ignore the smelly meat. Perhaps after a quick nap, she could try foraging around, maybe find some more black corn if she was fortunate.

Trying to rest while the man-thing was so close was an effort, especially when she felt his lingering gaze, but she managed to achieve a sort of half-slumber, growling under her breath when the man-thing interrupted her.

“How about this,” he began, Skyseeker opening one eye. “I’ll give you a piece of food, but you must answer a question first. What do you say?”

She bounced to her feet in one quick motion, nodding her head vigorously. “Deal-Deal!” she said, holding out her paws. “Gimme!”

“Question first,” he chided, holding a slice of meat out of her reach, Skyseeker rolling her eyes as she leaned back on her haunches, gesturing for him to proceed. “What exactly is your mission you mentioned before? Why do you want to go to southern Tilea?”

“Stupid man-thing ask two questions!” she snarled, holding up three fingers.

“You’ll get two bits of food if you answer them both,” he replied. “On with it, rodent, before I change my mind.”

She chewed on a nail as she considered his offer. Should she reveal such crucial information to this creature? Secrecy was her one ally on this quest, but without food she would never succeed. Eventually she decided that a half-truth would be the best approach.

“Great Horned One spoke to Council,” she explained. “Say Tilee-place must die-die. Indomitable Lord Gnawdwell send me-me ahead of vermintides to look for man-thing armies.”

“They sent an assassin to scout? If that’s the case, then why were you with that warband we ambushed?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Man-thing needs to clean ear-holes!” she snarled. “I am Clan MORS assassin, warband belong to Clan SKRYRE. Clans don’t get along! Needed to sneaky-sneak to scurry through unseen.”

For a moment she thought he was onto her, but he eventually pulled a few strips of meat from his pack, tossing them at her. “Alright, two treats, as promised.”

She snatched the food out of the air, giving one an experimental lick. It was saltier than anything she’d ever tasted, but she found the sensation enjoyable, Skyseeker shoving the odd meat down her throat, too tired to bother chewing.

As she raised the second piece to her mouth, she paused, sparing a glance at the man-thing. “What-What man-thing’s mission?” she began, the creature blinking down at her.

“Mission? Not on a mission,” he replied, but she wasn’t buying it.

“If man-thing tells truth, it can have-take treat back.”

“As generous as your offer is,” he said, giving his bag a pat. “I’ve come prepared into these lands, unlike you. Cant buy me with food.”

“Is man-thing scout too?” she pressed, crossing her legs as she sat down. “Your tail fled when Skryre attacked, then scurried wrong way-way. Why man-thing scout own Tilee-lands?”

“I wasn’t part of that mercenary band,” he explained. “not anymore. We had a… falling out, and I make my own path now.”

“Man-thing betray mercy-band?”

“Would you stop calling me that?” he said, dodging the question. “My name is Roderick.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you, Rick-rod.”

“… Really?”

“No you dumb man-thing why would this be nice?” she snapped, jabbing a finger at him. “What sneaky secrets does man-thing hide? It is too clever to be a simple scout, just like Skyseeker!”

“Ah, so you’re not a scout then?”

Realising she just ousted herself, she held her mouth shut with her paws, but it was too late. “Man-thing not say I couldn’t lie,” she excused, ducking lower to the ground. “Food still mine-mine! Earned it fair-square!”

“I’d be surprised if you did tell the truth, Skaven,” the man-thing replied. “No matter, we’ve all got our secrets, just don’t expect another handout anytime soon.”

She flinched away as he stood up, Skyseeker retreating into the sun and behind the outcrop, peering round the corner once she’d safely drawn her weeping blades. The man thing gave her a quizzical look, then hoisted his pack onto his shoulder.

“You’re so skittish,” he muttered, turning his back on her. “Come on then, Skyseeker, the south awaits.”

-xXx-

They marched on until the sun began to retreat below the horizon, Skyseeker always maintaining a healthy distance behind the man-thing, as it gave her enough breathing room to ponder the heavens without worry of an attack. Ever so slowly, those little points of light began to appear in the sky, hundreds upon hundreds, their prettiness never ceasing to amaze her. Why did they only appear at night, and what made them flitter like they did? She needed to know more.

As the sun began to lower, so too did the air temperature, her fur cool to the touch. She preferred this feeling compared to the boiling heat of the day, but the reprieve was short-lived. With the rising moon came the chill of the night, the wind taking on a freezing quality as it brushed over the empty landscape, her cloak doing little to shield her from the biting gale. Her fur would keep her from freezing, but before long she was shivering with every step, and she longed for the shelter of a burrow.

Fortunately, the man-thing was also ready to stop for the night, combing the lands in search of a place to rest. After a bit of looking, he found a suitable shelter of overhanging rock, nestled between two of the great hills dotting the plains. The formation of rock formed a very shallow dugout, but at least the slanting rock provided some measure of a roof that should shield them from the wind.

Skyseeker wasn’t as pensive about using the man-thing’s shelter like last time, as she was certain any flying monsters that lived in this world would be more active at night, where they could swoop down on unsuspecting prey under the cover of darkness. Her quarry did give her an odd look as she came slinking up to the rockface, but he didn’t try to chase her off at least.

“You stay on that side of camp,” he warned, drawing a line over the ground with a pointed finger. “I want you right where I can see you. Make it so.”

She watched curiously as the man-thing began to gather up a couple dozen small rocks, placing them in a circle. When he was done with that, he lifted the dagger from his belt, Skyseeker answering by raising her own weapons in preparation for a fight, the glowing blades driving back the darkness. He gave her an odd look, as though she was being stupid, then bent over, slicing off a tuft of nearby wildgrass and placing it between the rocks.

“What man-thing doing?” she eventually asked, sliding her weapons away when the man-thing did the same.

“Making fire,” he explained. “What’s it look like?”

“Red, very hot-hot.”

“Not literally what’s it look like, you fool.”

He moved off into the night, stealing glances back at her as he began collecting dead twigs. When he’d gathered a small bundle of them, he returned, dropping them on top of the ring of stones.

“Why make fire?” she asked, jumping back a little when he produced two pieces of stone.

“Not everyone’s a rodent covered in fur, gotta keep warm somehow.” He began striking the stones together, and after a couple of attempts, there was a spark, the twigs slowly beginning to smoke.

“Man-thing has fur!” she said, jabbing a claw at the top of his head, where it was crowned in dusky strands of fur, each one long enough to reach his shoulders.

“That’s hair,” he explained. “I swear, I’ve met street urchins smarter than you.”

“If Skyseeker is stupid,” she began. “then man-thing is stupid-er! Lost fight to me-me, only let you live because you beg-begged!”

“Perhaps,” he said. “but then who ended up running away with their tail literally between their legs?”

“Man-thing cheated! Said no tricks, then tricked!”

“Thought a Skaven of all people would appreciate a bit of deception,” he smirked, spreading his pack out and sitting down on it. “But if you’re so bitter about it, we can finish what we started, just say the word.”

“Tempting,” she grumbled, her tail slapping at the ground behind her. “Ask later, after nap-nap.”

She turned away, stuffing herself into the wedge of rock at the base of their sloping shelter, resting her head on her forearm. She closed her eyes, but sleep never came easy on an empty stomach, and Skyseeker had eaten nothing all day save for the strip of meat the man-thing had given her earlier. As if on cue, the smells of food leaking from his pack made themselves known to her nostrils, her mouth watering as she remembered the odd taste of salt and meat. If she wanted to survive this journey across these plains, she had no choice but to indulge the man-thing and his schemes…

“Ask question, do offer-deal again,” she mumbled, the man-thing turning his gaze from the fire to her.

“What are you on about, rodent?”

“Ask question, and give food-meat,” she elaborated. Was the man-thing mentally impaired? He seemed to forget everything in no small amount of time.

“What’s the point?” he asked, raising his hands towards the flames. “Said so yourself that you lied last time.”

“Won’t speak-talk lies,” she added, grinding her teeth together. “Give question now! Stomach sucking up against my spine over here-here!”

“Oh, very well,” the man-thing replied, his reluctance as palpable as the smell of food. “Here’s something that’s been bothering me. When we fought, you spared my life after disarming me, when any other Skaven would have cut me down without a second thought. Why is that?”

“Need four-leg-thing for journey-mission,” she explained. “Need man-thing to teach Skyseeker how to tame, can’t teach if dead-slain. How many-many times must I say-say?”

“I gathered that much,” he continued, holding a hand out. “But I don’t understand why. What’s with you and making deals and pacts?”

“Better get lots-many treats for all these stupid questions,” Skyseeker mumbled under her breath, glancing up at the man-thing. “Ran trade-store in Skavenblight long time ago. Made many deals. Self-taught!”

“Truly?” he asked, blinking as though he’d never heard of the concept. “What would rats sell to each other? Besides scraps of carrion for trash, that is.”

“Many things!” Skyseeker explained, propping herself up on her elbows, glad to be talking about something exciting for a change. “Weapons and wargear, surface-dweller shiny-things, other accessories. Plunder from rubbish piles make us many profits!”

“What currency do you Skaven use?” he asked, turning so that he was properly facing her. “Gold?”

“Stupid man-thing, gold worthless scrap! Warpstone greatest value!” she proudly announced. “Can spend, melt, shoot, and eat precious Warpstone! Man-thing not know food until it eat-taste Warpstone! Mm-Mm!” She licked her teeth as she reminisced about its taste. It had been so long since she’d consumed refined warp-power, perhaps that was what she needed to complete this mission.

“You eat your money?” the man-thing asked. “That… can’t be healthy, not for you or your economy.”

“Warpstone very nutritious!” she said, wagging a claw at the ignorant man-thing. “Pivotal for diet.”

“So you ran this store, did you?” he asked, steering the conversation back on topic. “All by yourself?”

“Three others!” she explained, holding up four fingers. “Two plundered trash pits for trinkets, one protect-guard shop. I took charge of deal-making. Failed only nine times before first bargaining!” she added, puffing her chest out.

“You seem rather fond of this shop,” he noted, no doubt seeing the wide smile splitting her muzzle.

“Made first enemies trading Warpstone,” she said, staring wistfully into the distance. “Much better than skulking warrens. Got to scheme and stab all day! Good times…”

“This mission must be pretty important, then,” he added, Skyseeker turning her head to glare at him. “You gave up the life of a clerk to become a scout? Sounds like quite the leap, if it’s true that is.”

“Shop not there anymore,” she explained. “Guard rat wanted all Warpstone for himself. Tried to kill-slay us one day, so I set shop on fire and lock him in! Not many bargains after that,” she added, her head drooping.

“I’d imagine not,” the man-thing replied. “Here,” he added, a chunk of meat landing in front of her. “Not sure if you’re telling the truth, but you at least answered my question.”

“Man-thing ask a thousand questions!” Skyseeker pouted. “Should give a thousand treats, not ONE!”

“Fine, you can have two,” he replied, reaching for his pack.

“Three, and no tiny-small pieces!”

“Perhaps you weren’t lying about being a shopkeep,” he chuckled. He tossed her another two slices of meat, Skyseeker gobbling them up before he changed his mind. The man-thing seemed susceptible to persistence, that was good to know. She’d need to find all his weaknesses when he decided to break their truce.

“What about man-thing?” Skyseeker asked between mouthfuls. “Did it always ride four-leg-things into Skaven? Did it have shop, too?”

He considered her question for a few moments, prodding the flames with a stick as she watched him impatiently. “I was a farmhand for most of my younger years,” he explained. “Worked these lands until I was of age, then signed on with one of the mercenary bands.”

“Man-thing lies,” Skyseeker accused. “Can’t fool Skyseeker! It is not local-thing!”

“That so? How’d you figure that?”

“Look at it!” she answered, daring to skitter a little closer to him. She began listing off her reasons, pointing at various parts of his body as she did. “Man-thing skin is pink, Tilee-place man-things skin darker. Man-thing hair is dark colour, not like Tilee-man-things. Speech-talk sound different too! You as different as an Eshin rat is from a Moulder!”

He probably didn’t know what an Eshin or Moulder was, but her words drove home the point of his alienness to the man-things she’d seen so far.

“Alright, alright, I’ll admit I’m not a Tilean,” he relented, Skyseeker clenching her fists in victory. “I’m from Reikland, a place far to the north of here, beyond the mountains.” He pointed back towards the edge of the plains, where the distant mountaintops lined the horizon.

“Man-thing make journey of its own?” she wondered. “Must come here for special reason. What else is man-thing hiding?” She knew better than anyone that the length of a journey reflected the importance of a task, and if the man-thing had come from over the mountains…

“Tell you what,” he began, interrupting her train of thought. “I’ll give you my reasons, if you give me yours. How’s that for a bargain?”

“Bad bargain!” she replied, shaking her head and making her hood flutter. “My Lord put great trust in me-me, no betrayal!”

“Then, we are just two simple foreigners in these lands,” he said, spreading his hands out wide. “Let’s agree to leave it at that, shall we?”

Skyseeker crossed her arms, moving her head in a way that wasn’t quite a nod, but not quite a shake either. He was picking and prodding her for information, while avoiding giving up any details about himself. Just as she was, the sneaky creature. She’d have to be careful she didn’t start lagging behind in this little game they were playing.

“I’m turning in for the night,” he announced, settling in on his side, his metal armour reflecting the firelight. “I trust there won’t be any sneaking around this time? You’ve been fed, and we’ve still got a deal, correct?”

“Yes-Yes…” she muttered, her eyes flicking to his pistol as he placed it beside him.

“Good, cause if you place a finger on me or my stuff…”

He left the rest of the threat implied, narrowing his eyes at her before closing them altogether. After returning his stare, Skyseeker shuffled back to her nook, wishing it was further away from him, squeezing herself into the craggy rock until she was comfortable. Resting with a man-thing so close was unnerving, but if she had to pick sleeping near an alien, or sleeping near a burrow full of depraved Skryre clanrats, she’d chose the former every time.

Chapter 4: The Trantine Hills

“This place suck-stinks!” Skyseeker whined, dragging her feet over another hill, the thirteenth one she and the man-thing had crossed since that morning. While she still lagged behind the man-thing, she decided to close in a little more today, if only so she could voice her complaints to someone. “No sound, no things! Just stupid grass stuff!”

“What’s the matter with you? Aside from being a Skaven, of course,” the man-thing asked, shielding his eyes as he looked back at her. He had donned his helmet, peering at her behind the raised visor. “Tilea is quite a serene place, if a bit humid.”

“Humid!” she echoed, wiping her brow with a paw. Her sweat cascaded over the lenses of her goggles, making her vision fill up with smudges when she rubbed them clean. “Melting into boiling puddle back here-here.”

“How’d you think I feel, carrying this suit around?” he asked, each step chased by the clanking of armour.

Man-thing feel like big stupid idiot, she thought, covering her mouth to stifle a chuckle.

“I agree with you on the heat,” he continued. “At least back in the Empire you could walk about in your armour without sweating bullets.”

“This… Empire,” she began, the word sounding unnatural on her tongue. “’Reikyland’, yes-yes? It as hot and boring and Tilee-place?”

“Reikland,” he corrected. “And no it’s not, I’d much prefer my homeland over Tilea any day.” He paused at the top of the ridge, staring wistfully into the distance. “The grass there is a shade of green like no other, the land so rich and fertile that the fields of flowers never seem to end. Then you have the many rivers snaking through the foothills, the towering oaks that make up the Reikwald forest… it is a beautiful place.”

“Beautifully boring place!” Skyseeker said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “Give me deep-dark burrow, much more nice-nice than smelly flowers.”

“Do you even know what a flower is?” He glanced over his shoulder, the two exchanging blank looks. “Thought not, considering you hail from a place literally called Skavenblight.”

He pressed on down the hill, Skyseeker following. At least the downhill parts were easier than the uphill ones, but the journey still remained hot and unneventful, and it was many long hours later until Skyseeker finally noticed a landmark in the distance, something finally helping to break up the monotonous landscape. Using the zooming function on her goggles, she paused at the next incline, getting a better look. She could see the roofs of structures over the next hill, the slanted shelters made from a patchwork of stone tiles, the overhangs supported by wooden poles, the terrain blocking her view from anything lower. She focused on the hillside next, spotting a sprawling carpet of big, spindly plants stretching across the fields far to the left and right, each one as tall as the man-thing, and looking about as dry as her parched throat.

“What that thing?” she demanded, gesturing towards the buildings with a claw. The man-thing followed her arm, shielding his eyes as he peered into the glare.

“Hm, might be a settlement. How’d you spot that so fast?”

“Skyseeker see all!” she replied cryptically, tapping her left eye with a finger.

“Oh, your goggles have some sort of built-in telescope, do they?”

Curses, the man-thing had made her unintentionally point right at her sneaky gadget, his schemes were becoming more dangerous by the minute.

“No they don’t! Stupid man-thing,” she muttered, quickly snapping her attention back to the structures. “Why make settlement in hot-place?”

“How should I know?” he asked. He started walking towards it, but Skyseeker bounded ahead of him, spreading her arms out wide to block his path.

“Wait-Wait! What if other stupid man-things there?”

“That’s a very likely conclusion,” he replied, crossing his arms. “What of it?”

“Skyseeker can’t fight off whole settlement! We avoid man-things. Much safer, yes-yes.”

“We?” he scoffed. “This isn’t a shared decision, rat, we’re not companions. You,” he added, gesturing a gauntlet at her. “are a straggler and a burden. You’re free to go around if you want, but I’m heading in. Good chance to restock on supplies.”

“Food?” she prompted, tilting her head eagerly.

“Probably shouldn’t have said that,” he sighed, Skyseeker rushing after him as he brushed passed her, the two trudging down the steep hill. “You’re certain you want to come with me?” he asked. “Tilea’s known for its famous rat-catchers, I hear their men can smell a rodent from a league off. Bit of a strange skill, but your aroma’s not exactly subtle.”

“Skyseeker beat Reikyland man-thing,” she said. “Can beat catchers easy-peasy!”

“If you say so.”

-xXx-

The closer they got to the structures, the more her worries about encountering more man-things seemed in vain. These humans loved their walls and right angles, so when Skyseeker began to see crumbled masonry and shattered wooden logs, the slanted roofs of the settlement barely kept aloft by a few stubborn support beams, the more sure she was that the area had been cleared out.

There were only a handful of buildings making up the settlement, the structures clustered together on a relatively flat plateau near the hill’s peak, surrounded on all sides by dried-up pastures, filled in with more of those dead plant-things she’d spotted with her goggles. The plants were arranged in a grid pattern, the space between wide enough that she and the man-thing could walk side by side (Skyseeker opting to lag behind at a safe distance all the same). Their arrangement seemed too precise to be natural, Skyseeker using her impeccable deduction skills to theorise the owners of the buildings must have cultivated these plants.

They moved into the strange collection of decaying plants, like a miniature forest in its own right, Skyseeker stopping to peer up at one. Its trunk was tall and thick, the branching arms winding into the sky, strangely devoid of \ leaves. The same could be said for the rest of the odd plants, their roots overgrown with tufts of wildgrass the colour of gold. Only the weeds seemed to be clinging to life, sprouting out of cracks in the spaces between the gridded plants, making what had once been paths uneven and overgrown.

“What are these dead-things?” she asked the man-thing, the armoured creature lifting the branch of another plant as he passed it.

“Look like olive trees to me.”

“Olive?”

“A fruit. Groves like these would thrive in this hot climate, Tilea’s probably full of them.”

“Not so thrivey now-now,” she remarked, seeing drooping branches and wilted bark everywhere she looked. One of the olive trees stood out from the others, appearing as though it had been caught in a ratling gun crossfire, all its branches severed off, the trunk bending towards the ground as though a great force had sat atop it. Whoever was in charge of tending them had done a poor job with that particular plant.

They proceeded deeper into the grove, dried twigs crunching beneath her bare feet. The olive trees were tens of rows deep, and it took them a few minutes to reach the settlement proper. There were five buildings in all, each of a different size and shape, arranged in a half circle, with one sitting in their centre.

This latter structure was the most elaborate out of all of them, or at least, it would be if it wasn’t so run down. It was two levels high, the stone walls baked bone-white, columns of bricks supporting the sections of the building that overhung the porches. Small windows protected by shutters broke up the masonry in places, little potted plants draping their leaves over the sills from just inside. The owners probably put them there to add some colour, but now the flora was as wilted as the groves, the nearby stonework stained with mould.

She’d seen the angular roof earlier, the orange tiles contrasting against the white facades, but what she hadn’t seen was the gaping hole on the lefthand side of the building. A section of the tiles had caved in, along with the corner wall, the interior filled in with an avalanche of rubble. The damage was confined to that one section alone, as though someone had shot a cannon at the building and then promptly stopped.

“No man-things here,” Skyseeker said, the tension in her chest abating somewhat.

“You don’t think?” the man-thing asked. She didn’t know how to respond to the question, so she took a chance and just nodded, her answer apparently amusing the man-thing. “Abandoned only recently, I’d wager. Groves haven’t completely wilted away, mortar in the walls is still holding. Wonder what happened.”

“Man-things got sick-tired of hot-hot heat,” Skyseeker guessed, watching her quarry move up to the door. Hanging over the entrance was a sign, attached to the overhang by a chain, but half of it was missing, as though someone had taken a weeping blade to the wood.

“Maybe, or someone attacked them,” he muttered, gesturing up at the collapsed roof, Skyseeker admitting he had a point. She watched as he gave the door a tap with his armoured foot, the frame swinging inward with a loud creak. He produced his handgun, stepping through the threshold with the weapon raised, Skyseeker hurrying after him. Purely because being inside felt safer to her, and not because the grove was creeping her out or anything of the like.

They emerged into a strange room full of odd contraptions, with wires running across the length of the ceiling, dozens of implements dangling from the threads. There was a device not unlike a warpstone forge in one corner, flanked by countertops overflowing with strange, circular implements with nozzles and handles. Liquid containers of some kind? Sunshine bled in through a filthy window to the right, illuminating the scene, hundreds of little specks of dust occupying the stretching ray of light.

There was another door built into the wall to one side, the man-thing walking over and pulling the handle. Inside was a shallow space lined with shelves, leather sacks ranging from the size of her torso to her paw resting upon them.

“That food?” she asked, peering around his hip curiously.

“In a sense,” he answered, lifting one of the smaller bags. To her horror, he upended the little pouch, a grainy, white substance falling to the floor. “Nothing but salt and flour in here. Don’t eat it,” he warned, Skyseeker pausing with her tongue pressed against the pad of her finger. “Not unless you want to die of dehydration. Besides, it’s been sitting here in the heat for who knows how long, doubt even your stomach couldn’t handle rancid flour.”

“Why stupid man-things store not-food?” she asked, the man-thing moving over to one of the counters, lifting the lid of a pot and peering inside.

“Those are raw ingredients,” he explained. “we use them to make bread, or to help preserve meats. Whoever drove these people out of here took the rest. Might have been Skaven. Oh, but, there’s no rat droppings, couldn’t have been your kind.”

“No warp-burns on walls either,” she added. “ratling guns always leave a mess.”

He gave her a questioning look, then shrugged, moving into one of the adjacent rooms. When it was clear the whole place had been picked over, they retreated back outside, the man-thing leading the way over to one of the other buildings. This one was in an even worse state of disrepair. The entire eastern wall had caved in, as though a warp-bomb had been detonated beside it. The structure was built in the vague shape of an oval, thick brambles coursing up the first few layers brickwork like wooden fingers, the structure capped with a domed roof, or at least three quarters of a roof. It was larger than the previous building, but not nearly as elaborate, no windows or attempted decorations at all, it looked rather functional.

“Someone really wanted to get into the mill,” the man-thing murmured, pacing in front of the giant breach, the interior obstructed by the mound of rubble.

“Mill?” she repeated. It seemed every other thing he said was some new word.

“It’s what farmsteaders use to process their harvests. You want food, this’ll be the place to look, though the damage to this wall here is troubling.”

“Too hungry to be troubled,” Skyseeker said, dashing in front of the man-thing, gripping the loose stones for purchase as she scaled the obstruction. A few tumbles later, and she was inside. The first thing she noticed was the smell, a sour and rancid stench that made her nose sting and her throat burn. She’d smelled a lot of putrid things in her life, but this one was easily the most intense, Skyseeker gagging into her paw as though she’d just caught the plague.

“What’s going on in there?” she heard the man-thing ask, the creature appearing at the top of the rubble a moment later. She didn’t need to answer him, the stench hitting him like a slap to the face, the man-thing waving his gauntlets to try and dissipate the stench.

Covering her face with her cloak, she examined the interior once she was confident she wouldn’t vomit. There were giant barrels stacked up against the curved walls, one of them toppled over thanks to the cascading rubble, most of it submerged beneath the loose bricks. Each one was large enough she could have fit inside one with room to spare.

In the centre of the room was a strange, flat object made from smoothed stone. Like the building, it was circular, with a small hole in its middle with a depth of maybe the length of her paw, its purpose unknown. The edges of the strange device tapered upwards, forming a small wall maybe a foot high.

“Olive press,” the man-thing said, following her gaze. “We use them to make olive oil. Missing a few parts though, probably somewhere underneath all this rubble.”

She pointed to the barrels, asking about them.

“Not actually barrels,” he explained. “Those’re vats, full of vinegar by the smell. Might be some preserved olives inside if we’re-”

Skyseeker had already climbed up the nearest vat before he’d finished, her nails digging into the panels for purchase. When she’d reached the top, she looked around for some sort of lever to pry the lid off, spending all of three seconds before she got impatient. She produced one of her weeping blades, slicing a hole into the wood, the material providing little resistance to the magical blade. When she sawed out a perfect circle, the piece of wood fell into the vat with a loud splash, Skyseeker pressing an eye into the cutout. The vat looked like it was filled to the brim with water, with things bobbing on the surface. They were small, bulbous, their texture fleshy and green, each one about the size of her thumb.

She reached a cupped hand through the cutout, scooping out some of the strange objects and lifting them to her face. She tested their firmness, finding them squishy and soft, each one sporting a small orange dot on their outsides. These must be olives.

“Can I eat-eat these?” she asked, holding her paw out so the man-thing could see. He simply shrugged at her, so Skyseeker made her own informed choice and shoved them all into her mouth in one go, letting her metabolism answer instead.

As her teeth sliced through the fleshy bulbs, an oddly pleasant taste made her eyes light up behind her goggles. She immediately fished inside the vat for more, licking her muzzle between each bite as she satisfied her gluttony.

“May I have one?” the man-thing asked, Skyseeker shooting him a dirty look, their eyes level now that she was on top of the vat.

“Mine!” she snarled, hugging the wood possessively. “I discover settlement! Man-thing go find own olives.”

He rolled his eyes at her, turning round and beginning to slide back down the rubble. “Fine. I hope you choke on them, rodent.”

He slipped out of her sight, his footsteps fading as he moved to presumably explore the other buildings. She considered chasing after him, but that would mean leaving her new prize unattended, and right now filling herself to bursting was all she could care about.

At one point during her feast, she thought she heard something, a strange noise whispering on the air. It was quiet, diluted by distance, but it was enough to give Skyseeker pause, because aside from the wind and the man-thing’s blathering, she’d heard nothing all day. It sounded almost like a whistle, or a chirp, reaching a high pitch before fading away in the space of a heartbeat.

She strained her hearing, but the noise did not repeat, her ears only catching the sound of footsteps, their clunky owner unmistakable. She immediately forgot about the odd sound as the man-thing appeared over the rise of rubble a while later, the creature giving her a cold look before sitting down on a slanted piece of debris, rubbing his legs between the plates of his sabatons.

“Man-thing find stuff?” she asked, not really interested in his answer but asking all the same.

“Yep, got a whole basket of olives, fresh as can be.”

She narrowed her eyes. She could see no basket, nor any olives. Perhaps he was lying in order to save face, how amusing.

“Man-thing know plenty-lots about olive-place,” she began, popping another of the fruits into her mouth. “How can it, if it’s not from Tilee-place?”

“We’ve got hundreds of farmsteads like these where I come from,” he explained, adjusting on his improvised seat. “I told you before that I was a farmhand when I was a lad, and that was partially true. I tended the family vineyard, picking and crushing grapes. They’re like olives but red,” he explained before she could ask.

“Why crush grapes?” she wondered. “Taste better-good?”

“The juice from a grape is a staple in fine wine,” he said. “Which is a drink that both tastes, and sells, very well. We have entire market squares dedicated to the trading of wine, it’s one of the most popular commodities.”

She interest piqued. She remembered brandishing the wares of her store in the streets of Skavenblight, her threats and promises attracting all sorts of undesirable rats. What might the man-thing wine equivalent look like to cover and entire square?

“Wine worth lot-lots?” she asked, the man-thing nodding. “Then why don’t Tillee-place make wine? Why olives?”

“The climes here in Tilea aren’t that suited to cultivating grapes. The hot air and the hard ground call for tougher crops, but Riekland on the other hand… the moderated temperatures are perfect for exotic agriculture. Fields of grapes lay everywhere, as sprawling as these hills. But it’s not just the farmlands that thrive,” he added. “The very land itself is blessed, the trees so extravagant they shift colours between the seasons. I daresay even the elves of Athel Loren are envious of our prosperous lands.”

“Man-thing exaggerates,” Skyseeker spat. He was describing a land so impossibly varied, so perfect, it had to be a lie.

“You’re a Skaven, the most colour you’ve probably seen was in a mushroom cave,” he replied. “but it’s true. They do not call Reikland the heart of the Empire for nothing.”

“If Reikyland so pretty,” she said, licking her fingers clean. “Then why man-thing leave it? Rich Empire-thing need defending, yes-yes?”

“The Empire’s list of enemies is a long one, true,” he replied, glancing at his feet. Her questions seemed to have made him tense. “I’d turn around and go home right now if I could, but…”

“But what-what?” she asked, realising she’d stopped eating and was leaning over the vat intently.

His gaze lingered on her as he considered his answer, Skyseeker slowly bringing up an olive and holding it out in offering. He chuckled at that, reaching down to take a swig from his canteen, finally making his decision.

“Suppose it doesn’t matter if I tell you a little. My Emperor, he… outcast me. I’m no longer welcome in the homeland. For now,” he added, masking his gloom behind a stoic expression. “The Empire faces enemies on all fronts, from both within and without, and I will be the one to lift the darkness that veils the land. And when I do, I will be welcomed back into the fold with open arms, my position restored, my honour returned back to me tenfold.”

“How will man-thing do that?” she pressed.

“Ah, but I thought we agreed to keep our secrets to ourselves?”

She grumbled something about he was being a stupid man-thing under her breath, fixing him with a cold look. “Fine-Fine,” she said. “Will man-thing tell me-me what it did to be outcast? It kill-kill wrong leader and take place?”

“What? Is that something Skaven do?” he asked, looking up at her in wonder.

Skyseeker nodded. “Yes-Yes! Clan Mors rats need Lord’s favour for promotion, but for other Great Clan rats, only one way to top-top.” She produced a dagger and drew it slowly over her throat, careful not to accidently slice herself on the corrosive edge.

“Well, we’re a little more sophisticated than that,” he said. “We gain rank through notoriety, and prestige. Impress the man above you enough, and you’ll eventually get the attention of the right people.”

“That how Skyseeker got mission!” she exclaimed. It seemed man-things weren’t as barbaric she first thought. “So what man-thing do?” she asked again. “Tell me what made man-thing to flee to Tilee-place.”

“I did not flee to anywhere,” he replied, gesturing over at her. “Let’s just say I made one too many mistakes, misplaced my faith, and leave it at that.”

“Man-thing won’t tell me-me?” she asked, the man-thing shrugging in response. “Not even for olive?”

“Not even for twenty olives,” he replied, Skyseeker gasping at the revelation. “We shouldn’t linger here,” he continued, brushing the dust off his legs as he stood. “Whoever sacked this place may still be around. Grab what you can and follow me. Hurry up.”

She leaned into the vat to fill her pockets with olives first, the man-thing not bothering to wait for her as he slid back down the rubble. Most of her pouches were already occupied with weapons, so she stuffed what she could grab into her mouth, then simply hugged a bundle of the fruits to her chest, using part of her cloak like a bag to help carry them.

Snickering at her fresh bounty, she climbed her way out of the mill, spotting the man-thing moving through the grove on the far side of the settlement. When she made to follow him, she noticed something odd on the ground nearby, pausing her skittering to bend over and look. The grass was scored here, two thin, parallel lines drawing cracks through the dirt, each a hands width apart. They were long, as well, more than the length of her tail by her guess. At first she thought they were furrows left by a wagon wheel, but the marks were far too deep for that, their size and shape reminding her of claw marks.

She snacked on an olive as she contemplated the odd sight, drawing an imaginary line between the scored earth and the ruined structures. A correlation, perhaps? She couldn’t put her staggering detective skills to work, however, the man-thing’s steps were already fading into the distance, and though she’d never admit it aloud, she felt marginally safer in his company. He was still a threat, of course, but a knowledgeable one – by man-thing standards – and she needed to know more about him, and what secrets he was hiding from her.

-xXx-

“Just how can you eat so much?” the man-thing asked, leaning on his knees as he passed between two boulders. “We’ve barely gone two hills from the grove and you’ve already eaten your entire haul.”

“Easier to carry inside belly than out,” Skyseeker explained, licking her paws clean with her long tongue. The fluid they’d been stored in, vinegar as her quarry called it, left a sour taste on her mouth, but it was better than filling her lungs with dry air. “Man-thing just jealous it not find-discover mill first.”

“You’ll be jealous soon enough, foul-smelling varmint, when you realise you should have rationed.”

“Man-thing would have steal-stealed!” she said, pointing an accusing finger up at him. “Saw it watching, saw it scheming! Had to act!”

“Stealing from you would be like stealing from a starved wolf. What reason would I have anyway? I’ve already got supplies, for myself may I add.”

“Who know what man-thing thinking? Food stolen from me-me before, not making mistake-error twice!”

“Well I hope it was worth it, that tower might be the last structure we’ll see for a while,” he said, gesturing with his pistol further up the incline. He’d drawn his weapon ever since departing the settlement, no doubt expecting to run into whoever had sacked the olive grove.

She followed his gun to what he was pointing at – a tall, thin structure jutting from the peak of the hill they were currently scaling. It was made from clay bricks, far larger and sturdier compared to those in the settlement, the structure standing strong against the elements. Its flat roof was ringed by a low stone wall, Skyseeker able to pick out a chair resting at one of the corners. A banner hung from one side of the building, a pair of blue swords trimmed into the cloth, the symbol reminding her of the ones she saw at the man-thing camp.

Her quarry had decided to move in the watchtower’s direction, claiming they could ‘get their bearings’ once there, whatever that meant. Skyseeker was more interested in what sorts of things were left behind. The man-thing was taking too long, so she scurried onto all fours, overtaking him.

“You’re not taking all the food for yourself this time!” the man-thing called, stumbling along after her. “You hear me?”

Skyseeker ignored him, increasing her pace despite the man-thing being far too clumsy to up with her. There was an archway cut into the foot of the watchtower, Skyseeker pausing in the frame to look inside. A wooden staircase spiralled up the curved walls to the roof, the contraption supported by the brick wall alone.

In the middle of the cobbled stone floor was a trapdoor, the latching mechanism secured by a brass padlock, Skyseeker peering down at it with a raised brow. What could be down there? A secret cache of olives, it had to be! She didn’t waste time looking for a key, slicing the latch apart with a quick sweep of a weeping blade, the lock breaking in twain. It took most of her body weight to open the hatch, but she eventually succeeded, flipping the trapdoor over, where it bounced against the far wall with a puff of dust, the latches rattling as they settled.

Through the hatch was a short step ladder leading down into a dank cellar, Skyseeker placing her paws on the edge, leaning her face through the gap, her upside-down view swivelling as she examined the underground area. The space inside was perfectly square, the walls made from the same bricks as the watchtower, the room between them barely wide and tall enough for a man-thing to stand in.

She sniffed the musty air, immediately sneezing it back out. This would be a perfect place for a secret supply cache, but she smelled only dust, saw nothing more than an empty shelf in one corner and a barrel full of rusty weapons in another. What kind of slave builds a watchtower with no stash? She’ll never understand these surface-dwellers.

“Find anything?” the man-thing called from behind, Skyseeker pulling herself upright as he walked up to the archway. “I swear if I see you stuffing your face, I’m going to start shooting…”

“Nothing but smelly weapons,” she said, turning to face him. “Why lock trappy-door if no- Eeeek! Behind you-you!”

“Seriously? You pick now of all times to pull that trick on me? I should…”

His words faltered as a piercing screech echoed across the plains, the same as the one she’d heard back in the grove, but far louder. The man-thing eyes went wide as he turned on the spot, following her pointed finger, or perhaps just following the noise.

There was something high in the sky, cruising just beneath the cloud layer, a little dark dot that swayed from side to side. It could have been just her eyes playing tricks, but she could swear it was getting bigger with every passing second.

“By Sigmar…” the man-thing murmured, his voice wavering. The dot was starting to take shape, Skyseeker spotting a pair of flapping wings stretching out of the sides of an elongated figure. This was no trick, it was lowering to the ground with every beat of its massive wings, and it was coming in their direction.

“Inside!” the man-thing snapped. Before Skyseeker could react, he kicked her square in the chest, his metal boot thwacking off the bandolier of knives strapped to her sternum.

She slammed face-first into the opened trap door, glued to its slanted surface for a second before she tumbled through the hatch proper. She tried to grab the ladder to brace herself, but she missed, tumbling down into the cellar like a sack of grain, bouncing once as she descended to the paved floor, her tail draped over the rise of her hip like a dead snake.

Her neck twisted with an audible crack as she watched the man-thing follow her down, reaching over his head to pull on the trapdoor. Darkness shrouded the cellar for a moment before the man-thing held the trapdoor up a little with his hand, leaving a tiny sliver through which he peeked out of.

“Stupid man-thing!” she snarled, sliding a weeping blade out of her sheath as she hauled herself from the ground. “Hit me-me, will it? Now my turn!”

“You were in the way,” he shot back. “Now be silent, or it’ll hear us!”

“I’ll be silent… WHEN YOU DIE-DEAD!” she growled, baring her teeth. “Man-thing not hit Skyseeker and live!”

She jabbed her blade towards his chest, the glowing edge reflecting off his metal suit, but her paw was suddenly swatted aside, and before she could even blink, she was staring down the barrel of his handgun.

“Finally giving me a reason, rodent?” he asked, his gauntlet creaking as he applied pressure on the trigger. “Just when we’re starting to get acquainted? How-”

He was interrupted by a monumental quake of the earth, wisps of dust falling from the ceiling as something thundered to the ground outside the tower. Whatever it was, it was big enough to block out the light almost completely…

The creature that had descended from the skies repeated its call, and though this would be the third instance for Skyseeker, she had not been able to appreciate its volume until now. The sound was so raw and powerful she felt it more in her lungs than heard it in her ears, the bestial screech igniting a primal fear she did not know existed inside her.

Any courage she’d built up over the last few days drained out of her, not unlike how the fear-musk was squirting out of her glands in that moment. Forget the man-thing’s gun, she’d never felt more terrified in her life, and she promptly displayed as much with her own verbal call.

“Eeeek!” she screamed, her weeping blade falling from her trembling fingers. There was a sudden pressure on her muzzle, her eyes bugging out as the man-thing reached out and seized her mouth in his hand, her cry cutting off with a choking sound.

She would have killed him then and there for laying a finger on her, but in her haste to stab him she’d forgotten her blade was currently on the floor, and all she could do was slap at his metal chest plate in vain. She paused in her flailing as he brought her closer, her fur bristling as their foreheads practically touched. He lifted his gun, Skyseeker tracking it with her eyes as he pressed the barrel against his lips – a universal sign that one should be quiet.

The screeching creature ended its call, as though it was taking the man-thing’s advice, Skyseeker hearing the discernible snap of a beak from beyond the hatch. As one, she and the man-thing slowly turned their heads upwards, the chains linked to the trapdoor jingling as the monster out there began to move. More dust fell from the ceiling, the quaking ground growing more violent as the creature drew closer to the tower.

There was no outside light slipping in through the hatch now, the monster must be standing right in the tower doorframe, Skyseeker’s ears twitching as she heard a raspy inhale. She didn’t dare even blink for fear of being discovered, a flimsy wooden square the only thing hiding them from the monster. The man-thing was no less anxious, a grim expression on his face as he stared at the hatch, clamping down on her mouth all the while.

That sound of a clicking beak again, coming from right above the trapdoor. For a horrible second she thought the hatch would flip open, and she’d be pulled into the maw of whatever beast was out there. More dust rained, Skyseeker closing her eyes and bracing herself, but the hatch didn’t move. Instead she felt the ground shake again, the quaking subsiding as the creature backed off from the tower, allowing a little bit of sunlight to flood back into the cellar. Was it gone?

For a few minutes neither she or the man-thing dared to move, until the latter decided to lean closer, peeing outside with narrowed eyes. When he wasn’t immediately devoured by the beast, Skyseeker deemed it safe enough to resume batting at his hand still holding onto her muzzle, voicing her complaints through groans and squeaks.

“Not a sound,” he warned, his voice a whisper. “quiet as a… well, rat. Make it so, or we’re dead.”

Skyseeker nodded as much as his tight grip would allow. After a moment, he slowly released her, Skyseeker shoving him away when she was free, finally able to breathe in man-thing-free air.

“Smelly, stupid man-thing!” she hissed, waving a hand before her nose. “No touch-touch! Take fingers for recompense!”

“What, was I supposed to let your screaming give us away?”

“Not screaming for fear!” she complained, hoping he couldn’t detect her musk filling the cellar. “Screaming for… pain-hurt! Man-thing attacked me, broke deal-pact!”

“Uh-huh. That why you wailed like a girl? Thought Master Assassins were supposed to be quiet?”

“How quiet will man-thing be with blade in chest?” she quipped back, reaching for her other dagger. Their argument reached an abrupt end as the monster outside took another rumbling step, the man-thing all but ignoring her as he returned to looking out the hatch. Not wanting to be left out, Skyseeker clambered up the first rung of the step ladder, pawing at the man-things face to make room. His skin was oddly smooth and fleshy, the pads of her fingers gliding across his cheeks with almost no resistance. He was warm, too, his heat contrasting pleasantly against the softness of his body. How strange.

Realising she was touching this creature for a little too long, she gave his face a push with her palm, the man-thing grumbling as she peered through the gap in the hatch.

Through the archway stood two pairs of digitigrade legs, covered in a luscious coat feathers the colour of the sunset. Each leg ended in four black toes that more resembled meat hooks than anything, with a fifth, shorter toe protruding from above the heel. Each foot was as large as Skyseeker’s torso, splayed out to distribute its mass over a wide area, and a lot of mass there was indeed. There was more strength in each leg than in Skyseeker’s entire body, the muscles flowing beneath the feathery coat like a liquid as its owner shifted on the spot.

The legs trailed up into sets of backwards-facing knees, then to thighs as tall as the man-thing. For all the monster’s brawn, there was something elegant about the way it carried itself, planting its feet almost daintily upon the ground, its smooth movements contrasting against the colossal weight it carried around.

As it turned, something long and thin swept from right to left, Skyseeker nearly dropping off the ladder in surprise. It was a tail, its length rivalling that of the breadth of a doomwheel, as thick around as her arm at its tip. Like the legs, it was covered in fine feathers, each the size of her claws, the tip of it fluffed with a dark bulb of fur.

Aside from this appendage, Skyseeker could see no more of the beast beyond its steely thighs, and somehow that was worse than actually witnessing the creature. A creature of that size could swallow her whole if it was so inclined.

She winced away as the beast lifted its front paws off the ground, a great gust of air roiling her fur. There was a flap of monumental wings, and suddenly the monster’s hook-like toes left the ground, the creature screeching from somewhere high above.

She and the man-thing slowly turned to look at each other, only now realising how close their faces were. She dropped off the ladder with a sound of disgust, the man-thing stepping away at the same time.

“W-What by the Horned Rat’s tail, was that?” Skyseeker demanded, careful not to raise her voice too much.

“A gryphon,” the man-thing answered, sparing a glance at the hatch. “and a pretty damned big one at that. Guess that explains what happened to the olive grove.”

“Man-thing know much-much for foreigner,” she mused.

“We’ve got gryphons back in the Empire,” he explained. “Majestic beasts, they are. Seeing a wild one is a rare, though dangerous honour.”

“Dumb feather-thing didn’t catch me-me!” she proclaimed. Another foe thwarted, Gnawdwell would be so proud of her.

“You qould have been gobbled up if I hadn’t been here,” he replied. “you froze up like a statue. Gryphon almost had you for supper.”

“N-No!” she stuttered. “Was thinking of escape plan-scheme, needed to focus!”

He rolled his eyes, Skyseeker picking up her dropped dagger. He was right, of course, she’d been paralysed the moment she’d laid eyes on the gryphon, and she’d have been doomed had the man-thing not acted. No matter how hard she tried to spin it, his role in saving her was undeniable. What was the word Skaven used to voice gratitude? Perhaps she should use it now…

“Th… Thhhhaaaaa… thank-thanks,” she said, trying to say it as quickly as possible so he didn’t catch it. “Man-thing still stupid,” she added. “could have let feather-thing eat me-me.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” he admitted. “but, then I would be stuck in here, listening to it devour you for who knows how’s long. Don’t have the stomach for that.”

“Logical! But still stupid.”

“You’re very welcome.”

She slotted her weapon away, confusion overwhelming her. She couldn’t remember the last time a Skaven had shown concern for her safety, partly because it had never happened. From the day she was born, her life revolved around backstabbing and navigating the lowest echelons of Skaven society, staying one step ahead of her enemies. Sparing any adversary, regardless of threat level, was just unheard of. This surface-world was completely backwards, in more ways than one.

She shook her head clear of these thoughts, turning to the matter at hand. “Well?” she asked. “We leaving now?”

“Not just yet,” he said, holding up a hand. “Gryphon’s probably circling the area, as hungry as it as confused. We should wait a while and let it move on, just in case.”

“Hrm, good idea-plan, yes-yes.”

She plopped herself down on the hard floor, hugging her knees to her chest. The man-thing had just enough room to stand in as he walked over to the opposite end of the cellar, lowering himself with a little more grace than she.

Skyseeker drummed her fingers on the wall, boredom quickly settling in as the silence reigned. Every now and then she felt the man-thing glance in her direction, the fact she couldn’t slink out of sight troubling her after so long staying at his rear. The fact they were sharing the confined space wasn’t helping either, maybe she should risk it and hide up in the tower proper.

“Got some interesting blades there, rat,” the man-thing noted. She had a feeling he was trying to break the silence. “Where did you get them?”

“Gift from greatest Lord!” she chittered, clutching their handles just in case he tried to steal them. “Tailored with Warpstone, sharp as knife, regal! Just like Skyseeker!”

“Tell me about this Lord,” he said. “He is like an Emperor, I take it?”

“Lord Gnawdwell greatest and bestest of all rats,” she chimed, a toothy smile spreading her muzzle as she pictured the Lord’s face. “War-King Tyrant-General biggest, strongest rat on Council. He sees all, knows more, but secret strength lies in patience! Gnawdwell look-see bigger picture, not like stupid other Council members.”

“He really calls himself Tyrant-General?” he asked, blinking in confusion.

“Yes! Just told man-thing!”

“Sounds like he has a lot of faith in you,” he said, looking her up and down. “This all-knowing Lord sent you, alone, into the big bad world with nothing but two daggers.”

The way he emphasised Lord came off as insincere, but she doubted he’d be speaking like that if the Lord was standing next to him.

“Goggles too! Don’t forget them!” she added, pointing at her face. “And Gnawdwell not have faith, stupid man-thing. Great Lord have foresight, insight, warpsight. When he chose Skyseeker, he saw not a breeder, but an assassin, perfect for mission!”

“Breeder?” he asked. “What’s that?”

It took a moment for Skyseeker to process the question. “Breeder is… me? Man-things not have breeders?”

“We have people who breed dogs, cattle, things like that.”

“No! Disgusting! Speak-talk of man-thing things! Skaven need breeders to make rats for Horned One’s War-Schemes! This not same for man-things?”

“Oh, you mean females?” he asked. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

Skyseeker drove a palm into her face. “Man-thing stupidity grows like rash!”

“So you’re saying this Lord looked past you being a female? Mustn’t happen often, considering that was the first time I saw a female Skaven when you jumped me and my horse the other day.”

“Wait-Wait!” she snapped. “Man-thing knew I was breeder? Explain!”

“W-Well, look at you!” he said, holding his arms out at her. “Barring a few absolute major details, you and human women are… similar.”

“Man-thing should stop looking at me-me and look more at weeping blades!” she snarled, baring her teeth. “Man-thing shouldn’t know breeder secret!”

“Maybe if you put some clothes on, it wouldn’t be so obvious!”

“Clothes too cumbersome! Make Skyseeker slow and heavy. Leave stupid clothes to clumsy man-thing.”

He pinched the bridge of his flat nose and sighed, Skyseeker’s scowl slowly receding in the resulting silence. He should end his life before he told someone that she was a breeder, but he seemed unusually reserved about the discovery. A clanrat would be foaming at the mouth the second they’d found her out, but not him. Why was that?

“What man-thing breeders look like?” she asked, leaning closer.

“We just call them women. Breeder’s a very rude word ,” he explained, using his hands to illustrate his next points. “Generally they’re smaller than men, physically weaker. You’ll often find them in the supporting side of the Empire, merchants and diplomats, housekeepers, things like that.”

“And breeding stock, yes-yes?”

“B-Breeding stock? Gods, no, we’re not savages!”

“Man-thing women not breed-breed?”

“Certainly they can, yes, but they do other things besides that.”

“Curious! Like what?”

“Pretty much everything besides serving on the front, that duty is left to men alone. Although,” he added, tilting his head in thought. “I heard of an exception once. In the village of Gluckshalt, a banner of archers was reinforced by a few dozen women who knew how to notch a bow. Drove a raiding party of bandits off.”

Her jaw dropped. Archer breeders? So openly talked about? Here she was, skulking the surface-world undercover (at least she thought she was undercover), while man-thing breeders strut around, fighting and living like their male counterparts? She watched the man-things face, searching for a lie, but found none.

“Looks like your ratbrain’s working overtime over there,” the man-thing noted. “Imagine it’s quite a different lifestyle compared to Skaven lasses.”

“Breeders good-good for one thing only,” she said, leaning back against the wall. “When female clanrat found, it is taken to breeding pits to become broodmother, or gifted to Warlord. Spend life… breeding.”

“But not you?”

“Horned Rat watches over me-me,” she said. “born in breeding pit, but escaped before discovery by ratwives. Ratwives always searching for breeder pups. Gave them slip!”

“Sounds like you were destined to be an assassin then,” he said. “So no one’s ever found you out? Since this Gnawdwell at least?”

“Many tried, but many-er failed! Stabbed rats that found breeder-musk, embarrassed those that didn’t! Skryre Warlock, with all his Warpstone power, most recently bamboozled!” She snickered.

“Well,” he said. “I suppose you do look as decrepit and abhorrent as any male Skaven, you could fool anyone.”

Her tail flicked back and forth across the floor. “Thank you, man-thing!” she said, the gratitude easier to voice this time around. “Not complimented since Great Lord’s briefing.”

“Wasn’t meant to be one,” he said, turning his nose up, or maybe he was just looking up at the hatch. It turned out to be the latter when the man-thing got to his feet, reaching up to push the trapdoor open.

“Think we’ve tarried long enough,” he announced. “We should get moving, while we still have light.”

Skyseeker nodded, gesturing for him to proceed, following him up the ladder.

-xXx-

They saw no sign of the gryphon for the rest of the afternoon, but that didn’t mean Skyseeker was about to relax, her heart rate rising every time they reached the exposed peaks of the hills, the land so barren the flying monster could have seen them from dozens of leagues away.

Every time she urged the Horned Rat to put a stop to these Trantine Hills, she would be disappointed, always met with the same scenery as she surveyed the world from the higher ground. The bumpy landscape seemed to have no end, slopes and inclines in every direction, save for the wall of mountains that formed a natural barrier far to their east. At least the cover of darkness would arrive soon, the skies turning a pleasant shade of orange as the sun dipped to the horizon.

“So, man-thing,” she began, slinking after the human as he descended the hill. “When will it tell-say how it got outcast from… Empireial place?”

“Never,” he muttered, his pistol clocking against his hip with each stride. “Stop asking about it.”

“But silence as boring as Tilee-place!” she whined, throwing her head back dramatically even though he wasn’t looking at her. “Need stimulation!”

“Then go find the nearest breeding pit, rodent.”

“Horrible man-thing! Males not know what happens to breeder in pits! Make death by feather-thing look very comfortable in comparison!”

“Could you stop shouting?” he asked, looking up to the clouds. “You’ll bring the gryphon right on our heads if you keep yapping away.”

“Want silence? Then spill beans!” she ordered, though she still took his advice and lowered her voice an octave.

“Urgh…” He dragged a palm over his eyes, Skyseeker peering up at him with an expectant look on her muzzle. He seemed to be considering her question, her relentlessness was finally getting to him.

“Fine,” he declared after a moment, Skyseeker pumping a fist in victory. “but not here,” he added. “Let’s find somewhere to camp first, then we’ll talk.”

She was already bounding ahead of him before he’d said first, Skyseeker combing the plains for shelter. It took maybe twenty minutes, but she soon found a small cluster of shrubs surrounding a raised rock, enough to provide cover should the gryphon come looking for them.

It was getting late, Skyseeker having to rely on her trusty goggles to cut back the encroaching darkness, soon spotting the man-thing wondering around out to her right. Useless thing would have gotten lost in the night without her around. She called him over, waving her paws to get his attention, waiting a few minutes for him to catch up. She pointed proudly to the campsite with a finger, the man-thing appraising the shelter with a nod.

“This’ll do,” he said, crouching down in the grass. “Don’t really want to make a fire and lure the gryphon over, but the alternative is to freeze. Help me set one up.”

Skyseeker grumbled, but she soon set off in search of burnable sticks, dropping a handful of them at his feet after a few minutes. Soon they had a healthy campfire beating back the darkness, the man-thing’s shadow long and shaky as sat beside the flames.

“It might not look so now, but I was one of the most esteemed generals of Reikland,” he began. “I had the ear of many noble families, I wore armour that would take a footman a decade to cobble the gold for, and I overcame villains that even the Emperor’s Finest couldn’t even dream of defeating. If that sounds arrogant to you, that’s because I was. A more pompous young lad you’d never find, but I always got the task done.”

Skyseeker sat across the fire from him, bundling her cloak over her shoulders as she settled in.

“When word reached my ears that a village had been seized by a band of secessionists, I leapt at the chance to prove my worth,” he said. “I was already halfway out of the gates with a regiment by the time the other generals decided to act.”

“Secessionists?” she asked.

“Imperials who no longer recognised the Empire, seeking to form their own state.”

“Ah, many Skaven Clans made from splintering too. Proceed!”

“When we arrived, we found the traitors had rounded up the entire village. They threatened to put every man and woman to the sword if we made a move against them, so we laid siege and awaited reinforcements, but fortune wasn’t with us. My scouts reported beastmen stalking the woods nearby, looking to mount an attack to our rear. Cursed things had us outnumbered three to one.”

“I had to decide between breaking the siege and face the beastmen,” he said, prodding the flames with a stick. “Putting the lives of my men at risk. Or to pull back and wait for reinforcements, leaving the villagers and the traitors to the mercy of the beasts. I made a lot of tough calls fighting for my country, but none were like this.”

“What did man-thing choose?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Neither. I assembled the men, and carried out a raid under the cover of night. The secessionists had to be dealt with, and I planned on the traitors surrendering once they knew we were inside the barricades. We liberated nearly half the village before the alarm was raised, but instead of giving up… the bastards carried through with their threat.”

He tossed the stick into the fire. “Eight hundred people called that village home, and by the time we’d taken control… barely two hundred lived through the night. I should have known the honourless traitors would have no qualms killing the innocent, but a part of me thought they’d still have some humanity in their hearts. It is as the elves say – above all the races, it is we humans who are the most easily seduced by the whims of Chaos.” He looked up at her, a hard expression on his face. “I should know, because after we took the village, I had all the secessionists rounded up and executed.”

Skyseeker blinked at him, the human continuing before she could get a word in.

“That might not seem so harsh to a Skaven, but for us, it is considered honourless to kill those who have surrendered. At the time, I told myself it was deserved justice for the fallen, but now… now I’m not so sure.”

“… That how man-thing was outcasted?” Skyseeker asked. “but, kill-kill enemies good for Empire, no-yes?”

“It’s not who I killed, but who I got killed that caused my exile,” he explained. “When reinforcements arrived and helped drive the beastmen away, word spread quickly about what had happened. The people of Reikland, even the village survivors, criticized my actions. They said I cared more for my prestige than their lives. When the Emperor’s advisors learned of what happened, they were quick to call my mental stability into question, and I was cast into the dungeons. People demanded that I should hang, but my service to the Empire ensured I was banished instead. I was sworn to only return when I learned to put the needs and values of the Empire before my own.”

“And now I wander,” he said, gesturing to the plains beyond the fire. “these southern provinces seemed as good a place to begin as any, the lands are still held by men. Well, for the moment,” he added, no doubt recalling the Skryre warband’s invasion.

“What man-thing doing here-here?” she asked. “Think it will just fall over thing that will end-stop its exile?”

“Sigmar will guide me on my search,” he said, not elaborating further. “Now you know my secret,” he continued, resting his hands on his knees. “I’d ask you not to go blathering about it to everyone, but I know neither of us don’t exactly a lot of friends in this place.”

“Promise to keep man-thing’s secret, IF-!” she added, raising a paw. “Man-thing keeps breeder secret secret.”

He seemed to find that amusing, chuckling at her as he replied. “Sure thing, lass. Lad, I mean.”

She cocked her head at the odd term, but guessed that meant he had accepted her deal. She yawned suddenly, stretching her arms over her head, about to turn in when she suddenly remembered something.

“Here,” she chirped, clipping off one of her pouches and tossing it to him. The pouch arced over the firepit, landing in his outstretched hand.

“What’s this?” he said, testing its weight. He poured its contents into his other hand, blinking when a pile of olives landed in his palm. “What the… I thought you ate all of your bounty? What’s this for?”

“Man-thing miss many things,” she replied, glad he wasn’t as perceptive as she thought. “Said before not give information for twenty olives, so take-have twenty one olives. Counted personally!”

“Oh. Well, thanks…”

Satisfied with herself, Skyseeker curled up into a ball, the flames warming her front as she closed her eyes. Though tired, her excitement was turning her mind into a frenzy. At last, a secret had fallen straight into her paws! His ceding of his past meant he was already starting to see her as less of a threat, the fool. Her advantages on the man-thing were growing.

“Hey, question,” the man-thing said. Skyseeker shot him an annoyed look for interrupting her schemes, but she let him speak. “Say that you were in my position, assaulting that village of traitors. Would you have done the same as I?”

She considered for a moment, trying to imagine what she’d do with so many man-things under her command. “I’d leave man-thing bait for the hoove-things, make Skyseeker warband look weak-weak. Then, when hoove-things least expect it… spring trap!”

“You think a numerically superior force could be ambushed so easily?”

“Numericalness nothing against sneaky-attack! Why ask anyway?”

“No reason.” He turned his back on her, resting his head on his many bags. He closed his eyes, and after waiting a few minutes to be certain he was sleeping, she followed suit, her dreams plagued with gryphons and olives.

-xXx-

The hills were getting broader, the space between them channelling so deep into the earth they started to resemble valleys. It seemed that no matter what direction she and the man-thing set off in, it was always an uphill journey, Skyseeker stumbling to her knees as she baked in the oppressive heat.

“Keep up now,” the man-thing called, not even bothering to look back as he marched ahead of her. Mental issues aside, the creature seemed to have an endless pool of stamina to draw from. He’d not so much as paused for a break since the morning.

“W-When nap time?” she called back, but he mustn’t have heard her, his noisy armour growing quiet as he scaled the hill. At least the soft grass provided some measure of relief, Skyseeker laying one cheek on the ground as she regained her breath.

“Hey, rat!” the man thing called from atop the hill. “Get up here, there’s something you should see!”

Skyseeker dragged her feet and paws up the incline, the ground slowly scrolling past her with each agonising pull of her limbs. After a few painful minutes, she finally reached his side, flopping onto her back as she peered over the lands. From this height, she could see the sprawling hellscapes of the plains in its entirety, chains of hills in every direction, their sizes ranging from small bumps to towering mountains. At the furthest reaches of her vision, she saw greenery dotting the fields of wildgrass, gently leading into thick walls of trees. That was a forest, which must mean they were closing in on the edges of the plains.

“Could just tell Skyseeker end of plains was close,” she muttered, glaring up at him.

“Wasn’t talking about that,” he said, pointing out to their north as he hunkered next to her. “I meant that.”

She followed his finger, squinting her eyes into the haze. Something was moving from one hill to another, two valley chains from where they were standing. She twisted the dials on her goggles, zooming in for a better look, her eyes growing to the size of plates when the image bloomed. Crawling across the slopes like an infection was a mass of brown fur, metal swords and weaponry glinting in the light. A wall of man-things stood some distance away, the creature’s ranks three rows deep, flanked by even more man-things who brandished rifles and pistols.

The man-things were firing in volleys, the cracks of gunpowder visible, but silent, the charging ratmen falling by the dozens. She could see other, fast-moving combatants surrounding the main skirmish, horses ridden by man-things seeking to flank, along with Skaven pilots trying to do the same. They were riding doom-flayers, motorised vehicles with a singular wheel at the front, and a pilot seat at the back, with every protruding inch of steel covered in barbs and wicked spikes designed to make ramming as painful and effective as possible.

“Friends of yours?” the man-thing asked, shielding his eyes with a hand.

“Not know,” she replied, peering into the ranks in search of a banner. It took a few seconds, but she soon found the markings of a Great Clan, the flag jutting from the back of a giant rat, or perhaps it was an ogre, it was hard to tell from this distance. “Wait! Look-see Great Clan Pestilens banner! Not friends!”

“Pestilens? How many Great Clans are there anyway?” he asked, blinking when she held up five fingers, then changed her mind and lowered one of them. “These Clans, are they all out for Tilean blood?”

She made to correct him, but reconsidered. The less he knew about what Skavendom was doing, what she was doing, the better. “Skaven always fight-kill Tilee-place,” she said, which was partially true. “Vermintide nothing special.”

“If you say so,” he said, reaching down to pluck his canteen from his belt. He took a generous swig, the sloshing of liquid drawing her attention. When he noticed her staring, he rolled his eyes, holding it out to her. The sudden movement startled her, Skyseeker clutching the handle of a weeping blade as she leaned away.

“I know what you’re thinking, you needn’t worry,” he assured, shaking the little bottle. “Go on, can only take so much of your incessant panting.”

The allure of a drink overpowered her suspicion, and she snatched the canteen from his hand, putting his back to him as she fiddled with the lid. When she figured out how to unscrew it, she brought the canteen to her lips, taking one draw, then another, then poured some of her face for good measure.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, making to grab it off her. Skyseeker squeaked, pushing her feet into his chestplate, the pads of her toes burning as they touched the heated metal, using him as leverage to roll herself out of his reach. She tumbled head over heels, placing a hand on the canteen to keep it from spilling. “Hey! That’s the only water I have, you want us both to die of thirst?”

Skyseeker wanted to just ignore him, but he had given her a drink without demanding anything in return, perhaps she should heed his words. She placed the cap back, tossing him the canteen, mumbling a thank you as she licked her wet whiskers.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his tone implying he wasn’t very grateful. “So what do you know about these Pestilens rats?” he asked, stashing his canteen away.

“Pestilens love plaguing!” she said. “Brew many concoctions, kill enemies with air, not knives. See green air, don’t forget to hold breath.”

“Rats making poison? As if the gryphon wasn’t enough to worry about,” the man-thing muttered, glancing at the distant vermintide. “Come,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “Sooner we’re out of these hills, the better.”

-xXx-

Roderick and Skyseeker weaved between the hills, the sounds of battle growing louder and more numerous as they trekked through the heart of the Trantine Hills. The snaps of flintlocks and warpstone rifles rose to a constant backdrop, carrying from first behind them, then to their west. He’d been informed during his time with the mercenaries that the Skaven were a constant thorn in Tilea’s side, but this felt more like an invasion than a simple nuisance.

He glanced behind him, his vermin follower lingering a few paces back. She was constantly eyeing the skies, likely fearing the return of the gryphon. He couldn’t blame her. She probably looked like a tasty snack to the flying carnivore, not that he was safe either, he’d seen gryphon’s snap fully-armoured men clean in half with their powerful beaks.

“Stop!” the Skaven ordered, her head swivelling in quick half circles. “Man-thing hear-hear that?”

He thought she was just talking about the gunshots, but after a moment he caught onto something else. Armour clanking together, interrupted by a low murmur of conversation. It was coming from over the hill they’d been walking towards for the past few minutes.

“Let’s take a look,” he said, lowering his voice. “Nice and quiet, okay? We’ve come this far without incident, don’t want to start one now.”

The rat, Skyseeker, nodded, then plunged her face into the dirt. She cupped her paws full of dust, then began to rub the earth into her cloak and shoulders, rolling around to help spread it over her face and short torso. She looked like a pig that had been gifted a fresh trough of mud.

“What the… What in Sigmar’s name are you doing?” he demanded, the rat standing up after a moment, covered from face to belly in dirt.

“Camouflaging!” she chimed. “Hide from feather-thing, hide from all things!”

He supposed her dirty cloak might blend in a little better now that it was filthy, but her spontaneousness still caught him off-guard. She was clearly devoted to this mission of hers…

“Let’s go,” he said, leading the way. The slope here was shallow, only rising a dozen or so meters into the air, Roderick drawing his pistol as he approached the top. From the way the wind combed the grass, they were downwind of the voices, so at least their scent wouldn’t give them away if it was Skaven.

When he approached the top, he got down onto a prone position, Skyseeker mirroring his movements as she sidled up to his left. There were no shrubs nearby to cover him, so he removed his helmet lest its shine give him away.

He raised his eyes over the lip of earth, the landscape as similar as the ground they’d already crossed. Movement drew his gaze lower, Roderick spying a cluster of figures gathered by the foot of the hill on the far side.

Lounging around in various states of alert was a group of Skaven, dressed in cloth tunics the same shade as the grass, chittering and muttering to each other. A couple of them were lounging around, tails curled over their furry legs as they snored loudly, while the majority of them were huddled up in a circle.

As Roderick watched, the rats in the circle seemed to be passing something between them, but he couldn’t see what from this angle. He could, however, hear the ratmen taking turns sniffing loudly through their blocked noses, one of them lifting his muzzle to exhale loudly.

“Scouting party, likely from that vermintide we saw earlier,” he muttered, backing down out of sight.

“Man-thing deductions amaze Skaven,” Skyseeker muttered sarcastically.

“Could mean the Skaven are heading in the same direction as us,” he said, ignoring her comment. “What’s that thing they’re passing around?”

“Maybe new weapon, or maybe warpstone!” she answered, that last notion making her bounce on the spot. “Strange if so, sharing warpstone not as good as keeping for self.”

“Indeed, communal creatures you are not,” he said, remembering the way she’d stuffed herself into that vat of vinegar. “Think they’ll move off soon?”

“Clanrats taking nap time,” Skyseeker said, peeking over the lip of earth. “We go round-around, manoeuvre past swifty. Easy scheme!”

“Much as I hate to admit it, I agree with you. Rather not announce ourselves to every man and rat in these hills. Still,” he added, gesturing to the sides. “Not a lot of cover out there, we’ll have to loop pretty far if we want to stay out of sight. It’ll add time to our journey, but we’re not in a hurry… are we?”

“Time is of essence!” she snapped. “Skyseeker must complete mission soon, before other rats do it first!”

“Wait, other rats? Like Pestilens?”

She flattened her ears against her head, clearly frustrated at having said too much. “Man-thing asking too many questions,” she grumbled. “More skittering instead!”

“Then by all means, skitter away.” He waved a dismissive hand.

She muttered an insult aimed at his intelligence, then turned, dashing on all fours as she moved back down the incline. Now it was his turn to follow her, it seemed, Roderick jogging after her as they moved out into the grasslands.

-xXx-

Skyseeker waved him on, their path jutting abruptly to the right after half an hour of walking in a straight line. There was no cover whatsoever out here, Roderick feeling the hair on his neck stand as he tried to keep an eye on all his angles. Although the patrol was now just a speck in the distance, having nothing standing between them and him made him nervous.

His companion would occasionally peer in the Skaven’s direction, her goggles glinting as they reflected the light. If she had any similar reservations, she kept them to herself, weaving deftly through the tall stalks of grass, her pace just swift enough that he could keep up if he jogged.

“Sure they won’t spot us out here?” he asked, glancing at the barren ground all around them.

“Unless Pestilans’ have goggles too, we stay hidden,” she replied curtly, not waiting for him as she pressed on.

“Not just rats I’m worried about,” he muttered, turning his eyes up. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure about navigating all this open ground. At least the hills provided some measure of cover, and the next chain of mountains was a good league or two away to their south.

“Then shut mouth and move legs,” Skyseeker snapped, the fact she too was peering up at the sky not going unnoticed.

She increased her pace, Roderick having trouble keeping up in his armour, the metal cooking him in the intense heat. There wasn’t much effort to spare for conversation, the pair navigating over the flat ground in silence, occasionally dodging or jumping over a protruding rock. It took them most of an hour, but his reservations about being in open ground turned out to be in vain, the two of them reaching the next set of hills without incident. There were even a few hardy saplings clinging to the nearest slope, Roderick joining the ratwoman as she collapsed into the shade of one.

“See? I am the supreme master of evasion schemes!” the Skaven said, literally patting herself on the back for her efforts.

“Your clandestine nature is undeniable,” he admitted. “But let’s keep moving. Where there’s one patrol, there will be more.”

-xXx-

“Feels like the perfect place for an ambush,” Roderick muttered.

They’d been following the same snaking trail for the rest of the evening, two giant hills forming towers of earth to either side of them. The natural canyon was tight enough to obscure them from any further scouting parties in the area, but the seclusion went both ways, the consistent sounds of warfare hinting that battles were taking place somewhere just out of sight.

“Good plan, man-thing,” Skyseeker chirped, hopping over a boulder behind and to his left. The land was pockmarked with other large rocks, the faces of the steep hills in particular. They would barely reach knee-height for a human, but to a Skaven, they would make excellent cover. “But can’t stay-wait here, Great Clans overrun this place soon.”

“No you dolt,” he chided. “I meant if someone were to set up an ambush against us, this’d be the place.”

Skyseeker took a long draw of air, her shapely chest expanding as she filled her lungs, expelling them with a sputter. “No stink of Skaven or man-things,” she informed him. “Rick-rod just being stupid paranoid thing.”

The pass narrowed as they pushed onwards, reaching the point that almost no flat ground existed between the hills, Roderick stumbling through the uneven terrain. He glanced up at the hill on their left side, certain he had caught movement, only to find himself staring at a patch of dancing wildflowers at the top of the slope.

Worry began to well up inside him, but their list of options was few. Climbing out of the canyon would risk a twisted ankle or a steep fall, not to mention the cover they’d be giving up would put them at risk of discovery by the Tileans and Skaven fighting for these plains. They’d walked too far to simply turn back as well, pushing on was the only viable path.

Soon the pass began to bend to the right, the curve of the hill obscuring whatever lay in the distance. He watched as his Skaven companion navigated through the terrain like a grasshopper, her wide feet able to let her control her weight better than he ever could. The way she flowed from spot to spot was oddly mesmerising, for a five foot vermin of course.

Before long, something began to slowly appear around the bend, the trail coming to an abrupt halt as it met with a treeline. It was a patch of forest, the woodlands spilling onto the slopes a little, forming a distinct U-shaped canopy of bleached leaves and branches, stretching some unknown distance further afield. After days of walking through exposed ground, the sight was a welcome one.

Before either of them could comment on it, Roderick and Skyseeker stopped in their tracks, sudden movement from between them and the forest giving them pause. From behind the boulders and bumps in the ground, figures began to rise into view, dust and clumps of grass sliding off furry shoulders and long muzzles. Just as Skyseeker had covered herself in dirt, these Skaven had buried themselves in the earth to conceal themselves, lying in wait for something to pass through.

There were seven or eight of them, the Skaven raising black swords in their paws, one of them opening his jaws to loose a predatory hiss that reminded Roderick of a striking cobra.

“Just being paranoid, was I?” Roderick demanded, turning his furious gaze on Skyseeker, the rodent’s lips quivering as she thought of a response.

“S-Stupid man-thing’s fault! Clanky armour gave us away! Told man-thing clothes were bad!”

Roderick didn’t have time to formulate a reply, the Skaven unleashing a war-cry as they started to charge, leaping across the uneven ground, swords poised over their furry heads. Most of them wore nothing more than a few tattered sheets of green cloth over their chests and legs, the most protective gear Roderick could see being a few patchwork helmets, made from hammered sheets of steel connected by thick bolts.

Their equipment was lacking, but their numbers weren’t, Roderick seeing another group of rats coming into view up on the slope to the right, also laying in wait behind any bit of cover they could find. The Skaven would have stood a better chance combining their forces into one big attack, but nobody ever said that logic was in the Skaven vocabulary.

“Backwards scurry?” Skyseeker asked, her neck shifting and turning as she looked at every approaching rat in turn.

“Little late for that!” he replied. Roderick drew his pistol, the silver sights catching the sunlight as he aimed at the closest Skaven. He fired, his arm snapping up, the round punching a hole through the Skaven’s chest in an instant. The rodent stumbled, like the shot had simply winded him, only to be shoved carelessly to the ground by a Skaven directly behind him.

Roderick reloaded, shoving a fresh charge into the barrel, trying to ignore the thundering footsteps of the charging ratmen. He held out his pistol once more, the crack of a second gunshot echoing over the pass. The Skaven he’d aimed for tried to duck out of the way, but too late, a red mist spraying out behind him as he fell.

The rats were closing, but Roderick dared to try for a third reload, the Skaven moments away. As he fished for another paper charge, he glanced over to his left, Skyseeker shifting as the vermintide bore down on them. He had accepted that she wasn’t a threat to him, but now that more of her kind were here, he wasn’t sure what she’d do. As if being a Skaven wasn’t enough, she was a damn wildcard to boot. Not the most logical choice of an ally, all things considered.

He released the breath he’d been holding when she drew those corrosive blades from her belt, holding them out towards the oncoming rats as she dropped into a low crouch, her long teeth bared. When the nearest Skaven was within range, she leapt, the muscles in her legs like coiled springs as she propelled herself, leading with her daggers and plunging them deep into his furry chest.

The Skaven didn’t react in time, dropping his weapon as Skyseeker yanked her daggers out of his torso, pushing his convulsing body aside. The rest of the charging Skaven stopped abruptly, skidding in the dirt as they looked on in confusion, like they’d only just now recognised Skyseeker’s presence. One of them gestured curiously in her direction.

“What rat-thing doing?” he asked, a bewildered expression on his muzzle. “Fight man-thing, not us-us!”

“Skyseeker never breaks a deal! Good business practice!” She reached into her cloak and produced a warp-star, thrusting her arm out as she threw it. The confused ratman tumbled to the ground, the star imbedded in his throat.

The four remaining clanrats split their attention, two changing direction and going for Skyseeker, the other two rushing Roderick. He didn’t have enough time to push the lead ball with his ramrod before they’d be on him, Roderick abandoning the effort, flipping the pistol instead so he was holding it by the barrel.

The Skaven closest to him unleashed a furious hiss, dragging his sword across the ground, and heaving it up in a cleave, aiming for Roderick’s chin. He sidestepped the swing, stepping in and clocking the rat on the snout. The wooden grip on the pistol was reinforced with brass, the ratman yelping as blood seeped from his nose.

To his right, the second Skaven closed in, driving his curved blade towards Roderick’s chest. Rather than dodge aside, he moved closer, seizing the ratman by the wrist. He shoved his armoured shoulder into his muzzle, twisting his arm at the same time, the Skaven dropping his weapon with a yowl of pain. Roderick clasped the sword before it fell, using it to slice open its former owner’s belly. These rats telegraphed their attacks like recruits, and the fact they’d been hiding in this pass for who knows how long hadn’t done them any favours.

Glancing to his left, he watched Skyseeker swing her daggers in a severing motion, but instead of aiming for the Skaven, she targeted their oncoming weapons instead. The green blades cut through the dark metal with ease, severing one sword just above the hilt. The disarmed ratman immediately gave in, falling to his knees, rasping out some plea for his life, the other pressing the attack. The two rats exchanged a handful of blows, but ultimately the ratman’s sword was cut in twain, the axe clattering to the dirt. Skyseeker had clearly learned from her fight with Roderick, staying on the defensive, letting her opponents ruin their own weapon on her corrosive blades.

Skyseeker loosed a feral snarl, the two ratmen stumbling away in fear. They turned to flee, clutching their heads in a panic, Skyseeker snickering in triumph. Her amusement was cut short when she glanced up the incline, thrusting out a dirty claw.

“Man-thing! Look!”

Roderick had just finished off the dazed Skaven, plunging his stolen sword into his chest, following her pointed finger as he freed it. The second group of Skaven was halfway down the hill, around ten ratmen sharing a wordless warcry, but two of their number stood out. They were taller, wearing the Skaven equivalent of a knight’s armour, flanking the procession. They were both wearing full-face masks, two breathing canisters jutting from the sides of their chins. One looked like he was carrying the most oversized blunderbuss in existence, while the other was clutching giant globes in his gloved paws.

The latter of which suddenly lifted his arms, tossing one such globe in an overhand throw, Roderick noting he had dozens more of the devices strapped to his chestplate, the balls jangling together with each stride. The tossed globe fell a few meters short of Roderick, the glass canister smashing against a stone. Rather than the earth being rocked by an explosion as a grenade would do, instead a cloud of green vapours erupted from the impact, the fog rolling out like a liquid in all directions of the compass.

“Don’t breath-smell it!” Skyseeker warned, hopping away despite being further from the cloud than Roderick. “Tampered warpstone gas, very poisonous!”

“I can see that!”

Another cloud of warpstone erupted on the left, then the right, a wall of dense, green vapours obscuring the advancing Skaven. They were using it like a smokescreen, no doubt taking the opportunity to flank.

“Tree time!” Skyseeker yelled, dashing further up the pass. Roderick concurred, following behind her as they circled the warspstone gas, Roderick ripping another paper charge open with his teeth, his hand steady even as he hurried to keep pace with Skyseeker.

He could hear the skittering of paws on his right, Roderick turning his head to see a trio of Skaven appear on the spot the first group of rats had been slain. They scanned the area, confused for a moment before they spotted Roderick. They made to pursue, but before they could, another globe of warpstone toxin landed by their feet, a cloud of gas spreading with a sound reminiscent of a leaking steam valve, the Skaven shrieking as they scrambled clear. The one throwing the globes either didn’t know, or didn’t care he was putting his fellow Skaven at risk by chucking them blindly into the pass.

Thumbing back the firing mechanism, Roderick held his pistol ready as he made for the trees, spying Skyseeker’s pink tail slip into the undergrowth. He followed after her, pressing his back against the nearest tree, panting through his helmet as he leaned out to peer in the Skaven’s direction.

Through the closest wall of vapours, a figure emerged. It was the other armoured ratman, wielding the bulky, blunderbuss-like weapon. From neck to waist, he was decked in armour, parts of it painted over in a shade of green just as deep as the gas surrounding him, his face protected by a bulky rebreather. What appeared to be a giant brass ball was strapped to his back, with a canister poking out of the top, a large piece of glowing rock sitting flush against the glass casing. That must be a piece of warpstone Skyseeker had told him about.

He could gear rat rasping through his mask as he brought his weapon to bear, aiming its tube-like muzzle in Roderick’s direction. He pulled a mechanism fitted to the stock, a stream of green liquid spewing across the ground. It must have been oil, the grass and rocks suddenly igniting, erupting in flames the colour of emeralds as the rat lifted the weapon, a scorching heat washing over Roderick’s face.

He heard Skyseeker shriek somewhere to his left, the ratwoman tossing herself as far away as possible, Roderick doing the same. He threw himself to the ground just in time, the tree he’d been hiding behind setting ablaze, the ratman waving his flaming weapon back and forth to spread the inferno.

A shrub to his right parted, one of the poorly-armed rats narrowing skimming the edge of the flames as he barrelled into the trees, his beady eyes locked on Roderick’s. The two exchanged blows, Roderick dispatching the rat as he climbed to his feet. He couldn’t see Skyseeker, but he could hear shouting somewhere to his rear, her high-pitched voice mixed in with a few others. She must be dealing with her own ambushers.

Another spurt of liquid flames penetrated through the trees, the armoured ratman trudging fearlessly into his proceeding blaze, his furry feet clad in what must be insulated boots. He swept his warpstone weapon in wide arcs, cackling like a madman as he ignited everything in his path. Roderick shielded himself with an arm as the flaming weapon angled in his direction, feeling scorching heat on his front as he was caught in the cone of fire.

Roderick retreated deeper into the forest, spotting Skyseeker further to the left. She was duelling with another Skaven, the two rats dodging and snarling, her goggles switching from her opponent to the flamethrower. She was dangerously close to the cone of fire, the flamethrower-wielding rat advancing in her direction. Both she and her opponent would be set alight in mere seconds.

He held his breath as he drew his pistol, lining up the iron sights with his eye. His vambrace was trailing green flames, but it didn’t affect his aim, Roderick firing a bullet at the ratman’s rebreather, the Skaven’s crazed laughter cut short as one of the trailing tubes popped off like a snapped suspension cable.

The rat dropped to his knees, keeling over his weapon as though trying to hug it. Skyseeker spared him a glance, offering a curt nod before returning her attention to the rat she was sparring with.

Roderick redrew his stolen Skaven sword, spotting another ratman hopping through the bushes to his flank, drawn by the sound of the gunshot. He didn’t want to waste ammo on these simple Skaven, Roderick stepping in with a lunge, slicing the rat across his belly, dropping him with an ease that bordered on trivialness.

Seeing that Skyseeker had dispatched her opponent, he scanned the trees for the creature throwing the globes. He didn’t have to look for long, the armoured rat leaping through the treeline just behind the corpse of the pyromaniac, seemingly undeterred by the grim sight as he moved deeper into the trees.

The Skaven’s hearing was keen, even with the mask, the vermin swinging round in Roderick’s direction when he plugged his handgun with a ramrod. The ratman put a hand to his vest, where two more of the transparent globes dangled from his clasps, but he couldn’t beat the speed it took to pull a trigger.

The pistol fired, the crack echoing, Roderick watching through the wisp of smoke as the ratman stumbled, suddenly becoming engulfed in a cloud of green vapours. He blinked in surprise. Was his whole body made up of the perilous gas, the bullet bursting him like a balloon? He wouldn’t be surprised, Skaven were vermin that thrived in decay and toxins.

As he made to reload, the lingering vapours swirled, and the masked ratman rushed into view, his frenzied wailing muffled by his rebreather. Roderick lifted a brow, certain he hadn’t missed, his eyes wandering down to the Skaven’s vest. He could see blood trailing from a bullet wound, along with part of a smashed glass globe. His bullet must have hit one of the weapons, the device slowing the shot enough to spare the Skaven.

The globadier drew a blade from his belt, too close for Roderick to reload his pistol before it was on him. He squared off against the ratman, the rodent pulling the last globe hanging from his vest. Barely a few meters away, he threw it in an overhand arc, Roderick narrowly dodging to the side, the globe skimming past his helmet, shattering on the ground somewhere behind him.

The globadier closed in, swinging his sword in a sideways arc, Roderick meeting it with his own blade, the two Skaven weapons clashing with a metallic ring. Roderick followed up with an uppercut, but the ratman stepped out of the way, holding his blade in two hands and thrusting. Roderick let the rat glance him on the arm, trusting his armour to take the blow while he counterattacked.

He managed to catch the ratman on the shoulder, driving his sword into one of his vest straps, but the point met resistance. The globadier’s armour was just as sturdy as his own, maybe moreso, his blade bouncing off the brass-coloured metal harmlessly, forcing Roderick off balance.

The rat took advantage of his surprise, putting Roderick on the defensive as he delivered swing after swing, never repeating the same angle twice, Roderick ceding space as he retreated. The Skaven switched his weapon from one paw to the other, driving a fist towards Roderick’s belly. The plates on the knuckles of his glove must have been reinforced, the blow knocking the air out of Roderick’s lungs.

He knew Skaven were fast, but this particular vermin was downright crazed, Roderick unable to counter under the onslaught. He was forced to take another step backwards, tensing as he realised what the rat was doing. He could sense the cloud of toxic gas directly behind him, feeling its presence like a wall. He wasn’t sure what coming into contact with the warpstone gas would do, and he wasn’t eager to find out. He had to finish this vermin off quickly, but his crude blade did little against the heavily armoured rat.

The globadier drove his blade towards his face, Roderick raising his weapon to block. As the blades clashed, he swiped left, the rat mirroring his movements, the two weapons locking together at the crossguards. Roderick put all his strength into the clinch, the ratman leaning closer as he did the same, their helmets almost touching as they buckled under one another’s efforts. Roderick could see his reflection in the ratman’s visor, the rodent’s scowl just visible beyond the glass. The sight gave him an idea.

Rather than try to overpower, Roderick instead drew his head back, clocking the rat’s mask with his helmet in a desperate headbutt. His vision blurred with the violent impact, but the globadier recoiled, lifting a sluggish hand to his face, opening him up to a crushing strike from Roderick’s pommel. He drove the blunt edge into the Skaven’s muzzle, hearing the glass part of his mask shatter, one of the jutting canisters popping off like a cork from a bottle.

With a snarl, Roderick pressed forward, stepping to the rat’s side and whacking him across the back of his head with his blade. The rodent’s neck was also protected by a collar of metal, but the force of the impact drove the Skaven forward, while Roderick circled around to his rear, forcing their positions to reverse. Now it was the Skaven who had his back to the gas.

The rat scrutinised him through his now cracked visor, his eyes full of fury. Roderick came at him, the Skaven reacting slower to his strikes than before, his damaged vision giving Roderick the edge he needed. He forced the rodent to defend from above, feinting his strike, instead delivering a savage kick to the rat’s stomach, the blow powerful enough to send the Skaven arching through the air.

The Skaven was swallowed into the thick cloud of gas, his figure becoming shadowy and distorted as he landed on his rear. The rat began to sputter, swiping desperately at his masked face as the gas seeped into his lungs, his rebreather no longer functional.

Roderick held no pity for the Skaven, but even he felt shivers crawl down his back as the rat began to make a horrible death rattle, his limbs kicking out as tried to claw his way out of the cloud, his weakening limbs failing him. A few grim moments later, and the ratman began to gradually relax, the Skaven curling up like a dead spider as he went silent.

He turned away, fishing a paper charge from his belt as he examined the scene around him. Everything was on fire, the distinct cone of emerald flames expanding to every nearby twig and leaf. On the far side of the burned out clearing, he watched as Skyseeker wiped her magical blades on the grass, cleaning them of blood before stowing them inside her many belts and straps. He could see the bodies of four or five Skaven littering the ground around her, she must have dealt with the rest while he’d mopped up the globadier.

“Are… Are you well?” he asked, trying to steady his breathing. Skyseeker nodded her hooded head, circling the flames, standing by his side as she glanced from him, to the globadier, then back to him.

“Rick-rod killed warpstone throwers…” she asked, sounding genuinely confused. “Not think it survive…”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he grumbled, lifting his visor and rubbing his temple, still dizzy from his headbutt with the rat. “We should make a hasty retreat, the shots and the smoke will draw more of your ilk. Mine too, no doubt.”

He made to move, but Skyseeker stopped him, pointing a claw at his arm, Roderick tilting his head as he followed her finger. The plates covering his bicep was sizzling with lingering lines of warpfire, Roderick batting at them until they were snuffed out, patting the rest of himself down just to be safe. After he was done, he shouldered his way into the trees, moving in the opposite direction of the treeline, Skyseeker trailing behind him.

-xXx-

They stopped to rest only when the site of the ambush was far behind them, the plumes of green-tinted smoke small enough that Roderick could cover them with his thumb. The flames would act like a beacon to the whole of the Trantine Hills, drawing any passing patrols and armies into the area, but at least the covering of the forest should shield them from prying eyes.

“You sure you aren’t wounded?” Roderick asked, his knees cracking as he crouched beside a tree. “You were outnumbered three-to-one a couple times back there…”

“Clanrats fight like hungry pups. Not big deal,” Skyseeker replied, waving a dismissive hand as she collapsed onto a nearby root. She slid across the curved bark, letting gravity pull her to the ground where she draped over the grass like a corpse. She didn’t look wounded, but all her spinning and jumping had certainly taken a toll on her, the rat panting hard beneath her hood.

He pulled his canteen from his pack, taking a swig, the cool water soothing his throat on the way down. He then held it out. “Here,” he said, noting that her eyes were shut.

Skyseeker rose to a sitting position, regarding him with a suspicious look as she leaned on an elbow. “What?” she demanded.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? You may not be wounded, but you’re tired. Drink up.”

He could see the cogs in her head turning as she flicked her gaze from him to his canteen, squinting behind her goggles. The Skaven was probably wondering why he was being so courteous, Roderick’s own train of thought following a similar path.

She slowly extended her arm, and when she was close enough, she snagged his canteen with all the speed of a bullet, as though being close to him for any amount of time was a risky endeavour.

The last time he’d shared his water with her, he had to chide her like she was a disobedient child, and for a moment he thought history would repeat itself, Skyseeker shielding his canteen from view as she turned away slightly. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she took only two gulps before stopping, parting her sharp teeth to loose a refreshed ‘ahh’.

“Rick-rod should be hurt one,” she said, tilting her head in his direction. “Fighting wind globadier, not as simple as fighting stupid clanrat.”

“I’ll say,” Roderick replied, remembering how violently the Skaven had choked on his own poison, how easily it could have been him writhing on the ground.

“You fight… good. For a man-thing,” she added, covering one side of her face in what might have been embarrassment.

“Well I’ll be. Only a few days ago I was just a stupid chump, now you’re complementing me?”

“You still chump,” she assured. “but… my fur would have burned in warpfire if it… you… were not here-there to shoot rat-thing. Can’t fight Skyseeker, but can fight Skaven good-good.”

It was a long-winded way of saying he was a skilled fighter, but he supposed the Skaven wasn’t used to giving praise.

“Still stroking your ego over our little bout, I see,” he chuckled. “Perhaps we should find time for a rematch. That you simply landed the first blow does not warrant total victory, especially when we’re both still alive.”

He saw the muscles in her arms tense, her paw creeping down her waist towards her belt, the strap brimming with daggers, Roderick quickly holding up a hand to stop her.

“Relax, I was just joking, lass.” She continued to grimly stare at him, apparently not believing a word. “It would be unwise of me to backstab my only ally now, and an ally you surely must be, since you didn’t side with those Skaven back there when you had the chance.”

She began her reply with a snarl, as if talking about her own kin disgusted her “Siding with Pestilens rats very bad for health. Disease-musk stick in fur forever. On the other paw… Siding with man-thing much better. Less stink, more olives! Refreshing experience!”

“Not exactly the sturdiest foundation for trust, but good to know,” Roderick replied, his armour creaking as he shrugged.

“TrUSt?” Skyseeker echoed, pronouncing the word like she was making fun of his accent. “Not same thing! Man-thing like…” She stroked her snout for a moment, her thoughts coming to her after a moment. “-Like whisker! Useful, but not necessary!”

“If that were true, you would have ditched me long ago,” he noted. The Skaven didn’t appear to have an answer for that, folding her slim arms over her front as she glanced away.

“We should camp here for the night,” Roderick continued. “Take advantage of the shade while we can.”

He set about making a fire, keeping the flames small and controlled so they didn’t attract unwanted attention. Soon the half moon had risen into the sky, the light it shed rivalled by that of the warpfires still raging to their far north, a globe of green permeating the horizon.

Soon the silence was broken as Skyseeker started to mutter, Roderick turning to see her propped up against a nearby tree root, her face pointed directly up, the canopy sparse enough to give her a view of the night sky. She was pinching one of her google lenses, the sound of a spinning dial reaching his ears.

“You needn’t fear the gryphon, lass,” he began, her head snapping his direction, as though she’d been caught doing something inappropriate. “They’re not nocturnal, they only hunt during the day.”

“Not looking for feather-thing,” she explained. “Looking at... other things.”

“What ‘things’?” he asked.

“Thing-things!” she repeated, as though it was self-explanatory. “Shapes in sky!”

He followed her gaze, chewing his lip in thought. “You mean the moon?”

“No, stupid!” she chided, throwing a pebble which plinked off his cuirass. “Moon boring! Things next to moon! Shiny, small things!”

“The… stars?” he tried, and this time she did not throw anything at him, returning her gaze back to the heavens.

“Stars…” she whispered. She repeated the word, then once more, as though it were an answer to a mind-boggling riddle. She brought a paw to her face, slowly sliding her goggles down her muzzle, exposing her eyes for the first time since they’d met. They were a striking shade of red, like a pair of murky rubies, with pupils twice the size of a human’s, dilating into big circles as she scrutinised the skies. He’d expected them to be bloodshot, beady, like her kin at the ambush, but it seemed even a lady of the Skaven could have delicate features.

“What are stars?” she demanded, her goggles resting over her cleavage as she turned to him. Her gaze was oddly intense, those black pupils ringed by a redness that almost seemed to glow in the muted darkness.

“Well, I’m no astrologist,” he began. “but from what I recall, stars are many things. Some are planets, others are giant collections of dust drifting aimlessly through the cosmos. Like that big one there, Isharna we call it, it may look like a planet, but it’s really just a concentration of gasses in the shape of a marble. Think of it like one of those globes of warpstone poison that ratman threw at me earlier.”

“What are those shiny-things?” she continued, gesturing to a group of white spots. “Look like smalliest bits of warpstone.”

“That’s a star cluster. As for why they’re green… I’m not sure. It could be fragments of a dying star, or a bunch of little exploding planets, those tend to sparkle a lot when they reach the end of their life cycles.”

"Horrible man-thing!” she exclaimed. “Don’t say that about nice star-thing!”

“That’s just what I was taught,” he said, shrugging when she scowled up at him. “You’re quite fond of the heavens,” he noted. “Guess I ought to have known, considering your name and everything.”

“What?” she asked, one side of her brow raising.

“Your name, Skyseeker. Assume this is how you got it?”

“No-No, Skyseeker called Skyseeker for very different reason,” she said. “When Great Lord gave mission to me, had not seen star-things before. Thought only warpstone could be so… pretty.”

He had an insult ready about how she lived underground like a vermin, but he held his tongue. Something about her curiosity was endearing to him, her red eyes full of wonder as she gazed up in silence. The skies were a mundane sight to him, but the little Skaven seemed to find it fascinating, a trait he’d not thought possible in a knife-wielding rat-assassin.

“Some stars form constellations,” he said, moving over and sitting across from her. She tensed up at his approach, watching him like he was a stray dog that could strike at any moment, but she didn’t move away. “If you draw an imaginary line between them, they start to form pictures, images. Like that one there, see how it looks a little like a tooth?”

He pointed, Skyseeker frowning at the cluster of stars he indicated. “Not see any tooth,” she complained. “See only shiny stars.”

“Pretend there’s a line connecting them together, like a net,” he explained. “Start with that lowest one, then go up to the one on its right. Draw a line between. Now go up again, make another line. See how they’re starting to make a shape in your mind’s eye?”

“Mind does not have eye, only wrinkles!”

“I meant use your imagination, lass.”

She lifted a claw, following his instructions as she began to wave her finger through the air. He had to correct her a few times, but soon she managed to find the pattern, her eyes lighting up as raised her paw in triumph.

“I see it! Star-thing look like tooth-thing!”

“It’s actually part of an even bigger pattern,” he continued, the rat turning her wondrous eyes on him. “Start with the star just above the tooth, and draw it to the one on its left, see if you can tell me what it is.”

“I see… mouth! And… ears! Stars look like mouse!”

“A mouse?” he smirked, holding back a laugh. “That’s a wolf, Skyseeker. We call that constellation the Great Wolf.”

“The Great Wolf Mouse, much better name yes-yes! Another!”

“Well, see that cluster just above Isharna? What do you think that one is?”

“Hmm… whisker!”

“No, that’s a sword, or the Needle officially. What about that one?”

“Cheese wheel with a bite out of it!”

“Wha-? That’s a dragon’s maw!”

No matter how many constellations he pointed out, Skyseeker somehow managed to make all of them relate to either a rat body part, food, or a piece of warpstone. Any attempt to give her the correct names of the formations was met with baffling looks.

Despite their arguments over the constellations, she had him point out as many as he could remember, Roderick only aware of the passing of time when he noted the moon had sailed halfway across the roof of the sky.

“Well, I think that’s enough stargazing for one night. Time we should get some rest,” he announced, shuffling back toward the fire. As if to prove his point, Skyseeker yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “But in turns this time,” he added before she could doze off. “Now that we know these hills are a warzone, it would be wise for one of us to keep watch.”

“No need!” Skyseeker chimed. “My hearing is infallible! Spent many nights in Skavenblight learning to listen with sleeping ears!”

“Sleeping ears?” he repeated.

“Yes! Every rat-thing knows sleeping is most weakest timeframe! Took much time and patience, but learned to stay awake while asleep. Sleeping ears. Nothing can skitter up on me. Eeek! What was that!”

“It was just an owl, you fool,” he chided. “Suddenly I’m not so sure about letting you take first watch.”

“Owl?” she said, looking up to see the creature perched in a branch nearby, peering back at the Skaven with its giant unblinking eyes. She poked her tongue out in disgust, the owl flying away when she tossed a rock at it. “Not fair, feather-thing wasn’t using legs!”

“Since you’re a master assassin and all that, I’ll take your word for it,” Roderick relented, resting his head on his pack. “Just make sure you wake me when the moon reaches that point in the sky. And no stargazing.”

“But… need to gaze to see moon!”

“You know what I mean,” he muttered, though he wasn’t quite certain she actually did. Still, he couldn’t pass down her volunteering to take first watch, closing his eyes and letting his dreams take him.

Chapter 5: Common Ground

The forest was only a brief respite, the patch of woods ending after less than an hour’s walk, Roderick and Skyseeker delving back into the bleached, exposed ground of the hills. The wind was steady, cooling his left side, the absence of any other sound filling Roderick with the urge to make small talk with his peculiar companion.

“Just how far south are you planning to go?” he asked, the pair mounting another hill. He looked out to the horizon, seeing no other skirmishes in sight. “All the way to the border? Further perhaps?”

“No discussioning of mission,” she replied, sliding down the other side of the slope. No longer was she tailing behind like before, the rat woman matching pace to Roderick’s immediate left. It seemed she felt a little more comfortable around him since the ambush, and Roderick couldn’t help but reciprocate. She really was taking their deal to work together seriously. To think the Commander’s word, a fellow man, was more easily broken than a Skaven’s…

“Come now, not even just a little bit?” he asked. “I won’t be travelling south forever, our paths will diverge at some point. We should plan for that moment.”

The Skaven tilted her head in consideration, chewing on a claw as she thought. It took her a few minutes, but she eventually made up her mind, jabbing a finger in Roderick’s face, or at least tried to, her short stature meant she had to strain herself to reach him.

“Swear to secrecy!” she demanded, waving her digit. “Rick-rod not tell schemes to anything, or I’ll kill you dead when you next sleep-nap!”

“You have my word,” he pledged, more intrigued than he cared to admit.

“Don’t want your wOrD. Want your food-treats. Keep for collateral! Hehehee!”

“Very well,” he sighed, reaching into his pack. He held out a parcel of beef jerky, the Skaven snatching it out of his hand. She ate half of it then and there, stuffing the rest away in a pocket.

“Mission takes me beyond-over man-thing lands,” she began, confirming his suspicions. “Tilee-place first of many things to skitterleap. Next come wasteylands, then not-man-thing lands! Goal lies there!”

He assumed the ‘wasteylands’ she referred to were the Border Princes to the southeast of Tilea. From what he’d heard of that place, her word for it was appropriate. He asked her what a not-man-thing was, the Skaven hesitating for a moment.

“Not-man-things… are not man-things!” she answered, as though it should be obvious. “No pinkish flesh like Rick-rod, skin like chewed bones, eyeless eyes, teethless teeth. Hideous things.”

“And you want to go to their lands?” he asked. “Why?”

He was ready for her to stop her story short, but she pressed on.

“Big relic-thing hides in not-man-thing lands,” she explained, hopping over a rock, then waving her arms for emphasis. “Relic, powerful device, this big! Capable of anything! And more!”

“Sounds like a powerful weapon,” he mused. “What is it?”

“Is relic-thing!”

“Yes, but what does it look like?”

“Ahhhhhmmmm… big! And… large?”

“You’ve no idea, do you?” he asked, Skyseeker grumbling a no that he almost missed. “How can you hope to find this ‘relic’, if you don’t even know what it is?”

“I know-know!” she insisted. “Grey Seers gifted vision from Great Horned One, say not-man-things hide strongest magical items beneath sands. Very powerful, handy things! What else do Skaven need to know?”

“How about its location?” he suggested. “Surely you don’t plan on looking through every inch of desert for this thing?”

“I do not look with eyes, stupid,” she snarled. “Horned Rat will guide me-me, enhance intuition! Magics will carry on wind itself! Draw me like rat to meat-flesh.”

“You’re attuned to magic?” he asked eagerly. Roderick had studied the art of sorcery and spells, but he had dropped the pursuit, never having managed to conjure a single spell. Surely this rodent wasn’t magically adept?

“How can that be?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve got an academy in this Skavenblight of yours?”

“Always aware of the Warp!” she answered. “Feel it in fur, in head, in daggers! Will feel a lot more-more when I get close to relic, yes-yesss!” she added with a villainous cackle.

Intriguing, her kind called magic ‘warp’, was that another, perhaps inferior form of magic? Of course, she could just be trying to deceive him, but she seemed confident in her ability to track down this precious relic, and there was little choice but to take her at her word.

“What do you plan on doing with this ‘relic’, if you find it?”

“First, I will flaunt it!” she said, pausing to wave her arms in demonstration. “Right in faces of everything that wronged and doubted me-me! Then, I will return to Skavenblight, and put-place relic in the paw of most unholiest Lord. With his incalculable brain cells, the relic-thing’s power, and my efforts, Clan Mors will rule Council of Skavendom! Will have no need to spray fear-musk as Gnawdwell’s greatest Champion! No rat-thing would touch-grab my fur then!”

“This must be a great relic indeed, if it can make your Lord rise to the top so quickly.”

“Horned Rat only share strongest devices of magics!”

“If that is so, then why’d this Lord send you alone to retrieve it?” he asked. “You’d think every rat would be after this relic.”

“But they are!” she replied. “All Great Clans scurrying for it, why Rick-rod think rat-things skittering through Tilee-place hills?”

“Ah, so that’s why they’re so many vermintides round here,” he mused. “Pity the Commander didn’t get to hear you say that, thing’s might’ve turned out differently…”

“Commoner? Where commoner?” She waved her daggers around like she was stabbing ghosts. “Hate commoners. And eavesdroppers!”

“Easy, just talking to myself, there’s no one here,” he insisted, but Skyseeker ignored him, scanning her angles for movement, even lifting a nearby rock and looking beneath it. When she was sure they were not being eavesdropped, she finally put her weapons away. It was a wonder she hadn’t yet cut herself on those corrosive blades, the way she handled them so viciously.

“So every Clan is racing for this thing?” he asked, Skyseeker nodding. “How do you plan on staying ahead of them all? Your armies move swiftly, keeping pace by your lonesome won’t be an easy task.”

“Strength in isolation!” she said. “Can scurry at own speed, nap when I want! And weeping blades make good company.”

“Now that just sounds sad,” he replied, giving her a pitying glance. “Not to mention wrong. Where as you rely on sneaking and deception, scrounging for your own food – or taking mine – these vermintides have no such limitations. They can march night and day, you’ll fall behind eventually. Why not cross the Apuccini Mountains?” he suggested, raising a hand to their east. “If you’re planning to pass the Border Princes next, as that’s the only way to go after Tilea, cutting through the mountains will save you a lot of time.”

“Instructions say to keep water to right… or was it left?” Skyseeker mused, biting down on a claw. “No, right is right. Mountains too much effort anyway, going south much simpler.”

“I suppose not having you around to nick all my rations would be too much to ask.”

“Ludicrous! Earned every scrap of food. Why Rick-rod so interested in journey-mission?” she asked, jabbing a finger up at him. “Which Clan hired you? Clan Eshin? Sent you to learn my plan-schemes? I knew it!”

“Why would I be a spy for some Skaven Clan?” he asked. “Unfortunate as it may be, the most dealings I’ve had with your kind is with you, Skyseeker.”

After a moment of staring into his soul, she relaxed, Roderick noting she’d once more put a hand on her enchanted dagger. “Keep it that way-way,” she muttered. “My schemes are not for any ears but mine! Keep fat mouth shut.”

“Yes, of course, you have my word.”

“And your food!” she chuckled.

They continued on in silence, cresting another hill, seeing more vast, flat land stretching out before them. Although he was glad to finally know Skyseeker’s intentions, the implications of her mission troubled him. Tens of thousands of rats were moving to seize this relic, that meant it was important to them, and not just superstition.

Duty demanded that he stop such a powerful artifact from falling into Skaven hands, yet he couldn’t convince himself that Skyseeker was a malevolent creature. She was a menace, certainly, pinching his dwindling supplies whenever she could, but she had looked out for him during the ambush, and had trusted him enough to share information on her mission. For a rat that had hidden her gender for a lifetime, that took a lot of guts.

Regardless of what trust bloomed between them, he had to stay vigilant. The possibility this was all just an elaborate ploy on the Skaven’s part could not be denied. Still, there was time to figure her out. Not much, but enough.

-xXx-

They spent another night out on the hills, picking up their journey in the early hours of the next day, so they could spend more time walking before the blaring sun reached its full strength.

As they climbed another hill, the wind blowing back the plumes of his helmet, Roderick was met with a welcoming sight. The way ahead was as ridged and bumpy as the land behind them, but with one discernible difference – he couldn’t see the grass. Treelines sprawled across the uneven horizon, bright flowers adding a healthy splash of colour to the sight. Parts of the vast canopies parted in thick lines, hinting at lakes and rivers twisting away into the meadows. Even a few smoke plumes were trailing up into the clouds, implying households or even settlements.

“We’ve reached the far side of the hills,” he announced, turning to his companion. Skyseeker was trailing behind him a little, as always when they were on the upward slopes, but his words fuelled her with a rush of speed, the Skaven barrelling up to the peak, raising a furry arm to shield her eyes.

“At last!” she cried, then promptly collapsed to the grass, thoroughly depleted of energy.

“Don’t rest just yet,” he said. “We’ve still got two, three more hills to go. Come on.”

He offered her a hand, the Skaven shooting his arm a frown as she reluctantly pulled herself to her feet, giving him a wide berth. She started down the hill, Roderick’s turn to trail behind as she took off at a brisk speed.

“Rick-rod!” she snapped after a while. “Need information on south Tilee-place. How far to end?”

“The end of the peninsula you mean? It’s a long way yet,” he replied. “There’s at least a dozen settlements in the meadoiws between here and there, and beyond them is more untamed woodland. Further than that is… I’m fairly sure is another plain that hugs most of Tilea’s southern edge.”

“Another!” Skyseeker wailed. “How big?”

“Big enough to make these hills look like child’s play. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”

She groaned like an overworked peasant, her initial speedy descent now replaced by a notable drag of her feet. “Come now, did you think crossing a whole country would be simple?” he asked, catching up with her. “I’m surprised your Lord didn’t give you a mount or something to help you along.”

“Tried to take four-legged-thing,” she reminded him. “Man-thing’s fault I have to skitter so far!”

“Hang on, you killed my horse, you fool! You’re the reason we’re both baking our rears off in these hills.”

“Semantics!”

He brought his hand to his face, the chainmail links digging into his forehead as he sighed. “No matter, no use dwelling on it now.”

He followed the Skaven up the next incline, pausing halfway up the slope to rest. He drew his canteen, arching it all the way up to reach the last few drops clinging to the bottom. When his eyes drifted over the clear blue sky, he saw something flit across the sun’s bright aura, momentarily casting him in shadow.

“Wait,” he muttered, squinting into the glare. Skyseeker stopped, peering at him through her opaque goggles.

“What?” she asked curtly, her neck bending at an odd angle as she followed his gaze. “Is that…”

The shadow came and went in the time it took to blink. Through the haze, behind and above them, was a dark spot, framed against the cerulean heavens. It was travelling in a wide circle, steadily losing altitude, Roderick wincing as a sharp sound pierced the air, followed by the noise of a pair of flapping wings, solitary and powerful.

“D-Does it see us?” Skyseeker whispered, her voice trembling as she began to panic.

Roderick didn’t reply, his legs rooted to the spot as the dot continued to circle. He didn’t dare wipe the bead of sweat that had formed to drip over his eye, fearing even the smallest movement would give them away. He had been trained to always be assessing his options, to always have a plan should an unexpected obstacle crop up, but terror had driven such thoughts away, the horrible prospect that he would be eaten alive the only thing on his mind.

When the spot soared to their north, completing a full circle around the pair, it began to grow, first to the size of his thumb, then to the size of a war balloon. He turned and yelled for Skyseeker to run, but his voice was drowned out by a bestial screech, a sound so horrible it ignited a primal terror he had never felt before.

“SCAMPER!” Skyseeker wailed, rushing ahead as Roderick forced his legs to move. They took off in a mad dash over the incline, moving in the direction of the woodlands walling off the edge of the Trantine Hills.

They had crossed into the next valley chain when the beast flapped its wings again, the noise reminiscent of fluttering ship sails. It was much closer. The rolling landscape hadn’t been much of an issue for Roderick, yet now he suddenly found himself losing his footing, every step costing a tremendous effort, the terror gripping him making him feel slower, heavier.

Skyseeker’s pink tail arced over the next incline, the rodent no doubt used to outrunning her pursuers, Roderick heaving beneath his helmet as he tried to keep pace. He didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want see how close his doom was to catching him, but a bigger part of him couldn’t help it, Roderick stealing a glance over his shoulder as he scaled the incline.

It was flying in at a steep arc, like a living cannonball fired from an artillery piece, another great beat of its wings steadying its momentum. The gryphon was close enough he could make out the shape of its irises, a reflective orange shade that was at once predatory and intelligent, rapidly growing in size as it soared over the ground.

His mail leggings rattled and clinked as he rushed down the opposing slope, his eyes on the horizon. The edge of the Trantine Hills had seemed a trivial distance a moment ago, but now they seemed to stretch an impossible away, as though he were experiencing a perverted, horizontal twist of vertigo.

Another flap of wings, close enough that the wind buffeted him from behind. What felt like a rope began to constrict around his lungs as he heard the sound of scraping dirt some distance at his rear. He could see the cause of the sound in his mind’s eye – the beast was raking its claws through the earth as it tailed him, preparing to pluck him up like a bird of prey abducting a helpless rabbit.

He could sense it drawing close, it would be right on his heels in the next few moments. With a sound that was somewhere between a cry of effort and a cry of fear, Roderick threw himself to the side in a desperate dive, feeling a gust of wind bracket his helmet as something flew over his head.

Wiping dust from his eyes, he looked up to see a pair of giant feet clamp together on the spot he’d just vacated, the wicked talons capping the toes snapping together with a sound like giant pairs of scissors. The gryphon loosed a frustrated squawk, Roderick having half a mind to throw off his helmet so he could block out the sound. It was like listening to a thousand nails scrape against a chalkboard.

The beast lifted back into the air on its great wings, preparing for another pass. Roderick was on his feet in an instant, running right beneath the monster’s feet, the beast swooping in arc as it tracked him.

“Man-thing!” he heard Skyseeker call, spotting her standing up on the next hill, waving her arms. “Scamper-go! Tree things here-here!”

The gryphon turned its gaze towards Skyseeker, the Skaven shrieking in fear. Perhaps it thought her an easier target, or perhaps it saw she was covered in fur as opposed to metal like Roderick, deducing she would make a tastier meal. Either way, the gryphon switched its attention to her, balancing on a wing as it fell upon Skyseeker, its feathery coat roiling like the surface of a disturbed pond. Roderick’s pace faltered as the beast slipped behind the slope, the backdraft of its wings causing him to stumble.

Roderic hauled himself up the hill after a few moments, that rope around his chest tightening all the while as he heard Skyseeker cry out in terror. He’d heard people scream for their lives many times before, but hers was something else, the shrill sound chilling his blood.

He looked up to see the gryphon gaining on Skyseeker, the beast landing on the stretch of grass with a thunderous report. It bounded across the ground for a few paces, then lifted one of its forelimbs in a vicious strike, Skyseeker ducking out of the way. Here the grass began to take on a healthier shade of green, the edge of the woodlands within arrow distance. The Skaven rushed towards the treeline, her panting audible even from where Roderick was standing.

The gryphon swiped at her tail again as it gave chase, but Skyseeker avoided the attack, eyes seemingly in the back of her head as she dodged without breaking stride, dropping to the ground in a short slide. The muscles in her thighs shifting, she launched herself the last few feet into the trees, plunging into a wall of ferns, the leaves shaking as she retreated deeper into the woods.

The gryphon loosed its terrible screech as its quarry slipped away, turning its gaze back on Roderick, drawn to his presence by his clanking armour. It propelled itself after him, its four legs as large as some of the trees behind it, the limbs carrying its gigantic body with an ease that shouldn’t be possible for such a bulky creature.

He was almost there, the treeline a stone’s throw away, the gryphon closing in to intercept him, the way it propelled itself bringing to mind images of lions chasing after deer. As Roderick threw himself the last few feet, the beast brought its head down on his right, its avian features framed by a mane of feathers. He would have called his escape close, but the gryphon had come near enough that he could pick out the tiny scars marking the monster’s yellow beak – that was more than just close.

He made to retreat further into the forest, when his foot clipped on a protruding root, and he fell onto his front. The error would have doomed him if not for the two trunks barring the way for the gryphon, the beast too bulky to squeeze through. Roderick flipped over onto his back, crawling away on his ass and elbows as the gryphon shoved one of its front legs through the obstruction, narrowly avoiding crushing his leg by a few precious inches.

He felt something hook around his elbow, Roderick turning to see Skyseeker trying to lift him, despite the fact the Skaven mustn’t have weighed even a third of his overall bodyweight, her feet slipping on the dirt as she wheezed with effort.

“Get up!” she snarled. “Up-Up-Up!”

He did, but as soon as he had, the frenzied gryphon made another attempt to smash through the trees. Using its head like a battering ram, it shoved its face between the trees, its long neck giving it the reach it needed to come dangerously close. It opened its beak, exposing a maw impossibly wide Roderick might have been swallowed whole if the beast managed to catch him. It clamped its mouth shut, the sound of its snapping beak like that of a coffin lid slamming shut, Roderick and Skyseeker recoiling away.

The gryphon reared back on its hindlegs, slamming its shoulder into the trees again, the canopy shaking above them. One of the branches snapped off its trunk, the sound of splintering wood making Roderick’s exhausted heart hammer inside his chest. It was trying to break through, and he didn’t think the trees could stand another impact like that.

It braced itself once more, one of its eyes regarding the pair hungrily as it prepared another shoulder charge. Roderick drew his handgun with practiced speed, thumbing the hammer in a smooth movement that contrasted with the fear gripping his chest. The gunshot was followed by a whiff of gunpowder, the gryphon screeching as the bullet ripped through the side of its head, the impact knocking a handful of its bronzed feathers from its mane, the quills see-sawing slowly to the ground.

Pistol shots would do little to a beast with a skull the size of a boar, but the gryphon had at least been startled enough by the wound, swiping at its feathery face with one of its long claws, like a dog trying to scratch at an itch. By the time it had regained its senses, Roderick’s handgun was primed, the man bracing the barrel against his free arm. The beast’s eyes, narrowing into furious slits, flicked from him to his weapon, an uncanny awareness visible in its expression. It seemed to know that his weapon was the source of its sudden pain, and why wouldn’t it? Gryphons were among the most intelligent, fiercest war beasts in the Imperial army.

Its head rose away on its long neck, but it made no move to penetrate the forest. It moved off to the right, its long tail disappearing behind the ferns. It suddenly reappeared, walking left on its monstrous legs. The beats was trying to look for another way in.

It searched the treeline for a tense few minutes, Roderick and Skyseeker too exhausted and terrified to move. After a time the gryphon decided to move away, retreating back into the hills. It lifted its wings, their span easily the breadth of a tavern, and then took flight, releasing another of its ear-piercing calls as it rose to the sky.

“You alright, lass?” he breathed, watching as Skyseeker collapsed onto the ferns beside him.

“No!” she snapped, giving him a hard look. “Feather thing almost eat-eat me!” Her expression relaxed somewhat as he pulled his helmet off, running a hand down his sweaty face. “Is… Rick-rod alright?”

He shrugged, listening to the far-off sound of flapping wings. It seemed the gryphon had decided they weren’t worth the effort, and had given up in search of easier prey. He’d seen from afar that the woods were bountiful, so they should be safe for the moment.

He reached for his canteen, popping the lid off and holding it over his mouth, but only a scant few drops reached his lips, Roderick scrutinising the neck.

“Fresh out,” he said, his companion sagging her shoulders at the news. They wouldn’t exactly die of thirst, but sprinting for so far in such a short amount of time had taken the wind out of them, his mouth as dry as the hills they’d crossed to get here.

“Listen!” Skyseeker suddenly said, cupping a pink ear beneath a paw. “Sound like water-drink!”

Roderick strained to listen, but all he heard was the gentle rustling of leaves, and the occasional call of a bird – not the gryphon’s, thank Sigmar. “I don’t hear anything,” he said.

“That’s because Rick-rod is stupid man-thing,” Skyseeker replied. “Come from that way-way.”

Her hearing must be far more sensitive than his own, unless she was just imagining things. “Then let’s go check it out,” he said, his chausses rubbing against his shins as he stood.

“W-What, now?” the Skaven asked, peering up at him as she shrunk into the ferns. “Feather-thing still around! We must wait for it to go away!”

“It won’t breach the canopy… probably,” he added, Skyseeker not impressed by his skeptisism. “It flew back to the hills, didn’t you see? It’s given up.”

She peered up at the sky with a worried look on her face, shaking her hooded head as she slinked deeper into the brush. Shrugging, Roderick moved in the direction she’d indicated anyway, leaving her to idle by the treeline. After a few minutes, he heard her scurrying through the undergrowth after him, Roderick knowing full well she would stay on his heels until she had no other choice.

It took a bit of searching, but it turned out Skyseeker had a sharp pair of ears on her head, Roderick picking up the bubbling sound of water after a while. The source turned out to be a flowing stream, cutting a channel of gravel and mud through the vibrant forest, Roderick kneeling by it to dip his canteen beneath the bubbling waterline.

“Looks clean enough to drink,” he commented, able to see the bottom of the riverbed. He could have boiled it to be safe, but his throat demanded a drink, and he lifted the canteen to his lips. The water was pleasantly cool, Roderick downing a whole litre of the stuff before he was quenched. “Tastes well enough,” he added, turning to his companion. “Want some?”

Skyseeker was lingering back in the ferns a good distance from the river, stealing glances between him and the sky. “Throw it,” she whispered, her voice so low he had to ask her to repeat herself. “I said throw it here!”

“Why? Just come take it.”

“Man-thing right in feather-thing’s sight!”

“I already told you, it’s gone.”

The Skaven shook her head no, a sound like that of a sob escaping her pursed muzzle. Their close encounter had really shaken the poor rat woman, Roderick sighing as he got up, and walked over to place the canteen by her feet.

She glanced up at him appreciatively, or maybe she was looking beyond him at the canopy, it was hard to say, then drank greedily. He moved back to the river, splashing his face and neck, relaxing as he rubbed the grime he’d accumulated over the past few days away.

He was content to pause for a rest by the riverside, Skyseeker offering no complaint as she clung to the ferns, only her pink ears visible. He tried to pass the time with conversation, but his comments were met with silence and short one-word rebuttals, Roderick’s annoyance soon growing.

“Come now, Skyseeker, get over here and talk with me. Don’t just slink in the shadows.”

“Shadows safe,” she replied, again in that hushed, trembling voice. Roderick immediately regretted snapping at her, why should he blame her for being so frightened of the gryphon? She’d clearly never seen one before, she had no idea what their capabilities were, and the chance it wouldn’t come back couldn’t be wholly dismissed.

She clung her hood tighter against her face, her whiskers twitching, and Roderick suddenly got an idea.

He grabbed a few handfuls of twigs and leaves, then made his way over, stopping in front of her as she peered up at him curiously. “You want to hide from the gryphon, right?” he asked. The rodent didn’t reply, her answer obvious. “Back in the Empire, our scouts would camouflage themselves against whatever environment they happened to be in, so they wouldn’t be discovered so easily when behind enemy lines.”

“How?” she asked. Her goggles were reflective, but he had a feeling her eyes were wide behind those lenses.

“I’ll show you,” he said, sitting down nearby, placing the bundle of vegetation between his feet. “Give me your cloak.”

“My…?” She inched away from him. “Never! Get your own!”

“I’m not going to steal it,” he reassured, gesturing for her to calm down. “I’m just trying to help. Look here.”

He laid his pack down, Skyseeker inching closer as he flipped open one of the saddlebags, producing a needle and a spool of thread. He’d stolen them from the camp in the event he’d had to sow an injury or repair his gamberson, but sparing a little for Skyseeker wouldn’t be the end of the world.

He started by tying the piece of thread into a mesh pattern, taking his time until it was just under a foot wide. When the thread resembled part of a fishing net, he took a fistful of branches, then looped them onto the mesh at random angles, fastening them tight with a few simple knots. He stuffed some loose leaves into the sparse places between, then held the thread up for her to see.

“You tie this onto your cloak, like this.” He pressed the string and branches against his chest. “That way, you blend in with the environment around you. Here, try it.”

He passed the mesh over, Skyseeker cocking her head as she placed the netting on top of her shoulder. She seemed satisfied with the result, though still a little uncertain. “But, it won’t stick to Skaven.”

“I can sew it on for you, it won’t take long.”

She turned her eyes up as she considered, watching an eagle soar beneath a low hanging cloud, then gave him a long look, stroking a whisker as she contemplated. She eventually made up her mind, reaching up to pull back her hood, exposing her long muzzle to the sunlight. It seemed the hood wasn’t part of her cloak, the Skaven detaching it via two small buttons near the back of the neck. She thrust the hood into his hands, her pink ears swivelling in his direction as he began to work.

The process was a simple matter, Skyseeker inching closer, eager to see what he was doing, and very likely also making sure he didn’t ruin her clothing. When he successfully sewed the shrubbery onto the hood, he handed it back, the Skaven quickly donning it.

“Looks good,” he said, but Skyseeker wasn’t about to take his word for it. Glancing to make sure the gryphon wasn’t lurking, she hopped down to the riverbank, looking at her reflection in the water.

He noted her tail started whipping back and forth, the Skaven turning to him with a bright look on her face. “More camouflagining!” she demanded, bounding back over in such a rush she nearly knocked Roderick over. “Here!”

Her prior hesitation seemingly forgotten, she pulled off her cloak, exposing a pair of slim, but muscular shoulders, her dark fur covered in a layer of moisture that reflected the sunlight. Was that sweat perhaps? Did rats even sweat? His eyes trailed down to her chest, her coat so thin he could pick out every contour of her sinewy muscles. Her bosom was wrapped up in a sling that was barely serviceable enough to be called an undergarment, it had more in common with a bandage than anything.

As she pulled her cloak over her shoulders, she turned, giving him a better look at her shapely profile, Roderick unable to help but admire her figure. The muscles in her exposed abdomen caught his attention, a six-pack that would have put Sigmar to shame cutting defined lines down her torso. She certainly had the body to be jumping and leaping around all the time.

He quickly looked away when she tossed him her cloak, Roderick turning it over in his hands. To say it was a tattered piece of clothing would be an understatement. The edges were frayed, there were holes all over it, the material’s colour long since faded. To him it looked like it had been burned, sewn together, clawed apart, dumped in a vat of bleach, then burned again. This garment, like his old Imperial wargear, had seen a lot of death and action.

He gripped something hard through the fabric, noting the cloak was heavier than it looked, Roderick flipping the cloth over to expose the inlining.

“What in the…? Why do you have so many knives in here?”

The inside of the cloak was dangling with a ridiculous number of pouches and holsters, all of them bulging with weapons of every kind, but mostly knives and daggers.

“More weapons equals more murder-kills!” she answered, Roderick shaking his head as she snickered.

He set about making another mesh, but his gaze kept on wondering over to the Skaven, now wearing nothing but those wrappings over her bosom, and a loincloth over her crotch. She shifted, pressing her stout thighs together, her upper legs unusually large for her stature. No doubt there was a lot of muscle beneath that soft covering of hers, given how she jumped around all the time.

“Why Rick-rod stop?” she asked, the flexible Skaven leaning her head down to block his view of her long legs. She seemed oblivious to his peeping, but he still cobbled together and excuse anyway.

“Just… wondering how you don’t wound yourself with those magic blades of yours,” he said, gesturing to her belt. Just above her loincloth was a strap where she stowed those corrosive daggers, the blades protected by leather scabbards.

“I have… assassins’ paws!” she replied, puffing her chest out and inadvertently giving him a view down her cleavage. “Master of steadiness! What about Rick-rod?”

“How do you mean?”

“Where did warlord know how to… sew string-threads?” she explained. “Look like skill for slaves.”

“I’m not a warlord,” he replied, tying off a loop. Skyseeker shook a claw at him.

“Rick-rod take man-thing’s into battle, give orders, kill things! Skaven call that a warlord.”

“I prefer the term general, and those days are long behind me,” he said. “As for your question, used to dabble in stitching before I served on the front lines, but I’m better with the sword than the needle, as you could probably tell.”

He created another mesh with what thread he had left, and before long, most of Skyseeker’s cloak was covered in foliage. She finished off the personal touches herself by dousing it in dirt, completing the impression she was wearing part of a hedge on her back, then pulled it over her shoulders, poking her ears through the cutouts on the hood’s top.

“How does it look-see?” she asked, brushing an errant leaf that had flittered in front of her face. She dropped into a crouch, turning her head away until she resembled a mound of shrubbery.

“You’re a master assassin now,” he said. She scowled at him, so Roderick quickly added: “That is, a much sneakier master assassin.”

She nodded her approval at that, Roderick reaching down to give the threads a tug, making sure they wouldn’t come loose. Skyseeker watched him pluck over her new gear, squinting at him like one would squint at an adversary. She’d have turned those knives on him in an instant a few days ago, or scurried out of his reach, but instead but she merely watched him fret over her, not moving a muscle as she gave him a strange look.

“Not too tight is it?” he asked, the leaves on her hood rustling as she shook her head.

“Thank you, Rick-rod,” she said, beaming up at him. Up to now she always sounded like speaking came off as an effort, but she said those words with an unusual amount of clarity, her tail starting to sway back and forth again.

“No trouble, lass,” he replied.

-xXx-

“Never felt so glad to see paved stones before,” Roderick said.

After repurposing Skyseeker’s cloak, the pair had set off further into the woods, keeping the river to their right both as a guide and a fresh source of drinking water. Just like the forest where he had first encountered the estranged Skaven, their progress was slowed by thick vegetation and wild terrain, but the natural shielding of the countless trees was a welcome addition.

The treeline from which they’d crossed to escape the gryphon became a distant blur, every cardinal direction turning to untarnished woodlands. Navigating soon became a chore, particularly without a clear view of the sky, but just as Roderick was starting to suspect they were lost, Skyseeker thrust an arm off to their left.

“Look! See thing!”

Roderick squinted, but saw just the same stretches of forest. He asked her to describe what she saw, the Skaven shielding her goggled eyes with a paw. “It looks like… thing!”

He didn’t bother asking her to be more specific, since ‘thing’ seemed to be her favourite word in her vocabulary, but he did wonder just how good her vision was, even without that fancy gadget over her eyes. Moving that way to investigate meant diverting from the river, but the woods were a striking shade of green, finding water in them shouldn’t be too difficult.

The thing she’d spotted came into sight after twenty odd minutes of walking. The carpet of ankle-high vegetation came to a halt further into the trees, where a strip of open ground stretched from the woods to the left and then curved away to the right. The canopy was broken above it, as though the hand of a God had cut a swath through the forest, dying sunlight painting a white ground.

Upon closer inspection, he saw it was no act of a God but of mankind’s. The grass and earth gave way to a path of cobbled stones ten feet wide. Many of the stones were chipped and cracked, parts of the pavement rising higher above the ones that had sunken into the ground. A wagon would have a perilous time using this bend, but dilapidated or not, a road was proof enough that the civilised lands were close.

“Man-things build stone-ground?” Skyseeker asked, bending down to prod at the nearest paved rock. She seemed at once disgusted and intrigued by the landmark. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? It’s far easier to walk on a road than uncultivated ground.” Despite his words, Roderick wasn’t entirely sure about this particular path, it looked like it hadn’t been used in some time.

“Beg to differ!” Skyseeker replied, stepping gingerly onto the cobbles. She hopped over them to the far side, making an effort that only the claws on her toes touched the ground, her arms raised up for balance. She looked like one of those mad people who crossed hot coals without shoes, the rat wincing at every step. “Ow! Rocks hurt paw-feet!”

“Looks like this road leads south and west,” Roderick noted, stepping out and looking up at the canvas of stars appearing through the haze of dusk. “I’d say we follow it, but bumping into a band of wandering brigands again is the last thing I need right now.”

“Again?” Skyseeker echoed, crouched in the bushes nearby. With her improved cloak she almost looked part of the scenery, only her pink muzzle and green goggles giving her away.

“More mercenaries would be worse,” he muttered, ignoring her question. “They see a lone man in plate, first thing they’ll think is deserter. We should stick to the woods, just in case.”

“Stupid plan-scheme,” the Skaven chittered. “Rick-rod not see paw-prints?”

“Prints? What prints?”

She rolled her eyes, moving a short distance down the road, Roderick following her until she stopped by the curb, pointing a claw at the ground. He hunkered down, soon spotting a handful of paw prints, a quick comparison to Skyseeker’s feet confirming their origin. Her eyes were sharper than he thought.

“Skaven stick-stay to plant things,” Skyseeker said. “Move faster on soft ground than stupid road. When I infiltrated Skyre warband – never discovered by the way-way – plants filled with clanrats! Unless man-thing secretly assassin, won’t recommend!”

“So it’s either follow the road and deal with Tileans,” Roderick said. “Or go into the wilds and risk running into a vermintide. Brilliant. Suppose we should stay slightly off the road, just deep enough into the woods so we can keep it in sight.”

“That’s your strategy? We’ll be look-seen by both man-things and rat-things!”

“It’s our best option, unless you have a better plan?”

She opened her muzzle to speak, eventually conceding that she didn’t. After moving off the road for a small distance, they pressed on, Roderick suddenly aware of all the hiding places a Skaven could take advantage of in these woods.

-xXx-

A dry crack echoed through the forest, a pair of startled birds roosting nearby taking to the skies, screeching in surprise. Skyseeker plugged her ears with her fingers, the effort rather vain considering she was crouched in the undergrowth beside him.

As the shot echoed into the distance, the thump of something heavy chased it right after. Roderick lowered his recoiled arm, slotting the pistol into his holster as he rose, and walked in the direction of the shot, Skyseeker watching from her hiding place.

“What is that?” she called out, Roderick stooping to pick up his kill by one of its hooves.

“A deer, I told you before,” he replied, walking past the curious Skaven. He hung the animal over his shoulder like a rucksack, grunting like an old man as he did. The creature was heavier than it looked.

With his rations dwindling, Roderick had to turn to living off the land to keep his belly from going hungry. Foraging through the afternoon had turned up very little, even with Skyseeker’s aid, but he’d been fortunate enough to spot a small herd of deer not far from the beaten road. The gunshot would draw the attention of man and Skaven alike, but it was either risk it, or spend the night starving.

They made camp for the night, the road a short walk to their east, Roderick placing the animal on the ground, its flesh wobbling with the impact. He set about making a fire, the process as natural as walking at this point, Skyseeker curling into a ball at the firelight’s edge as he worked.

When the flames blossomed, he knelt beside the carcass, producing his dagger. He set about butchering the animal, pressing the hand on the hilt and driving the blade deep. Before long, he had cut out a pile of sizeable venison. He speared a chunk onto a stick, then held it over the fire, rotating it so it cooked all over.

The moment it was sufficiently browned, he sank his teeth into the meat, his stomach grumbling in approval as he swallowed it down. “Mm, feels good to not be eating jerked meat for once,” he muttered, reaching to cook another piece.

As he roasted the meat, he glanced over at Skyseeker, the Skaven watching him through her green goggles. She’d said very little that afternoon, even before he’d told her to keep quiet while he hunted the deer. When she noticed he was watching her, she quickly aimed her muzzle up, pretending to watch the sky.

“You can have some if you’d like,” he said, the Skaven perking up. She made to crawl closer, then hesitated.

“N-Nothing to deal-trade,” she said, drooping her head as though admitting to some grave error. “Man-thing have last olives, have all information. Unless… you want weapons?”

“You’d give me your enchanted daggers?” he asked, blinking at her. She turned her eyes up in thought, and when she didn’t say anything for a solid minute, Roderick broke the silence. “I wasn’t being serious. We can share food without trading anything, lass, don’t worry about it.”

“Freebies?” she asked, her tail thumping on the ground behind her. “No! Trickery! Nothing’s for free!”

Roderick shrugged, driving a stick into the ground, the meat impaled on in its tip dripping blood. Skyseeker had the expression of a particularly indecisive cat, one that oculdn’t choose whether to bolt or stay. She soon began to inch closer, hands and feet brushing the grass as she stalked, her nostrils twitching as the scent of food permeated the camp.

She snatched up the stick, Roderick grimacing as she tore straight into the pink meat without a second thought. Her metabolism was far different to his, she was a walking rat after all, but the sight was shocking enough that he had to say something.

“Don’t you want to cook it?” he asked.

“Why? Meat juicy like this!”

“There’s nothing better than some lightly smoked venison. Go on, give it a try.”

He prompted her to hold the stick over the flames, the Skaven rolling her eyes as she complied. She roasted it for as long as he could convince her, then shoved it into her muzzle, her eyes lighting up as she chewed.

“Better?” he asked, a bulge sliding down her throat as she swallowed.

“Delectable… BARELY,” she admitted, Roderick chuckling as he took a bite of his own. Her choice of words was so diverse, ranging from simple to articulate in the blink of an eye, it was almost cute in a way.

“You are strange thing,” Skyseeker suddenly said, crossing her long legs as she sat to his left. She slid her goggles onto her brow, her red eyes reflecting the flames as she peered up at him.

“Indeed? How so?”

“When Skaven work-scheme together, must have vigilance. Not know who-where next stab will come from. My ingenious Lord forbade Mors rats from stabbing other Mors rats, but treachery still exists in Skavenblight, rats always going missing when Lord’s not present. Must keep one eye on closest clanrat, other on his knife at all times! Ally one minute can be enemy in next, but you, man-thing… you honour deal, give food when nothing can be taken!”

“Is the prospect of sharing really that foreign to your kind?” he asked.

“When I started journey-mission, astute Lord Gnawdwell gave stormvermin food, to give to me as parting gift! But when time came for me to leave Skavenblight, stupid rat kept it for himself! Even crimson guard rat’s don’t share.”

“That does sound rather insensitive,” he said, grabbing another skewer for himself. “Well, good thing for you I’m not a rat, eh?”

“Explain!” she demanded. “Man-things fight-kill Skaven, Rick-rod shoot Skyseeker many yesterdays, almost kill-killed before we made deal-pact, now Rick-rod gives away food for nothing? Illogical!”

“We’re not fighting anymore, are we?” he asked. “We’re far beyond the point of causing one another harm, so why would I let you starve? Besides, it would be a terribly boring journey if I had to walk halfway across this blasted country by myself. Rather talk with a rat than myself.”

“Rick-rod is speaking things, but isn’t saying anythings! Rick-rod must be scheming evil scheme, not do so out of kindness... nothing for free, no…”

She glanced away, muttering to herself, spitting a frustrated growl his way as she talked under her breath. She genuinely believed his selfless act of feeding her was a total fabrication. Perhaps nobody had ever treated her like this before, and throwing accusations was her way of making sense of it, Roderick feeling a pang as he regarded the mumbling rat woman. Maybe he should try a different approach, say something she would believe if it meant she’d accept his goodwill.

“Think of it this way,” he said. “You fought with me against those Skaven, right? Then you warned me about those tracks leading into the woods. Consider this repayment for your efforts.”

Her demeanour flipped, Skyseeker looking rather proud of herself as she sliced another piece of venison from the carcass. “Haha! See? Told man-thing I’d make best companion!”

“I’m sure you did,” he chuckled.

“And… for record,” Skyseeker added, looking bashfully away as she took a bite of her meal. “I also think… talking with man-thing… better than talking to rats or no rats, even if Rick-rod’s intentions are mysterious and secret!”

Roderick smiled. Admitting that he was finding himself comfortable in a Skaven’s presence, now that was illogical, but it was the truth, and he imagined he’d miss the peculiar little rat when she was gone.

-xXx-

What followed was four days of hiking through deep woods, the scenery changing little apart from a few winding rivers and steep gullies. The weather remained clear, a serene breeze cooling the fur on Skyseeker’s arms, the way it filtered through the leaves creating a quiet ambience she’d not experienced since first setting foot onto the blighted marshes.

The dark canopy covering her from the sky was a welcome sight after spending all that time beneath the open skies of the hills. Skaven were raised to live and die in the under-empire, and it was simply unnatural to dwell out in the open for so long. The warriors of the vermintides got used to it after a time, too distracted by feasting and fighting perhaps, but Skyseeker wasn’t looking forward to leaving this forest anytime soon, their encounter with the gryphon was still fresh on her mind, and it would stay fresh for years to come. Her glands had never felt so thoroughly drained then when that monster had almost caught her.

At least the man-thing’s gift would give her a chance to elude the overgrown bird if it ever caught up with her, Skyseeker tugging the leafy cloak tighter over her shoulders, listening quietly to her companion’s odd accent. They spoke of many unremarkable things to pass the time during those four days, but there was one particular point of conversation that stood out among the others.

When the sun reached its highest point in the sky, the man-thing – no, Roderick he called himself – had called for a break, grunting as he sat down upon the edge of a small clearing, shaking his long fur out as he flipped his helmet off. Its colour was similar to dirt, long enough to pool around the plates protecting his neck. It looked soft, not as soft and maintained as her implacable fur, of course, but its dark colour and texture was very unusual.

Regaining her concentration, she opened her muzzle to chide him that he was prolonging the walking with all this resting he was doing, but held back at the last moment. She could feel the heat radiating off his suit of armour, its added weight helping very little now that their enemies weren’t around. She decided that chiding him later would be the better approach, Skyseeker joining him as she sat in the grass beside him.

“Why does Rick-rod scurry away from Tilee-place man-things?” she asked, chewing on a piece of leftover venison. They’d carried what they could from the deer he’d shot, Skyseeker stuffing every free pouch and pocket, her cloak stinking of fresh meat. “Rick-rod not like other man-things?”

“Would you introduce yourself to the next Skaven you saw?” he asked back. Their travels across the foothills had not been entirely isolated. At one point during a night (she couldn’t remember which), it had been her turn to keep vigilant watch over their camp, and during one of her quick power naps something had startled her awake. She’d hopped to her feet, her blades glinting in the night as she slipped them from their sheathes, spotting torchlight flickering through the trees, the murmur of man-thing conversations reaching her sensitive ears.

Her next move had not been to swing her weeping blades and go to battle, though the idea certainly crossed her brilliant mind. Instead, she’d let her glands squeeze out their fear musk, then moved to wake Roderick. She’d told herself it was because he was more experienced with interacting with man-things, but the truth was a lot more shameful than she cared to admit. She’d layered the woods with her fear-musk, like a skavenslave who’s just been caught slacking off by his master, and her glands only stopped spraying when Roderick was awake, able to watch her back as the man-thing patrol moved away. Feeling his eyes on her still made her fur itch, but it itched not because of discomfort, but because she just wasn’t used to having someone simply look at her for any length of time.

“Suppose not,” she admitted, pausing to eat her third breakfast. Before them was a gentle slope, the meadow upon it filled with yellow flowers shaking in the gale, the forest beginning again on the far side. “But I am breeder,” she added. “I have reason to hide. What yours?”

“These lands may be held by men, but they are not part of the Empire,” he replied, leaning his hands on his knees. “Many Imperials have attempted to change that in times past, but to no avail. Tilean-Empire relations nowadays are mostly in the realm of trade.”

“Then, they are Empire friends? Rick-rod not making sense.”

“Friends on parchment, sure,” he replied. “But the distance between my homeland and this place is far, and things tend to become a little… muddled, when one travels to the other. Our relations with these people are as tenuous as a taut piece of wire. They’re not exactly pleased about our efforts to annex them, but they’re still willing to trade with us, if only because few other great powers will.”

“Understanding,” she muttered. “Great Clans diplomacy, much the same-same, except in Skavenblight Clan Lords sleep in same city! Make for very interesting days sometimes. Big street fights happen all the time, and are very profitable! Man-thing relations have much in common with Skaven it seems!”

“No, they don’t,” he insisted. “Your case might make some leeway with the squabbling Tilean city-states, but the Empire is cut from a whole other cloth.”

She had no idea what the adage meant, but she pressed on without asking about it. “Empire not have squabblings? No street fights or usurpations? Sound boring!”

“We have… some of those things, sure,” he admitted. “We are not perfect, any who claim we are is a fool, but our weaknesses are derived from certain individuals, not the whole. It’s been said that the teachings of Sigmar have been gently curtailed over the centuries, and that those with too little faith, or too much money, have been allowed to rise to power, and weaken the true nobility of the Empire.”

“Rick-rod said Empire was best place before,” Skyseeker said. “Now you say it’s weak place? How you know that?”

“Because I am one of those people,” he said. “It’s no secret my family’s wealth is substantial. I was gifted every advantage I could get when I enlisted, and I cut so many corners my career started to look like a circle. Now it’s all come back to bite me in the rump, hasn’t it? I’ve not set foot, let alone seen my homeland in what feels like a lifetime.”

“You’ll go back,” she said, waving a paw. “Rick-rod is warlord! Empire sound like it needs all warlords it can get!”

“If it even has use of me any longer,” he replied, clutching his elbows in his hands. He looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. “My faith in Sigmar was tested, that day I assaulted that village captured by the secessionists. Those who wanted me exiled claimed I had failed both Sigmar and the Emperor himself, and not a day goes by where I haven’t wondered if they’re right.”

“Sound like discontent weaved from rival Clan!” she replied. “Man-thing should not listen to lies unless you want it to be truth.”

“But what if it is true?” he asked. “What if my faith has wavered? Why would the Emperor accept me back into the fold after what I did?”

She felt an odd sensation course through her, one that demanded she reassure him somehow. Skyseeker did that in the only way she knew how, by reaching out, and slapping him roughly across the arm. The gesture hurt her more than him, his vambrace too thick for her claws to slice him, but the move got his attention, his blazing eyes turning on her.

“Rick-rod being stupid once again!” she snarled.

“W-What did you say?”

“IF! If if if if if! That’s all I hear-hear! Man-thing spending so much think-thoughts on superstitions! Rick-rod think I worried over what would happen when sensational Lord chose me for mission? No! Well, a perhaps few times… but that’s not point! Didn’t let superstitions stop me-me, except for that one… no, two times…”

“But what if I make the same mistakes again?” he lamented. “Exile would look like a vacation in comparison to what would happen.”

“Rick-rod doing it again! Man-thing needs to stop looking backwards,” she snapped, jabbing a claw against his chestplate, the little clinks the contact made echoing through the woods. “Start looking forwards! When deals are done, rats don’t look at warpstone spent, rats look at thing purchased! Past is dead, future isn’t. Past is spent, future is purchased. Stupid man-thing understand? Yes-Yes?”

“That… might be the first sensible thing you’ve said to me, Skyseeker,” he muttered, glancing at her. “Can’t believe I’m taking life lessons from a rat, but… there is wisdom in your words, lass.”

“Man-thing lucky I am so wise and patient. Now!” she suddenly shouted, rising off the ground. “If you’re done waste-losing time, we have tails to move! Up! And no more sulking!”

She gave his arm a wrench, too weak to actually move him but trying anyway, Roderick watching her vain efforts with a grin.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, picking up his things as he stood. “You’ve an interesting way of comforting me, but I appreciate the sentiment. Truly. I’ve not had the chance to… talk about these things with anyone, not since leaving Reikland.”

“Not… had chance to speak-talk before either,” she replied, his earnest tone catching her by surprise. Every conversation she’d ever held with a rat had always resulted in one side or the other getting stabbed, the exception being her meeting with Lord Gnawdwell, and that could have gone a very different way if he hadn’t made Skyseeker his Champion. Being able to converse with Roderick, without worrying about him trying to murder her, was an oddly liberating experience. “If man-thing want to talk about… things,” she murmured. “Skyseeker’s ears are open. But talk while walk! Efficiency!”

“That I’ll do.”

-xXx-

“They end!” Skyseeker shouted. “Dreaded Horned Rat, they really end!”

Roderick panted a little ways behind her as he crested the hill, Skyseeker perching at its apex as she peered out over the world. The looming mountain ranges that had formed a barrier to the east had finally begun to descend, the towering peaks curdling to the ground as she swept her eyes from their left to their right. Two days ago, they had lowered to a point they weren’t so steep enough as to be impassable, yesterday they had dropped to an elevation rivalling that of the Trantine Hills, and today she could see the point they came to an end, that barrier crumbling to an arrowhead formation at a mark some distance to the south east.

Said arrowhead was coated in brush and trees as it dipped toward the landscape, conjoining to the curdled woods that carpeted the countryside. From Roderick’s descriptions of the province, Tilea was a narrow peninsula, and the ranges ended at its southern tip. Beyond the mountains, the world would begin to slope towards the seashore, and it was there that this leg of her quest would come to its end.

“Told you they would,” Roderick said, pausing behind and to her right somewhere. “Give it another day or so, and Tilea will be but a memory.”

“More like nightmare,” she whispered, raising a claw. “Think little mountains are safe to cross-walk?”

“I’ve heard talk of many dwarven tunnels channelling through those mountains, but I don’t think an assassin such as yourself would have any trouble outmanoeuvring them.”

His words inspired her, and she felt as though the relic she sought for was so very close, like it was but one skitterleap away, lying there on the foot of the slopes on the far side, just waiting for her claws to touch it.

“Well then. I’m afraid this is where I must leave you, Skyseeker.”

She whipped around hard enough she cracked her neck, her confidence shattering into shards that cut a pit inside her stomach. He was staring off into the distance, not at the ending mountain range, but at something on the horizon, motionless beneath all his armour.

“What-What?” she demanded. Now the relic didn’t feel so close anymore. In fact, it felt further away than ever. “Rick-rod leaving?”

“As I said, I have my own business here in Tilea.”

All she could remember was him denying any existence of his personal mission, then keeping its details a secret when she found him out. Still, she’d come to take his company for granted, the notion that she and him would one day part slipping her mind altogether.

“S-Surely man-thing walk me to end of mountains! Not that far…”

The plumes on his helmet flittered as he glanced down at her. “Lass, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sounded almost disappointed just now.”

She clutched her ears in her paws, the fur on her face warming. Forget disappointed, she’d pleaded those last few words, and she hated herself for ever voicing them. She didn’t need a man-thing to accompany her, she didn’t need anyone! She was Skyseeker, Gnawdwell’s chosen breeder! She had the foul blessings of the Lord and the Horned Rat, nothing was unachievable!

But it had not been blessings and titles that had seen her through these lands. The gryphon abomination would have devoured her if she had not been with Roderick, and she was certain more monsters stood between her and the relic. Monsters, and other things far worse than these humans. Could her uncanny skills as an assassin keep her alive forever? She was clever, conniving, but not conniving enough for the gryphon…

She felt Roderick’s eyes on her, and for a long time neither of them said anything, a break in the wind creating an empty moment of silence. It was broken when she heard the creaking of armour, and she peeked around a hand to see Roderick hunkering down in front of her.

“Perhaps… we could travel on for a little longer.”

She smiled at him, an expression she had not ever done when not within ten feet of a piece of warpstone, that pit in her stomach washing away. “Then let’s move tails!” she squeaked, setting off down the hill.

“Just a moment,” he added hurriedly, seizing her by the arm, the contact making her bristle. Letting herself be grabbed was also something she had never done before, at least without killing the grabber soon after. Despite his brazenness, she felt no urge to stab the man-thing, and the realisation was both alarming and soothing at the same time.

“I… must tell you something, lass,” he began, chewing his lip before he continued. “Thought about this for a while now, and I’ve come to the conclusion that, since we are not enemies, I may as well be truthful to you. Hope that you feel the same way.”

“Secrets?” she asked, leaning her muzzle closer to his strange, flat face.

“Yes, secrets. I told you that I came here because I was exiled, but there is a reason I came to Tilea specifically, and that’s because I’ve got a task of my own.”

“Task? What task?”

For a moment he said nothing, a subtle shift in his eyes betraying his next words. “I think you already know that, lass.”

For a second she was bewildered, and then it hit her, and suddenly everything made a lot more sense. She had called Roderick stupid many times, but she had been the stupid one for not realising sooner. It is not just the Skaven who are aware of the weapon’s emergence from the sands, Lord Gnawdwell’s words echoed through her thoughts. Man-things, green-things, strange-things and dead-things, we would be fools to think we are the only ones who are aware of this resurgence of power.

“You… Rick-rod want relic-thing?”

Roderick sighed, then nodded. “The Imperial magicians spoke of a growing power somewhere out in the deserts. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“…You, want relic thing,” she stated, shrugging.

“Until you told me about your mission, I assumed all these vermintides were just coincidence that they’re happening now of all times, but I see it’s not just the Empire who’s after the artifact. If the Skaven sensed its presence, then surely other powers have as well. Wouldn’t be surprised if the whole continent is trying to stake a claim.”

“You want relic thing!” she said again, her brain so ingenious that it couldn’t process such a bonkers claim, no matter how much she repeated it.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, lass,” he said, her ears perking up as he continued. “Wasn’t sure whether or not I could trust you… or how you’d react.”

“No apologising needed,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t tell me either about task-mission. Horrible at keeping secrets, as man-thing know-knows.”

He spread his arms out wide. “Well, you have them all now, Skyseeker, for better…. or worse.”

He fell silent again, and she felt a strange tension permeate the air between them, his expression similar to the one he wore when she first proposed her deal to him. Every bone in her body should be demanding that she slay this rival for even thinking about taking the relic from her. She could almost hear Lord Gnawdwell and the Horned Rat pleading her to murder him with her weeping blades. She may very well have done these things without a second thought several days ago, but her conflicted mind stayed her paws.

She could not slay him, he was an ally… right? Was he really an ally, if he wanted the relic too? He had treated her with kindness, had given her food without expecting anything in return. Foolish as those acts may be, it made her feel guilty for ever thinking of doing the man-thing harm. She ran a paw down her muzzle, burrowing her claws into her fur in an attempt to reach her stupid skull. Even with her immaculate intelligence, she found herself stumped. For the first time since her mission began, she didn’t know what to do.

“Man-thing always bringing problems!” she complained, throwing her paws up in frustration. “Lord’s quest was simple! Go to desert, get thing, bring back. Now brain filled with confusion!”

“They say plans never survive contact with the enemy,” Roderick replied. “Not to suggest I’m you’re enemy, of course. Bit of a conundrum, isn’t it?”

“I have plan!” she insisted, Roderick tracking her as she paced back and forth. “I will have plan!” she corrected, stuffing a thoughtful claw into her mouth, then spitting it out with a grumble. “Argh… don’t have plan.”

“Perhaps… I do,” he suggested, Skyseeker urging him to go on. “Why not pool our efforts? We’re both after the same thing, it’d make sense that we’d have a better chance of claiming the artifact if we joined forces.”

“Rick-rod want to… share relic?” she asked, the muscles in her jaw turning to mush. “Preposterous!”

“We’ve worked together well enough so far, haven’t we? Why not take it a step further? I have the means to get us to the desert quickly, you’re attuned to magic, skilled with a blade, the relic would be as good as ours. Besides,” he added, grinning behind his helmet. “We wouldn’t have to say our goodbyes if we kept travelling together, would we?”

Skyseeker used the dials in her goggles to zoom in on his face, the man-thing giving her a quizzical look as his image bloomed. She could see tension in his eyes, as though he was expecting this revelation of his to end in violence, though he was not reaching for his weapon. Curious. If this was all just another trick, like she suspected, he was playing the part well.

She dialled her goggles back, considering his offer, the fact that she was on the receiving end of a deal a nice change of pace. Despite having no notion of the relic’s properties, Skyseeker had an inkling that it was not something that could be shared with another. The relic was for one set of paws, to be used by one, and she would do anything to make sure that one was her – and then paw it off to Lord Gnawdwell right after, of course. Still, his intent was to help her, and she knew that his word could be trusted.

“Man-thing… makes good point,” she admitted, not elaborating which point had convinced her more. “Not that Skyseeker needs ANY help getting relic!” she hurriedly added, holding up a claw. “Perfectly capable! But, new deal-pact wouldn’t hurt… Very good-good, Rick-rod. I accept!”

The man-thing sighed, his relief palpable as he flashed her a small smile. “Thank Sigmar. You took the news better than I expected. Thought we’d have a little repeat of our fight all those weeks ago,” he said, confirming her suspicions.

She rolled her eyes at him, giving his plated arm a slap. “Why would I attack man-thing? Lose source of treats if I did! And questions!”

“Thought you didn’t like all my questions?” he asked, smirking at her.

“Rick-rod questions… exemplified! Speaking of which, have own question. Man-thing said you have quick way to deserts? Elaborate.”

“Knew you’d be interested in that,” he chuckled. He lifted a finger to the west. “There’s a place not far from here, a port city. An Imperial ship there can take us straight across the seas to the shores of the desert.”

“A ship? Don’t have to hoist-hoist sails, do I?”

“You’d have to put some effort in,” he replied, Skyseeker sagging like melting wax. “Don’t be like that. We can always walk the rest of the way through this country, if that’s your wish.”

“Take ship any day!” she said, straightening up again, giving Roderick a shove when he just gave her a strange look. “Well? What man-thing waiting for! Move tail!” she ordered, skittering off in the direction he’d indicated. “Our secret mission needs plenty-lots of haste!”

“Then let’s make it so,” he answered, hurrying along after her, the sun beating across the stretches of land they had yet to cross.

-xXx-

“Rick-rod never told me how it has ship in place full of enemies,” Skyseeker began, speaking over the noisy crickets infesting the wildgrass surrounding her, the annoying insects evading her sight even with the goggles’ help.

“You remember how I said I was imprisoned, just before my exile?” he replied, everything from his neck down obscured by the campfire between them. “Well, I would have rotted away in the dungeons if not for an old acquaintance of mine who’d caught wind of my plight.”

He stared into the flames, light and shadow highlighting the ridges and bumps in his alien face. Night had come quickly after spending another afternoon traversing the country, with their shadows stretching long behind them.

“Sound like useful ally,” she noted.

“He’s more than that. Wilfred’s a part of the Wizard’s Conclave, a druid. Tried teaching me how to wield magic a few times. Failed on every account. My hands were born to hold steel, not staves, that’s what he told me. It was I learned of the artifact, or relic as you call it, from him. Told me he sensed it on the winds, or something like that, and managed to strike up a bargain with the Emperor himself. If we could bring it back to the Empire, my position as general, and the people’s faith in me, would be restored. Naturally I accepted.”

“Didn’t you say Empire Lord would take you back when you learnt lesson? Lesson about… leaning things?”

“I… may have twisted the truth a little there,” Roderick admitted. “Learning to put the needs of others before my own was actually Wilfred’s parting advice, just before I set off for the border of the Empire.”

“Still haven’t told me how you have ship, Rick-rod.”

“Right. Wilfred’s idea,” he explained. “While I journeyed south, he would stay in the Empire for a time, gathering what support he could for our expedition into the deserts. He would sail south, and reconvene with me Portomaggiore – where you and I are currently heading. I had planned to arrive in the city much sooner, take it easy for a few days, but after the ruckus you Skaven have caused, and that damned mercenary who swindled service out of me, it seems he’ll be doing the waiting around.”

“Why man-thing walk instead of taking ship?” she asked. “You like killing paw-feet?”

“The Emperor couldn’t let me go walking about the land freely, not after promising the people I would be punished. There would have been outcry, not to mention all those looking to put a dagger in my back. The people needed to see my exile firsthand, and thrusting me into the Vaults was the only way to satisfy them.”

“This… Fredwil,” she began, changing the subject. “He your protector? Parentrat?”

“What?” He blinked, chuckling at her. “No, no, he’s not my father, polar opposite in fact. He’s more of an old friend, literally and figuratively.”

“Polar opposite? Your parentrat isn’t old?”

“I mean to say, that my family isn’t all that impressed with magic users.” She asked him why, the question making him laugh again. “Odd story, that. When I was a boy, this traveller happened across our vineyard one day. He claimed he could make our next harvest the biggest one to date, for only a handful of coins. Business wasn’t exactly booming, so father took him up on the offer, thinking it would be a steal. The stranger took out this pouch of dust, sprinkled it on the crops, then told us to wait, beating quite the hasty retreat as he did.”

“Then what happened? WAIT! I want to guess! Guess crops died painfully?”

“Nope. In fact, the next yield was the largest my parents had ever seen in their lifetimes. Spent more time harvesting than we did planting. Spirits soared, nobody could believe how lucky we were, at least until the moment I decided to take a bite of one of the grapes.”

“Bad?” she asked.

“Lass, it was like chewing into a pair of soiled underpants. The charlatan had been true to his word, but the cost of the bounty was its quality. A more vile berry you could never imagine, I can still taste its putrid vapour even today.”

She snickered behind her hand. “How much did deal cost you?”

“More than we’d like to admit. Father had said it was a steal, but technically it was a robbery. To say my family has never been fond of magicians since is an understatement. Perhaps that’s why I can’t understand magic. Bloodlines, you know?”

She would have liked to meet this charlatan, he seemed as sly as a Skaven, probably was one, only a rat could devise such an ingenious scheme.

“What about you, Sky?” Roderick asked. It took her a moment to understand that he was referring to her. Shorthanding her name seemed like a stupid way of speaking, but she didn’t comment on it. “What’re your parents like?”

“Not know much about father rat,” she said, hugging her knees against her chest. “Only theories. Strongest rats are only ones allowed to breed a breeder. Had theorised it could be Queek himself! Fur as dark as mine-mine!”

“You’ve never met your father?”

“And never plan to! He’d sell me to warlords for favours if I ever did! That’s what-what I’d do!”

“And your mother? Know who she is?”

She clutched at her legs a little tighter. “Mrmm… perhaps.”

“Well do you, or not?”

“I… not sure,” she answered. “Not know how things in man-thing places work, but breeders spend no time with litterpups. That ratwives job! Ratwives are slaves too weak to serve warlords,” she explained.

“I could never imagine a life without knowing who my kin are, it must be terrible.”

She wasn’t sure how to answer such a remark, so she just shrugged. He caught onto her change of mood, offering her an apology as he dropped the subject. He was getting good at reading her body language, a little too good, perhaps, not that it bothered her very much. Which, ironically, did bother her a lot.

“Well, my turn on watch, isn’t it?” he asked, standing up. “Get some sleep, lass, got a long day tomorrow, but hopefully the last one we have to spend in these woods.”

“Where you going?” she inquired.

“To fetch some more firewood. Back before you know it, don’t worry.”

“I won’t,” she whispered when the man-thing stalked off into the wilderness, Skyseeker settling on her arm as she curled up on herself.

-xXx-

Rough, cold rock.

That was the first sensation she comprehended, how the crumpled stone dug into the soft, underdeveloped flesh on her paws, her fingers wiggling in odd directions as she tried to comprehend the world around her. The lack of a world was a better way to put it, for she was blind, swirling darkness greeting her wherever she flexed her delicate neck.

Warmth, that was the second sensation she recognised, a heat radiating from somewhere to her flank. Driven by pure instinct, she willed her feeble arms in its direction, her belly sliding over that uneven, hard flooring as she crawled. Every pull of her flimsy paws burned her from the inside, but they brought her one inch closer to that promising heat, every next movement a little bit easier than the last.

A muted squeal left her furless muzzle as she stumbled in her quest, the crook of her arm digging into a piece of sharp rock, her weak flesh splitting in a fine, long mark. The sting shooting up her limb was unbearable, but she did not slow down, her instinct to move driving her forward.

Her questing paws soon touched a lump of scraggy hair and skin, and after a bit of exploratory groping, she pulled one rearpaw over it, as mounting the lump was the faster way towards the warmth. She slipped in her attempt, her back compressing against the ground hard, fortunately not cutting herself again in the process. The second try was better, the claws on her feet burying into a crease in the lump for purchase. The obstacle she mounted hissed in response to her intrusion, a sound that sent a chill down her spine. Hesitating in the face of instinct would spell disaster, so she did her best to ignore it, speeding up her climb as she pressed on.

Placing one forearm in front of the other, she struggled her way towards the source of that warmth, until her snout bumped against a sheer wall. She brushed it with her paws, her sense of touch helping to map out a mental image of its shape. It was mostly flawless, the malleable flesh squishing as she pressed her fingers into it, the heat practically baking her paws. She slid a paw to the left, her palm connecting with a flaw in the otherwise smooth wall. It was a protrusion, longer than her biggest finger, pointing out of an orb that served as its base.

Compelled by nothing, she opened her muzzle, her tendons aching as she stretched them to capacity. She leaned over, sealing her fleshy lips over the nodule.

A thick, tasty chemical splashed against the back of her throat, a warble of delight leaving her muzzle as she sucked it down greedily. She could feel the strength in her body grow with every gulp, her fatigue from the crawl giving way to vigour, her aches melting away. Even the muscles in her biceps seemed to expand, though that might have just been her excitement at finally discovering taste getting the better of her…

Blissful growth maintained itself for moments that felt like years, until the lump behind her started to shift, draw closer. It was terribly difficult to peel her muzzle away from the little nodule giving her that magical sustenance, but some part of her mind nagged at her that danger was close, and she willed herself to stop feeding on that oh-so-sweet nectar for just a second.

She may have been blind in that moment, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t see. As that hiss repeated itself, the noise burning into her mind, the lump closing in coalesced into a wraith of darkness, brought into being by senses other than sight. One end of the lump began to split open, little sharp points forming two twin rows between the parting halves. Before she had the time to count said points, they came down, and spiked straight into her face.

Unable to scream, she was reduced to wailing out a series of muted shrieks, the little stumps that were her forelegs batting helplessly against the lump’s clamping jaws. Had she not turned her soft head in the lump’s direction, those little teeth would have sliced straight into her throat, rather than pierce into the underdeveloped bone of her tiny skull, missing her eyes by the width of a whisker. She would never stop thanking the part of her that had saved her fur. In fact, she would reward it to the point the warnings would never stop coming, her very first masterful plot.

Her little squeaks were only answered with more pressure from the teeth, her skinless muzzle set alight with raw pain. There were other lumps all around them, but they ignored the commotion, wriggling and fighting for the nodule she had just vacated.

She remembered feeling the little nubs that were her fingers, and the little spiky claws protruding out of them. They reminded her of the teeth currently plunging into her face. Brandishing the claws on her right paw, she swung it in a savage arch, ready to return the favour and cave the lump’s skull in.

In her burgeoning lust for vengeance, she did not hit the lump, her fingers falling short as she made contact with the wall, completely forgetting about it in her addled state. Her fingers raked across the pudgy mountain in four distinct lines, warm trickles of fluids splashing against her palm.

Her thin ears twitched as something howled, a scream so powerful and booming that even the lump that was biting her stopped its incessant chewing, mewling just as much as she was as their sensitive ears were tortured.

Whatever was causing the sound was gigantic, and she’d just cut it. Not the best scheme, especially when she was just minutes old.

Impending doom gripped her as she felt a presence larger than the lump appear from above, a blotch of darkness stretching out from the top of the wall. It began to spread apart, five long shapes jutting from the blotch, the shape racing towards the place she and the other lump struggled.

She knew it would be useless to run from that shape bearing down on her, but she went on trying anyway, questing paws struggling to find purchase on the other lumps as she crawled away, face and arms wet with her own blood.

The shape caught her, its span longer than the entire length of her body, darkness cradling her on all sides. She squealed as she was picked off the ground effortlessly, feeling herself travel an incomprehensible height, her tiny form quivering as she wondered what cold doom this giant shape was taking her to.

She felt light touch her clasped eyelids as the shape bloomed open, revealing her to the naked scrutiny of the thing’s owner. She could feel it drawing closer, hot breath washing over her small body, soothing the goosebumps that had curdled her naked skin. The sensation would have been rather pleasing under different circumstances.

“Unruly pup,” a deep, commanding voice boomed. “Already putting claws to use. You will make a good-good vermin in the Lord’s army.”

The owner of the voice leered closer, and she scrambled away until her butt hit the curve of her new prison, her stumpy tail squashing against her back. Just like the few moments before the lump had taken a bite out of her face, she sensed more sharp teeth coming close, these ones longer than the length of her entire body. Whoever this speaker was, it would have no trouble devouring her.

She waited for the killing blow, but instead of feeling the sharp stab of a bite, a warm, pliable mass pressed into her front, smearing her in a slimy sheen. The tapered tip started from her belly, trailing up towards her muzzle, cleaning her of the sticky clumps of amniotic fluid glued to her body. She grumbled when the fleshy mass passed over a few pairs of sensitive points on her chest, and the voice faltered as it noticed her discomfort.

“Wait. You are… different.”

She felt a pressure fall between her legs, the owner of the voice prodding her in search of something. When it appeared satisified, it resumed its quest in smearing her in warm slaver, covering every inch of her until finally drawing the wet mass over her clamped eyes.

The flesh doted on her sockets, her gelatinous eyes shifting as the voice put pressure on her lids, inadvertently clearing away the drops of blood leaking out of the holes in her snout. The way her eyes seemed to get pushed back into her skull made her squirm in agony, but she would come to learn that pain was the first step on the road to strength, and before long she felt the muscles in her eyelids start to grow, then harden. She willed her eyes to open, first to tiny slits, then to giant orbs of wonder as she took in her first sights of the world.

A giant face filled the forefront of her vision, the end of a long muzzle suspended inches away from hers. She could see monumental walls of rock framing the head far in the backdrop, curving up toward a high ceiling, ominous green light casting the notches of stone into harsh shadow.

There was so much to comprehend, so much she didn’t understand, but she found it easier to focus back on the face, a vague sense of recognition calming her racing heart. She looked into the two red orbs it had for eyes, the irises narrowing as the face peered curiously down at her.

“You are like me…” the face crooned, its lips peeling open to expose those teeth she’d sensed before. They were even larger than she’d suspected, hundreds of curving bits of ivory jutting in and around their gums in crude angles. She noted that the shape which she was trapped in was in fact a huge paw, the five fingers curving up and away, the span of the palm easily thrice her size.

She was moved again, but instead of the harsh, quick movements like before, the face treated her like the most delicate thing in the world, curving the fingers so she had little chance of falling.

The owner of the paw pressed her into the nape of its long neck, curling its head around to shield her from the strange sounds and smells of whatever place this was. The gesture surrounded her in a pocket of soft fur, her little paws taking comfort as she rubbed the curious texture between her fingers.

The voice uttered a quiet purr, the sound soothing her as she nuzzled happily against their neck, a sense of safety draping over her shoulders. She didn’t know why this voice was taking interest in her, but she wasn’t about to pass up the chance to feel so wanted.

“My first prodigy,” the voice whispered, each word so deep it made her bones quiver. “Come, you need-need your strength.”

She hissed through her underdeveloped teeth as she was pulled out of that little pocket of comfort, but her annoyance soon melted away as the paws cradling her moved lower, a little pink nipple coming into view. She could see her siblings off to the right, squabbling and biting more at each other than the nipples as their instincts began to awaken. The paws shielded her from their sight, keeping her high and away from any further danger they posed to her.

The owner of the paws picked up a grey lump latched to her highest teat, moving the furious little sibling away and placing her in its place. That sweet juice splashed against her tastebuds once more, her stomach grumbling as she suckled and nursed. The paws fawned over her all the while, stroking her back with a claw, cupping her belly from below, her little limbs hanging limply through their massive fingers as she was gently lifted, as though the voice wanted to test her weight, study her anatomy.

“How tiny-small you are,” her parentrat mused, and she was certain this was her parentrat, as what other conclusion could she come to? “No need-need to fret, pup, you will grow big-large one day.”

She wanted to ask if she would be as big as her one day, but all that came out was a quiet chittering sound, one that her parentrat seemed to take great interest in, craning her long neck over to nuzzle at her small face, replying with a wordless trill.

Her parentrat whispered things into her ears then, things that had diluted over time and had thus slipped from memory. Not all of it had been forgotten, but it always made her feel guilty, realising that for all her ingeniousness, her stupid mind had failed to keep a firm grasp on what her mother had said all those years ago.

“Breeder! Time for-for quota count!”

She paused her ardent sucking at the sudden strange voice, turning her muzzle over her shoulder. Two figures were crossing the rock-strewn floor, dressed in filthy rags. Their bodies were covered in a shabby layer of brown fur, nothing at all like the pristine black coat clinging to her mother’s paunchy belly. One of them turned his crooked muzzle in her direction, her view quickly shifting to darkness as her parentrat covered her up in a massive forearm.

With her vision blocked, her world once more became reliant on sound. Crunching gravel grew louder as the pair of ratmen neared, her little heart racing as high-pitched squeaks began to echo across the vast chamber. Their source was unmistakable. She could feel her parent’s belly shift as her siblings were plucked from the teats, chittering their displeasure at having their feeding interrupted. One of the rats turned to leave, the crying pups in his arms slowly going quiet as he distanced. Her parentrat made no move to stop him, not even chittering a single word of defiance. Where were they taking her siblings, and would her parentrat give her up next?

“Eleventeen this time, good-good,” the rat who had spoken before snickered. “Silence!” he added, one of the pups screeching over his voice. The screech sounded a lot like the pup that had bitten her. “Two score of Warpstone for breeder! Quota going up-up from now on. No slacking!”

“Understanding,” her parentrat replied. She could feel her mother’s heartbeat pounding through her coat.

The ratman lingered, then began to walk, not away, but towards her parentrat, or breeder as he referred to her. “Wait-Wait! What you-you holding in paws?”

“W-Warpstone,” her mother replied, clutching her tighter against her chest.

“What! Not remember you having warpstone yesternight…”

“Spin-rolled down slope. Dropped by careless ratwife, perhaps.”

“We not careless rats! Care is middle names! Show me-me!”

Light flooded back into the world as the forearm hiding her lifted away, and she peered up into the dirty face of the ratman, watching his cracked lips peel over his sharp teeth in a creepy smile. His expression shifted as he realised she wasn’t warpstone – whatever that was – but a pup, his red eyes narrowing in frustration.

“Breeder try to hide pup?” the ratman asked, turning his muzzle over to her parentrat. “Rulebreaker! No warpstone for you! Gimme pup!”

He reached out his filthy hands, and she tried to burrow herself into her mother’s fur, her squeaks of terror muffled as her parent shielded her with two giant arms.

“No!” her mother snapped, holding her out of reach. “Please, not this one. Let me keep-have it.”

“Breeder know rules!” the ratman shouted, reaching for the knife stuffed into his loincloth. “Warlords get all pups, no exceptionings! Maybe breeder need another lesson in-”

Her breeder’s clenched fist put a stop to his rasping speech, the ratman’s neck snapping back at an awkward angle. Her parentrat’s movements were so swift for such a massive creature, her mountainous biceps flexing as she decked him across the muzzle.

He crumpled to the rocky ground, the many pups he had tucked under his arms dropping with him. The pink lumps thumped around his twisted limbs hard, but their squeaks and chirps confirmed they hadn’t been injured in their fall. She expected her mother to scoop her siblings up, but she instead kept a tight hold on her, clutching her tighter to her neck.

She heard shouting from some far-off place, maybe the other ratman had seen what happened to his companion and was shouting for help. She could hear more chittering rising to greet the panicked calls, but they were quickly muffled as the world seemed to spin, her mother rolling onto her other side.

“I don’t want to-to do this,” her parentrat said, bundling her against her chest. “but ratwife was right. Can’t keep you, little pup.”

She had no idea what her words meant at the time, but her tone of voice, and her sorrow expression, gave her all the meaning she needed to understand. She clung to her parentrat’s belly harder, fresh tears welling in her pink eyes.

The shouting was closer, louder, her mother peering over a massive shoulder at the shouting rats. It sounded like there more than two this time, and she could have sworn she heard something else as well. Something heavy being dragged across the stones along with the voices, something that made metallic scratches as it caught on the occasional protruding rock.

“I can’t keep you, but I can save you,” her parentrat whispered. “save you from these pits. Do not come back, little pup. Horned Rat protect you.”

Her world flipped end over end, her breeder’s fingers loosening their grip on her waist. She tumbled onto sloped land, her delicate hands groping into the silt, her cries turning from grief to pain as sharp rocks dug into her skin.

The gravel began to landslide, carrying her deeper into the earth, the image of her mother slowly shrinking away from atop the crest. She extended a paw out, but her breeder was too far away to touch, her parentrat making no effort to halt her fall.

Movement on the side drew her attention, a ratman identical to the last leaping up onto the mountain of her mother’s hip, the sheer size of the breeder only now registering in her infantile mind.

The ratman held up a dagger, the knife glinting in the ominous green light as he brought it down, slicing her parentrat across the arm. Shrieking, her mother backhanded the rat, sending him arching high into the air. Two more ratmen appeared, circling behind her massive head, lugging some massive object between them.

Her descent came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the slope, momentum lodging herself into a small wedge of rock. Her right leg bent at an awkward angle, crushing up against her pink chest, her muted chirps taking on a guttural quality as pain shot up her spine. It hurt too much to even move, and she glanced up at her parentrat in confusion, wondering why she had been discarded after being nursed and cared for.

The glint of bronze metal drew her gaze to the thing the two rats were carrying. At a glance it looked like a giant cone of orange metal, flared open at one end, tapered shut at the other. Two giant canisters protruded from the thin end of the device, the transparent orbs filled with swirling gas. Pipes criss-crossed from these canisters to various points all along the device, two such tubes trailing into a pair of distinctly looking eyespots on the higher end of the device. As the ratmen positioned themselves behind her breeder’s head, they exposed the underside of the contraption, where various rubber straps hung in loose loops, secured to the cone by metal brackets. Its visage was almost like that of a face. Her mother’s face, to be precise.

She squeaked out a warning to her breeder, but her chirps went unanswered, for the ratmen were laughing too loudly for them to be heard. With a shared heave, the two ratwives placed the device over her parentrat’s face, replacing her features with an unsettling, metallic counterpart. She tried to pull the mask off, but another two more ratwives clambered up her chest, taking advantage of the distraction to pin her limbs down, slicing and cutting with their knives as she struggled.

She appeared bed-ridden, her massive legs unmoving, seemingly only in control of the upper half of her body as she writhed. The two ratmen with the device moved to those dangling straps next, pulling them tight against the breeder’s chin. Leather creaked as the straps were strapped taut, one of the ratwives pressing a claw against a switch built into the jawline of the contraption.

Hissing chemicals drowned out the maniacal laughter of the rats, those canister near the chin beginning to swirl with thick, acrid smoke. Her parentrat’s resistance began to slow, her chest inflating as she took a deep, muffled breath. After a moment, her apparent alarm subsided, the ratmen skittering clear as she relaxed her fists, her long toes curling as she wriggled on the spot.

“Where pup go?” one of the ratwives chittered. “Breeder drop thing somewhere!”

“Found it!” another squeaked, holding up a rock triumphantly.

“That not pup, you idiot! Find real pup! Quick-Quick!”

Squinting through soft eyes, terrified and alone, the pup that would become Skyseeker watched as the ratmen began to prowl the slope, every shouted word making her squirt fear-musk. She could do nothing but wait for them to take her, her paws digging into the little stones as the ratman came closer to her hiding place, one of them stamping a large paw in the silt inches before her snout.

Her mother’s movements were sluggish, those canisters on her mask hissing with each breath she took. Those tubes were pumping that gas into her mouth, eyes, ears, every orifice in her face, and she didn’t look the least bit bothered by it.

“There you are!”

The ratwife stuck his muzzle into her hiding place, her shrieks met with no mercy as he sealed his jaws around her, not applying enough pressure to bite, but just enough that he could lift her up into the air, her view enclosed by his teeth-riddled maw.

“Breeder take great interest in you!” he hissed as he plucked her from his jaws, holding her out in one paw. “You fortunate! Pups not last long down here. Wait-wait!”

Just as her mother had done, the ratman ran a finger down her torso, exploring at her anatomy for whatever reason. But where her parentrat had been doting, gentle, his strokes were rough and prodding, his discovery making his features light up with glee.

“Ooohhh, you are breeder too! Sense is making! Stupid bitchrat thought it could hide you! No female hide from breeder duty! Make sure you and breeder know this. Know this very well!”

He turned around, scampering up the slope with her clutched in one paw, squeezing the air out of her lungs with a harsh clench. Her world shook with every pace, but she could just make out her mother’s prone form returning to view, the ratman reversing her parentrat’s efforts with a horrible ease.

She kicked and squealed, but her parentrat didn’t hear her efforts, couldn’t, not with that mask on. They would put a mask on her next, and Skyseeker would never earn that name, not here, where she would grow fat and soft, too crippled to escape. They would treat her like a calf, amounting to nothing more than a specimen to fuel the Lord’s armies with children, never to know the touch of the sun or the kindness of another.

And that mask would make sure she was compliant. And she would be glad for it.

She cried for her mother as the ratman took her past her large form, but nothing came out, just a dry, airless croak. She tried to wrestle free, but her limbs didn’t move, and the pressure on her chest grew ever tighter. The last of her breath left her in a wordless scream, the darkness of the cave consuming her…

-xXx-

… and then she woke with a horrified cry. Though the night was warm, she was shivering all over, Skyseeker’s eyes blazing open as she returned to her adult, developed body. She tried to draw breath, but the pressure on her chest was still there, Skyseeker gagging as the corners of her vision swirled with darkness. She fumbled for a weeping dagger, her fingers grasping the handle of the blade after a moment, driving its glowing tip towards whatever was suffocating her.

“Skyseeker! It’s me, lass!”

She blinked, a dark shape poised above her drawing into focus, her weapon trembling inches from its face, the voice’s odd accent sparking recognition. Her heart beating like a drum, she turned the flat of her left dagger, the magical glow of the weeping blade lighting the grizzled features of a man-thing.

“It’s just me,” Roderick said again. His gauntleted hands were on her shoulders, and now he raised them, his movements slow and cautious.

“S-Stupid man-thing,” Skyseeker gasped, taking in a sharp breath. “Never interrupt… a Skaven’s nap time!”

“You were screaming,” he explained, his eyes flicking to her dagger as she lowered the blade. “Came to the point I couldn’t stand listening to it anymore. Are you alright?”

She swiped her weeping blade into its sheath, missed, then dropped it on the grass in frustration, pressing the balls of her paws into her eyes. “What’s time?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“Couple hours into my watch,” he said, turning his gaze skyward. “Dawn’s a way off yet.”

Her lower muzzle dropped in disbelief, Skyseeker sweeping her snout across the campsite. A few resilient embers still flickered in the circle of stones, the managed flames waving in the air. He wasn’t lying, barely any time had passed, yet she felt even more tired than before. How did that make sense? She’d slept, hadn’t she?

There was no breeze shaking the surrounding leaves, but Skyseeker still felt a shiver roll through her as she tried to compose herself in front of the man-thing. Nobody was allowed to see her like this. Nobody.

“Must have been one bad dream,” Roderick mused, holding out his canteen. “Drink?”

“Never said nothing about dreams,” she snapped, accepting his container and taking a measured sip. “What’s man-thing phrase? Ah. I am fit as fiddles. Dreamless fiddles!” she insisted.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your prerogative,” he said, leaning on his hands as he settled in nearby. “But, we man-things believe there is wisdom in dreams, that they can act as heralds for good or bad tidings. Discussion is often the best way to find out which it is…”

She looped her arms over her knees, glancing up at the sky in thought, the way all the galaxies and planets spiralled through the black canvas distracting her. Despite her brilliant lies, the man-thing was seeing right through her. Perhaps it was best to get it out of the way now, rather than let him revel in his little victory for any longer.

“Fine! Skyseeker not dreamless fiddle,” she admitted. “But dream wasn’t dream. Dream was memory.”

And then she told him, recalling the nightmare from its steady beginning to its horrific end. Roderick didn’t say a word through it all, the man-thing doing little more than leaning in as he listened.

When she finished it, ending with her fate sealed in the ratwife’s paws, he sat back, his neutral expression replaced with a sad look as he glanced at her. “I... I’m sorry, Skyseeker. To be taken away like that… I couldn’t ever imagine.”

She cocked her head. She’d expected him to probe for more information on the breeding grounds, the most strategically important asset in every Skaven Clan, or perhaps ask her how she escaped the clutches of the ratwife, but instead his first words were an apology?

“Why Rick-rod sorry?” she demanded. “Man-thing wasn’t there, man-thing probably pup himself when dream happened.”

“I was the one who brought up the subject of our parents,” he explained. “Should have known better. You did tell me about the role females serve in Skaven society.”

She said nothing, idly picking at a tuft of grass between her feet.

“Can you remember what happened after you were taken?” Roderick continued. “That Skaven who grabbed you wouldn’t have made an escape easy. That is, if your comfortable talking about it?”

That last part only added to her confusion, but she did her best to ignore it.

“Ratwife didn’t really find me,” she explained. “Brain tried to tricky-trick! Gave false reality. Ratwives gave up after time, never found my masterful hiding spot. Stupid rats not know that I was breeder, so didn’t look hard enough. When safe, I scurried deeper into pits, used the deep-dark shadows for hiding.”

“But, you were a pup, how on earth did you survive?”

“Man-thing forgets I am craftiest rat!” she snarled, shooting him an annoyed look. “Plenty of eating-things in pits, just have to follow nose! Nothing as good as parentrat’s sustenance – worms close second – but every scrap gave strength, bring one step closer into becoming best rat! Not long before paws found rusty dagger in rubbish pit. Took first assassining when feet-paws started working!”

“I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned,” Roderick replied. “Did you ever return to the pit? The one with your mother?”

She averted her eyes, wrapping her hood tighter around her face.

“No. Well, yes, kinda,” she began. “Not know how much time passed, but was sneak-sneaky enough to find way to breeding pit edges. Saw parentrat from afar. She was… bigger,” she muttered, her tail trailing off as she sulked onto her side. “Ratwives had made her so fat, paws couldn’t even lift off ground. Punishment for letting pup-me free. Wanted to go down, take off breeder mask, but… paws wouldn’t let me.”

“Do not lament, lass,” Roderick said. “there was nothing you could do.”

“I was so… scared,” she said in a quivering voice. “but I wanted to save parentrat, return favour! But I was too weak to try…”

“Being afraid isn’t a weakness,” Roderick replied. “only fools don’t listen to their fears. And you’d have been a fool indeed to go back there. Imagine if you’d been caught. Your mothers’ efforts to save you would have been wasted had that happened. You did the right thing.”

She didn’t reply, clenching that tuft of grass hard enough to sever the little stalks.

“… I too, have lost people I cared for,” Roderick continued, Skyseeker’s ears twitching in his direction. “The bonds we form in battle often break the hardest, and I’ve lost as many brothers in arms as I’ve fought in wars. I know it pales in comparison to what you went through, lass, but I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you. Had my own share of nightmares back when I was a lad.”

“What did man-thing do to fix them?” she asked.

“Took solace with family, friends, those kinds of people.”

“Not have any of those around,” Skyseeker sulked.

Without warning, Roderick scooted closer, extending an arm towards her shoulder. She pulled away, squeaking in surprise.

“W-What are you doing?” she hissed, baring her teeth as he frowned at her.

“Is it not obvious?” he asked. “You have at least one friend on this mission, lass.”

“What, warpstone?” she asked, raising a brow. “Not see warpstone since Skavenblight.”

“No you dolt, me,” Roderick clarified.

“Ohhhh…” she said, clarity draping over her like a cloak. “But, no wait! Man-thing is… man-thing. Skaven can’t be friends with man-thing! Unnatural!”

“And us working towards a common goal is natural?” he asked back, Skyseeker shifting uncomfortably as she tried to think of a response.

“You… want to be Skyseeker friend?” she whispered. She realised she was breathing hard, an odd swimming sensation developing inside her chest. By the Horned Rat, she was making herself look bad! She needed to get a hold of herself.

“I-I mean,” she corrected. “Rick-rod will be Skyseeker’s friend! Yes-Yes! Be grateful that you have such a cunning companion who can tolerate you!”

He chuckled, and this time when he reached out to her, she didn’t move away. She could have broken, bitten, severed, or done any number of violent things to his limb at that moment, but she let him come closer. Even as the fur on the back of her neck brushed out, her instincts to defend herself rising to the front of her thoughts, she shoved it all back, tensing as his fingers brushed her shoulder.

From the outside she looked like she was trying to hold her bowels in, which was an accurate assumption in some ways, Skyseeker’s fear-musk wisping out as his palm settled against her fur. Not knowing what to do with her arms, she held her paws out at awkward angles in front of her, her whole body feeling like it had just been encased in cold ice.

“You should get some rest,” Roderick said, that hand pulling away after a second. “My watch isn’t quite over yet.”

“N-Not feel like sleep anymore,” she muttered.

“If the dreams come again, I’ll wake you,” he assured. “You’ll need your sleep when it’s your turn to keep an eye out.”

“Man-thing,” she began, wringing her paws together. “Why would you-you comfort me? Tried to sneak attack you, then take your foods. Done nothing but get in Rick-rod’s way. Efforts in mission have been negligible.”

“You don’t earn someone’s compassion through what you can offer them, don’t you see that?” he asked. “Look at your mother. She didn’t save you from those pits because she thought you would give her something in return. She did it out of the goodness of her heart, as anyone would.”

“No Skaven would ever do… this,” she said, gesturing between them.

“Does it bother you?”

After hesitating for a few seconds, she shook her head, the sensation of being this close to him making her too lightheaded to talk further. Roderick had brushed aside every chance at leaving her behind. Instead, he’d used the opportunities to comfort her and show her kindness. It didn’t make sense! And the fact that her genius couldn’t discern his actions also didn’t make sense, her brain curdling with pain as she started thinking too hard.

What was this peculiar feeling overcoming her? She found herself relaxing in Roderick’s proximity, her heart beating so hard she feared it might jump straight out of her chest and into the campfire. She should be showing this man-thing her tenacity, not acting like a weakling seeking comfort. He’d told her he wasn’t attuned to magics, but he had to be lying, it was as though he’d cast some sort of spell on her.

She slid her butt over the dirt until she was laying down. Roderick made to move away, but she seized his weird paw with her own (superior) one. “Wait!” she exclaimed. “Will man-thing… stay with me? Just for small moment, while I nap?”

“… Very well,” he said, putting his back to the grass beside her, the two laying together.

“N-Not like I need Rick-rod’s comfort anyway!” she added. “Stupid man-thing assumes incorrectly!”

Roderick just grinned, propping his head up with one paw, his other curling over his chest. Her gazelocked firmly to the heavens, as did his, her tail flicking in agitation as she tried to ignore the heat his body was putting out. She felt compromised, hearing the Great Lord Gnawdwell scoff in disgust as he spectated her from afar, but at the same time it felt so… peaceful, to be in physical contact with someone without worrying about being shanked.

After five minutes or so, she felt the touch of sleep, her eyes slowly shutting. A part of her worried that her dreams would come back, but the night scrolled by without further interruption.

Chapter 6: Portomaggoire

“What a sight for sore eyes,” Roderick said, his shadow trailing out in front of him, mirroring his movements as he held out a hand. “See that, lass?”

“Don’t be stupid, Rick-rod,” she chided, pointing a claw at her goggled face. “Skyseeker sees all with gift!”

The endless carpets of woodlands had abated a few hours prior, the green and beige landscape stretching far into the west, its stopping point coming into view at long last. Rising above the shallow hills was a wide, flat stretch of stone, an imposing edifice rising some hundred odd meters into the sky. Battlements lined the peak of the obstacle in regular intervals, the fortified turrets standing out against the blue backdrop. She reached up and bloomed the image using her goggles, her sight bringing her far closer to the object. Notches and grooves had been sliced into its surface, forming bricks larger than her whole body. Upon closer inspection, she noted the edifice gently curved away to the left and right, the bastion forming a rough semi-circle of protection.

Rising up from beyond the wall were several strange shapes, Skyseeker picking out sloped rooftops and tall, domed structures, a couple of which were draped in colourful awnings. The haze of distance made it too difficult to pick out much more detail, but she thought she could see figures patrolling between the watchtowers.

“What Rick-rod know about Portquagmire?” Skyseeker asked, the man-thing setting off towards the wall.

“Portomaggoire,” he corrected. “and very little. I imagine civilised folk will be more welcoming than the mercenaries out here in the country, but we should still be cautious either way.”

“Welcoming enough to let me walk paw-feet into city?” Skyseeker asked. “Marvelous! Mission easy-peasy!”

“Ah, almost forgot about that,” Roderick said, glancing down at her. “The gates will be guarded, and if word has reached Portomaggoire about the Skaven invasion, which it likely has, they’ll be inspecting anyone who comes through. Assuming the city’s still open to visitors of course. You might be able to pass off as a dwarf – keyword being might – as long as you don’t speak, and we find something to cover you up.”

“Cloak covers Skaven just fine-fine!” she replied, pulling her hood over her face to demonstrate, the leaves tied to it rustling with the movement.

“Yes, except wearing a camouflaged cloak isn’t exactly in line with dwarven fashion, and won’t blend in well inside the walls. Smuggling you through the gate won’t be an easy task.”

“Still have long time to get to city,” Skyseeker pointed out, snickering under her breath. “Will come up with clever ruse soon!”

They weaved through the fields, the city entering and leaving view as the bumpy hills obstructed her vision. The hours of walking seemed to blend together for Skyseeker, but at one particular crest of a hill, she was able to see great stretches of blue water surrounding the city wall to each side, the water reflecting off the lowering sun. Unlike the rivers back in the marshes, the liquid here was mostly clear, its surface textured with breaker waves that flowed from left to right in mesmerising patterns. She couldn’t wait to take a closer look at it.

As their shadows began to shorten, then extend from behind their feet, they came across a feature in the ground, recognition flashing in her eyes. Another road cut a swath of cobblestones through the uneven terrain, the paved rocks trailing away in a crooked line, their destination obvious enough. It looked less abused than the one they’d seen in the dense forest. That meant man-things were active in this area.

“While walking on an actual road for once would be nice,” Roderick began. “every step closer to the city increases our chances of running across someone. Let’s keep our distance for now.”

Skyseeker agreed, the two keeping the road a short distance to their right as they approached the city. Clumps of forest began to obscure the base of the wall, Skyseeker just able to pick out the turrets through the gaps in the canopy. The sun was on its way to the horizon by this point, the sky painted a harsh gold in its wake. Before long, the sun arched below the wall, its heat slowly going absent, leaving Skyseeker cold and not a little bit apprehensive about their next move.

Skyseeker’s ears swivelled towards the city, the sounds of hushed conversations soon reaching her attentive hearing range, her glands bleeding a hint of fear-musk. How many man-things called this city home? If it was even a fraction of the size of Skavenblight, there could be tens of thousands of them. Killing them all would be very difficult, even for her prestigious self.

Roderick heard the noises too – a few sluggish minutes later of course – gesturing for her to stop.

“Good sign,” he whispered, inching through the woods more carefully now. “If the gates were closed, we wouldn’t hear a sound. Not at this hour.”

Keeping low to the ground, she followed him, creeping forward with a paw on a weeping blade. They soon came upon the edge of the woodland, the undergrowth forming a natural barrier of trees. She poked her head between two trunks, spotting the road just a few feet out in front of her. She followed the gentle curve of the pavement with her eyes, her muzzle trailing to the left, Skyseeker blinking as she took in a strange sight.

Only a short knife-throwing distance away was the foot of the wall, so unimaginably larger now that she was up close. It rose into the air like a sheer cliff face, made from hundreds of individual weathered stones, each one so large even a rat ogre would have trouble lifting one. Its slate-grey surface was smooth, but only just, the little gaps where the stones didn’t quite sit flush together drawing her eye. They made for obvious weaknesses for a skilled climber, but it was an impressive construct all the same.

Her gaze lowered, towards the wall’s solitary feature. The road wound its way up to a gate, the opening shaped like the man-thing letter V, but upside down. The opening tunnelled like a burrow into the thick wall, straight out onto the other side. The top of its arch was lined with rows of metal teeth four or five layers deep, the contraptions sitting into grooves in the ceiling. She had seen enough man-thing architecture back in Skavenblight to know those teeth were part of things called portcullises, which were barriers slotted neatly into grooves above the gate when not in use, beyond anyone’s sight.

Standing guard of said gate were a group of man-things dressed in wargear, six in all, halberds pointed to the sky as they stood in a defensive line. They peered out from behind their helmets at an approaching wagon, the contraption pulled along by a four-legged-thing, or a horse as Roderick called it. The driver yanked on the reigns, the wooden wheels of the vehicle rolling to a stop. One of the guards began to speak with him, but their drawling speech was drowned out, not just by distance, but by even more man-things.

Groups of them milled about the gate, some leaving – using another branching road that curved along the wall to the right and out of sight – most moving towards the city interior. A lot of them were dressed in colourless cloth outfits sporting minimum protection, suggesting they were slaves of some sort, while a few others looked like they meant business, garbed in protective leathers and even a few plated pieces like Roderick’s armour, swords and axes winging from their belts.

“Eeek! So many man-things!” Skyseeker hissed, her fear-musk filling the air. She ducked into cover, certain that she would be discovered if she exposed herself for a second longer.

“It’s a city, lass, what did you expect?” Roderick asked, peering through the shrubs to her side, chewing his lip in thought. “Looks like they’re inspecting everyone who enters. Not good.”

“Any other gate-things?” she asked.

“Certainly, but they’ll be just as guarded as this one. Hmm. Perhaps we can stop the next wagon, hide you along with the cargo or something.”

“That sounds like great plan… NOT!” she added. “This why man-things always losing, not know how to plan like Skaven plans!”

“If you have any suggestions, then let’s hear them.”

“When Skaven wants to make infiltration, simple plans often best ones!” She jabbed a claw up at the wall. “Look, plenty of holdhands for paws. Man-thing guards only watching road, not wall. Won’t see me!”

“You… want to climb a couple hundred feet of wall?”

“Rick-rod sounds doubtful. Should see Skavenblight caverns, rocks go for thousands of feet! Some are even this big” She spread her paws out as wide as possible to illustrate their size. “Stupid wall is nothing.”

“You did climb that tree fairly well, so I suppose I’ll take your word for it,” he replied. “There’ll be watchmen up on the battlements, mind you. They won’t be excepting a lone Skaven to climb up to their posts so brazenly, but still…”

She could sense his apprehension, insulting him mentally for being so idiotic.

“If man-things get in my way, it’s kill-stabbing time!” she declared, producing a weeping blade and twirling it through her fingers, its glow bathing them in green light.

“Skyseeker!” Roderick gasped. “Let’s make one thing very clear. While we’re in this city, killing is the last possible resort for either of us.”

“Aww, Rick-rod! How come?”

“These men are just doing their duty,” he explained, wagging a chiding finger at her. “They’re different from the men you’ve faced out in the country, lass. These are keepers of the peace, not soldiers of war.”

“… What about just one tiny little stab?”

“Absolutely not! Murdering is out of the question, unless you have literally no other choice. Understand?”

“You’re no fun,” she sighed, sheathing her blade, Roderick flashing her a stern look. “Fine-fine! Won’t stab man-things, but no promises!”

“Oh yes there will be. I want your word that you’ll do as I ask, Skyseeker. We’re here to seek transport, not to murder the town guard. My conscience is burdened enough, I can’t have you adding to it.”

She blinked in confusion, wondering how he could ration her killing to becoming his fault, but then she remembered she wouldn’t be anywhere near this city if not for Roderick’s input to the plan. He waited patiently for her answer, his expression unwavering. He was a determined individual, if nothing else.

“Urgh, very good-well,” she relented, lifting her goggles and looking him in the eye. It was a small gesture, but she had a feeling he would appreciate her candor. “Take word. Have all the words, like this one, and this one!”

“Thank you,” Roderick replied, relaxing a little. “Now that we’ve sorted that out, it’s time to go. We’re losing daylight.”

“How will Rick-rod get inside?” she asked. “Climb like Skaven?”

“Nothing so elaborate,” he answered. “I’ll try my luck with the front door first.”

“And if man-thing guards get suspicious?” she pressed. She tried to mask her concern, keeping her eyes locked on the top of the wall.

“Why would they? I am but a humble traveller in their eyes. Besides, attacking someone in clear view of the gate isn’t a good look for the guard, you needn’t worry,” he replied. Damn Roderick and his keen eyesight, could she hide nothing from him? “Get climbing, lass,” he added. “Meet you on the other side.”

He flashed her a grin, stepping brazenly through the foliage and onto the road, starting off towards the gate. She could almost see the confidence he was radiating, how did he do it? If their positions were reversed, and she were the one to walk through the gate in plain sight, her glands would shrink to the size of walnuts from how much fear-musk she’d spray. Such courage only existed in the toughest warlords. Her choice of ally was better than she first thought.

She slapped herself on the muzzle. Roderick’s tricks were distracting her thoughts, she had to stay focused. Save the admiration for later, assuming the man-thing actually got through those guards, of course…

-xXx-

Roderick watched the rat woman scurry through the woods, her pink tail vanishing into the undergrowth on his left. He feared what might happen should she be discovered during her climb, but right now he had his own problems to deal with, Roderick turning his attention to the gate.

The wagon seemed to have been given the all clear, the guards parting to let the horse trot through. A line of people had formed behind it, Roderick walking over to join the queue, standing behind a pair of older gentlemen garbed in overalls. They looked like farmers, probably from one of Portomoggoire’s outer settlements he’d spotted on his approach to the city.

As the line moved up, he turned his eyes towards the wall, searching for his companion. He spotted the Skaven after a moment, Skyseeker bounding up the great stones one leap at a time, her heavy panting carrying on the wind. Her custom-made cloak gave her the appearance of a jumping shrub, Roderick grinning in amusement as she crossed the halfway mark.

His smirk faltered as she paused in her climb to wipe her brow dramatically, Roderick silently urging the rat woman to hurry it up. To say she stuck out like a sore thumb would be an understatement, but if anyone could pull off a successful infiltration wearing a cloak like that, it would be Skyseeker.

“You hard of hearing sir? I said step forward, please.”

Roderick snapped out of his stupor, his gaze falling onto the speaker, one of the gate guards beckoning to him. The man wore a thick leather gambeson, the material stretching down to his wrists and knees like a tunic, his legs covered in a sheet of mail. He wore a white and blue surcoat over the gambeson, the Tilean coat of arms – a pair of crossed swords – etched into the front. His appearance screamed militiaman, as did the rest of the entourage flanking him.

“Name?” the guard asked. He sounded rather bored, and not a little bit tired too.

“I am… Riccardo,” Roderick replied, hoping his Tilean accent didn’t sound too forced. “Mercenary for the-”

“Didn’t ask your occupation,” the guard scoffed. “Pass?”

“Pardon?”

“Need to see your pass,” he explained, lifting a hand and probing the inside of his ear. “Orders are in times of war all citizens are required to carry a pass. Helps verify identity and reduces the risk of foreign intrusion.”

“Do I look like a Skaven spy to you?”

“You look like trouble,” the guard replied flatly. “If you’ve no pass, ask for a form at the town hall.”

“So I need to get inside to get a pass, and I can’t get in without a pass. How’s that make sense?”

“I’m a guard, sir, I don’t make sense of orders, I just carry them out.”

Roderick silently cursed, seeing that this approach was leading nowhere. He didn’t have time for this, plan B it was…

“Say, how much do you earn every hour you stand around watching that gate?”

The man’s left brow experienced a twitch. “Never enough these days.”

He hadn’t immediately dismissed him, that was a good sign. “I can imagine,” Roderick continued, reaching for his pack. He produced a handful of gold coins, making sure only the guard could see, the little tokens glinting in the setting sun. “How’d you like to earn a decent wage? just one minute of your time, I’ll pay you for a dozen hours’ worth of standing about. We have a deal? Or should I go visit one of the other gates?”

Roderick knew the man’s answer even before he’d even said it, the guard’s eyes lighting up as Roderick extended his hand. The man let his halberd rest against his side, using the other to swipe the coins, sliding them into the inside of his surcoat. “On your way then, mercenary. Have a nice evening.”

Roderick tilted his head in a nod, silently brushing past the procession of guards, the men narrowing their eyes at him. These Tileans were all the same…

He crossed beneath the raised portcullises, sconces mounted on either side casting a flickering yellow glow across the masonry. The ceiling was rounded and mostly bare, save for a massive trap door built towards the inner gate, the mechanism split into two halves. Roderick had been in more than enough sieges to know that this trapdoor made an excellent vantage point for defenders to shoot arrows, or drop rocks, on any would-be attackers.

Two more militiamen were posted just beyond the inner gate, but they paid Roderick no mind as he walked out into the street, taking a moment to admire the city proper.

Before him was a paved road, splitting off into two distinct paths as it distanced from the wall. Lining either side of the pavement were marble buildings three or four stories tall, their facades decorated with green window shutters, shaded by teal cloth awnings. Projecting balconies were decorated with lush gardens, carpets of vines trailing down some of the more ornate establishments. Even in the dawning night, the saturation of colour was a welcome sight from the wilderness.

Smoke trailed from the chimneys jutting from the sloping rooftops, the tiles painted a rusty orange that contrasted with the mustard-yellow walls of the buildings. While not near as luxurious as the Imperial capital of Altdorf, where one couldn’t walk ten feet without seeing some elaborate carving or ornate pillar, Portomaggoire seemed to be doing well enough for itself.

“Psst! Man-thing!”

Glancing to his left, he spotted a short alleyway driven between two of the tall dwellings, a conspicuous pink nose sticking out of the shadows. Relieved, he checked both directions of the street, then hurried over, leaning a hand on the corner of the wall.

“Over here!” the voice hissed. “It’s me-me! Skyseeker!”

“I’m right here, you can stop whispering,” Roderick said, peering back up at the great wall. “See you made the climb. Any trouble?”

“Nah, only had to kill two guards. Tried to ring alarm-bell, but I stopped them quick-quick!”

Roderick’s jaw hit the ground, Skyseeker snickering as she pointed a claw at him.

“HA! Look at face! Skaven only jokes with Rick-rod. Climb was no trouble.”

A half smile, half scowl touched his face. “Thank Sigmar for that. Now then, let’s see what we can do about your disguise. Turn your cloak inside out.”

“What was cover story-tale again?” she asked, shrugging off her garment. “Not thought of one yet.”

“I have. You’re a dwarf, hailing from Clan… Angrund,” Roderick said. “You came here in search of adventure and coin, but keep your lips sealed, you don’t exactly have the most inconspicuous speech. Shouldn’t be an issue, though, it’s not like someone will just waltz up and start talking to you, unless there’s actual dwarfs here.”

“Why do I have to be a stupid beard-thing?” she sulked. “Don’t even have beard!”

“Who would you rather disguise yourself as?”

“Uhhhmmm… Skaven?”

“Just stay close to me and you’ll be fine… I hope.”

He was once again treated to her slim body as she pulled her cloak over her narrow shoulders, her belts and straps clinging to her athletic figure. Skyseeker flipped the cloak so the foliage was on the inside, taking a few minutes to empty the pockets of knifes and warp-stars, stuffing them into the satchels vested to her chest.

“Tuck your tail away,” Roderick added, watching as she stuffed the appendage out of sight. The cloak trailed down to her thighs, hiding most of her torso, but leaving her digitigrade feet in open view. That was to say nothing about her ears, sticking out of the cuts in her hood.

“This is... going to be harder than I thought,” he admitted. “We need more cloth. Perhaps there’s a tailor nearby.”

“Tail? You just said put tail away!”

“No, tailor, it’s someone who sells clothes.”

“Why buy when you can steal?”

“What do you…” Before he could finish, she scurried up the far wall of the alley, leaping up the façade using the window sills as leverage, Roderick checking the street for any onlookers.

“Sky!” Roderick hissed, and now it was his turn to whisper. “What are you doing? Get down from there!”

“One seconds!” she declared, not bothering to keep her voice down. She reached a balcony up on the third floor of the building, balancing her feet on the short railing. The double doors leading into the dwelling were shut, luckily, the Skaven turning her attention to the tarp sheltering the jutting balustrade.

Pulling out her weeping blades, she hacked at the corners where the cloth connected to the awning, soon freeing the fabric from the structure. She let the tarp drop, where it hit the pavement by Roderick’s feet with a loud slap, then she clambered back down the wall, dusting her hands proudly as Roderick scowled at her.

“Do you always just do the first thing that comes to mind, lass?” he asked. “You could have been spotted just now.”

“But I wasn’t,” she pointed out, as though that was the end of the problem. Shrugging, she turned her attention to her stolen prize, using her enchanted blades to cut the cloth into smaller pieces. “Need Rick-rod’s knitting thing,” she added, holding out an expectant paw.

“It’s sewing needle,” he sighed, fishing into his pack. It took about ten minutes, but once their work was done, Skyseeker was mummified in the fabric of the tarp, every part of her save for her muzzle draped in thick, dark material. The added layer of cloth gave her a slightly bulkier appearance, making her look more like a monk than a dwarf, but hopefully the added brawn would help sell the image.

“Guess that will have to do,” Roderick said, hands on his hips as he appraised her. “At least until the stitches break, or you start talking.”

“Hey!” she complained. “Heard-listened to many beard-things in my day, know their stupid speech! Want to hear my impression?”

“Not really.”

The Skaven cleared her throat, ignoring him as she held a hand to her breast, putting on a terrible gruff accent.

“Greetings, fellow beard-things! Someone borrowed Warpstone from me twenty thousand years ago and I’m still angry-mad about it. Who else hate-hates the pointy-ears? Stink of trees and flowers and… trees. Not surprising if they breed-mate with trees, disgusting surface-dwellers.”

“Please let me do the talking from now on, okay lass? For both our sakes.”

They moved back onto the street, Roderick taking the path leading furthest from the gate, Skyseeker struggling to adjust in her heavy clothing and the lack of counterbalance with her tail.

As they turned the next corner, Roderick tensed, spotting a young man coming the other way. He seemed to be on his own, which made as good a test as any to see if Skyseeker’s disguise would work.

“What do I do?” Skyseeker demanded, sidling up to Roderick’s left.

“Just act natural. You’re a dwarf in a human city, you’ve nothing to fear.”

They kept their pace as the stranger walked closer, Roderick cringing as Skyseeker started to whistle out a tune. It wasn’t really a whistle, nor a tune for that matter, Skyseeker sounding like she was trying to shoo a fly away by blowing air on it.

Fortunately, the stranger didn’t even bat an eye, Roderick keeping the Skaven as much behind him as possible as the young man walked by. Clearly the people were content, here in civilisation, and Roderick couldn’t blame them. After so many months roughing it in the wilds, it felt good to be standing behind some walls.

“Phew! What an impeccable disguise I’ve connived! Anyway, where is Rick-rod’s ship?” Skyseeker asked, stopping beside a mailbox, giving its metal lid a tap. “And what is this thing?”

“Over in the port district, and that’s a letter box,” he answered.

“Oooh,” she gasped, bending over and giving the box a curious once-over. She pulled on the handle, the lid opening in such a way that one couldn’t easily reach in to grab its contents. Fortunately for Skyseeker, her arms seemed to be more muscle than bone, and after a bit of fiddling she was elbow-deep into the box.

“Which way is port?” she asked, the sound of rustling paper reaching his ears as she pushed her bicep through the lid. He considered telling her that she was invading people’s privacy, but she probably wouldn’t care. Or understand for that matter.

“West side of town, I’d imagine, but that can wait. I’ve spent several long months sleeping it rough out there, I plan to take advantage of this change of scenery as soon as possible.”

“But what of mission?” Skyseeker urged, pulling her hand out from the lid, a letter with a red seal clutched in her paw. “And ship? And relic? And Fredwil? Time is of essence!”

“We’ll be saving plenty of time travelling by sea, lass, and sleeping in an actual bed with a hot meal will do us both good. Besides, who knows when we’ll get the chance to rest up like this again?”

“Point made,” Skyseeker conceded, ripping the seal of the letter with a claw, slowly prying the parchment out. “Relic not going anywhere. Perchance we do some… explorations of this city, too?”

“Sure, we’ll wake up early, have a look around when there’s less people.”

Skyseeker shrieked, Roderick’s eardrums bursting as she hopped on the spot. “Splendid! Always wanted to explore man-thing places. Well not really, but now I do! Is Portstagmire like where Rick-rod grew up?”

“Our dwellings aren’t so different from these,” he answered. “A little less colourful, perhaps. If you’re done fiddling around with that letter, we should go find someplace to rest up.”

“Just making sure enemies aren’t plotting, stupid!” she snapped, bringing the letter to her face

“Well?” he asked after a few moments. “Any plots we should be aware of?”

“Not on this one,” she replied, tossing the parchment over her shoulder. “Felt more letters inside box-thing. Let’s check another.”

“Let’s not,” Roderick said, placing a hand on her back, ushering her away from the mailbox. “Neither of us have ever been here before, lass. There’s no enemies, plots, or schemes. We’re safe here.”

“For now!” Skyseeker added. “Man-things very tricky creatures. Walls keep enemies away, yes-yes, but also keep others from escaping! You’ll see!”

They rounded another bend in the road, the sunlight grazing the very tips of the rooftops, the encroaching darkness making it hard to see. Here the path forked into two directions, splitting past a triangular flank of a building. The junction was marked by a tall post, which was capped with a glass container. The place was deserted save for a woman leaning against a door to the right, Roderick catching her features as she looked up. She was an attractive woman, if a little on the elderly side, her cleavage proudly displayed though the low-cut neck of her dark dress.

“Why’s that man-thing over th- BAH!” Skyseeker suddenly shrieked, scurrying behind Roderick’s leg. The mantle of the post had flared to life, a brilliant point of yellow light blooming through the glass container. Roderick could see no mechanical means to suggest it was powered through steam, like the lamp posts in Reikland. Perhaps the Tileans used some other mechanism?

“Relax, Sky, it’s just the lights coming on.” He glanced back the way they’d come, seeing more mounted posts flaring to life, more light driving back the dark.

“I-I knew that,” Skyseeker mumbled, dusting herself off as she took up her spot again. “Anyways, what was I saying? Oh! Why’s that man-thing looking at you?”

“She probably thinks I’m looking for some… relief.”

“That’s a SHE?!” the Skaven exclaimed, tilting her head in the woman’s direction. “GASP! A man-thing breeder… Not thought I’d ever see day…”

“Did you just say ‘gasp’?” Roderick asked. “Never mind. Let’s go this way.”

“But I want to ask it questions! Breeder to breeder!”

As they approached the fork, the woman spoke up.

“Where you off to, honey?” she asked in a breathy voice, gesturing with a gloved hand. “All your night’s desires are right here~…”

“Sound like good deal,” Skyseeker whispered. “Rick-rod! It’s talking to you-you! Take the offer!”

“I’ll have to pass on that one, madam,” Roderick said, turning to address the woman. “Good day.”

He hurried a protesting Skyseeker along, only resuming their prior pace once the woman was out of sight. The Skaven gave his thigh a slap, frowning up at him from beneath her hood.

“What was that about?” Skyseker demanded. “She-man-thing gives you deal-offer and you just walk away? Elaborate!”

“I wasn’t buying what she was selling, let’s just put it that way.”

“What way? Explanations!”

“Well,” Roderick began, running a hand through his hair. “Up here, everyone has to find a way of making a living, and some women like to... offer themselves to people.”

“Just spit it out, Rick-rod! Simple words.”

“She was… asking me for sex,” Roderick relented.

“Sex. I see. That makes sense. Wait! I don’t follow. Why did it want to have sex with you?”

“Take a wild guess, lass. Everything out here costs gold, and that’s her way of earning it.”

“Hang on,” Skyseeker began. “You said female man-things not like Skaven breeders, but female back there has breeding career!”

“It’s not a career, some people simply have no other choice,” Roderick explained. “It’s a tough world out here for women. With every other husband and son coerced into these never-ending wars, it’s left a lot of poor widows behind to fend for themselves. It’s a pity.”

“If you pity her, why not take deal?”

“Paying for sex is not exactly a good look for a general,” Roderick answered. “Plus, I prefer my lasses to be a little on the younger side.”

“Do you have a breeder, Rick-rod?” Skyseeker asked, peering up at him from behind her hood.

“What, you mean a wife? No. Between my exile and this mission, I haven’t had much time to woo the wenches.”

“Interesting,” she muttered.

“Indeed? How so?”

She ignored him, lifting her muzzle up and taking a loud sniff of the air. “Oh! Food-things nearby! This way-way!”

She took him by the hand, guiding him further up the road. Roderick took a whiff, but all he could smell was the faint stench of body odour and motor oil. As they turned the next corner, that began to change, one of the buildings further up the street catching his attention.

Muffled music leaked out of the windows of a unique dwelling, this one sporting a pair of batwing doors. Its stone façade was painted over a rusty orange, the building five levels high, making it far taller than any of the surrounding dwellings. A rickety sign plastered above the doors swung gently in the breeze, a nearby streetlamp providing enough light for Roderick to read off the letters.

“The… Crippled Gryphon?” he muttered, chuckling to himself. “Now that’s ironic, isn’t it lass? Good find by the way, a tavern is perfect.”

As they moved up to the door, he pulled Skyseeker aside, the pair stepping into a nearby alleyway. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he started, keeping his voice down. “You wait here, while I head inside, buy us a room for the night, then we’ll figure out how to get you in. Shouldn’t take two minutes.”

“Counter scheme,” she replied. “I go in, while you wait here-here. Master of disguises, I am!”

“Your tail’s showing,” he pointed out, Skyseeker squeaking as she quickly shoved the appendage back into her cloak. “I know you were a trader, but I think bartering with a fellow human should be my task.”

“Whatever,” Skyseeker said, turning around. “Alley much more interesting anyway. Hey, a rubbish bin! Ohhh, I hope there’s food inside!”

Roderick stopped the excited Skaven from launching herself into the nearby dumpster. “Please don’t eat that, Skyseeker. I’ll buy you food, alright? Proper human food, you’ll love it. Just be a bit patient.”

He didn’t like the way she was looking at the pile of trash, but she stayed on the spot once he let her go, Roderick dipping back out onto the street.

“Two minutes,” he insisted, Skyseeker offering a thumbs-up as he rounded the corner.

Mounting the short flight of steps, Roderick pushed the batwing doors open, the chill of the night replaced by a cozy warmth as he stepped inside. The music he’d heard from the street grew louder, his eyes falling on a trio of musicians gathered on a stage built into the left side of the room. Two of them were men, one holding a jingling tambourine, the other tucking a fiddle beneath his chin. The third was a woman, her lips pursed over the end of an ornate flute, the three of them filling the tavern with a jolly tune.

A wooden bar occupied the right wall of the room, the countertop’s edges smoothed into curves, the corners carved with intricate patterns. It was flanked by rows of colourful bottles, and even a few tapped kegs of beer. Between the bar and the stage were dozens of chairs and couches, the walls supported by table booths where patrons were eating and chatting.

Humans were the majority of the guests, but Roderick could pick out a few of the other races. A group of dwarfs were lounging around in one of the booths, their hearty laughter loud enough to overpower the music, and there were a pair of elves leaning against the far windowsill, their pointed ears displayed for all to see.

Roderick made his way over to the bar, shouldering his way through the crowded floor. A stout man wearing a dirty apron over a white shirt was wiping mugs down with a cloth, Roderick catching his attention with a thump on the bar-top.

“Greetings, innkeep,” Roderick said, nodding to the man. “Looking for a room. Preferably one with a bath.”

“You’re telling me,” the innkeeper replied, pinching his nose. “You look like you’ve just gone to the chaos realms and back. What’s your story, stranger?”

“Let’s just say I’m not picking up hitchhikers ever again,” Roderick said, placing a pouch on the counter, the coins inside it jingling. “How much?”

“You’ve come to the right place. Bed and bath’ll be fifteen gold for the night.”

Roderick blinked. He’d taken a modest sum from the mercenaries on the night of his escape, but that was a steep price for an inn. “And for two beds?” he asked.

“Another ten,” the innkeep replied. “You here with company?”

“No, just curious,” he replied, setting the coins down. Things might get a little cramped, sharing a room with the Skaven, but he needed to spend his money wisely – who knew when the next bribe might come up.

“Also in the mood for a good meal,” Roderick added. “The road’s been long, and I feel like I could eat for two.”

“In that case, six gold will get you our heartiest dinner. Another coin and I’ll make it a platter. We’ve got a roasted boar tonight, fresh off the spit.”

“I’ll take it.”

The innkeep whisked up his money, stashing it below the counter. “Thank you, stranger, I’ll have a maid prepare your room. Drink while you wait? First one’s on me.”

Roderick nodded, the innkeeper turning to one of the kegs, tankard in hand. When he turned back, the mug was filled to the rim with creamy froth, Roderick feeling the cool ale through his glove as he took it. He raised the drink to his lips, taking a small sip, his eyes going wide as the bitter liquid parched his throat. Emboldened, he took a less restrained gulp, raising his head to the ceiling. By all the gods, it felt delightful to have his belly warmed with ale after such a long absence.

After three seconds, he’d downed the whole thing, setting the empty tankard down, the movement disturbing some of the bottles on the racks. Forget being stingy with his money, he’d earned a few luxuries after his perilous trip from the Empire. He ordered another, thanking the innkeeper as he turned away, the wonderful music capturing his attention.

The musicians were building the tune towards a crescendo, the woman with the flute getting up from her stool to parade about the stage, never missing a note as she began to dance. Some of the more boisterous patrons started to join her, shoving aside the chairs to clear a floorspace, their drunken twirls and twists making the group of dwarfs hysterical.

Roderick grinned, taking up a spot in one of the unoccupied corners, leaning against the wall as he sipped his drink. Watching the guests stumble and laugh reminded Roderick of the times he and his warband had returned home after many months of war, ready to celebrate all night long.

His smile faded. That had been long ago, when there had been time for parades and benders that went on from dawn to dusk, before all the threats to the Empire had begun to get out of control. Could one forgotten relic really save the Imperial people? The Empire needed good soldiers, not magical artifacts, though from what Skyseeker had told him of the relic, he imagined the Conclave would be very interested to use its power to turn the tides…

“Psst! Man-thing!”

Roderick yelped, drawing the eyes of several nearby guests. Trying to compose himself, he turned his head slowly to the right, finding himself staring right into a familiar ruby-red iris, the globe framed by a small crack in the brickwork.

“S-Skyseeker?” Roderick whispered, making sure no one was looking. “What in the… How did you get in the wall?”

The Skaven’s answer was a nefarious cackle, her pink nose appearing through the gap as she angled her muzzle through. “Rick-rod get room yet?”

“It’s being prepared right now,” Roderick answered, raising his drink. He wanted to chide Skyseeker for not waiting outside, but at least she had the foresight to be discreet.

“What you drinking?” Skyseeker asked.

“Nothing.”

“Can I have some?”

“No.”

“Please!”

“It’s ale, lass. A human drink. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Yes I would!”

Roderick sighed, seeing he may as well let her have a taste. He fetched a straw from the bar, dropping it into the froth and returning to the corner. He brought the tankard to the crack, Skyseeker’s muzzle pressing against the sliver as he angled the end of the straw towards her. She pursed it between her buck teeth, taking a noisy slurp. Just like him, her enthusiasm grew with each sip, Roderick having to pull the mug back when she refused to stop.

“Steady on, lass,” he chided. “drink it too fast and you’ll-”

Skyseeker belched through the gap, Roderick dispelling the stench with a wave of his hand.

“Bleh! So bitter!” she complained, smacking her lips together. “Feel even more thirsty now. Want another sample.”

“As long as you pace yourself,” he grumbled, Skyseeker reaching impotently out of the crack with her paw. He resumed watching the musicians, offering Skyseeker a sip every now and then, if only to keep her occupied so she didn’t draw unwanted attention. He wondered how much tolerance a Skaven had for alcohol, and if he wasn’t making a terrible mistake indulging the rat woman.

Soon the innkeeper gestured for his attention, gesturing to the back wall, where a passage led off deeper into the building. “Room’s ready stranger,” he said, sliding a key onto the bar-top. “First one on the left. Bathe well.”

“My thanks,” Roderick called back, turning to the crack. “You catch all that, lass?”

“Be there in jiffy!” she hissed. “Need to plan escape routes first.”

With that, her eyeball swept away, Roderick able to pick up her scurrying as she navigated the wall’s interior. Shaking his head, he retrieved his key, moving towards the passage.

He turned into a long hallway, the music fading into a comfortable backdrop. Candlelight flickered across half a dozen doors, three to a side, the furthest on the right the only one that was open, the sounds of clanging pots and pans spilling through the gap. That was likely the kitchen.

Roderick pushed the key into his assigned room, the lock turning with a click. Inside was a modest space, if a little cramped, with a bunk on one wall and an empty tub on the other, the receptacle made up of vertical planks of wood, rather than the traditional ceramics he’d expected, making it have more in common with a sauna tub. A faucet was suspended over the bath, mounted to the wall alongside two valves, one blue and one red. There were bars of soaps and cleaning oils placed on a nearby shelf.

In the middle of the space was a table, and what sat atop it captured his attention. A giant silver platter with a rounded lid rested on its cloth, the scent of smoked meat filling the room. This must be the meal he’d ordered, the scent making his mouth water.

He pulled up one of the chairs, tossing his plumed helmet on the bed, working to remove his gauntlets. As much as he wanted to dig in right away, manners dictated that he wait for his companion first, Roderick freeing first his left hand, then the right, giving his clammy palms a flex. Only now was he aware of all the grime he’d accumulated during his travels, Roderick turning his gauntlets over to see dirt and blood splattered across the steel. The innkeep was right, he could use a good wash.

Before long, he heard the telltale panting he’d come to associate with Skyseeker, Roderick glancing at the walls for any gaps she might poke her snout through. He blinked when from between two of the floorboards, a clawed finger broke through, the digit soon followed by a whole paw. The padded hand felt around for the other side of the plank, gripping it tightly and wrenching it to the side. The nails came loose with little pops, the plank lifting away from one end as Skyseeker used her head to leverage it away.

The gap was thinner than the breadth of her muzzle, but once again Skyseeker demonstrated the flexibility of her bones, squeezing her torso through the floorboards, her countless belts catching on the wood. With a twist, she succeeded in squeezing out, flopping onto the ground with a tired look on her face.

“Welcome,” Roderick said, gesturing to the platter. “Hungry?”

“Positively,” the Skaven replied, climbing into the seat beside him. Her stature put her head at just over the table’s level, Roderick smirking as she struggled to peer over the lip.

“Let’s see what we have,” Roderick announced, gripping the lid by the handle. He pulled it away, exposing an assortment of foods that could have fed a whole family of people. There was an overflowing lump of browned, sliced pork, wisps of steam gently curling away from the meat. Sitting next to it was a generous pile of roasted vegetables, the potatoes and pumpkins sprinkled with crispy herbs. Glass bottles of creamy sauce stood to one side, alongside a whole loaf of toasted bread and a stick of butter.

Skyseeker’s mouth was a small ‘o’ of wonder, the Skaven watching as Roderick picked up a set of provided cutlery. She looked too stunned to speak, perhaps she’d never seen so much food in one place before, or maybe she just didn’t know what any of it was.

“This is pork belly,” he said, slicing into the meat with his knife, dumping a generous portion onto a plate and sliding it over. “The orangey skin on the side there is very tough. We call it crackling.”

She took an experimental bite, her wicked teeth slicing easily into the skin despite his warning. Her expression shifted into awestruck, her face brightening as she chewed loudly.

“Good?” he asked, chuckling as she nodded her head vigorously. While she destroyed her portion, Roderick set aside a handful of vegetables, popping open one of the sauce bottles. He drizzled the steaming pile with gravy, then dug in, his stomach grumbling its approval.

“Wash tha’?” Skyseeker mumbled over a mouthful of food, pointing to the butter.

“That’s butter,” he explained. “You spread it on that bread there. Supposed to be eaten as an appetizer, but who cares at this point?”

“Bread?” she echoed, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “Bleh. Remember eating man-thing’s bread yesternight. Too chewy.”

“Unlike my rations, that’s freshly toasted bread,” he explained, bringing his knife over, the loaf giving off a satisfying crunch as he took off a slice. He smothered it in butter, the crust melting in his mouth as he took a bite.

Convinced by his expression, she took her own sample – Roderick stopping her from using her weeping blade to do so – and while she enjoyed the crust, she wasn’t all that fussed over the butter, deigning to eat it dry.

They were mostly quiet during their feast, too busy wolfing down their appetites to speak, but the silence wasn’t unpleasant. Just the act of sharing a proper meal for once was a nice experience, practically novel by Roderick’s recent standards, and the comfort of four solid walls put him at ease. Even Skyseeker seemed less suspicious of her surroundings.

“You know what we need?” Roderick asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. “More drinks. Want something, lass? Pitcher of water, perhaps?”

“More ale!” Skyseeker answered. “Skaven needs refreshment.”

Shrugging, Roderick stood up, the chair squeaking as he pushed it out of the way. Locking Skyseeker in the room, he hurried back to the bar, ordering a bottle of beer that the two of them could share.

Balancing two tankards in his other hand, he made his way back, finding that Skyseeker had devoured over half of the platter in his absence, the little Skaven showing no signs of slowing down. He’d expected her to be paunchy as a result of her appetite, but at a glance her stomach was still flat and lean. It was as though she was burning off all the calories she was putting on.

“Take it slow on the beer, lass, seriously” Roderick said, placing a tankard in front of her, pouring her drink until the foam reached the rim. “It’s not a competition.”

“Why can’t it be?” she asked, knocking the drink back until half of it was gone, only pausing so she could take a breath. “Bet three warpstone Roderick can’t match thirst.”

“Oh-ho, you want a drinking game?” he chuckled, pouring his own. “As you wish. Whoever concedes first sleeps on the floor. Winner gets the bed.”

“Deal!” she snickered. “Man-thing has no chance.”

Not wanting to lose face, he sculled his beer in the time it took Skyseeker to finish off her first, the Skaven blinking up at him in awe. She quickly masked her reaction by slurping at her tankard, droplets of beer dripping down her muzzle. When she put her drink back down, a moustache of foam was plastered on her face, Roderick laughing as she wiped it away.

“This all very strange,” Skyseeker began, spearing a slice of roast onto a claw. “In Skavenblight, whenever I eat things, always felt… exposure. Enemies always watching and plotting to steal.” She devoured the meat, tilting her muzzle up at him. “But with you, Roderick, I feel… not like that. Makes Skaven think of… what? Why you smiling?”

“Because you said my name properly for the first time,” he chuckled. “That ale must be going right through you.”

He wasn’t mocking her, but she seemed to take his words as a challenge, gripping her drink in both paws. They shared another round, pint for pint, Skyseeker smacking her gums together when she finished. His belly was cold with ale, the bitter taste on his tongue complementing the sensation.

“As I was saying, before I was RUDELY interrupted,” Skyseeker continued, taking the bottle and refilling their tankards. “is that, what’s stranger-er, is no rat before Roderick treated me this way-way. You give kindness when rats would give death-stabs. Thought niceness was stupid until… until… Hey! Where food gone?”

There was only a slice of bread left on the platter, Roderick offering it to her when she stared at it like she was a starved wolf eyeing up a chicken. He may have Skyseeker beaten on the drinking front, but she could put away the pounds like they were nothing.

“Perhaps I should have bought a meal for three,” Roderick mumbled, lifting his tankard. “Oh well.”

“Kitchen raid time!” Skyseeker shouted, spilling some of her drink as she took a draw. She set it down hard, tracing the rim with a claw as she hoisted a dagger into the air. “Grab all the food and ale, yes-yes. Share some with man-thing friend of course.”

“Appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Roderick replied. “Seems like decent fold run this establishment, let’s not spoil the mood by robbing them.”

“Oh, Roderick, you worst friend,” she grumbled. “Never like my schemes.”

“Just looking out for you, lass.”

“That’s it! That’s what’s confusing me!” she exclaimed, gesturing to him with her tankard, spilling some of the ale onto the table. “Why you look out for Skyseeker? Roderick like Skaven or something?”

“Well… I suppose you could say that I like you,” he stammered “I’ve not had many people I can be so… open with before. It’s nice.”

“I see,” Skyseeker mumbled, finishing off her drink. She slammed her tankard down, Roderick blinking as she poked him on the arm. “Another!”

Realising he’d been staring at her, he refilled their drinks, raising his tankard to her as they drank together. They downed one round, then another, Roderick laughing when Skyseeker started to doze off, almost slipping off her chair at one point. She snapped back into the present when he gave her a playful nudge, tapping his drink to hers and sculling it without waiting for her.

“Man-thing cheats!” she growled, grimacing when she swallowed a shot of ale. “M-Must have given Skaven more potent cup! Where’s the food gone?”

“You ate it, remember?” he asked, setting his empty tankard down. “Keep up, lass, you’re lagging.”

It looked like each drink was causing her physical pain. She relented, slamming a fist onto the table, the plates and cutlery bouncing with the impact. “Arrgh! You take victory, Roderick. Stupid man-thing and his stupid man-thing ale. Bet you not so good if we had to share warpstone!”

“Hey, it was your idea to challenge me,” he said, chuckling for no particular reason. “I just… encouraged you to raise the stakes.”

“I’m going on raid!” she exclaimed, bracing herself against the table as she stood, the Skaven smashed beyond belief. When she set off towards the door, her tail waving around lazily behind her, her foot got caught on the leg of her chair, and she slipped, slamming face-first onto her plate, which happened to be covered in excessive amounts of gravy.

“My eyes!” she yelped, cradling her face in her paws, her pink nose covered in sauce. “Send help!”

“Ouch. You alright?” he asked, taking her by the shoulder, the Skaven swaying on the spot.

“Just dandy… ish,” she giggled, her tongue snaking out to lick her chops, the gravy sticking to her muzzle in clumps. “Ale making Skaven feel all… buzzy. Must be man-thing equivalent of warpstone. Skaven likey~”

Her tail whipped to the left, sending her empty tankard flying across the room, Roderick wincing as it made a loud crashing sound against the wall. Perhaps a drunk Skyseeker wasn’t such a good idea in hindsight. But as long as he kept her confined within the room, he should be able to contain whatever chaos she might ensue.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, leading her toward the bathtub, her light frame easy enough to support. He turned the hot water on, testing the temperature with his finger to make sure it wasn’t scalding.

“Wassthis?” Skyseeker asked, leaning on the rim of the tub, her red eyes watching the water level rise.

“Might as well give you an all over, you’re covered in what appears to be corn, and Sigmar knows what else.”

“You want Skaven to bathe!?” she asked. “Only thing I bathe in is success!” She dipped a paw into the tub, clicking her front teeth together. “Hmm… it is very warm-hot. Screw it.”

She began stripping off her disguise, the tarp piling around her ankles as she discarded the heavy clothing. Next she shrugged off her tattered cloak, the cloth flitting away to reveal her dark fur. Like a woman discarding a bath robe, she flung the cloak aside, Roderick clearing his throat as she stood there in just her sling and loincloth.

He turned around, giving her some privacy, hearing the Skvaen unclip her many belts and pockets. After dumping those, there was a loud splashing sound, Roderick feeling water on his back. She must have divebombed straight in.

“Ooohh, now this is nice-nice,” Skyseeker sighed, Roderick taking a peek to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself. Her modesty was still covered by her sling, thankfully, the Skaven dunking her head into the water, her black fur becoming waterlogged. She threw her muzzle back after a moment, droplets of water flinging across the room, her fur so heavy it clung to her back and shoulders, further accentuating her athletic build.

Careful to avert his eyes, Roderick walked over, the tap squeaking as he turned the flow off. “Looks like they only gave us the one bar of soap,” he said, appraising the cleaning oils provided to them. He grinned when Skyseeker submerged herself again, the Skaven blowing bubbles in the water. Her ears were the only thing not submerged, the little membranes twisting in his direction. “Try to save some for me, lass.”

“You got it, stinky!” she chimed, reemerging to flash him a toothy grin. She watched him as he moved away, stacking their plates and cutlery together and setting them on the platter, Skyseeker whistling that awful tune again as she started running her padded hands through her damp fur.

“Uh, man-thing,” she began. “What’s soap, and how does Skaven use it?”

“It’s that white bar on the shelf there, and you just scrub it against yourself. Don’t you have soap in Skavenblight? Actually, don’t answer that. Dumb question.”

“Need demonstration,” she chimed, covering her moth as she began to snicker. “Can… Can man-thing help?”

“You… want me to wash you?” he asked, feeling heat in his face again. Damn it, why was he getting so easily flustered? Perhaps he’d had too much to drink himself…

“Is that not what man-things do?” she asked. “Skaven bathe together all the time.”

“Considering how feral you all are, I find that hard to believe. Besides, didn’t you just say you don’t bathe?”

“Just shut your hole and do it, man-thing!”

He supposed she was still clothed, so he didn’t have to worry about things getting weird. “Very well,” he said. “Just let me get these vambraces off. Don’t want them getting rusty.”

She chittered in amusement, Roderick shooting her a suspicious look across the room. She only laughed like that when she had a little scheme going, or perhaps it was simply a result of all the ale she’d drunk.

Setting his bracers down, he made his way over, crouching behind the Skaven as she turned her back to him, passing the bar of soap over her shoulder.

He took it, his hand brushing her soft paw as he did, Roderick dunking the bar into the water. He started off on her shoulder, sliding his fingers down her toned bicep, feeling her firm muscles twitch as he touched her. She was clamming up, bundling herself in her arms as though the water had suddenly run cold, Roderick remembering that in her very first moments of living, she had almost been eaten by her sibling. Since then, she had never let anyone lay a hand or paw on her, and the fact she was enduring his close proximity was a good step in the right direction.

Skyseeker’s fur was in a state. It was mangled and covered in filth, globs of dark fluid seeping away as he spread the lather.  She hadn’t been lying when she said she only bathed in success, which probably meant piles of trash in her culture.

He moved over to her other arm, kneading the soap into her developed shoulders on his way over. She was built like a swimmer, her porcelain flesh just soft enough to be malleable, while still retaining all the muscle groups that gave her the dexterity one of her profession demanded.

He washed away more grime from her dark coat, the bathwater turning brown around her. He raised her paw by the wrist, making sure he scrubbed at the underside of the limb, Roderick frowning as he encountered resistance. Near her elbow joint, her short fur had tangled into a knot, Roderick able to see the individual strands pulling away from her flesh. It looked painful, but she had never uttered a complaint about it before.

“Your fur’s all twisted,” he grumbled, Skyseeker watching as he rummaged through the shelf of bottles. “Let’s see here… ah ha!”

He held up a short hair comb, an unspoken question in the Skaven’s eyes as she watched him bring the plastic teeth closer. He elected to let the comb do the explaining, swiping it across her coat. When he brushed across the tangled fur, Skyseeker grumbled, Roderick stroking against the clump from different angles until the hairs started to untangle themselves.

“This is weird!” she complained, but whether she was talking about being groomed, or by the way he was combing her, he couldn’t tell. Maybe it was a combination of both.

“Just hold still,” he grumbled, holding her shoulder so she stopped twisting away. “It might hurt a little, but it’ll feel much better after, trust me.”

“Fine…”

Her tail flicked across the walls of the tub as he worked out the knot, finally able to comb across once it had come loose. He found another clump on her shoulder, and he worked that one out next, Skyseeker letting him manipulate her body so he could get the right angle. This one was much worse than the last, Roderick able to see a patch of her underlying pink skin near the root of the knot. Some of her fur must have torn loose after so much tension had built up there. Was she not in serious pain? Perhaps she was, but had come to the point she was no longer bothered by it.

“I don’t think I can save this one,” he said, reaching for his dagger. “Hold still.”

She flashed him a sceptical look as he brought his knife down, slicing the knot away at the base, the Skaven gasping in surprise. The result was immediate, her skin slowly falling away to rest in its natural position, the tension melting with it, if her blissful expression was any indication.

“Change mind,” Skyseeker sighed, trembling as he combed against the grain of her coat in search of more knots. “Weird is good-good…”

“It’s a miracle you’ve gone on for this long,” he commented, the Skaven bending forward so he could work at her upper back, using his free hand to untangle the next clump. “If I ever got a knot in my hair I’d have to stop immediately.”

“That’s because dumb man-thing’s weaker than Skaven,” she answered. “Skaven toleration for pain much higher! Eeek! Not so hard!”

“Sorry,” he said, stifling a chuckle at her immediate contradiction. She sucked in a breath as he worked out the tension in her back, running his hand through her wet fur as he trailed lower. The flare of her hips was all the more pronounced at this angle, the dimples of her cheeks hidden just beneath the waterline. Even with the distortion of the water, he could see how pert they were, like two softballs full of springy muscle.

“What you see, man-thing?” Skyseeker asked, snapping him out of his peeping.

“W-What? Oh, you mean the knots? Just a few more here…”

“Thank you, Roderick,” she mumbled as he cut another clump loose, stowing his knife away once he was done. “Feel much better now-now.”

“Glad to hear it. Now it’s on to phase two.”

He retrieved a bottle of shampoo from the shelf, upending it onto his palm, rubbing his hands together until they were crowded with suds.

“What’s phase two?” Skyseeker asked, eyeing his hands over her shoulder.

“Shampoo. This’ll wash out all that crap you’ve been lugging around. It’s meant for hair, but fur’s basically the same thing. I think.”

He delved his fingers into her coat, starting at her neck. Her fur was so fine, the strands indiscernible from another at a touch, almost making it feel like soft velvet. Her tension seemed to have melted away along with her tangled fur, Skyseeker slowly relaxing with each stroke of his fingers, her head lolling forward as he worked the suds in deep.

As he trailed down to her pinched waistline, she twitched, her tail batting against his arms as he rid her of the clinging muck. Like a dog wagging its tail, it must mean she was excited, though it was starting to get in the way of his work…

Skyseeker let slip a squeak as he grabbed her appendage, holding it aside as he traced the dimple of her spine, the Skaven shuddering as he ran his hands down her lithe figure.

“Sorry, did that hurt?” he asked, watching as the tip of her tail coiled around his wrist.

“N-No,” Skyseeker sighed. “D-Don’t pull tail, makes Skaven feel… strange.”

She didn’t elaborate on what that exactly meant, and Roderick didn’t ask, his hands trailing closer towards her flared hips, her tail releasing him after a moment. He skirted the spot where her tail joined to her lower back, noting that her dark coat trailed up the appendage a few inches before transitioning into pink, scaley flesh.

Cupping a hand in the water, he washed the suds from her back, Skyseeker shivering as the filth trailed away. It was a bit of an effort using just his hands, but soon her fur was shiny and clean.

“Poosham smells funny,” she mumbled, twisting her neck round to give her shoulder a sniff.

“Shampoo,” he corrected. “I don’t know how you can pronounce so many words wrong, lass.”

“Man-thing tongue has stupid way of speaking,” she snapped. “Do front now!”

She displayed remarkable flexibility as she bent herself backwards over the lip of the bathtub, her body conforming into a smooth arch. The movement inadvertently pushed out her bust, giving Roderick a view right down her cleavage.

“If you insist,” he replied, averting his eyes. He skirted round to her left, squeezing out another glob of shampoo onto his hand. Her abdominal muscles flexed as she presented her flat stomach to him, Roderick reaching over to rub the lather into her belly. Hopefully, she did not mean for him to wash her whole front…

He could feel the channels of a burgeoning six-pack, hidden beneath her silky coat, feeling tough muscles fight back against his questing digits. The Skaven flinched with every minute movement, apparently quite ticklish, her upper torso twisting while her waist remained still. She was so sinewy, her abs shifting in such a way that he was mesmerized by their flowing movements, the way her wet fur clung to her skin only accentuating her form.

He perked an eyebrow, noting that she had a belly button, tracing the navel with a finger, Skyseeker giggling as he let his curiosity get the better of him. The lines between exploring her and washing her were starting to blur now, Roderick skirting her mound and making small circles with his thumbs. So many parts of her was similar to a human, and he wondered where else she might be familiar…

Trying to refocus, he ran his hands over her pinches waist, pushing the lather into her sternum next. Her bust was still contained in that dirty sling she always wore, but the fabric was soaked through thanks to her earlier cannonball, Roderick just able to see through the cloth. Like the rest of her, her breasts looked to be wholly covered in her luscious fur, the pair of mounds rising and falling as Skyseeker took in deep breaths.

“Uhm, all done here,” he stammered, Skyseeker watching him through lidded eyes as he pulled away, the thin lines of red tracking him as he moved behind her again. Was that disappointment he saw in her gaze? He wasn’t sure…

He cupped the back of her head, Skyseeker so relaxed he had to lift her skull back above her shoulders of his own accord, Roderick kneading his soapy palms into her hair next – or the fur on top of her head, to be precise. Roderick gave her scalp a light massage, the Skaven smiling as she sunk deeper into the water. It looked like she was melting into a puddle. She was always so on edge, always convinced her enemies were just around the next corner, and it was amusing to see her so relaxed, so trusting to let him touch her.

Her ears flicked as his fingers brushed them, Roderick taking one into his palm, the fur covering the little dish-shaped protrusion giving it a thin, pleasant texture. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, and Skyseeker’s eyes blazed open, her tail sitting up as straight as an arrow.

He went to apologise, but the Skaven cocked her head, encouraging him to keep going, Roderick all too happy to oblige. He took care not to put too much pressure on them, as they were very sensitive, judging by her reaction just now.

He moved to her other ear, using his free hand to run the suds down her long skull, his digits passing between her large eyes. He paused when he heard a strange noise fill the room, Skyseeker slowly opening her eyes to give him a questioning look.

“Are you… doing that?” he asked, Skyseeker glancing away from him.

“Yes… I mean no! No…”

He gave her a knowing look, one she pretended to ignore, Roderick resuming his washing with a grin. A few strokes down her forehead later, and the noise returned, Skyseeker’s eyelids fluttering, its source unmistakable. He could see her lips pursing over her buck teeth, the little sounds she made suggesting she was grinding them together. What was the equivalent of a rat purring called?

Bruxing, that was it.

Feeling bold, he rested her muzzle in his palms, using his thumbs to stroke the suds into her cheeks. He could feel the dense muscles surrounding her jawbone, much more powerful than those on a human. She could probably chomp straight through bone with those wicked incissors of hers.

He moved further down her long face, the whiskers bridging the end of her snout brushing his hands. Wetting his palm, he wiped the lather across her button nose, Skyseeker giving him a strange look.

“That tickles!” she giggled, batting his hand away. It was such an odd noise coming from the rodent assassin, but one that he found pleasant to listen to.

“That about does it, you can rinse yourself off,” he said. He expected her to move herself below the tap, but instead of doing that, Skyseeker dunked her head below the water again, spraying droplets towards Roderick’s face when she resurfaced.

There was a folded towel placed beside the tub, and Roderick passed it over, Skyseeker stroking the fabric as she stepped out of the bath. After he explained that it was not for petting, but for drying off her fur, she got the picture, wiping herself down, drips of water pattering against the floor.

Once she was dry, she turned to face him, Roderick unable to help but admire her new look. The bath had done wonders for her fur, her coat so fine and silky, seeming to shine as the strands caught on the candlelight. With all the dirt and knotted clumps gone, her body was almost flawless, Roderick finding himself wishing he could touch that fur now that it was fluffy and dry.

Damn it, what was wrong with him? He should know better than to think of Skyseeker that way. She was a Skaven, for Sigmar’s sake. A fine companion, yes, but a spawn of Chaos nonetheless…

“Roderick’s turn!” she chimed, bringing him back to the present.

“For what?”

“For bath, stupid! Man-thing reeks more than Skaven do.”

“Oh, of course.”

Not wanting to wash in Skyseeker’s filthy water, he reached into the tub and pulled the plug, the grime gurgling away into the drain. As he refilled the tub with clean, steaming water, Roderick began stripping off his armour, Skyseeker giving him a curious look as he fiddled with his sabatons. He worked one leg free, then the other, giving his toes a wiggle as he planted them on the cool floor. She seemed to find his feet especially strange, cocking her head towards them, though she didn’t voice any observations.

He set his leg armour aside, then pulled off his mail skirt, exposing the leather pants he wore beneath. Last came the cuirass, Roderick feeling a sense of liberation at finally getting out of the tin suit for a small while.

As he began to unbutton his tunic, he realised Skyseeer wasn’t affording him the same privacy as he had for her, her crimson eyes examining him from feet to face, then back again.

“Well?” he asked. “Turn around, lass.”

“What-What? How can Skaven wash man-thing if turned about?”

They both shared a collective moment of confusion. “You… want to wash me?” he asked. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

“Roderick cleaned Skaven, now Skaven cleans Roderick. Courteous!”

“You don’t have to feel indebted to me,” he replied, shifting from foot to foot. “I can wash myself well enough.”

“I want to do it!” she exclaimed, stamping down with a paw-shaped foot. “Man-thing always doing kindness things, Skaven wants to give back. Need to learn secrets to kindness, and practice makes perfect! Yes-Yes!”

“I… very well. But turn around while I get in.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Skyseeker rolled her eyes dramatically, then looked away, her tail waving behind her. While she wasn’t so bothered about wearing waterlogged clothes, Roderick only had the one set of undergarments, and he’d rather not chafe his privates when they got moving tomorrow.

He slipped out of his tunic and hose, then fumbled with his underwear, checking to make sure Skyseeker was still facing away from him. He kicked off his briefs, completely nude as he stepped into the bath. When he glanced back at the Skaven, he saw that she had produced one of her knives, using its reflective surface to peer at him, a conniving smile on her face.

“Hey! I told you not to look!”

“You said turn around, and as you can see, Skaven is turned around. Roderick should have chosen words better.”

His cheeks flushing, he covered up his privates, lowering himself into the hot water. He picked up the discarded bar of soap bobbing on the surface, scrubbing it under his arms and ribs.

He heard the pitter-patter of Skyseeker’s feet as she moved closer, Roderick covering his junk with his thigh, hoping the soap bubbles would give him enough privacy from her prying eyes. Was it just curiosity that was driving her, or was there some ulterior motive behind her actions?

“Tables have turned, it seems!” Skyseeker chittered, taking up the shampoo bottle. Copying his example, she squirted a generous amount onto her paws, rubbing them together as she approached him from behind.

“You don’t have to do my whole body,” he said, flinching as her paws slapped loudly onto his shoulders. “Unlike you, I’m not covered head to toe in fur.”

“Beg to differ,” she replied. He felt her warm breath on his neck as she leaned closer, her paws making circles on his back. “Man-thing covered in small-tiny furs. Fascination…”

“Just worry about this bit,” he continued, gesturing to the top of his head. His hair was a dusky shade like coffee beans, its length level with his shoulders, Roderick bracing himself as her fingers delved into it. Her claws were no joke, one wrong move and she would slice him up, the fact she was a clumsy drunk making him unsure about all this.

His worries were for nothing, Skyseeker taking great care to be gentle with her claws, putting only the faintest amount of pressure on them, their sharp points scratching his scalp with all the lightness of a feather. Just as he had done with the comb, she raked her paws with the grain of his hair, a tingling sensation rolling through his scalp as she spread the shampoo over his head.

Roderick caught himself leaning back, her furry paws so soft and silky. It felt like she was massaging him with a pair of satin gloves. He was so relaxed that it took him a moment to realise it wasn’t the lip of the tub he was leaning against, but Skyseeker’s front, her flesh providing as much cushion as a down pillow. He stammered out an apology when he realised her breasts were touching his upper neck, Roderick able to feel their firmness through the sling she wore, but all Skyseeker did in response was smile down at him, continuing to wash his hair as she switched the subject.

“Roderick, you remember breed… wench, on street?” she asked, poking his ears just as he had to hers.

He was too out of it to voice a reply. Her claws felt like a comb in their own right, and the fact someone else was washing his hair was just a nice sensation. He elected to prompt her on with a wave of his hand.

“Remember how you said you like breeders who are… not old? Have any other preferences?”

“Why the sudden interest?” he murmured, shivering as those tingles started spreading down his spine.

“Man-thing breeder’s… confusing,” she replied. “Skaven Warlords kill for breeding rights, but Roderick has picky needs. Want to understand.”

“Don’t call me picky,” he grumbled. “I’m simply beyond the point of bedding wenches in exchange for coin.”

“So you don’t want to breed?”

“I-I never said that,” he said, the insinuation making him stammer. Women of his kind hardly ever broached the subject of sex, and it took months of courting just to be able to even mention it in passing. Skyseeker may be a naïve Skaven, but she was a woman, and hearing her discuss it so openly was a little off-putting.

“I’m simply on the lookout for a more… stable relationship,” he finished. “A decent woman, one with a kind heart, that’s what I prefer.”

“What about more physical preferences?” Skyseeker pressed. “To take a completely random example: you like shorter breeders, or tall ones? This hypothetical example, of course.”

“I’ve honestly not thought much about it. Haven’t had the time to, what with all that’s been happening lately.”

“Then take guess! Say I had pistol to your head, what would Roderick pick?”

“By Sigmar, a pistol? This is quite the hypothetical! I suppose I’d pick someone shorter if I had to. Satisfied?”

“Yes-Yes… Good…” Skyseeker muttered, resuming her washing of his hair. When it was thoroughly lathered, she cupped a paw into the water, rinsing the suds away, Roderick still able to feel her claws stroking his hair, despite the fact she’d stopped.

“Gimme,” she chimed, Roderick opening his eyes to see her plucking the soap from his hand. She began washing down the rest of him, spreading the soap over his back, Roderick feeling the spongy pads of her paws as she slid them over his skin.

The combination of her teasing claws and her tickling wet fur was filling his mind with white noise, Roderick too deep in a haze to tell her he was perfectly capable of washing himself. When she finished his back, she walked her fingers across his ribs, focusing on his chest next, pressing the pads of her fingers into his pectorals, as though testing his firm muscles. Though he had lost some weight during his time in the dungeons, his recent endeavours had left him fitter than he had ever been, Skyseeker peering over his shoulder to run her eyes over his strange anatomy. Strange to her, of course, she’d never seen a human as exposed as he was before.

“Roderick is stronger than most Skaven,” she whispered, her red eye filling the side of his peripheral as she leaned on his shoulder, her fluffy neck tickling him. She lowered her hands to his stomach next, her fingers prodding at the channels of his washboard abs. “Hard strength concealed behind soft flesh, intriguing! Another of Roderick’s schemes Skaven has missed…”

Her tone implied she was impressed, Roderick tensing as she drew a lazy line across his stomach with her index claw. He had been washed by other people before, as a General he had been allotted many perks, one of which being a group of consorts who bathed him regularly between battlefronts. He’d shared many a bath with those of the fairer gender, so why was all this tension building up inside him? Why did being touched by this rat woman make him feel so light headed?

She brushed his groin area, the conspicuous bulge he was sporting barely hidden beneath the dirtying water. He needed to put a stop to this, this wasn’t right.

“Hey!” Skyseeker complained, Roderick lifting her arms by her wrists. “What Roderick doing?”

“I’m as washed as I’ll ever be,” he replied. “Fetch me the towel, will you?”

“Oh. I-I knew that! Was just making sure you were… clean, yes-yes…” She scurried behind him and out of view, Roderick’s world blotting out as she threw the towel over his face. He scrubbed down his wet hair, giving Skyseeker a turn around gesture with his hand as he dried his shoulders.

Rolling her eyes once more, she looked away, picking over the leftovers on the platter to occupy herself. This time he made doubly sure she wasn’t peeking, quickly stepping out of the tub and fetching his briefs once he was dry.

As he buttoned up his tunic, there was a loud thunk, Roderick blinking in surprise as he turned around.

There was no sign of the noise’s source, or Skyseeker for that matter, Roderick glancing about the empty room warily. The solitary window was shut, the curtains drawn over it, and the door handle was still in the locked position. Scratching his head, he moved to check under the bed, then the table, not really expecting to see her there but looking anyway. Where had she gone?

“Skyseeker?” he asked, waiting for a reply. He heard a soft grumble behind him, then the short squeaking noises he’d come to associate with the Skaven’s snoring. His eyes fell to the floorboards, the one she’d pried open slightly out of line with the rest. Leaning down on his knees, he lifted it away, a pair of crimson eyes staring up at him from between the dark gap.

“Skyseeker? Why are you in the floor? Get out of there.”

“Napping!” she chittered, waving a dismissive paw. “Leave Skaven alone.”

“We’ve got a perfectly good room here, and you choose to sleep with the insects?”

“Floor like burrow,” she replied. “And Roderick won competition, room your reward.”

“Competition? Oh, right, the drinking game. I was only joking about that, lass, you can have the bed, I’ll make do on the floor.”

“Nonsensical! Man-thing won, Skaven lost, is only fair Skaven gets burrow.”

“You’re not sleeping in that tick-infested floor on my account,” he chided. “Especially not after we just cleaned you.”

“Well where will YOU sleep? Roderick can’t fit in floor!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing this was getting neither of them anywhere. Perhaps he should have bitten the bullet and bought a room for two after all. He considered their situation for a second, a compromise soon coming to mind.

“We could… share the bed, lass.”

Skyseeker opened her mouth in a mix of surprise and horror. “Scandalous!” she exclaimed. “Man-thing can’t SLEEP with Skaven! W-What would Horned Rat say?”

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “You want the whole tavern to hear you? If you don’t want to share, at least sleep on top of the floor, not beneath it.”

“Hmm…” Skyseeker mused, chewing on a claw, fixing him with a thoughtful expression. She mumbled something about the Horned Rat again, then seemed to make up her mind.

“Man-thing is very warm,” she mumbled. “Would make nap-time warm too. I accept your deal, Roderick.”

He took her paw, guiding her out of the floor and towards the bed. Usually he would sleep in just his briefs, but for politeness’s sake he decided to keep his tunic and pants on.

He paused by the mattress, his heart humping a little faster in his chest for whatever reason. Skyseeker seemed to mirror his hesitation, the Skaven extending her arm to touch the bedsheets, all while staying as far away from the mattress as possible.

“What is this thing?” she asked.

“It’s a mattress, made from cotton,” he explained, lifting the covers away by the corner. “Which is a kind of fluffy plant. That there is the pillow, also made of cotton, but stuffed with goose feathers”

“Man-thing nests… very soft,” she mumbled, stroking the pillow like it was some kind of house pet.

“What do Skaven beds look like?” he asked.

“Some prestigious rats fill nests with blankets, but most sleep in burrows full of rocks. Good for the spine!”

“Do Skaven weave blankets?”

“Of course not, stupid! Stolen from other nests!”

“Which are themselves stolen from cities up on the surface, I imagine,” he mused, slipping beneath the sheets, the insulated covers holding back the cool air. Skyseeker followed his example, swinging one long leg onto the bed, then the other, Roderick shuffling away to give her room. The bed was a single, and even with the Skaven’s smaller frame, there was barely enough room for the both of them, his left arm dangling over the edge of the mattress.

He recoiled when her winding tail batted him in the face, the Skaven wriggling on the spot as she tried to get comfortable. The indent he created in the mattress meant she found herself being pulled towards him, her fluffy coat brushing against his arm.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, tugging her tail under an arm, the appendage wiggling like a snake as she tried to control its erratic movements.

“It’s alright,” he mumbled, turning on his side so he could make more room. Once she was settled in, she threw the covers over the both of them, the combined heat of their bodies already creating a nice pocket of warmth.

Without warning, Skyseeker shifted, Roderick watching her discard her cloak, dropping it off the edge of the mattress, exposing her shiny black fur. He’d found out firsthand how soft her coat was to touch, but now that it was clean and dry, she felt even more fuzzier than normal, and his mind wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or flustered that his arms and chest were unable to stop coming into contact with her.

“Man-thing very warm,” she muttered, sharing none of his prudishness as she shuffled closer, her back firmy pressing against his chest. “Reminds Skaven of… hot things.”

“Uh, thanks?” he stuttered, holding his arms up, not sure where to put them now that she was so close. Her scent rose to his nose, so potent now that there was nowhere else for it to go. She smelled faintly of the soap he’d used earlier, but there was a deeper, more rich scent hidden behind it, one that his brain associated with coffee, of all things, almost earthy, but not in a bad way.

“D-Don’t smell Skaven,” she grumbled, perhaps hearing him sniffing the air.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Just don’t!” she said, not elaborating further. Shrugging his shoulders, he promised he wouldn’t use his nose, pulling the sheet a little higher over his shoulder. He tried closing his eyes, but with her tail constantly flicking against his legs, and the compromising state he was currently in, sleep was the last thing on his fretting mind.

“Y-You can touch Skaven,” Skyseeker added, seeing him struggle to find a spot for his arms.

“Oh, I-I wouldn’t… Are you sure?”

“Touch, don’t smell, that’s Skaven’s rules for nap time.”

Slowly hooking an arm across her stomach so as not to startle her, those flat muscles in her belly flexed as he hugged her. With her back to him, he couldn’t see her expression, but he had an inkling her eyes were angled straight ahead. She was as tense as he was.

“This is weirdest thing Skaven has ever done before,” Skyseeker commented, and for once he was glad for her tactless nature. Her blunt statement seemed to melt through the lingering tension like a knife, Roderick chuckling as he eased down onto the pillow they were sharing.

“Which part? The fact you’re sharing a bed with me, or that you’re in a bed at all?”

“The… first one. No! The second! Maybe both. Always try to find own private nest to sleep before. Breeder sharing nap with other Skaven always makes breeder… nervous.”

“I can imagine,” he replied. “Are you… nervous now?”

“… No,” she replied after a moment. “Should be, but not. Not know how Skaven comes to that conclusion.”

“Maybe because I’m not a Skaven?” he suggested.

Skyseeker didn’t reply, curling her paws beneath the pillow. As the minutes ticked by, she seemed to grow more relaxed, gently easing into his chest, perhaps attracted to his body heat. Likewise, Roderick felt the prospect of sleep slowly becoming easier to grasp, his eyelids soon growing heavy as his body registered the fact it was surrounded by soft sheets and soft furs on all sides.

“I-I like you, Roderick!” Skyseeker suddenly exclaimed, Roderick tilting his head.

“Well that was sudden. Where’s this coming from?”

“Before, Roderick said you like Skyseeker. Wanted to… reciprocation!”

“Oh. Well… thank you,” he said, not sure how else to respond. With that, she pushed her head into the crook beneath his chin, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Soon her stomach began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, the Skaven’s breathing slowing as she drifted off.

Roderick closed his eyes, the sensation of his fingers running through Skyseeker’s damp fur during the bath echoing through his mind. He remembered how close she’d come to touching his groin area, just the mere recollection of the event making his head spin. Why was he acting this way? Was he so deprived of female company, that he was starting to see Skyseeker in that kind of light? It was borderline heresy to be even considering it, but no matter how much he tried to stave the thoughts off, it was impossible to ignore them for very long, not with the Skaven’s soft body pressed up against him.

He needed to get his act together, and fast. Deciding he’d sleep on these troubled thoughts and sort them out in the morning, he settled in, inadvertently pulling Skyseeker a little closer as he let sleep take him.

Chapter 7: Setting Sail

Roderick rubbed his eyes as he threw off the bedsheets, swinging his bare feet onto the cold floor. Sunlight was bleeding through the slivers between the drapes, drawing bright bands of yellow across the wall and table, the scraps of the hearty meal they’d enjoyed last night still messing its surface.

“Ready for some breakfast lass?” he asked, yawning into a fist. He turned to pat his companion on the arm. “Assuming you’re not still full from last night. S-Skyseeker?”

The bed was empty, the Skaven nowhere to be seen. He looked around the room, checking beneath the table, then inside the bath, scratching his chin in confusion. He remembered waking up during the night a couple times, feeling Skyseeker’s soft presence bundled up against his chest, so she must have departed recently.

He crouched down to check beneath the floorboard, but again she wasn’t there. She must have left, but where, and for what reason? He knew that if anyone was sneaky enough to move about the city undetected, it would be Skyseeker, but he still worried for her all the same.

I’m worried about a Skaven, he thought, shaking his head. Truly strange times for us all.

His jumbled thoughts from last night came flooding back, a part of him briefly wondering what exactly was strange about looking out for a friend. But did friends bathe each other? Only partners or consorts would do such a thing, and Skyseeker was neither of those things. He could have put a stop to her efforts to put her paws on him, but hadn’t. What did that make of him?

Trying to dispel these thoughts, he checked the room over one more time, calling out her name, just in case she was napping in the brickwork. There was no reply, Roderick running a hand through his hair as he paced.

She had told him she’d wished to explore the city, perhaps she’d started before he’d woken up. Either that, or she was in the kitchen eating all the food. Perhaps he should make sure it wasn’t the latter, then figure out what to do if that wasn’t the case.

Pulling on his armour, feeling refreshed after a good night’s sleep, he unlocked the door, making his way back into the tavern lobby. The musicians had departed, leaving the stage barren, along with most of the seats and tables. A few patrons still lingered about, including the two elves he’d seen before, one of them glancing up at Roderick has he walked by their table.

The innkeeper was still manning the bar, dressed in the same apron and tunic, looking not in the least bit tired. He must be used to working long nights in this place.

“Morning, stranger,” the man greeted, nodding to an empty stool. “Drink? More ale if you’re feeling adventurous, apple juice if you’re not.”

“Juice is fine,” Roderick said, sliding out a few corns from his money pouch. The innkeeper placed a mug on the bar-top, Roderick taking an eager sip. The juice was sweet and tasty, quenching his dry mouth.

To the right of the racks of bottles and kegs was a door, and it opened a few moments later, a maid hand dressed in a black and white gown carrying a bowl of soup or porridge in her hands. Neither she or the innkeeper looked like the victims of a kitchen raid, so he could rule out Skyseeker being in the pantry.

“So,” Roderick began, leaning on his elbows. “What’s been happening around here? Anything interesting going on in the city? “

The innkeeper regarded him for a moment before replying. “Normally I’d charge for gossip, but since you’ve already paid up, a few words couldn’t hurt.”

Roderick’s smile was thin. At last, he’d seen the limit of the Tilean lust for gold.

“The Skaven invasion’s got everyone riled up,” the innkeeper added, wiping a mug stain off the counter with a rag. “The militia’s not quite enforcing conscription, but there’s posters nailed to every wall and door, offering a very fine wage for anyone who signs on. If what I hear about all these wiped-out mercenary bands is true, they’ll need every able man they can get if the rats come knocking.”

Roderick shifted at the words ‘wiped out’. Was he talking about the band he’d been a part of? Had they really been killed to a man? There was no way to be certain, but he still felt a pang of guilt rise up in his chest all the same.

“Is the port still open?” Roderick asked, changing the topic.

“Certainly. We don’t call this place Portamaggoire for nothing. If the trade routes were ever cut, city would die a slow death.”

“Any special ships coming in lately?”

“Special?” the innkeeper asked. “As in, the Enlightenment herself special? Most interesting ships docking here are caravels, the occasional galley perhaps, why you ask?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting an old friend here, he’s sailing in from the Empire. He’ll stick out in a crowd. He’s a druid, dresses in a big green robe, wears a wreath of sticks on his head. Seen anyone like that?”

“A magician, eh? Let me think. I do recall a mage passing through some time ago, but he came in with a caravan. If he sailed in on Imperial business, you’ll have to ask someone at the harbour, afraid ship business doesn’t reach this far into town.”

The elves seemed to grow interested in their conversation, one of them whispering to the other while pointing in Roderick’s direction. He decided to preempt them, leaning an arm on the backrest and waving a hand to get their attention.

“Help you two with anything?” he asked, Roderick taking a moment to look them over in more detail. They wore leather armour from neck to toe, parts of their tunics the same colour as leaves, probably to help camouflage them as they stalked the forests. Like Skyseeker, they wore baggy hoods with long capes, but unlike the Skaven’s raggedy fabrics, these elves wore capes of fine linen, a symbol of a spiralling tree weaved into the material. Slung over their backs were quivers of arrows, as well as great bows, the weapons as tall as Roderick was.

The one on the right regarded him with a pair of icy blue eyes, the rest of their face obscured by a cowl. Even in a public tavern, they seemed to value their notoriety.

“Tell us something, manling,” the elf began, a male by the tone. “For what reason does a mercenary have to meet with a druid?”

“And what reason do you have to eavesdrop?” Roderick asked back. “Why’s it any of your business?”

“Druids are commendable,” the other elf added, this one a female. She had eyes that were almost as blue as her male counterpart, but not quite. Apart from that, it was hard to differentiate them, they looked like twins. “They are knowledgable of the world’s plight, by manling standards. A common brigand would do well to not disturb a Jade Wizard with his stink.”

“His Skaven stink,” the male elf added. “You reek of the vermin. Almost thought a rat had stumbled through the door, when you walked in last night.”

Roderick sipped at his drink, hiding his hesitation behind the mug. They weren’t aware of how close their analogy had been to the truth, thank the Gods, but the comment carried an unspoken warning. If Skyseeker went anywhere near these elves, she would be discovered in an instant. It was a miracle she’d taken to moving through the walls.

“That’s because I had to fight my way through the vermintides just to get here,” Roderick explained, touching the hilt of his Skaven sword for emphasis. “One tends to get a little messy hacking through rodent after rodent. Not that either of you would know, you take pride in killing from afar, up in your trees and out of harms way.”

“I was fighting before you were even born, mayfly,” the female snarled, her blue eyes flashing. The male placed his hand on her sleeve, gripping her arm tight.

“Not here, Shessare,” he muttered. “Do not let yourself be antagonised.”

The female settled back in her seat, glaring daggers at Roderick, who smiled back.

“Don’t take that the wrong way,” Roderick assured. “I was simply stating the fact that if I were sitting up in a tree, leagues and leagues away from any front line or danger, I’d smell pretty nice too. If anything, I’m complementing you, Shessare.”

“Do not speak my name,” the elf woman growled. The innkeeper, watching the exchange silently from behind the bar, thumped the counter with a fist, seizing everyone’s attention.

“I don’t want any trouble inside my tavern, understood? I just mopped, so take it outside if you can’t be civil.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Roderick replied, holding up a gauntlet. “The elf asked me a question, and I’ll answer it. This druid, Wilfred, he’s come to rid me of this country. No offense intended,” he added, glancing at the innkeeper. “He’s expecting me, so if you’ve any information to volunteer, speak now, otherwise I’ll be on my way.”

“What makes you think we know anything of this mage?” the female elf, Shassare, asked.

“Did you hear the part how I mentioned Wilfred wears a wreath? He acquired that from the branches of an Athel Loren Glade Tree. I imagine a pair of elves would be very… attuned, to something like that if it was nearby.”

“Perhaps you do know this druid,” the male elf mused, clasping his gloved hands together. “He came in on an Imperial wolfship two of your weeks ago – though why it is referred to as a wolf alludes me, crude thing that it is. Considering it’s the only one of its kind in town, that should be enough for you to find him.”

“Well that’s… helpful,” Roderick replied, blinking in surprise. “If I know anything about you treefolk, you’d never help someone for free. Or at all for that matter.”

“Oh, we aren’t helping you, manling,” the female interjected. “We are simply letting you march to your death even quicker than you would otherwise. Falsely claiming to be a companion to a friend of the Glade is a tremendous insult. One that would warrant death from afar. We’ll be watching.”

Roderick took that as his cue to leave. He ordered some breakfast from the innkeeper, then retreated back to his room, feeling the elf’s eyes’on his back all the while. It had probably not been in his best interests to antagonise them so, not with Skyseeker under his protection, but what’s done is done. He should make haste to Wilfred’s ship as soon as possible.

He closed his room door behind him, wondering where he should start searching for Skyseeker. Should he just prowl the streets, hope that she came to him in time? Perhaps he could enlist Wilfred’s help, assuming he could convince him he wasn’t joking about having a Skaven companion.

As he paced around the room, a measure of panic starting to surface, there was a knock on the door, and a small part of Roderick was sure it would be Skyseeker, summoned back to the tavern through divine intervention. Unfortunately, it turned out to be just a maid hand, delivering the bowl of porridge he’d bought a few minutes ago.

He thanked the woman, the bowl warming his hand through his gauntlet, then moved to take a seat. Halfway between the door and the table, he nearly tripped as his foot caught on something, Roderick peering down to see the floorboard had moved in his absence, and a familiar squeaking sound was whispering through the crack.

“Skyseeker!” he sighed, lifting the board away to expose a groggy rat woman. “Where in the Gods names have you been?”

Skyseeker lifted her head on her slender neck, peering around the room through heavy eyelids, which were crusted with sleep. She looked like the most tired being in all of existence.

“What-What? Skaven been… been right here-here all night.” She cradled her temple in her paws. “Oooohh, head-face feel like flames. Put it out!”

“I told you to take it easy on the ale,” he chided. She’d only had about half the bottle, how could that wipe her out so hard? Perhaps Skaven couldn’t handle their alcohol like humans could, she was almost half his size. His frustration slowly gave way to pity as Skyseeker started mashing her palms across her muzzle, grimacing all the while. “I suppose it’s my fault for introducing you to it in the first place. Come on, get up.”

“Always stupid man-things fault!” Skyseeker snapped, letting him take her paw into his hand, guiding her out of her hidey-hole. “Rick-rod should know that by now.”

“Here,” he asked, offering his canteen. “Drink up. You had me worried there, lass. Where did you go?”

When she finished with his canteen, handing it back to him, she looked at everything but his face, mumbling something under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I said not remember,” she repeated.

“Is that soright So, you went to bed, got out of bed at some point, left the room, then came back here while I was out in the lobby just now? All that happened, and you don’t remember a thing?”

“… Y-Yes? Yes. That what happened, exactly that!”

Roderick groaned, throwing up his hands. “Whatever, never mind all that, lass, we’ve got bigger problems. This place isn’t as safe as I first thought.”

“Ah-HA!” Skyseeker exclaimed, holding out a triumphant paw and pointing at herself. “I knew-knew it! ‘There’s no plots of schemes, we’re safe here’ – that’s what man-thing said before. Now who’s the stupid one?”

“Just listen for a moment,” he urged, and to his surprise, she did, her ears tracking him as she pursed her lips. She took the threat of new enemies very seriously. “There are elves in the tavern, I was just talking with them, and they smelled you on me. I managed to mislead them, but we need to leave. Grab your things.”

“S-Smelled breeder-musk on man-thing?” Skyseeker asked, the notion making the little Skaven flustered. “How… scandalous.”

“Never mind that, just get ready to go. They said they’ll be watching me, so you’ll have to leave by the floors, or walls, or wherever it is that you use to get around.”

“Hunted by pointy-ears, how intriguing! Horned Rat will be most impressed when Skaven gives them a good slipping. But first, a quick breakfast!”

“There’s no time for that,” he chided. “I’ll get you something later. Meet me in the alley outside, the one I told you to wait in last night, remember? Avoid the lobby if you can, and keep far away from the elves.”

“Don’t tell me how to sneak-scurry, fatfeet,” she grumbled, pulling on her disguise. “Ready! Let’s skedaddle!”

She bent to lift up the floorboard, slipping beneath the wood with a snicker, the board slapping back into place. The pitter-patter of her feet crossed to the far side of the room, and then the Skaven was gone.

Roderick checked the room to make sure he had everything, tidying up a little to hide any evidence of the Skaven’s presence. With a little luck, they would mistake the fur clogging the bath drain as hair.

Tucking his helmet under an arm, he walked out into the hallway, making his way to the exit. The two elves were still at the same table as before, Roderick doing his utmost to ignore them as he slid his room key over the bar-top, the innkeeper thanking him and to come visit again.

-xXx-

The streets were a little busier compared to the night before, the early hour meaning very few of the city residents were starting to go about their business. As long as he and Skyseeker didn’t dawdle, they should reach Wilfred’s ship before the city woke up and became clogged with people.

As Roderick turned to the right, walking into the alleyway flanking the tavern, he found Skyseeker huddled up against the dumpster, head tucked under an arm as she snoozed. She looked like a beggar, the image only furthered by her tattered hood and the heavy awning cover she’d bundled over herself like a quilt. At least none of her Skaven features were exposed, the pedestrians walking along without so much as a word.

He called her name, waiting impatiently as she continued to snore. How could she be so tired all of a sudden? Feeling a little impolite, he nudged her with his foot, Skyseeker awakening with a startled chortle.

“Huh? Wha-? OH, Rick-rod! You took time! Waiting hours for you.”

“And I see you’ve been vigilant in the meantime,” he noted.

“So where to next?” Skyseeker asked, stretching her arms over her head. “Fredwil’s ship? Man-thing know where it is?”

“Indeed I do. He’s somehow gotten his hands on a wolfship, been docked for a few days. I was expecting something a little less conspicuous, but I’m not complaining. Those ships are fast and loaded with guns.”

“How does man-thing know this?” she asked, sticking to his side as he began to walk across the street. The sea was to the west, so all they had to do was walk that direction until they reached the port district.

“Those elves I mentioned told me,” he answered, Skyseeker glancing up at him, her unspoken confusion clear as day. “They think Wilfred will sort me out once I find him. Wish I could see their faces once that happens. Perhaps we will,” he added, checking over his shoulder.

“Not that it bothers me-me, but why did you incur pointy-ears’ wrath?” she asked. “Rick-rod knows we have enough enemies already-ready!”

“I’ve never been one to knuckle down at the words of an elf,” he muttered. “Especially ones as pretentious as those two. You should have heard what one of them called themselves. Shessare. Sounds like a Bretonnian dessert or something.”

They continued on through the narrow streets, the sounds of boots clocking against the cobbles echoing beyond every twist and turn. While a few of the citizens turned to give Skyseeker curious glances, that was the limit of their suspicions, some even parting to let her walk by uninterrupted. Perhaps they really saw her as a dwarf, and did not wish to get in her way.

“Rick-rod! Think-Think disguise is working!” Skyseeker hissed, Roderick noting she was gluing to his flank at all times. “Ha-Ha! Seeing stupid man-things always makes Skaven laugh.”

She seemed more chipper today, their night spent together having done wonders for the both of them. While Roderick had conflicted thoughts about sharing a bed with her, he wondered if she felt the same way. She hadn’t brought the event up yet, so neither would he.

“Just try and keep your voice down,” he replied, the pair turning down another bend in the street. “The ruse won’t last long if people hear you shouting me-me and Horned Rat all the time.”

“Then I’ll switch back to beard-thing impression! Got lots of practice since last time. Want to hear it?”

“No, thank you,” he sighed, his annoyance betrayed by his smirk.

Ten or so minutes of walking later, the streets began to widen, Roderick and Skyseeker finding themselves standing on the edge of a market square. Stalls draped in all manner of colourful awnings filled the space, the men and women stood behind them shouting the prices of their wares. Dozens of people weaved between the stalls, their wide-brimmed hats and long-sleeved tunics shielding them from the rising sun’s heat. A few guards stood watch here and there, their long halberds towering above the layers of heads.

“Oh, I completely forgot!” Roderick said, planting a fist in his palm, Skyseeker flinching at the gesture. “You said you wanted to explore the city. Shall we go for a walk? After we get something to eat?”

“W-What about elfy-things?”

“What are they going to do, shoot us out in the street? The guards will deter them from getting in our way, trust me. So what do you say?”

He couldn’t help but feel he was asking Skyseeker out on a date, but he quickly reminded himself he was just entertaining her, nothing more.

“Ah, uhm… n-no,” Skyseeker mumbled, trying to look at anything but him.

“What? But you said last night that you wanted to explore.”

“Time’s changed,” she replied. “Man-thing city… boring, actually. Best we scurry on quick-quick.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, and now he felt as though he’d just been turned down. “Is this because of the elves?”

“Uh, that too!” she stammered.

“So there’s another reason? And that is?”

“N-Nothing! I never said no reasons. Never said anything about exploring city last night while man-thing slept.”

“You what?” he asked, spreading his arms out wide. “You went out on a bender? Skyseeker, I told you to keep a low profile!”

“Lies!” she snapped, then looked away sheepishly. “How did man-thing know I went into city?”

“Because you just told me!” he exclaimed. “Lass, this city is full of armed men, what if you’d been discovered?”

“But I wasn’t!” she replied. “How many times must I say-speak – Skyseeker is Clan Mors’ best assassin.”

Roderick tried to utter a reply, stuttered, then gave up, throwing his hands up in frustration. This explained why she hadn’t been in the room when he’d woken up, and why she looked so tired when he found her.

“At least tell me you didn’t kill anyone,” he sighed, bracing himself for her answer.

“Stupid man-thing, always thinking the worst. No kill-stabbing happened, just like I promised.”

“Thank Sigmar,” he breathed. “And you’re certain you weren’t discovered?”

“Positively!”

“Then… perhaps this turn of events wasn’t as bad as I first thought.”

As the words left his lips, he heard a scuffle behind him, Roderick turning to see a pair of guards hauling a man through the square, their gauntlets tucked beneath his arms. The man looked like a merchant, with a green chaperon upon his head, and dressed in a fancy quilted coat. The citizens turned to stare as the guards roughly dragged the merchant away, Roderick able to pick up the tail-end of his babbling as the guards hauled him off.

“-please listen to me! There was a rat! A Skaven is in the city! It was in my shop, please, you must believe me! I have proof, witnesses!”

The guards dragged him around the corner and out of sight, Roderick shooting Skyseeker a frown, the rat woman shrugging in response. “What?” she asked. “Could mean other Skaven in city! Best keep eyes peeled.”

“What part of being discreet don’t you understand?” he sighed, rubbing his temple with a hand. “What did you do? Why are they hauling that poor man off?

“Poor!” she echoed. “Man-thing deserved what happened. Uhm, not that I would know what happened. Or that anything did happen, yes-yes…”

“You’re horrible at lying, lass,” he said, prompting her on. She stared up at the sky, refusing to make eye-contact, Roderick shaking his head when she refused to add anything.

“Very well, don’t tell me,” he grumbled. “probably for the best I don’t know what happened anyway. Let’s forego exploring and move on, before these Skaven sightings start to spread.”

He strolled into the square, Skyseeker hurrying after him. She opened her muzzle to speak, then stopped herself when Roderick flashed her an annoyed look.

As they blended in the crowd, the scent of cooked meat began to hang thick in the air, Roderick following his nose towards its source, soon coming before a stall towards the centre of the market. Behind the countertop was a portable kitchen, the sections of stoves and appliances connected together by brass hinges and cogwheels, reminding Roderick of foldable compartments one might find in a toolbox. The kitchen was open to the sky, letting the smoke rising from the beds of coals dissipate into the air. A pig roasting on a spit was being tended by two men in chef aprons, one of them walking over to address the people lining up.

“Feel like bacon, Skyseeker?” Roderick asked, joining the queue.

“What is bacon, and why are we here?” she asked back. “Thought man-thing said we should be moving on.”

“I’m not walking another step on an empty stomach. This shouldn’t take a minute,” he answered. “And bacon is meat from a pig, by the way, a farm animal.”

She licked her front teeth at that, Roderick just able to see her eager expression through the shadow of her hood. After a few minutes, it was their turn in the line, Roderick ordering two serves of meat, then another when he remembered Skyseeker’s endless appetite. The chef wrapped his order up in a paper parcel, Roderick handing over a sum of gold in exchange. Next, he located a fruit stand, buying a pair of fresh apples to go with the meat. Meal in hand, they departed the square from the northern side, finding a secluded alleyway where Skyseeker could expose her paws and muzzle away from prying eyes.

Unwrapping the parcel, Roderick handed over a strip of bacon, watching as Skyseeker chewed through the tough meat effortlessly with her sharp teeth. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she swallowed it down, her mouth forming a little o of wonder.

“Palatable!” she exclaimed. “Best meat eaten since ever!”

“Nothing like bacon to start off the morning,” he replied, starting on his own piece. The bacon was just under the point of being burned, exactly the way he liked it, the fruit adding a sweet aftertaste.

“Apologising,” she suddenly began, Roderick turning to see Skyseeker peering up at him, a dim look in her eyes.

“What?”

“For causing ruckus,” she explained, clicking her front teeth together in what might be irritation. “Was not thinking straight last night, which is unlike me – being an intellectual. Not intention to make Rick-rod angry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he replied. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Alcohol can make a person do crazy things, especially if they’re wet behind the ears. I remember my first night on the town was just as disorderly.”

“Oh? Do tell!”

“Well, me and a couple of friends went out to a tavern not unlike the Crippled Gryphon, celebrating something or other. A couple beers in, one of us thinks we should relive our youths and play a game of hide and seek on the street outside – it’s a children’s game, where a group of people hide while one person tries to find everyone. Anyway, a couple rounds later and I’m trying to hide, and by this point the street’s pretty well known, and all the good spots are taken. But then my eyes turn up, and I get the brilliant idea that nobody’s going to find me if I’m up on the roof.”

“Should have fallen and broken my neck that night, but by some miracle I make it up there, and I settle in behind the chimney, drink in hand. A couple minutes go by, and I hear people shouting my name, telling me that they give up. Not a chance of that, I thought, drunk Roderick’s going to win this game. After a suspiciously long while, I peek over the gutter and see my friends have gotten the town guard involved in the search. That should have been my cue to realise people were getting worried, but I’ve never been one to let victory slip me by.”

“I close my eyes for a moment, and next thing, it’s dawn. I’d spent the whole night up on that roof, freezing my balls off for some stupid game. My friends were inside, having long given up, and one of them gave me this look, said he was just about to go inform our field commander that I was missing in action.”

“Did you tell them where you were sneak-hiding?”

“Not a soul,” he chuckled. “And that’s what bothered my friends the most in the end. Not the fact I could have actually gone missing.”

Skyseeker giggled, failing to suppress a smile. “Would not have told either,” she said. “Need hidey place for next game!”

“Needless to say, I’d been drinking quite a lot, and my sense of judgement was pretty far gone by that point. I assume that was the same case with you last night.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped. “Had control of all faculties, like always! Always know where I am, what I am doing.”

“So when we… washed each other, slept together, spoke about all those things… that wasn’t the ale talking?”

“Ale… may have had some influence,” she admitted, staring at the spot between her feet. “Did… man-thing not like bathing? Will do better next time, promise!”

“No, no, the bath was fine, really. I enjoyed it,” he stammered, his cheeks warming.

“S-So did I!” she chimed, locking eyes with him for a second. She looked away, scratching her muzzle pensively. “A-Anyways, what… ‘speaking’ did Skaven do? Not that I forgot!” she hurriedly added. “Just need remindening, please.”

“Well let’s see,” he began, noting Skyseeker was tensing up as she waited for his answer. “you asked me what kinds of things I look for in a woman, then wrapped up the night by saying you liked me.”

“What.”

Skyseeker had the deadpan look of one who’s just been told a terrible joke, the Skaven hiding her expression by slamming her paws into her face. “N-No, wait-wait! Th-That’s not… I never said that! That was ale talking!”

“You just said you had control of all your faculties.”

“Stop nitpicking!” she complained, glancing through her fingers to give him an exasperated look. “Stupid man-thing drink jumbled words! Made me sound like breeder in heat who wants attention. Which I’m not! Well, technically am that, but that’s not point!”

“You know,” he began, a mischievous smirk on his face. “We stupid man-things have a saying. A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.”

“B-But I’m not a man-thing! It doesn’t count!” she wailed, pulling her hood over her face to conceal herself from him. “A-And I like you as FRIEND. There was NO romantasy in Skaven’s words. Zero, negative even! Why would Rick-rod even suggest otherwise? Wait, did it? Stop smiling at me like that-that!”

She bent so far forward her head was almost resting in her lap, Roderick chuckling as she started babbling under her breath. He didn’t get the impression that she was disgusted by this revelation, it was more like it taken her by surprise, and her clumsy explanation suggested he’d embarrassed her greatly. It was amusing to see her so flustered, Skyseeker was always so focused on her mission, that he’d started to think it was all she cared about. It seemed he was wrong.

“Perhaps the ale had more of an effect on you than you care to admit,” he said, trying to rescue her verbally.

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “It was a long nap time. Saw very interesting things, including man-thing’s- NO. Stop.”

She met his eyes again, quickly looking away as she snagged another bacon strip from his parcel, stuffing it – and her whole paw – into her mouth. Roderick took another bite of his apple, the two falling silent as they ate. It wasn’t an awkward silence, though there was some tension in the air, but one of a wholly different quality than before.

His words might have been considered uncouth if he’d spoken them to a human woman, but Skyseeker didn’t appear offended, the occasional glance she sent in his direction proving the fact. Her excuse for explaining how she liked him had been clumsy, but endearing in a way, and Roderick would be a fool to not realise she may have a small crush on him.

He thought back to how indecisive he’d been right before sleeping, debating his conflicted feelings towards Skyseeker. She wasn’t at all like a human woman, both physical and otherwise, but it was those parts of her that were so fascinating. She didn’t mince words, she didn’t ty to act polite, she just did and said the first thing that comes to her mind. That kind of to-the-point attitude made her easier to understand than most of his previous partners.

A part of him reciprocated this crush of hers, but when he opened his mouth to say so, nothing came out. Perhaps he could put into writing what his words never could, and make her a poem? He had done something similar once before with a previous suitor, around the time he’d first signed on with the Imperial army. Nothing had come of it in the end, but she hadn’t complained about his poetry skills…

He would need time and some parchment first, but with a bit of luck, he’d have both by the time they’d set sail.

He looked up at the sun, seeing the morning was passing swiftly. Tossing the apple core away, he dusted off his hands, gesturing to Skyseeker with a gauntlet.

“You ready to move, lass?”

She nodded, wolfing down the last of her bacon, licking her paws clean with her long tongue.

“Ready-Ready! Time to sail-sail!”

-xXx-

With their bellies full, they pressed on through the tight streets of Portomaggoire, the dwellings as colourful as they were unique, no two buildings quite the same in size or shape. They took on a more rustic appearance as they approached the city’s western portion, form giving way to function as warehouses and industry took precedence.

They soon came upon a staircase, Roderick taking the lead as he began descending the steps, Skyseeker trying not to trip on her cumbersome disguise as she followed. Two residential buildings sat flush against the steps to either side, their windows open to let the salty air seep inside. The scent of the sea was thick, Roderick resisting the urge to pinch his nose. He’d spent most of his life fighting far from the coast, so he wasn’t as accustomed to the smell of the barnacles and seaweed as these Tileans were.

He peered up at the rooftops, hand on the hilt of his Skaven sword as he scanned his surroundings. Until he was proved otherwise, he would take the elves’ threat seriously, though it remained to be seen if they would catch on to Skyseeker’s true identity.

His companion noticed what he was doing, following his gaze up as she squeezed past his flank.

“Any pointy-ears?” she asked, something metal in her paw catching the light as she held her arm out. “Say word when you do, will give them nasty surprise!”

“Put that away,” he chided, pushing her arm down. “Flaunting your Skaven stars is a good way to draw suspicion.”

“It’s warp-star, stupid!” she corrected. “Get it right!”

As they reached the bottom of the staircase, a flock of seabirds raced up from the rooftop ahead of them, their small wings framed against the blue sky. There were dozens of them plaguing the air, Roderick watching what must be half a dozen flocks draw circles overhead. Every now and then one of them would swoop down to the ground a short distance away. They were getting close to the port.

They took another staircase down, this part of the city made up of tiered levels as the land lowered towards the sea. After dipping beneath an archway and turning another corner, they emerged into the most spacious part of the city yet.

Forming a crescent shape was a stone foundation, thick jetties and wharfs jutting from the cobbles at various spots along its curved length, spearing out into a panoramic view of an azure ocean. Bobbing in the water were ships of all sizes, from small dinghies and private yachts, to commercial liners and cargo haulers, their sales flapping in the harsh winds. There were bright markers in the water to help keep the docking lanes clear, the buoys sporting small glass orbs upon their tops, the devices similar to the street lamps. Perhaps they acted as small lighthouses when night fell.

“What is THAT?” Skyseeker exclaimed, faltering when a pair of guards walked by from right to left, turning to scrutinize her. She must look quite a state to them, draped in a cloth that previously belonged on a veranda.

“It’s the port part of Portomaggoire,” he explained, leading her onwards. They were closer to the left side of the port than the right, so searching the lefthand docks was the first step to finding the wolfship.

“Not poRT. I know what port is, I mean that thing!” she snarled, jabbing a paw out to the water.

“The trade galley?” he asked, Skyseeker rolling her eyes at him. She rushed over to the lip of the port, peering over the edge of the stonework, her red eyes tracing the white sands as they gave way to the ocean below. The shallows were full of rock clusters, algae adding a splash of green to the murky blue. She must have been asking what the ocean was.

“Eek! See that?” she shouted, her finger aimed into the reefs. “What in Horned Rat’s name was that?”

“A fish,” Roderick answered, grinning as the Skaven became mesmerised as the little creature reappeared, darting between the rocks, its long tail glittering as the scales caught on the sunshine. Knowing that she had lived in an underground city most of her life, it was likely she’d never seen anything like a fish, or this amount of water before.

He encouraged her to move on, the pair sticking close to the water so Skyseeker could watch the marine life swim by. Rows of warehouses lined the port’s inner side, their cavernous interiors occupied by skeletal frames of ship hulls, carpenters sawing planks and hammering nails clustered around them.

Some of the builders looked up as Skyseeker wandered over to the nearest one, the Skaven admiring their work from a short distance away. She seemed infatuated, her eyes tracking the movements of one of the men as he shaved down a plank using a plane.

“They make all of hulk things?” Skyseeker asked, gesturing to the ship frame. This one was mostly intact, a few days from being seaworthy, if Roderick had to guess.

“That’s right,” Roderick replied, stealing a glance at the sun, guessing it was around ten o’clock. “Takes many months, sometimes years to produce a ship from scratch like this.”

She noticed where he was looking, reading his thoughts without having to ask. “Apologise, man-thing, getting distracted by things,” she said. “Should be making haste to wizard ship!”

“No, it’s fine,” he replied. “It’s only natural you’d be curious about all this stuff. It’s… cute, in a way, you being so amazed by all these normal things.”

“Nothing normal about any of this,” she said. “And don’t call me cute!”

They moved further up the dock, each warehouse sporting a ship frame in various stages of completion. Skyseeker seemed a lot more livelier than usual, her energy failing to deplete as she hopped from one strange thing to the next. Perhaps all those knots in her fur he’d gotten out during their bath had something to do with it.

A trade galley up ahead pulled out of the quay, its sails curtaining them from the sun’s light for a moment. Roderick squinted into the distance, his features lighting up as he spotted something he recognised.

“Ah-ha,” he announced, clapping his gauntlets together. “I think I see the wolfship. There, at the far end of the port.”

“Where?” Skyseeker demanded, following his gaze. She reached into her hood, the telltale clockwork clicking of her goggles reaching his ears, the Skaven zooming in down the dock. “Which one? Boats all look same to me.”

“You’ll see when we’re closer.”

After a few minutes, they reached a more populated part of the port. Roderick could see swarms of humans and even a few dwarves lining up before a few wharfs, each man and woman carrying some sort of pack or container. They were filing up onto wooden planks extending off the bows of a pair of bulky ships, guards checking the passports of each boarding passenger. Beyond them were stalls just like those in the market, gutted fish and choice cuts strung up on lines of string.

“Your invasion’s got a lot of people running scared,” Roderick noted, pausing to count the number of guards.

“For good reasonings,” Skyseeker chittered. “A Skaven has breach-crossed Portmacgyver walls. Flee in terror, peasants!”

Roderick hushed hush her, apologising to the few nearby families who’d overheard her.

As they navigated throught he crowds, Roderick noted that benches were lined up against the dock’s edge, facing out to sea. As his gaze fell over them, the cool breeze whipping his hair back, he did a double take, realising that sitting upon one of them was someone he recognised.

“What you looking at, Rick-rod?” Skyseeker demanded. “If you say your boat’s on other side of port, I will stab you.”

“No, that’s… that’s him,” he said, Skyseeker turning to follow his finger. Sitting there with his back turned was an old man, his long silver hair blowing in the breeze. Draped over his shoulders was a robe the colour of grass, and upon his head rested a wreath of sticks, the wood looped around itself though it was as flexible as shoelace.

“Really-Really?” Skyseeker asked, tilting her muzzle. “THAT is the grand wizard you spoke-speaked of?”

“Sure is. Recognise him anywhere.”

“B-But he’s just sitting there!” she argued. “Where’s his doomwheel? Or his throne of skulls? Or his army?!”

“He’s a druid, not a Chaos Lord,” Roderick chided. “Come, I’ll introduce you.”

He could see Skyseeker was hesitant to follow, Roderick pausing to look back at her. “Don’t fear, lass, Wilfred’s as reasonable as they come, trust me.”

“I-I do,” she muttered, catching up with him. “Any last second advice? Want to make good-great impression!”

“Just be yourself. Actually, don’t do that. Be honest, but don’t mention how we met. And say nothing of your mission. Or the fact I told you why the Emperor sent us hear. You know what? Just let me introduce you. Better that way.”

She hung back while Roderick approached the bench, noting that the old man was cradling a pipe in the corner of his lips, a little wisp of smoke trailing from the bowl.

“Wilfred? It’s me. Greetings.”

Without turning round, the old man lowered his pipe, sighing out a puff of smoke while shaking his head.

“Fifteen days, three hours, and fifty seconds. I awaited your arrival for over two weeks, and your first offer to me is your greetings? In Marienburg, a peasant was lashed twenty times for keeping a wizard waiting. You should be offering your apologies, general-who-was, if you knew what was good for you.”

“I’m surprised Grim Death didn’t get to you before I did,” Roderick replied tersely. “You look like you’ve aged fifteen years.”

Despite his withered appearance, the old man leapt to his feet, propping himself up on a staff. To any common man it would appear like a walking stick, but even to Roderick’s undisciplined senses, he could feel the power radiating from its wood, the air filing with swirling energy. At its tip sat a refined emerald, cradled in the grip of spiralling vines, the precious gem seeming to shine as the wizard planted the haft of the staff in the ground.

As Roderick squared off with the druid, he noticed the lingering Skyseeker brace herself, a hand creeping down towards her sheaths. He couldn’t see her tail, but he imagined it would be standing out as straight as an arrow, the Skaven glancing between the two men.

“I see your insolence hasn’t wavered,” the wizard grumbled, and then he cracked a smile, chuckling as he placed his pipe back in his mouth. “You’re no spring chicken yourself, Roderick. You’ll be grey too before long.”

“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” Roderick said, returning the smile. He stepped forward, clapping the old man on the shoulder.

“Likewise, Roderick, likewise. Now let’s have a look at you.” He stepped back, beginning to pick and fret over Roderick’s armour. “My my, another scar on your cheek! I knew the mercenaries would impede your journey, but to take your Reiklander armour, and your sword…”

“What do you mean, you knew?” Roderick asked, narrowing his eyes. “Did you see me get waylaid in a crystal ball or something?”

“I foresee all things,” Wilfred replied, waving a mystical hand.

“Then you could have sent aid instead of sitting around here smoking pipeweed,” Roderick mumbled.

“Sent aid? Across half the country? You escaped your predicament long before my help would have had any impact, I knew you would be resourceful enough to make it here of your own power.”

“That’s where your wrong, Wilfred,” Roderick countered. “I made an… unlikely ally along the way. One who’s saved my life a number of times.”

“Oh?” Wilfred asked, raising his bushy eyebrows. “Where are they? I would be glad to pass on my thanks.”

Roderick gestured behind him, Wilfred turning around, blinking when he noticed the demure Skyseeker watching on from afar. Taking this as her prompt to introduce herself, she came forward, glancing up at Roderick as if for reassurance, one he replied to with a nod.

“Salutationings,” Skyseeker began, waving a paw. “I am… Drawfius of Clan Angry. Angry? Angrund! Am definitely not a raki – that means Skaven in beard-thing tongue!”

She gripped the lip of her hood, peeling the fabric back just enough to expose the tip of her furry muzzle, Wilfred recoiling a little.

“Just kidding! See? I AM a raki! Not actually a beard-thing!” she announced, snickering like she’d just pulled off the greatest scam of all time. “Real name is Skyseeker of Clan Mors, Master Assassin, chosen of Lord Gnawdwell, and disguise extraordinaire! Hehe!”

“Now this, I did not foresee,” Wilfred muttered, stroking his long beard pensively. “What a fascinating turn of events! You managed to ally with a friendly Skaven,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “Well done, Roderick. None have ever managed to do something like this before.”

“Not friendly!” Skyseeker insisted. “More like… uh, neutral.”

“And your name is Skyseeker, correct?” Wilfred asked. “What an interesting name. Are you perhaps an astrologer by trade?”

“Oh yes-yes! Astrology, thaumatology, trigonometry, dabbled in all arcane arts in spare time,” Skyseeker answered. “-And! Superb warrior as well! Beat Rick-rod in duel once.”

“There’s a lot of context she’s neglected to add,” Roderick chimed in.

“A she, you say?” Wilfred got down on one knee, lowering to Skyseeker’s eye level. “Well, miss Skyseeker, you have my gratitude for aiding Roderick in his quest. I’d love to know how the two of you met. And how this dual went.”

“It’s a long tale, and not the good kind!” Skyseeker replied, beginning to list off her fingers. “It’s full of action, suspense, a giant feather-thing, betrayal, reparations… oh! And a bath.”

“He doesn’t need all the details, lass,” Roderick said. “Let’s find someplace quiet, and we’ll give you the short version.”

Skyseeker took up the rear as the two men pushed through the throngs of people, soon emerging onto the far side of the crowd, ducking into a secluded alleyway where they could talk without being overheard.

Roderick started from the beginning, recounting his events from when he’d been forcibly employed by the mercenary Commander, to his strange meeting with Skyseeker, and their trip across the Trantine Hills together. She butted in every now and then to provide key details – usually ones that involved her being put in the spotlight – Roderick doing his best to incorporate her deeds without getting off track. He didn’t mind embellishing Skyseeker, if it meant convincing Wilfred she would be a useful asset.

The old wizard listened to their story patiently, glancing between the two without so much as a word. Roderick left out the part about confessing to Skyseeker what his true purpose in Tilea was – that was one boundary he feared Wilfred would not appreciate him crossing.

“Quite the series of events,” Wilfred said once the story was finished. “Yet, there’s one thing I don’t understand,” he added, turning his brown eyes on Skyseeker. “Why have you followed Roderick all this way? Surely you must have known there would be risks coming here, does your Clan not have need of you?”

Skyseeker raised a explanative paw, then lowered it when she couldn’t think of something to say. Roderick spoke up before the pause dragged on.

“She was ostracised from her Clan,” he explained. “When they found out she was assisting me, they branded her a traitor, right lass?”

“Uh, correct!” she said, snickering under her breath.

“A fellow exile, hmm?” Wilfried noted. “No wonder you two got along so well.”

“Had nowhere else to go-go,” Skyseeker added, drooping her head as though overcome with grief. “Lived with rats all life, purposeless without them! Then, hatched a brilliant scheme – follow Rick-rod to ship, see new places, explore new things. Always wanted to go on a cruise!”

“Oh, you wish to travel with us?” Wilfred asked, twirling his chest-length beard with a finger as he considered. “Well… it will be a lengthy voyage, and I’d be glad of the opportunity to question an astrologer from an alien culture such as the Skaven…”

“Questions?” Skyseeker exclaimed. “Screw that! Take it back, will stay in Tilee-place.”

“I worried you’d be against the idea,” Roderick noted, addressing the wizard.

“It’s certainly a… strange occurrence,” Wilfred admitted. “But, any friend of Roderick’s is a friend of mine, and I’d be glad to have you join us, miss Skyseeker.”

“Skaven senses Fredwil’s about to say but,” she mumbled.

“You’d sense correctly,” Wilfred replied. “While I have no qualms, the crew I enlisted might not be so... forthcoming, about letting a Skaven on board.”

“Could sneak onto ship from water,” Skyseeker suggested, but Roderick shook his head.

“I’m not going to make you stay crammed in the cargo hold like a… well, rat,” he replied. “You deserve better than that.”

Skyseeker flashed him an appreciative look, one she hid behind her hood soon after.

“Think we might be able to convince them otherwise?” Roderick asked Wilfred.

“Their captain is one Arnulf Von Kessel,” Wilfred said. “It may be difficult, but not impossible to persuade him to see reason. He’s from Nordland, originally, used to be part of a handgunner troop before transferring to the Navy. His wolfpack’s assisted us in a couple of our campaigns up in Kislev.”

“You trust him?”

“He respects the Conclave, so it wasn’t all that hard to sway him to our cause. Trust is subjective, but he can be bought, and as long as we can convince him that miss Skyseeker’s presence will be of aid, he should be forthcoming with the idea.”

“How soon can this Von Kessel set sail?”

“We can go right away. I’ve had the good captain keep his men prepared for your arrival. All he needs is the go ahead.”

“Then we have no time to waste-lose,” Skyseeker replied, taking Roderick by the hand. “Onwards, man-things!”

She dragged Roderick further down the port, Roderick struggling to keep up with her quick strides. Wilfred followed after, using his staff like a walking stick, the old man chuckling at the sight of him being led around.

As they approached the far end of the port, Roderick began to see the wolfship in more detail. It was anchored to the furthest quay, its sails reefed into their posts. The vessel was massive, dwarfing the few ships docked onto the nearby wharfs, making them look like toy boats in comparison. Despite this, design of the ship was sleek, the hull as narrow as possible while still maintaining a large crew, the vessel a near-perfect balance of mobility and firepower.

The rear of the ship was tiered into three levels, the upper two smaller than the lowest, likely the captain’s cabin and other officer chambers. The midsection of the ship was a large, flat deck maybe twenty meters across, the rails brimming with maybe a dozen gunpowder cannons, the barrels turned towards the sky, but the array of weaponry didn’t end there.

The hull was pockmarked with two layers of portholes, brass brackets spanning the ship’s entire length giving the vessel a layer of protective casing. Oars jutted out of the lowest layer of aforementioned ports, while more cannon barrels occupied the higher layer. Woe betide any ship in range of a broadside, there was enough cannon there to level a small town.

The most prominent detail of the ship was the forward section, where a forecastle bulged from just beyond the ship’s nose, the bunker-like feature three tiers tall with a flat top. Roderick could see maybe twenty windows built into the structure, and sprouting from each one of them were even more gunpowder barrels. That was only what he could see from this side, another twenty weapons likely lay on the opposing side of the forecastle, ready to fire on anything in front of the ship.

The forecastle overlooked a monumental ram, a giant pole the size of an oakwood’s trunk projecting from the ship’s nose, the feature tipped with a block of stone, chiselled into an approximation of a sheep’s skull the size of a dragon’s head.

“I don’t like it,” Skyseeker chittered, turning her nose up at the ship.

“What?” he asked, blinking. “You don’t feel inspired by the sight of so many guns? Few would dare to attack a warship like this, and those that do wouldn’t last long.”

“It’s too big!” she complained. “And you know what big means? Slow!”

“Not for a wolfship it doesn’t. Hint’s in the name.”

They made their way up the quay, passing stacks of wooden crates and barrels draped in fishing netting, walking along the wolfship’s immense length. It was fifty or sixty meters long from bow to stern, several hairy ropes connecting the deck to the metal posts lining the quay.

A wooden plank extended from the ship’s midpoint down to the pier, and as Skyseeker dragged Roderick towards it, two guards intercepted her. Unlike the militiamen, these men sported full armour plate, polished to a shine. Dangling from their right shoulders were small, red capes, and embroidered upon them was the Reikland coat of arms, the golden thread seeming to shine in the sun. These were not sailors, but soldiers of the Empire, Roderick’s chest welling as he finally looked upon his own countrymen for the first time in what felt like an age.

The guards crossed their spears, creating an ‘X’ in the air and blocking access to the plank, Skyseeker loosing a very Skaven-like squeak as they glared at the unlikely pair.

“Stay your weapons, men,” Wilfred called, sidling up beside Roderick. “Your General returns to us at long last.”

The two guards relaxed when they noticed the wizard, though they still spared wary glances at Roderick and Skyseeker. They took a moment to look him over, and perhaps upon recognising Roderick’s features, they lowered their spears, saluting him like fresh troops ready for inspection.

“I’m not your General any longer,” Roderick said, but he did wave for the guards to be at ease.

“For now,” Wilfred added, turning to the men. “Fetch the good captain, please. Tell him I’ve brought two new guests.”

One of the guards nodded, turning to walk up to the wolfship, disappearing behind the deck’s railing. He reappeared after a few minutes, now in the company of one other, the guard stepping aside and allowing Roderick to get a look at who it was.

The man was of similar age to Roderick, perhaps a little on the younger side, dressed in a black open-neck tunic and matching baggy trousers, the sleeves of his white undershirt ending just above the wrist. His face was obscured behind a ginger, bushy beard and a thick, handlebar moustache, and on his head rested a wide-brimmed barett, its fabric striped in white and red bands – the colours of the homeland. Two white feathers protruded from its top, probably peacock feathers. This must be captain Von Kessel.

His heeled boots clicked as the captain walked off the plank, clasping his arms neatly behind his back. He glanced at the three newcomers in turn, his eyes lingering on Skyseeker’s smaller frame for a second before they settled on Roderick.

“Hail, Roderick Erdmann,” Von Kessel began, his tone neutral. “I had begun to fear you would never arrive despite Wilfred’s promises to the contrary.”

“Greetings, captain,” Roderick replied, and although he’d not had to address a superior in some time, his arm snapped up in a prim salute all the same. Old habits die hard, he supposed. “I hope my delay did not cause too much idleness for you and your crew.”

“I was looking for an excuse to give the boys some shore leave,” Von Kessel replied, returning the salute. In Roderick’s peripheral, he could see Skyseeker tilting her head, watching the whole ritual with a bewildered expression. “The trip around Brettonia was long, but not uneventful,” Von Kessel continued. “More than a few pirates accosted us, and there’ll be many more to come the closer we get to the Vampire Coast. I pray to Sigmar this… ‘task’, will be worth the effort.”

“If you truly doubted our intentions, you would never have taken whatever offer Wilfred gave you,” Roderick surmised. “I don’t know how much he’s told you, but rest assured that once our mission is complete, the strength of the Empire, and its safety, will be secured. You have my word.”

“An exile’s word holds less sway than you think,” Von Kessel replied, Roderick narrowing his eyes. “Yes, I’m aware of your recent exploits, Erdmann. Even in the Imperial Navy, your reputation proceeds you. I’m not sure what it is the Conclave sees in you,” he muttered, glancing over at Wilfred. “but, with the Emperor’s blessing, I’ll forgive a little deviancy if it means the betterment of Riekland.”

“A sentiment I’ve come to appreciate as of late,” Roderick replied, giving Skyseeker a pointed look. That seemed to bring the Skaven more attention from the captain, Von Kessel’s eyes turning to her next.

“I was not aware you were travelling with company,” he muttered. “Who are you?”

“I am-!” Skyseeker began, but Roderick cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Let me,” he whispered, then raising his voice, said: “Captain, you’re aware of the Skaven invasion in the province, yes?”

“Obviously. If the rumours weren’t enough, we spotted rodent ships just off the coast the day before we docked. Our spotter counted twenty vessels.”

“The situation on land is dire,” Roderick continued. “Tens of thousands of rats plague the countryside, and coming in from the north was no easy task. I saw entire companies being wiped out to a man,” he added, looking away grimly.

“I see where this is going. This stranger assisted you?” Von Kessel asked, preempting him.

“In more ways than one,” Roderick replied with a nod. “She knew what routes the vermintides were taking, and how to best avoid them. Put simply, I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“And this answers my question, how?”

“She knows every move the Skaven will make, because she’s one of them. But far different in many ways,” he quickly added when the captain’s eyes blazed open. “She’s an outcast, in that she’s a follower of Sigmar’s teachings.”

“It is?!” Von Kessel asked.

“I am?!” Skyseeker asked.

“Yes and yes,” Roderick answered. “She’s sympathetic to our cause. I’ve taught her all I can in the short time since we met, and her faith is strong for a non-human.”

“I do not care if it’s memorized every grimoire,” Von Kessel snapped. “You’ve brought a rodent into the city, and you dare to imply you wish to bring it aboard my ship? This is outrageous! To ally with the forces of Chaos is treason beyond measure.”

The two guards gripped the hafts of their spears, their blank helmets turned in Skyseeker’s direction, the Skaven’s arms darting beneath her disguise in search of her blades. If the captain gave the order to seize her, Roderick wasn’t sure which side he’d pick.

Wilfred, who’d been stood off to one side in silence until now, clicked the end of his staff against the cobbles, all eyes turning to him. “Captain, calm yourself. The general has spent every waking moment in service to the Emperor, only a fool would think he’s stopped doing so now.”

“Fool?” Von Kessel repeated. “I’m the only one who’s not short a few marbles! To assist an exile was one thing, but a Skaven as well? The Emperor would never agree to this… collusion with the enemy.”

“But the Conclave does,” Wilfred countered. “Think of the opportunities this brings us, imagine what we can learn from a Skaven informant. Their resources, weapons, strategies. We would have far less to fear from the Skaven with the kind of knowledge miss Skyseeker here possesses.”

Roderick was certain Von Kessel would order his men to take Skyseeker’s head, but the captain backed down after a tense few moments, shaking his head adamantly.

“I’d be a traitor myself if I went against the Conclave’s wishes,” the captain grumbled. “Very well, it can sail with us, but on one condition.”

Von Kessel walked up, stopping a few paces away from Skyseeker, holding out his palm. She gave his hand an experimental sniff, shrugged, then tried to high-five him, her paw missing as the captain flinched away.

“Don’t touch me, filthspawn,” the captain grumbled. “Your weapons, hand them over.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Roderick butted in. “She’s quite harmless.”

“Sure, and I’m Sigmar reincarnate,” Von Kessel replied curtly. “this thing isn’t boarding my ship while it’s armed. I wont risk the lives of my men on your assurances, Erdmann.”

Roderick went to complain, but this time Skyseeker cut him off.

“I agree-gree!” she chittered, Roderick blinking in surprise. “As Horned Ra- Uh, Sigmar says: always in best-best interest to obey pawleaders. Will give Kessel-man weapons, yes-yes…”

She threw back her hood, the captain and his guards tensing as they saw the Skaven for what she truly was, Skyseeker reaching into her cloak. What followed was like a gag from something out of a theatre play, Skyseeker pulling an obscene number of weapons and devices from her cloak, more than should be physically possible to fit inside her sparse clothing. She placed enough knives to equip a squad into Von Kessel’s hand, along with two pouches of warp-stars, and a crystal orb that looked suspiciously like the ones the globadier had used to nearly poison Roderick.

“Take that off,” Von Kessel ordered, physically struggling to balance her armament. “I want to see what else are you hiding under… whatever that is.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her disguise off, the fabric sliding up her angled legs, then her torso. She threw it aside, where it landed on the cobbles with a thump, now standing there with just her camoflauged cloak and undergarments.

Her body was mummified in all sorts of pouches and slings, and she began to take them off one by one, the captain opening them to insect their contents. Some were filled with disassembled dagger parts, as though Skyseeker expected to be switching out the hilts and blades on the fly, while others contained what looked like powders. She even had a spool of rope in one pocket, as well as a few tiny bundles of a familiar fruit.

“I thought you said you ran out of olives,” Roderick noted.

“May have… exaggerated for pity points,” Skyseeker admitted, smirking up at him.

“No, really? That’s unlike you, lass,” he said mockingly, Skyseeker giggling at him.

“Your hood, pass it over,” Von Kessel said, shooting Roderick an annoyed look. He must not appreciate their playful exchanges.

Since the captain’s arms were so overloaded with her gear, he had to bring one of his guards in to help, the man patting down Skyseeker’s cloak while she stood there, her dark coat roiling in the wind. When he concluded the cloak was empty of weapons, Von Kessel gestured at her waistband next.

Here was where Skyseeker stored her prized weeping blades, Roderick reading her hesitation like words from a book as she placed a paw on one. She looked to him for reassurance, and when he nodded back, she unclipped the sheaths, handing them over.

“Watch paw-fingers, Kessel-man,” she warned, reaching down to her waist. “Blades are as sharp as my wit! Cut arm clean off.”

Next, Skyseeker produced a full-blown handcannon, the weapon having been tucked into the back of her loincloth. Confused, Roderick placed a hand on his holster, thinking she might have taken his at some point, but the pistol was still there on his belt.

She held the handcannon out grip-first, surprisingly attentive for once as she offered it. Roderick stepped forward before the stunned captain could take it, throwing his hands up.

“Hang on. Where in Sigmar’s name did you get a gun?” he asked, more surprised than anything. She thrust it into his hands, and he turned it over, admiring the golden etchings lining the the barrel, the polished sandalwood grip feeling smooth and glossy beneath his fingers. It was of decent craftsmanship, if a little on the decorative side.

He could see the conflict in her eyes, but after a few moments, Skyseeker relented.

“Bought-purchased last night,” she explained. “Forgot to get ammunition, though. Apologising…”

“You bought this?” he asked. Perhaps that man in the market square, the one who’d been hauled away by the guard, was the gunsmith she’d taken it from. “But… how? This must have cost a small fortune.”

“Oh! Meant to say steal,” she corrected. “You like-like it? Meant to be surprise…”

“Surprise?” he echoed. “How do you mean?”

“It’s gift, stupid!” she growled. “Know that Rick-rod likes guns, so took-stole gun, to give to Rick-rod when least expected! Not surprise anymore,” she added, glaring up at Von Kessel.

“Oh,” Roderick stammered. “Well… thank you, lass. That’s very thoughtful.”

Skyseeker rubbed her head like a woman might stroke their hair after being flattered, looking away with her muzzle split in a grin.

“I suppose it would be fine if you held onto that,” Von Kessel muttered. “Turn around, rat.”

Skyseeker did a full spin, the guard crouching down to look her over for any contraband. “What’s this?” he asked, gesturing at her goggles, which dangled around her neck.

“They’re for seeing!” she explained. “sunshine too bright out here.”

“It’s clean,” the guard announced after a second, Von Kessel nodding his head.

“Fine. Give it back its cloak, I don’t want to see its hideous face any more than I have to.”

“Hideous! At least Skaven doesn’t have red pubes growing out of its face,” she muttered, snatching her cloak from the guard, the grass and sticks threaded to the mesh rustling as she donned it.

The captain glared down at her. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing! Just talking to self, hehe…”

Von Kessel bit his lip, turning to jab a finger at Roderick’s chest. “You keep that thing on a short leash, you hear me? If it lays a finger on any of my men, speaks out of turn, even looks at someone the wrong way, I’ll hold you responsible. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Roderick replied.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. Both of you,” Von Kessel added with a pointed look at Wilfred. He motioned for them to follow, turning to walk up the plank, Skyseeker and the two guards taking up the rear.

A short walk up the gangway, and they were on the ship, Roderick leaning a hand on the railing as he stepped onto the deck. A few sailors had taken an interest in their little meeting with the captain, at least a dozen burly men in sleeveless shirts gathered round to see what all the commotion was.

The deck was laden with barrels and winch posts, the spools of rope trailing from the railings to the towering sails, the cloths forming grids against the blue backdrop. A grated hatchway that led to the hold sat in the middle of the space, and to the sides were staircases leading to the fore and aft sections.

“Ahoy-hoy, maties!” Skyseeker called, leaping on to the ship, turning to address the gathered men. “Move tails and set sails! Desert lands await!”

“Silence,” Von Kessel snapped. “You are not to address any of my men. That’s my second stipulation.”

“No need to be mean-mean, was just breaking ice,” Skyseeker whined, looking genuinely saddened by being shut down.

“What are you all gawking at?” Von Kessel growled, the men switching their focus from Skyseeker to him. “You’re not being paid to stand around! Report for rolecall and then get to your posts, we sail for Arabia immediately.”

The sailors hurried off with a chorus of yes captain’s, the order to depart already being shouted down the length of the ship.

“Since I have a ship to run, I’ll let you show the late general and his… companion, to their quarters, master druid,” Von Kessel said, turning to Roderick. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a wide berth and ask someone else. Good day.”

With that, the surly captain departed, shouting orders to his underlings as he made his way up to the forecastle, leaving Roderick and Skyseeker alone with Wilfred.

“That went well,” Skyseeker chirped.

“But he clearly hates you,” Roderick replied.

“Exactly!”

“Be wary, miss Seeker,” Wilfred warned, raising a crooked finger. “Von Kessel’s tolerance has its limits, and there are those on this ship who hold nothing but disdain for your kind. Until we make landfall in Arabia, your safety isn’t guaranteed.”

“Just how Skaven like-likes it,” she tittered, unfazed as ever.

“Come,” Wilfred added, gesturing with his staff. “Let’s show you around.”

They followed the wizard towards the ship’s aft section, Roderick holding Skyseeker back as a pair of sailors cut in front of their path, rushing towards a winch in the centre of the deck. Men were running about everywhere he looked, some climbing the rigging to access the reefed sails, others hauling spools of rope from one end of the ship to the other.

A cranking sound rose above the shouting, Roderick watching as the arm of a crane hovered just off the portside bow, the gears that powered the mechanism rotating slowly. A spool of chainlink draped from the claw, and as Roderick watched, an anchor rose up into view, the chrome dripping with water.

The three of them walked up a set of stairs to the quarterdeck, where the ship’s steering wheel was located, the device taller than Skyseeker was. Behind it was the ship’s next tier, the structure forming a block that made up the very rear of the vessel.

“Through here is the mess cabin,” Wilfred said, gesturing to a doorway built into said structure. Skyseeker took a quick detour towards the wheel, the Skaven giving it a tentative spin.

“Don’t touch that,” Roderick chided, guiding her away. “I don’t think the captain would appreciate you messing with everything.”

“Aw, but I want to steer boat!” she complained. “Imagine, clawcaptain Skyseeker, rat buccaneer of Tilee-place coast! Sure ta’ be the skurviest rat lass of all toime! Ya-harr!”

“I think Von Kessel would sooner dive overboard than let you navigate his ship,” Roderick muttered. “Your pirate accent is terrible, by the way.”

“You’re terrible,” she hissed, punching him on the leg.

Wilfred ushered them through the door once they’d caught up, the pair emerging into a room longer than it was wide, two rows of tables occupying the floorspace. To one side lay a sectioned-off kitchen, no bigger than the one they’d seen in the market. There was no one inside on the count of the ship being prepared to leave.

“Feel free to pop round whenever you fancy a bite,” Wilfred said, leading them between the tables. “The chefs usually work at the set meal times, but there’s a pantry over there with cured rations if you need a snack.”

Skyseeker was already halfway across the room before he’d finished his sentence, throwing the pantry doors open and delving into the shelves inside. Wilfred quirked a bushy eyebrow at the scene, turning his gaze to Roderick.

“Has she not eaten this morning?” he asked.

“Believe me, she fancies a bite pretty much every other hour,” Roderick explained. “I hope the captain stocked up.”

“This place stinks of man-things,” Skyseeker muttered, returning with a bundle of dried meat in her arms. “Smells worse than Rick-rod.”

“Well, with a complement of over one hundred and fifty men, the ship tends to get a bit pungent,” Wilfred said. “You get used to it after a while, for better or worse…”

“One fifty!” Skyseeker repeated, stuffing her new prizes inside her hood. “That’s tiny! Skaven hulks carry six times as much.”

“Down here’s the upper gun deck,” Wilfred continued, moving over to a step ladder in the far corner, the wizard climbing down it without difficulty, despite his withered appearance.

Roderick followed him, helping Skyseeker down as they stepped out onto the first of many decks making up the wolfship’s hull. Looking down its length was a lot like staring down a cathedral’s hall, except the roof was an inch above his head. He could just make out the nose of the ship some sixty meters away, the aisle flanked on either side by bronze cannons, their carts secured to the portholes by knotted ropes. Along the middle of the deck were chests filled with rifles and pistols, as well as barrels full of cannonballs, staircases and skylight boxes filling the spaces between.

“Impressive firepower,” Roderick noted, voicing his approval in the form of a whistle, the noise making Skyseeker’s ears flick. He had to raise his voice a little to be heard over the dozens of men shouting orders throughout the deck. “How many cannons does this ship have, exactly?”

“Standard procedure is to have a minimum of twenty a side at all times,” Wilfred answered. “That not accounting for the forecastle, which can fit fifty, sixty guns if it’s all hands on deck.”

“What’s on next deck?” Skyseeker asked, eager to explore.

Wilfred showed them down another step ladder, the lower deck more or less identical to the previous one, except there were seats instead of cannons, the thick ends of rowing oars sticking out of the ports. Roderick could see a few grapeshot weapons sitting flush against the hull, leading him to believe they could be fitted to the ports if the crew needed to trade speed for more firepower.

“Below us is the cargo hold,” Wilfred continued. “As well as the bilge pumps. I’d recommend limiting your time down here, people like us would just get in the way of these men.”

“Where do man-things sleep?” Skyseeker asked. “Barely enough room to walk-skitter.”

“Everywhere,” Wilfred answered, gesturing to the ceiling with his staff. Hammock sheets were strung up in rows across the roof in every direction, making the whole deck look like it was shielded by a white tarp. They looked like they were raised and lowered by pulleys, hinting that even when deployed, there was scarcely an inch between each bedding. “This deck, the one above, even the cargo hold, everywhere double’s up as a bunking area. Free space is limited on this ship, so every part of it is used.”

“This is why I didn’t join the navy,” Roderick muttered. “At least in a barracks you’re not breathing the same air as the man beside you. Sigmar forbid someone farts in here. Don’t tell me one of these is my bunk.”

“Ah, that brings me to where you will be staying. Back this way.”

They climbed back into the mess hall, Wilfred leading them up yet another step ladder, the three of them clambering out into a spacious area – spacious by warship standards. Ringing around the hatch was a continuous wall in the shape of the letter ‘U’, with the northern wall made up of doors and stained glass, sunlight spilling inside. Two doors led away to compartments on either side, while the deeper part of the space led off into a lavish compartment, with tiled flooring, dressers, curtains, and a dining table fit for a lord. Roderick guessed that was the captain’s quarters down there.

“I convinced the captain beforehand to lend you the secretary cabin,” Wilfred said, walking over to the compartment on the left. Inside was a bed that was folded out from a slot in the wall, as well as a writing desk and chair. A plain curtain drawn over a solitary window provided the cabin’s sole feature.

“Better than those hammocks by far,” Roderick said, nodding in approval. “Thank you, Will.”

“Don’t say I never look out for you,” Wilfred replied, waving a hand. “I’m not sure where we can put miss Seeker, however. Perhaps we can roll out a spare sheet here, between your cabin and mine.”

“Not to worries,” Skyseeker chimed. “I’ll sleep with Rick-rod.”

“Oh?” Wilfred asked, his tone curious. “Is that right?”

“She means sleeping literally,” Roderick explained hastily. “We’ve been sharing the heat of a campfire for weeks, so we’re used to bunking up.”

“Can say-speak that again,” Skyseeker giggled. “Rick-rod gave me bath last night.”

“Indeed?” Wilfred said, grinning over at Roderick. “Well then, that was very kind of him. Just take note that the only bath on this ship is in the captain’s quarters, and that one’s strictly off-limits, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Too much information, lass,” Roderick muttered, feeling warmth in his face.

There was a sudden thrum of sound, what seemed to be the far-off beat of a drum reverberating through his bones, Roderick glancing over his shoulder in surprise. Skyseeker’s reaction was more colourful, the Skaven grasping his leg with a paw, turning her muzzle at odd angles as she searched for the source.

“Do not worry,” Wilfred said. “those’re just the sailing drums. The men on the oars use it to row in time with eachother, since shouting across the deck while pulling a ship tends to get tiresome. I believe this one signals we’re pulling out of the harbour.”

As if to illustrate his point, Roderick began to feel the subtle pull of the ship’s fleeting momentum, more shouting audible through the windows. The captain’s men were well disciplined if they could ready the ship so quickly.

“Let’s go see-see,” Skyseeker chittered, moving over to the exit. Roderick followed her out, the beating drums growing louder as he emerged outside. Looking over the railing, he saw they were on the ship’s tallest level, Roderick seeing Von Kessel and one of his officers man the wheel below. He couldn’t see where the drums were coming from, perhaps they were in the lower decks, or the forecastle.

“Rick-rod, look!”

Skyseeker rushed over to the port side, her crimson eyes peering over the railing. Below was the quay, a few men who must be locals pulling threads of rope clear as the ship began to distance from the port, all the ropes weighing them down now released. Roderick noted that the plank had been drawn, the two Reikland guards helping to store it in a slot on the main deck.

Above them, the ship’s sails drew to their full lengths with a series of loud flaps, the cloths bulging as they caught on the winds. Looking further down, Roderick watched as oars jutting from the lower ports paddled into the waves, helping to guide the ship into deeper waters.

As the ship began to pick up speed, Skyseeker hopped onto the railing, Roderick shooting out a hand, fearing she might fall. She smirked at him as she lifted her paws, demonstrating her dexterity as she balanced there on the beam, her tail levelled out as counterbalance.

“No paws, see?” she said, waving her arms around. “having tail is advantageous! Rick-rod should get one.”

“Say goodbye to Tilea, lass,” he said, leaning his hands on the beam nearby. Portomaggoire was sliding ever further off to the left, the people in the harbour becoming little specks.

“BAD-bye, Tilea!” Skyseeker shouted, waving a paw. “It was not fun! Too hot, too tree-y, and too many bird-things! Worst place ever!”

“I fear it will only get more dangerous from here on out,” Roderick muttered. “from what I know of the desert locals, the Tilean’s will look downright civil in comparison, and there are creatures worse than gryphons in this world…”

“What could be worse than giant bird?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, and I’m afraid to find out.”

“Never fear, Rick-rod,” she continued, brandishing a butcher knife. “Anything stabs you, I’ll stab them first.”

“What in the… where’d you get that?”

“From messy hall! It was in pantry,” she explained, twirling the knife through her clawed fingers.

“You do realise if the captain sees you with a weapon, we’re both doomed, right?”

“Will be doomed-dead without my knives,” she countered. “A Skaven without a knife is like a… like a… Skaven without a knife! Yes-Yes!”

“I thought you said you agreed to be disarmed.”

“Temporarily!”

“You never cease to amaze me, Skyseeker,” Roderick sighed, rubbing his temples with his gauntlets. “You don’t need your knives or your weapons. If the captain wanted you dead, he’d have already ordered it by now.”

“You want Skaven to scurry around… without weapons?” she asked, grinding her teeth in irritation. “That is… most resolutely stupid thing Rick-rod has ever suggested, and you suggest a lot of stupid things!”

“I just want you to give my countrymen a chance,” Roderick replied. “just as they have taken a chance on you. This is Von Kessel’s ship, you should follow his rules.”

“Why you care about what Kessel-man says anyway?” Skyseeker asked. “Called you names, chittered implications. Got feeling you not like him.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like him or not,” he explained. “He believes me and Wilfred’s efforts will help the Empire, and that kind of faith is hard to find these days. We should respect his wishes. You, should respect them.”

“But you heard Fredwil! Every man-thing on wolfboat is out to get me, need to be prepared for sneaky-attack…”

“I’m not out to get you,” he pointed out. “and neither is Wilfred. So long as you give no one a reason to fear you, these sailors will treat you right.”

“But if sailors see knifeless rat, that is best chance to attack me!”

“And if they see you with a knife, they’ll come to the same conclusion. You’re preparing for the moment everyone will come after you, but by stealing a weapon, you’re making yourself a threat in the process. See what I’m saying?”

By the way her eyes stared passed him, the only movement on her expression coming from her twitching nose, he already knew her answer.

“Look,” he added, placing a hand on her arm. She was used to his presence by now that she no longer bristled at his touch. “I know it’s hard for you to do this, you’ve been hardwired to be suspicious of everything since the day you were born, but have faith in my countrymen. Have faith in me.”

She paused to consider his words, eventually taking his hand into her paw, giving it a squeeze.

“*Sigh*… Fine! Just for you-you, Rick-rod.”

She extended her other arm, the one with the knife, and turned her palm over, the blade twirling end over end as it sank to the sea, splashing into the murky depths after a moment. “There, knifeless.”

“You could have just put the knife back,” he pointed out. “but that works.”

Still holding hands, they turned to watch as Portomaggoire sank into the haze, the forests beyond its walls, and the mountains beyond them, sweeping away into the horizon. A kind of elation swelled up inside Roderick at having finally acquired a mode of transport, but it was tempered by his apprehension of what lay ahead.

It was general knowledge that the further south one went down the continent, the less influence the Empire had, and the harder the grip of Chaos became. That was to say nothing of what would happen if he and Skyseeker reached the relic together, as they’d agreed, and which one of them would try to claim it for themselves.

Roderick glanced over at her, seeing that her features were void of anything reminiscent of worry or suspicion, the Skaven simply enjoying the sensation of the winds’ caress. He envied her ability to disregard the threat of looming danger, though it must have crossed her mind at some point. Could he convince her that the Empire’s need was greater than her clan’s own? Would he have to resort to force if he couldn’t? He didn’t want to bring her to harm, but they were both envoys of two civilisations that had long been enemies since either of them were born, their alliance would have no foundation once their end goal was within reach.

He looked back at the city, wondering if Skyseeker’s claim about everyone out to get her wasn’t wholly unfounded.

Chapter 8: Conflict of Interest

“It will be a four-day trip,” Wilfred said, Roderick following him back into the officer quarters, Skyseeker shutting the door behind them. Not wanting to draw the eye of the man-things or their pawleader, they had retreated back inside after the city was just a small lump of grey on the horizon. “Perhaps three,” the wizard added. “if the winds favour us.”

“Can’t man-thing just MAKE winds favourable?” Skyseeker asked. “Wave staff around, speak magic words: wiggle piggle, whim bam-bam?”

“I can no more alter the course of nature than you can, miss Seeker,” he explained, raising a callused hand. “The winds have their own will, and those who try to exert their control over them usually meet… untimely ends. No, we must respect the winds. Let them carry us where they will.”

“Boring!” Skyseeker goaded, dragging her paws down her muzzle. “Just give stupid wind a little nudge! Won’t strike boat down for that… will it?”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Roderick,” Wilfred said with an amused titter. “He used to think all the world’s problems could be whisked away by a magician’s power, but as a Wizard of Life, my abilities don’t warrant destruction or domination, only preservation and harmony.”

“Should have made friends with Wizard of War,” Skyseeker muttered to Roderick. “Warp-lightning storms and scorching flames would bring much utility to journey-trip.”

She’d meant her words as a jab at the older human, but Wilfred took the insult in his stride, quietly smiling down at her. She was so used to Roderick reacting to her comments, that the lack of one from the wizard was disturbing in its absence.

“Would either of you care to play a game?” Wilfred asked, changing the subject. “While I had the hindsight to bring some cards and dice from Marienburg, the seamen don’t make for compelling opponents, considering they work all round the clock.”

“Card games? Seriously?” Roderick asked. “Is there nothing else to do on this ship?”

“If you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of your new friend, you needn’t fret,” Wilfred replied with a grin. “I will go easy on you, just this once.”

“You got better plan-plan, Rick-rod?” Skyseeker asked, turning to Wilfred. “Let’s play! Have four days to burn!”

“That’s the spirit,” the wizard replied. “bring your chair and desk out here, I’ll get the dice.”

Roderick moved over to her – or rather, their cabin – pulling the table out through the door, Skyseeker scurrying passed to drag the chair out after. Wilfred had a stool and chair in his own cabin, and after the three of them sat around the table, Wilfred produced a small carboard box, leaning his staff against the wall as he began to lift through its contents. The staff’s gemstone caught her eye, the way it sparkled reminding her of chiselled warpstone. She was quick to discard any thoughts of stealing it. Robbing a Seer, even if it was a man-thing equivalent, was never a good idea.

Wilfred began to lay out several little cubes, Skyseeker blinking as he placed five of them before her. “What’s this?” she asked, holding one of them up.

“These are dice,” Wilfred explained, placing five more in front of Roderick, then another five before himself. “And the game we’ll be playing is called Liar’s Dice. It’s all about gambling, balancing how much information you deal and receive with your opponents, and of course, lying.”

“Like it already-ready,” she snickered. “Man-things have no chance. Uh, how do we play?”

“It’s simple. Everyone rolls their five dice, making sure you keep them concealed at all times. Whichever combination of values are on the face-up side make up your hand, and can’t be changed once rolled. The values are one through six, which are represented by those little dots, see?”

She nodded. “So six is best face?”

“Not exactly. At the start, each player makes a bet, where we can claim however many of a certain dice are in our hands. Not just your hand, mind,” he added. “You must take into account every dice of every player.”

“But I can’t see your paws!” Skyseeker grumbled. “Show me your dice, Rick-rod.”

“That’s where the deception part comes into play,” Roderick explained. “I could claim I have two threes, but if I only have one in my hand, I have to rely on you or Wilfred having the other three.”

“If you think someone’s bet is a falsity,” Wilfred added. “the next player can choose to challenge them and call, and everyone reveals their dice. If the number of dice meet or exceed the bet, whoever challenged loses a dice. If it’s the other way around, and the dice don’t meet the bet, the one who was challenged loses a dice. You’re eliminated if you lose all your dice.”

“That not sound so bad,” Skyseeker noted. “should make losing more punishable. First one out leaps overboard!”

“Gold is a common stake,” Wilfred replied. “but I’ve no need for monetary possessions, and I doubt either of you are carrying much wealth either.”

“But, if you have no money, how does Fredwil buy things?”

“Nature provides,” the wizard replied, waving a mystical hand at nothing in particular.

“That’s a fancy way of saying he mooches off others,” Roderick added, the wizard frowning at him in response. “Say, you took a couple of rations out of that pantry before, didn’t you lass? We could use those.”

“They’re mine!” she hissed, clutching her cloak in her paws, just in case he got any funny ideas.

“You just said we’ve got no chance of beating you,” Roderick replied. “unless you’ve changed your mind already…”

If she wasn’t so brilliantly intelligent, she might have suspected Roderick was trying to trick her into gambling away her prizes. No matter, she would win them back easily enough, Skyseeker laying out her newfound treats on the desk.

“One thing I forget to mention,” Wilfred said. “each bet must be subsequently higher than the last. If I bet four ones, you can’t bet three ones, but you can bet five ones, or six ones, and so on.”

“Understanding,” she mumbled, clutching her paws over her dice. “Who goes first? Me-Me?”

“Sure. We’ll go clockwise, so Roderick will go next, then me. Whenever you’re ready, miss Seeker.”

“Let’s look-see,” she muttered, lowering her voice as she appraised her dice. “Hmm. Not have any twos, but maybe Rick-rod does? One two!”

“Just keep in mind we’ll remember you’ve now got a two,” Roderick warned. “One four.”

“One six,” Wilfred chimed. “back to you, miss Seeker.”

“Rick-rod definitely has two’s,” she mumbled, still whispering to herself. “Can see it in his stupid, pretty blue eyes. Three two’s! Hehe…”

“You do realise I can hear you this whole time, right?” Roderick asked, grinning like he’d just caught her out on something. “I call.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the man-things revealing their dice. Roderick had no two’s at all, while Wilfred only had one. As Roderick turned to look at her dice, his smile faltered, Skyseeker laughing as his expression flipped upside down.

“What the… you do have two’s. Three of them, actually.”

“Haha!” she exclaimed, pumping her fists. “Stupid man-thing believed rat’s mumbles! Get duped!”

Grumbling, Roderick placed one of his dice aside, sliding one of her treats into her waiting paws. She swallowed it down within two seconds, just in case one of them managed to win it off her.

“Well done, miss Seeker,” Wilfred said. “Now’s it’s slightly harder for Roderick, with his hand being smaller than ours.”

“I’m not out of this just yet,” Roderick replied, a determined look on his face. “I go first now, right? One five…”

-xXx-

“By the Gods’,” Roderick sighed, flicking his final dice away. “What am I supposed to do with just one dice? How can I bounce back? This game’s unfair.”

“Perhaps you should try not losing all your dice in the first few rounds,” Wilfred suggested with an amused chuckle.

“Or stop being a bad liar,” Skyseeker added, joining Wilfred as she giggled.

“Laugh it up, both of you,” Roderick muttered. “If we were playing something more about strategy, and less about chance, our positions would be reversed.”

She could see that his sore loser façade was just an act, Roderick subduing a grin as he placed another of her rightful treats to her ever-increasing bounty of food. Wilfred’s winnings were almost as numerous as hers, Skyseeker having bluffed him down to just two dice, while she still had three.

“I’m amazed you picked up the rules so quickly,” Wilfred mused. “Then again, deception is one of the key qualities the Skaven are masters of. One six.”

“This is fun!” she chimed, considering her next bet. “Psst! Rick-rod! Does man-wizard have a three?”

“I’m not going to cheat on your behalf,” Roderick replied, her question amusing him all the same. He pushed his chair out, rising from the desk. “Where’s the nearest bathroom on this tub? Assuming I don’t have to relieve myself into the ocean…”

“It’s over on the bow,” Wilfred explained. “just below the forecastle. Need me to show you?”

“I’ll find my way. You’ll be alright here, lass?” Roderick asked, turning to her.

His concern for her was amusing – very much misplaced of course – yet it also made her feel… odd, to be a subject of someone’s worry, especially when that someone was him.

“Yes-Yes,” she said, waving a paw, feigning indifference. “Stop staring and go drain worm already.”

“How do you even know that expression?” he asked, Skyseeker refusing to elaborate. Teasing Roderick was her best way of making him both amused and annoyed at her antics, a combination she found she very much enjoyed for whatever reason.

The door clicked behind Roderick as he left, leaving Skyseeker alone with the wizard. Even though Roderick trusted the magician, and said magician had stood up for her when they’d spoken with the captain, she couldn’t afford to let her guard down around him, her mind processing the odds she could reach his staff before he did, if he got any funny ideas.

“Why only put one bathroom on boat?” she asked, glancing down at her dice. “A lot of man-things here to share singular bath.”

“There’s actually another,” Wilfred explained. “the officer’s lavatory is just behind and to the left there. I wanted to give you and I some time alone, as Roderick will be occupied for a little while yet.”

“Deceptive,” she replied, nodding her muzzle. The wizard was sly despite his appearance, she would have to double her suspicions of him. “Alright what you want? Warpstone? Gold? Spent it all last night so don’t bother.”

“No, no,” the wizard chuckled. “I merely wish to sate my curiosity. It’s not everyday one gets to converse with a Skaven without a knife upon their throat. It’s your turn by the way, miss Seeker.”

“One six, you said?” She hummed to herself as she considered her bet, her train of thought interrupted as the wizard spoke up.

“So tell me, is there not some creed or belief that stops you from cooperating with people like ourselves?” Wilfred asked. “As far as I know, there have been no instances of our people working together. Perhaps allying with a common man would be one thing, but a Skaven and an Imperial general? I would never believe it if I’d not been there.”

“Rick-rod accepted deal-pact,” she explained, her tail flicking in irritation. “Saw he could be useful in crossing man-thing province, so I… employed cooperation. Two two’s.”

“You view him as a means to an end, then?” he prodded, his fingers drumming on the table. “What exactly did you offer him in return? Two sixes.”

“Uh, g-gold? Gold! A-And warpstone. Not actually have warpstone, but worked out loan terms. Sorta.”

“Really? Wealth isn’t much of an interest to Roderick, as far as I’m aware.”

“Maybe Fredwil not know Rick-rod, like I know Rick-rod,” she said, and in an attempt to skirt around the issue altogether, added: “Call! Let’s see your die-dice!”

Wilfred lifted his hand away, revealing a pair of sixes, just as he’d bet.

“Impossible,” she grumbled. “you swapped dice out.”

“Or perhaps I’ve learned to read you, miss Seeker.”

She grumbled as she flicked one of her dice away, narrowing her hand down to just two dice, the same as Wilfred’s. His words carried an implied meaning, and she feared the wizard was onto her lies. She had to turn the conversation back on him.

“So!” she began, the two of them rolling their dice. “Rick-rod not tell me much about you-you. How you meet?”

“On the fields of battle, twenty or so years ago,” Wilfred said. “Orcs had invaded the northern provinces, and I happened to be sent as an attaché to his regiment. He was just an officer back then, not yet proved in the Emperor’s eyes. Blocked an arrow flying at with me with his shield at one point. Since then we’ve worked together on many a campaign.”

“That why you help him now? You in Rick-rod’s debt?”

“Of a manner,” Wilfred agreed. “It has been my life’s goal to preserve the Empire, but almost being felled by that arrow made me realise I am not immortal. One day the earth shall reclaim my body, and the only way for me to continue aiding my people is to guide the young towards a brighter path. Roderick shows great promise, and is a fine friend.”

“Promise? That why you teached him magics, yes-yes?” she prompted. “One five,” she added, realising it was her turn to start the round.

“Indeed I did. I’m surprised he told you about that, he’s embarrassed to bring it up in most people’s company. One six.”

“Skyseeker knows all of Rick-rod’s secrets,” she snickered, trying to sound as conniving as possible.

“Indeed? Perhaps the roots of this ‘pact’ you two made run deeper than it seems?” Wilfred asked, scrutinising her with his green eyes. “It sounds like you’ve become more than just allies.”

“He is… good friend,” she admitted, averting her gaze. “b-but don’t tell him I said that! Want to keep him in dark. Two three’s.”

“He said you were ostracised from your Clan,” he mused, tilting his head towards his hand. “While I understand that can make one feel… aimless, I can’t seem to figure out why you’d choose to follow him onto our ship. Did he tell you anything about where we are going, or why? Crossing the Tilean Sea is a long way from home for a Skaven, yet you seem unperturbed.”

“I’m perturbed!” she insisted. “Perturbed up to my whiskers. Just thinking of desert place makes fur stand on end. See?”

“I wonder what else Roderick told you about himself,” Wilfred continued, lifting his head and giving her a suspicious look. “Surely you must have asked him about his purpose in Tilea, and if so, what had been his answer? Furthermore, what had been your business in a country full of humans? He seemed evasive when I questioned him about your meeting, maybe because your purposes had… correlated?”

She opened her mouth to speak, preparing herself to deny his accusations using her astounding lying skills. This wizard reminded her of Lord Gnawdwell, in a way. He may not be surrounded by a vast collection of tomes and scrolls, but that didn’t mean he was any less stupid. She would have to choose her next words with great care…

“I dismiss your claims,” she stated, waving an authorative paw. “Skaven knows nothing of relic-thing, or its mind controlling warp-power! And… uh oh…”

She clamped her muzzle shut with her paws, but too late, the words had already reached the wizard’s ears. Flustered, she tried to take it all back, her rambling starting off as a babbled collection of incoherent sounds before they took shape.

“W-W-Wait second! Can explain all things! Rick-rod never spoke of relic to me, knew about it wayyy before! Wasn’t going to steal it!” she added, dropping onto her paws and knees. “Promise! Please don’t turn Skaven into mice, Fredwil! I HATE mice! Stupid fleshy tails and their oversized ears…”

“Peace, miss Seeker,” Wilfred said, holding up his hand. “I won’t turn you into anything. I just wished to know the truth.”

“You… not mad?” she asked, still wary of the magician as she looked up at him, then to his staff. He hadn’t made a move towards it yet.

“Absolutely not. If anything, you’ve piqued my interest even more. I knew the changing Winds would be felt by others outside of the Conclave, but not at what capacity. Fascinating that the Skaven felt its presence too, many had theorised your species was too… ignorant of such things.”

Skyseeker let the insult slide, leaning back on her chair as she snacked on a ration, the salty taste on her tongue calming her down. Playing dumb had its merits, the less this ‘Conclave’ knew about the Skaven’s limitless capabilities, the better.

“I am interested in how you obtained such information regardless,” Wilfred continued. “Will you indulge me, miss Seeker?”

“Only if you indulge Skaven first,” she replied. The wizard had power over her now that her secret was out in the open, she had to bounce back and get something useful out of this exchange.

“Very well,” he conceded, his curiosity getting the better of him, just as Skyseeker planned. “A few months ago, the Conclave felt the Winds of Magic shift, not unlike the rippling surface of a disturbed pond. Ripples have been felt countless times before, but his one was especially different. The Conclave has many rituals which allow us to pluck, if you will, at a ripple’s focal point, allowing us to traverse immense distances without ever leaving our towers. Yet those who’d tried to attune to this ripple in particular were met with uncharacteristic resistance. Some wizards experienced momentary insanity, others short-term memory loss. An unfortunate few even began attacking those around them.”

She remembered what Lord Gnawdwell had told her of the relic, how the one who wields it could bend the minds of those around them. It seemed too particular to be coincidence.

“Whether these obstructions were through divine intervention by the Gods’, or some unknown force, we could not say,” Wilfred continued. “As such, I was dispatched to recover its source, and enlisting Roderick in the cause would both clear his name, and garner another source of power and knowledge for the Empire.”

“Does Conclave always steal relics for itself?” she asked.

“Steal? The Conclave brings artifacts to the Empire for safekeeping, where they are studied for years, sometimes centuries, so that they’re powers may be used properly, and kept away from those who would misuse them.”:

“So Skaven usage isn’t ‘proper’, but man-things is?”

This Conclave seemed to have a lot in common with the pompous Great Clans, always thinking themselves above Mors’ rats, when in fact it was the other way around.

“I did not mean to imply offense,” Wilfred added. “What are your intentions with the artifact? Perhaps, like us, you plan to research its capabilities?”

“Clan Mors is going to control all of Skavendom!” she explained, rocking back and forth on her chair. While revealing her Clan’s schemes wasn’t the best idea, what was this wizard going to do? He already knew every rat would be after the relic, and he just told her he wouldn’t turn her into a mouse. He’d sabotaged himself, so Skyseeker could afford to reveal certain information without too much consequence.

“Once I put relic into Lord’s paw-paws,” she continued. “Clan Mors will rise to number one of Council of Thirteen. No command will be ignored, no rat will want to join any other Clan. Council always fighting itself,” she added. “but, with Supreme and Merciless War-King Tyrant-General in charge, peace will reign through all of under-empire.”

“A Skaven speaks of peace,” Wilfred mused, clasping his hands together. The movement inadvertently revealed his dice, but the game was long forgotten by this point. “Knowing your history, I’m adamant to believe such a thing would last long.”

“Peace for Skaven,” she elaborated. “not for surface-dwellers. Better watch out, Fredwil, Tillea invasion is but a whisker of what Skavendom can do-make.”

“A unified Skaven Empire would spell disaster for the unprepared,” he said, a concerned look on his weathered face. Skyseeker enjoyed the fact she’d put the wizard on the back foot. “So your reasoning for coming all this way, is to further the standing of your Lord? Is that all?”

“No,” she snarled. “With my exemplary performance prove-proved, will be made into Lord’s right paw rat! All Skaven will know Skyseeker won’t be put into breeding pits with rest of females. Skyseeker won’t be tortured for stealing ever again. Skyseeker will be free.”

“Assuming your leader can harness the artifact’s power,” Wilfred cautioned. “While the Conclave has theorised it can influence people’s intents, its mind-control properties may go both ways. Do you truly believe your Lord will be able to use it, or will it perhaps use him as soon as he lays a finger on it? Will it control you, if you were to touch it?”

“Had not considered that,” she admitted, chewing on a claw as she pondered. “Relic not have its own will, it’s just a thing!”

“Everything has a will,” Wilfred said. “even a tree has thoughts, mundane as it may appear. This is even more apparent in tools forged by the Gods, which for all we know may be the case with the artifact. Take the Sword of Khaine, or the Ghal Maraz, for instance, weapons that have been known to favour particular users over others, tools that have altered history as much as the ones who’ve wielded them. Some measure of sentience was forged into their creation, and only fools would try and deny it.”

“Lord wouldn’t send me if he thought I was fool,” she replied.

“Again, I don’t mean to insult you,” Wilfred said, though she was beginning to think it was all empty words. “You have shown great resourcefulness in making it this far, but interacting with something potentially crafted by the Gods requires more than cunning and deception. This is why I am here, after all.”

“You’re coming to relic place?” she asked.

“Naturally,” he replied. “Roderick’s magical aptitude is woefully inept. Only one with sufficient training and knowledge of the Winds should walk into close proximity of the artifact. Why do you frown, Miss Seeker? My abilities will come in handy on the path ahead.”

And keeping an eye on you won’t hurt either, his eyes said, though Wilfred didn’t speak them. She’d been right to treat this wizard with suspicion. On the outside he was all niceties and manners, but deep down was that lingering distrust all man-things showed to Skaven. She didn’t blame him, however. He was right to assume she would do whatever it took to claim the relic. She’d only gone and explained so just now.

After a few moments, the silence was broken by the door opening, Skyseeker turning round to see Roderick returning to the cabin, the sight of him soothing her pounding heartbeat.

“I think I’m just going to hold it in next time,” Roderick mumbled. “There wasn’t even a door, just a flimsy curtain. What did I miss?”

“We might have to change the game to Skaven’s Dice,” Wilfred replied, raising his hands. “Miss Seeker here has me on the ropes.”

“Truly?” Roderick asked, glancing down to see their number of dice were even. “I’m sorry I missed it. I knew you were good at deceiving, lass, but this is impressive. Wilfed plays this game all the time.”

“She is a crafty one,” Wilfred added, a small grin on his cracked lips as he eyed her. “Well? Shall we continue, miss Seeker?”

“Uhm… Tired, now,” she stammered, looking away. It wasn’t a lie, Wilfred’s implied warning had drained her of energy. “another time and place, perhaps. Want to have nap.”

“It’s only… what, five o’clock?” Roderick asked. “Come on, I want to see you floor him, Sky.”

“Tired,” she said again, flashing him a silent, pleading look. He seemed to notice she was uncomfortable, and dropped the subject with a shrug. Again, the fact he was good at reading her disturbed her, but not in a bad way.

“It has been a long and exciting day,” Roderick admitted, looking to Wilfred.

“We’ll call that one your win, Miss Seeker,” Wilfred said, collecting up the dice, storing them in his box. “I shall retire to my cabin as well. If you need anything, just knock.”

Roderick bid him goodbye as the wizard retrieved his staff, moving back to his room, which was directly opposite their own. Bundling up her rightfully won food, she scurried over to her and Roderick’s own cabin, her friend following her inside the cramped space, closing the door behind him.

“Everything okay, lass?” he asked as he settled on the bed. “You look troubled.”

“Rick-rod knows Skaven too well,” she chuckled, but it was a forced sound. “Fredwil… said things when you left.”

“What kind of things?” he pressed, raising a brow. “Tell me.”

“He knows,” she began. “Man-wizard tricked me into giving up mission details! Actually, think he knew right from start, but that besides the point-point.”

“That’s… troubling,” Roderick mused. “How did he take it?”

“He said Skaven having relic isn’t proper,” she replied, spitting that last word out. “Said better for Conclave to safekeep. Thought relic would brainwash me once I touched it! Me! Brainwashed! I’m the most disciplined rat on this boat!”

“That, I can’t deny,” Roderick agreed. His eyes flicked up and away, then back as he made to continue. He seemed hesitant. “Maybe you should heed his advice, lass. He knows more about the artifact than anyone.”

“You question my abilities?”

“Wilfred’s older than you and I combined, he has the wisdom of multiple generations. If anyone knows best on how to handle the artifact, it’s him.”

“So man-thing takes his side, yes-yes?” she asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Typical. Man-things teaming up on the breeder-rat.”

“I am on no one’s side,” Roderick insisted, raising a gauntlet. “Wilfred is just trying to help you. And so what if the Conclave wants to safeguard it? Is that worse than whatever it is your Lord would use it for?”

“Has stupid man-thing not been listening? Bringing relic-thing to Lord’s paws is the only way Skaven will be free from slave life. Breeder life.”

“But you’re free from all that right now,” Roderick pointed out. “you’re so far from your Lord’s influence, that he can’t touch you. His orders don’t matter anymore.”

“What about man-thing Emperor? Rick-rod still following his mission, despite distance.”

“That’s different,” Roderick snapped. “I am here at the behest of the greatest man alive. This expedition will ensure the Empire’s prosperity.”

“Empire, Under-Empire, Emperors and Lords, all sounds the same-same to my ears!”

“Your leader and mine are nothing alike,” Roderick protested. “The Emperor protects and serves millions of citizens.”

“And Gnawdwell protects millions of rats! You think man-things deserve protection more than rat-things?”

“We’re not vermin who scurry through the filth and defile our women, so yes, I think they do.”

“And man-things not do those things? Skaven has walked city-streets, seen what humans do to each other. Trade with one paw, kill with other. Excuse all wrongdoing by hiding behind weak Gods! You more like vermin than most Skaven are, too pretentious to admit it!”

“We can point out our faults all day, but that doesn’t change the fact that my people want to treasure the relic, while yours would use its abilities to wreak havoc.”

“This not just about Lord!” she sighed, grasping her muzzle in frustration.

“Then what is it about!”

“My parentrat!”

The pair stared one another down for a moment, Roderick the first to break it as he blinked. She realised she’d shouted loud enough to be heard by the wizard, but she didn’t care.

“What about her?” Roderick demanded, his tone a little softer. Skyseeker paced back and forth through the cabin as she began to explain.

“When Rick-rod talked about parents, then that… dream-thing happened, plan-scheme came to mind. If I took relic-thing, no rat would stand in my way-way. Stormvermin, slaves, ratwives, all would have to obey, or be kill-killed. With relic in paw, could scurry back to breeding pits like Lord Gnawdwell himself, command ratwives to release parentrat!”

“You… want to save your mother?” he asked.

“Just as she saved me as pup,” she replied, nodding. “Then we both free.”

“That’s… a noble deed,” Roderick admitted, scratching his chin. “Could the relic do all that?”

“Only find out once I lay paws on it,” she answered.

“What about your freedom? Your Lord wouldn’t take kindly to you releasing a breeder, would he? He’d hunt you down like a dog.”

“Skavenblight’s tunnels stretch far, he’ll not know to stop-halt in time. And if he does… will die knowing that Skaven at least try-tried.”

“I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you,” Roderick apologised, Skyseeker blinking at him. “I didn’t know the scope of your plan went beyond simply fulfilling your duty to your Lord. I still think Wilfred’s words hold some truth to them,” he added, Skyseeker faltering at that. “We will have his council from now on, we should put it to good use.”

“Rick-rod didn’t say he would be coming to desert with us,” she muttered.

“I thought it was obvious,” Roderick replied.

Skyseeker stared between her feet, a soup of emotions swirling through her chest. Anger at the wizard’s lies, frustration at herself for not telling Roderick her true plan sooner, and fear. Fear that Roderick was picking Wilfred over her, even though he told her otherwise. As a Skaven, she was used to being knifed in the back by those she once called allies, but somehow, the thought of being betrayed by Roderick made her feel terrible.

It shouldn’t have surprised her. Roderick and Wilfred had known one another for years – how long had it been for she and Roderick? A few scant weeks? Making a pact with him had been futile from the start, but she wouldn’t go back and change it if given the power.

That point he raised about her Lord piqued her interest. She was so very far from Skavenblight, from Gnawdwell, and that distance only grew by the minute. She’d never been as free as she was right now. She could make up her own schemes, do her own thing, but could she survive without her Clan? Her ability was beyond measure, but she of all people knew the difficulties of going alone into the world.

“Perhaps it isn’t so early for rest,” Roderick suggested, his words snapping her out of her thoughts. He took one of the two sheets laying on the bed, starting to fluff it out. “A good sleep will clear our heads, and we can worry about this later. Think we can both fit?”

Her eyes widened, did he still wish to sleep with her? As much as she craved to feel his warmth again, a bigger part of her was quick to temper the impulse. Roderick’s true duty lay with his Empire, that was obvious now, and his alliance with the wizard was stronger than her deals of friendship.

“I’ll take corner,” she mumbled, snatching the other sheet. She moved as far away from the bed as possible, throwing the sheet down and bundling it up to form a suitable nest.

“Oh,” he said. Was that disappointment she heard? “Are you sure, lass? It’s not that much smaller than the one in the inn.”

“Rat’s sleep better alone,” she replied in a cold voice, even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“As you wish,” Roderick muttered. She could feel his eyes on her as she threw herself into the nest, bundling her cloak over her head as she turned to face the wall. “Goodnight, lass.”

She tried her best to ignore him as he walked over to the bed, begingin to take off his armour, Skyseeker resisting the urge to help him as she tried to get some sleep.

-xXx-

Skyseeker awoke with a frown, finding a beam of bright light shining directly into her muzzle. Wiping the residue from her tired eyes, she sat up from her haphazard nest, noting that through the slit of the curtains was a ray of sunshine. It must be dawn. Usually she’d sleep in until much later in the day, but something had stirred her from her slumber.

“-any difference regardless,” she heard a voice say. Was that Roderick? Did he not know by now what her nap-times were? How inconsiderate. She turned to the bed, ready to berate him, but blinked when she realised he wasn’t inside the cabin.

“It would if the Emperor ever found out,” another voice answered, one that belonged to the conniving man-wizard. It seemed the two were having a discussion just outside her room, Skyseeker moving over to the door, placing a paw on the handle. She was about to give the two a good dressing down for being so loud, but after taking a moment to think, she noted they were speaking in hushed voices. It was only thanks to her estimable hearing that she could pick up their voices with such clarity.

She considered her next move. As long as she was stealthy, which was something she did quite well, she could eavesdrop on their conversation, but was spying on her only friend the best decision? His loyalties were in question since their talks last night, but she had tried so very hard to reciprocate Roderick’s niceties – her stealing that firearm being the first of many acts to come. She didn’t want to ruin that by intruding on his privacy. However… he couldn’t get angry at her if he never found out, right?

Now thoroughly convinced, she dropped to her knees, pressing her ear against the crack between the door and the floor, chuckling at her own brilliance before going quiet. If these two were scheming, she had to find out about it.

“He won’t know,” Roderick said. “Not unless you were lying before, and the Conclave wouldn’t be interested.”

“Far from it,” Wilfred replied. “but what of the good captain? Or the dozens of sailors under his command? Word will spread quickly once we return to Imperial waters. You and I will be accused of colluding with Chaos if we don’t control the spread of information. The Conclave can learn much from a Skaven captive, certainly, but the fact remains it was you alone who recruited her to this expedition. How do you think the people will react?”

“She’s not a captive,” Roderick corrected. “and let the people say what they will. If we’re going to defeat Chaos, gaining something from it, an ally in this case, will go a long way towards reaching that goal.”

“Perhaps you’ve let too much of it in, Roderick.”

“What would you have me do? Cast her off the bow? Leave her in Arabia, maybe? I cannot bring her to harm, she’s my…”

“Enemy,” Wilfred finished for him. “An ally at the moment, yes, but what of tomorrow? Or after the artifact is reclaimed? To trust in Chaos is to lead a dark path, and friendly or not, miss Seeker is Skaven, a spawn of Chaos. No amount of time you’ve spent together can change that.”

“If that’s the case, why’d you let me bring her on board in the first place? One would think you’d have shot her with one of those… vine spells of yours.”

“Don’t mistake my warnings for hostility. I respect all living things, even the Skaven, and causing miss Seeker any undo harm troubles me as much as it does to you. But you must not let your feelings for her distract you from your goal. Letting the artifact fall into the hands of the Skaven could spell disaster.”

“My loyalty to the Empire has not wavered.”

“Of that I have no doubt, Roderick. Perhaps I phrased that the wrong way. It just seems that your… bond, to Miss Seeker has clouded your thoughts. I ask that you remind yourself why it is we started this expedition in the first place. Bringing success here could tip the scales in our favour, don’t let your feelings for her distract you from that. Once the artifact is ours, whatever becomes of miss Seeker afterward, I leave that in your hands.”

“Perhaps we should ask her what she wants to do,” Roderick suggested. “I can’t make her give up her mission, nor can I make her return to the Empire to be studied by the Conclave.”

“Then convince her if you can, otherwise…” A pause, and then he called out: “Miss Seeker?”

Skyseeker slapped her face with a palm. In her attempt to push her ear further under the door, she’d applied too much pressure to the floor, and the wood had made a tiny creaking sound. Not tiny enough for the wizard’s hearing, however.

Jumping out of her fur, Skyseeker stood up, and threw the door open with a swift kick of her foot. She barged into the room, pretending she hadn’t heard anything.

“Morning, man-things!” she chimed, placing her paws on her wide hips. “What’s for breakfast?”

“It’s back to salted rations I’m afraid,” Roderick answered. He was sitting behind the game table they’d set up the night prior, a plate of tiny bones sat before him. “At least the fish is different.”

Roderick didn’t seem caught onto the fact she’d been spying on him. Or perhaps he was, and was just not showing it. Wilfred on the other paw, was narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously, but he didn’t make a comment. She concluded she’d made a daring escape just in time.

“So!” she began, rounding the table. “What on agenda today? We at desert yet?”

“It’s a long way still. And I’m afraid there’s little in the way of accommodations on this ship,” Wilfred replied. “However, I’ve got plenty of other fun games right here,” he added, producing his carboard box again, what seemed like a hundred different sets of dice jangling like crazy.

“Need to stretch legs and smell air first,” Skyseeker replied. “Paw-feet not used to all this non-walking.”

“Perhaps later, then,” Wilfred conceded, stashing his box beneath the table, disappointment evident in his eyes.

“I think I’ll join you,” Roderick added. “I’ll get leg cramps otherwise.”

“I-If you want,” Skyseeker stammered, glancing up at him. She scampered over to the exit, Roderick following her out onto the deck as he bid the wizard farewell.

The sunlight blared out from the sky in full force, but she was ready for it this time, her goggles affixed tightly against her eyes as she took in a huff of salty air, the taste stinging her gums. She noted Roderick was carrying a paper parcel, but didn’t comment on it, Skyseeker turning and making her way around the cabin. There was less equipment on the far side, and less sailors too, Skyseeker comfortable enough to lower her guard a notch as she warmed up her long legs.

She skittered up onto the railing, turning her back to the ocean as she peered over at Roderick. For a moment neither of them said a word, and then he held out the strange parcel to her, Skyseeker blinking up at him.

“Peace offering,” he explained without her having to ask. He unwrapped the parcel, exposing one of those fish things she’d spotted back in the port, except stripped of its scaled, the exposed, pinkish flesh wisping trails of steam.

She gripped it by the tail, the creature flopping before her pink nose as she took a sniff. It smelled nice, so she popped it in her mouth, chewing a few times before forcing it down, smacking her lips as she considered the taste.

“You’re… not supposed to eat the bones,” Roderick mumbled. “You like it? I’ve got another right here, I managed to convince the chefs to lend me some extra rations.”

“Does man-thing presume he can make peace by offering food?” she asked, jabbing a finger at his chestplate. “Because… you presume correctly!”

“I know,” he chuckled, offering her another parcel. As she devoured the fish wrapped inside, he leant against the railing beside her, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I wanted to apologise,” Roderick began, the ocean wind ruffling his long hair. “I can say some pretty hurtful things when I’m questioned, and you didn’t deserve any of what I said.”

“Two for two. Rick-rod’s correct again,” she replied, looking away pointedly.

“I knew we’d get into an argument eventually about this relic, artifact, what have you,” Roderick continued. “I suppose it’s only come up now because I’ve spent every moment worrying over gryphon’s and rats and just trying to make it onto this ship alive. Being surrounded by my countrymen has freed up a lot of my thoughts.”

“I’ve arrived to same conclusion,” Skyseeker replied, spinning across the railing so that her feet dangled over the ocean. “Need danger to occupy headspace, but danger bad for health. Ironic!”

“There is also irony in Wilfred’s advice. While I still believe him to be in the right…”

“Here we go-go…”

“Let me finish. While his wisdom shouldn’t be ignored, I can name several instances where his foresight has failed him. He didn’t know about your existence until recently, for one thing. Even the wisest minds can be wrong sometimes.”

“A sentiment I can relate too!” Skyseeker chittered. “Am sorry as well, Rick-rod,” she added. “called man-thing pretentious, but you the most kindiest thing I have ever met-met. So selfless and… uh, selfless.”

“Perhaps I was being a little pompous. I did call you vermin,” Roderick said, shaking his head in disapproval. “it seems so pointless in hindsight. We’re still a long way from the artifact, and here we are, arguing about what we’re going to do with some magical thing we don’t understand, let alone what it even looks like. There’s simply too many unknowns at this stage.”

“We both were being silly,” Skyseeker said. “Need to argue over now things! Like that boat over there!”

“Exactly, and- Wait a moment, what boat?”

She pointed a nonchalant finger over the water, across the waves the ship left in its wake.

“That boat!”

“I see nothing,” Roderick replied, phrasing it almost like a question. He shielded his eyes against the sunshine, squinting as he searched the area she’d indicated.

“Maybe because man-thing has no super goggles,” she suggested, tapping at the lens with her nail.

“Are you quite certain? Can you see any flags or discernible marks? Is it a Tilean vessel?”

“Unknown!” she answered, turning the zooming dial to its maximum setting, the sound of winding gears filling her head. “But, do know that it follows us, just like Rick-rod followed me on your horse-thing, remember? Once it’s closer, will know more details.”

“We need to call this in,” Roderick said, pushing off the railing. “Wait here.”

He turned and walked down the deck, Skyseeker bundling herself up in her cloak as the sea breeze ruffled her fur. They had distanced far enough away from Tilea that she could no longer see any landmass, bobbing water dominating the scenery in all directions. She had never beheld so much water in her life, not even the sallow swamps compared to this so-called ocean. While it was as wondrous as the skies, she was also intimidated by it. According to Roderick, man-eating fish lived below the waves, and there had been no shortage of men being devoured alive by the aquatic life throughout history. Good thing she wasn’t a man, though that wasn’t to say her own people hadn’t encountered dangerous marine life in the past.

A few minutes later, Roderick returned, this time in the company of none other than the clawcaptain, Von Kessel, his feathered hat and puffy tunic rippling in the wind. Skyseeker turned her gaze away. Not because she feared the clawcaptain, but because his attire was overstimulating her senses. Perhaps her goggles had some sort of grey filter that could block it out?

“Pray to the Emperor that you’re not mistaken, rat,” Von Kessel grumbled as he took up position nearby. “I do not like being called away from my duties.”

“She has no reason to lie,” Roderick added, but his affirmation had little effect on the grumpy sailor.

Von Kessel reached into his tunic, producing a device that resembled a cylinder composed of bronze metal, about the size of her paw. He pinched one end of the device between his fingers, Skyseeker watching in astonishment as he began to peel the cylinder out until it resembled a tube.

“What is that-that?” she demanded. The device extended further, its length matching her arm, then exceeding it. It appeared there were multiple layers of the cylinder nested inside the casing.

“A spyglass,” Roderick answered. “It uses mirrors and lenses to allow one to see further away. Much like your goggles do, I imagine.”

“SSHH!” she hissed. “Don’t give secrets away!”

The clawcaptain had to use both hands to hold the elongated spyglass steady, the man sweeping the frontal lens from left to right as he surveyed the ocean. She thought the clawcaptain would miss the mysterious boat, but he hesitated in one of his sweeps, the spyglass no doubt making up for his stupid eyesight.

“It seems your scouting ability is not in question, Skaven,” Von Kessel muttered. Perhaps he’d been praying she’d been wrong, and would use that as an excuse to finally toss her off the ship. “Even my spotters haven’t raised the alarm yet, and their eyes are good.”

“I’m BETTER than good-good,” Skyseeker snickered, glad for the opportunity to rub it in a little.

“No colours,” Von Kessel continued. “The sail’s are as ragged as a worn out pair of knickers, and the wood’s rotted. Must be pirates. Their course appears to match ours…”

“Perhaps its coincidence,” Roderick suggested. “These aren’t abandoned waters by any stretch. Tilea relies on its sea trade routes after all.”

“Yet we aren’t following any trade routes,” Von Kessel said. “Few would dare sail so close to Sartosa waters, fewer still who would follow a fully-manned wolfship. Whoever they are, they’re either brave or stupid.”

“Methinks its Clan Skurvy ratship,” Skyseeker piped in. She cupped a paw around her mouth, raising her voice at the miniature ship. “Mangy rats! Stay away from relic!”

“Clan Skurvy?” Roderick asked. “What’s their specialty? Ships, I suppose?”

“Very smart, Rick-rod. Skurvy have biggest clanfleet,” she said, holding her arms out wide for emphasis. “However! Don’t take very good care of ships, so not very big threat to Skaven.”

“How many ships are there in this ‘clanfleet’?” Von Kessel asked.

“Uh… at least one! More than one.”

“Very helpful,” the clawcaptain muttered. “I’ll have to double the watch,” he added, pressing his spyglass back into its compacted state. “if they don’t alter course within the day, we may have company, Skaven, pirates, whoever they are.”

Giving her a cursory glance, the clawcaptain walked off without a word, raising his voice at a few nearby sailors as he relayed her findings to his crew.

“How rude!” Skyseeker complained, turning to Roderick. “not even say thank you.”

“Be glad he at least acknowledged your efforts,” Roderick replied, looking out to sea. “He’ll be a little less sure that you’re his adversary now.”

“Question,” she said, Roderick gesturing for her to ask. “Just then, Kessel-man said something about Sar-to-sa. What’s is that?”

“Sartosa is a pirate haven,” Roderick explained. “Just off the southern tip of Tilea is an island of the same name. You might be able to see it off the portside soon, depending on how good your goggles are. I hear every one who lives there is a vampire.”

“Vam-pire? Not know this word-word.”

“It’s a foul creature that drinks the blood of any living thing it can get its dirty hands on.”

“Oh, them! Seen one of those once. Maybe. Won’t be seeing any now, will we?” she chittered, darting her head round.

“We’ll be giving Sartosa a wide berth,” he said, her fear-musk repressing at that. “Although, pirates infest the Tilean Sea like a disease. There’s a good chance we’ll run into one of their ships. That frigate following us may very well be one of theirs.”

“Don’t say that!” she squeeked. “Don’t want blood to be suck-drinked. I need my blood!”

“No reason to be alarmed,” Roderick said. “We’re over a hundred men strong, plus one Skaven. We can withstand any vampiric force.”

“I have every reasoning. Rick-rod not know the story of the Skabrus?”

“No, but I’m guessing you’re about to tell me.”

“Once upon a time-time, there was a mighty Skurvy warlord named Skretch. He was rat pirate number one – had biggest fleet, and biggest warpstone booty. That was, until giant monster came from depths and gobbled him up, ship and all! Skretch hates being gobbled, so he stabs it from the inside, kills monster-thing as punishment, but monster doesn’t let him go, no-no! He drowns in water along with monster. Council declares him dead-dead that day, but fleet survivors chittered otherwise. Rats say he still sails, not on boat no, but… on monster-thing itself! Skretch was un-deaded by vampires into forever service! W-Why are you not squirting fear-musk?”

“Because that’s ridiculous,” Roderick replied. “You think there is a rat sailing a dead fish out there? That’s something you’d tell your children to scare them into behaving.”

“You’ll be more than scared when Skretch comes for us-us on his Skabrus! You think rats bad? Not-dead rats MUCH worse!”

Chapter 9: Confessions

Fur as dark as opal

Eyes the shade of ruby

Some would call you as vile as Nurgle

But you’re just gems to me

If you were to be my one

My heart would explode, like a powder gun

Roderick dipped his quill into the ink pot, his chair creaking as he stretched his shoulders. He’d been hunched over the desk for hours, and dusk had fallen, the cabin lit by a solitary candle to his right.

It had taken longer than it should have to complete the poem, but he’d finally sorted out his feelings towards the rat woman. Some would consider his new perspective a shift towards corruption of his faith, but what business was it of theirs? Skaven or not, he welcomed her company, and what harm was there in asking for a little bit more of it?

Folding the poem into his pocket, he made his way out onto the deck, closing the cabin door on the way out, gazing down the ship’s length in search of Skyseeker. Wilfred had agreed to watch over her while he penned his feelings, it was just a matter of finding one or the other.

By the time Roderick had walked down to the main deck, he knew that something was amiss. Most of the sailors were down in the hull, resting at this hour, but those who were still on duty seemed distracted. Those on the starboard side were gazing out over the ocean, dropping spools of rope and crates of supplies to stop and stare.

Was it the mysterious ship? The vessel had gotten closer and closer over time, somehow able to ride the currents faster than the wolfship, despite its ramshackle appearance.

Turning his eyes up, he saw the telltale green robe of the wizard near one of the larger groups clustered near the bulwark, just beside the forecastle. Roderick made his way up the stairs, glancing at the towering bunker of weaponry that made up the ship’s prow before he tapped Wilfred on the shoulder, asking the old man what was going on.

“See for yourself,” Wilfred replied, stepping aside. As Roderick came forward to see what the commotion was, he froze in his tracks.

Through the gloom of the sea sparked yellow points of brief light, the thunder of cannon shot reaching his ears in eerie echoes. More flashes followed, tens of them flicking on and off in rapid succession, the early night sky awash with fire. They were too far into the distance to discern their source, but it was obvious that those were ships firing upon something.

“A fleet,” Roderick muttered. “But whose?”

“Sartosa’s, I’d imagine,” Wilfred answered, gesturing with his staff. “they are the only major naval force near here, and their island isn’t far.”

“What is that?” one of the sailors shouted. From between the explosions, new sharp instances of colour emerged, tinting the rippling waters an ominous green. Like a horizontal lightning strike, electricity lanced across the ocean, one such current connecting to one of the Sartosan ships, flames rising from the impact.

“Warp lightning! Yes-Yes-Yes!” a feminine voice cackled, its owner obvious enough. Just to one side of the gathered group was Skyseeker, the little Skaven’s tail flicking to and fro behind her. “Fellow Skaven have bigger, better cannons compared to man-things. Uh, former fellow Skaven,” she added when some of the sailors turned to stare at her.

“So much for my plan of staying ahead of your kin, lass,” Roderick muttered, sidling up beside her. There were too many ships to count, the Skaven and pirate vessels seeming to line the horizon, and that was only what could be seen by the light of the cannon fire. “The pirates seem to be occupying them, if nothing else.”

“Hello Rick-rod,” Skyseeker chimed. “Yes-Yes, Skurvy would have big start on other Clans. Good thing Vampires helping to keep rats busy! Would have lost race to relic otherwise.”

They looked out to the battling ships for a while, Roderick placing a hand on his pocket, brushing his poem with his gloved fingers. Skyseeker seemed to notice his hesitation, tapping him on the thigh with a paw.

“You got that look on face, Rick-rod,” she noted. “What is it? Scared of Skurvy?”

“No, nothing like that,” he answered. “I just… I have something for you.”

Damn it, why was his heart starting to race? He wasn’t some fresh-faced recruit trying to woo his first wench, and yet he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive of her reaction to his confession. Would she appreciate his candour, or laugh in his face?

“Oh!” she cooed. “Present? What is it, warpstone? New knife? If you have third weeping dagger I will shriek so loud Horned Rat will hear me-me!”

“Well, it’s-”

A deafening crack rippled through the sky, the hairs on Roderick’s arms standing on end as the sky turned into a morbid shade of green. Arching overhead was another of those warp lightning strikes, but far closer, the dancing fingers of electricity as thick around as trees. The perverted energies arced through the air beside the ship’s hull, just skimming the water’s surface. It sizzled out of existence in an instant, but Roderick was still able to see its strange shapes burned into his retinas.

“Sigmar’s balls!” he shouted, turning towards the two opposing fleets. At first he’d though they’d been spotted, but the trajectory of the lightning didn’t add up. The shot hadn’t come from them…

“That’s the call to war, men!” a voice called, Roderick turning to see Von Kessel rounding the forecastle. He was rousing the gawking sailors, addressing the group closest to Roderick with a stern look. “To your posts, in the Emperor’s name.”

There was a chorus of yes sirs as the sailors launched into action, Roderick helping Skyseeker get out of their way. From beyond the ship’s flank, he could see the silhouette of the vessel chasing them, closer than ever.

An engagement with them troubled him more than he cared to admit. Roderick was used to battle taking place over land, not sea, and a small twinge of thalassophobia wasn’t helping either. To be devoured by sharks was not the glorious death he sought, but he was never one to stand aside from the call of duty.

He stood in front of the captain before he could pass, Von Kessel quirking a brow in a silent question.

“What would you have us do, captain?” Roderick asked, gesturing between him and Skyseeker. “We can help.”

“Is that so? Do you know how to hoist a sail, or row in time with a dozen other sailors? Keep yourself and your rat inside, you would only get in the way.”

“I’m familiar with firing ship cannons,” Roderick replied, ignoring the offhand comment. “An extra set of hands can do you no harm.”

“And paws, too!” Skyseeker added, waving her fingers. Von Kessel went to say something, but another warp strike interrupted him, the lightning falling short in the water some distance off the starboard.

“Facing Skaven with a rat on my side…” Von Kessel mused. “I’ve little choice but to agree. Very well, go find yourselves a cannon on the port side and assist. We’ll be turning to give the filthy rodents a broadside. Obey my men like they’re Sigmar’s chosen, understand?”

“We do,” Roderick replied, waving Skyseeker on. “Come on, lass.”

The pair rushed down to the main deck, which had quickly become packed with clusters of men. Some were handing off portable, one-man cannons and mounting them onto the bulkwark, others ferrying wheeled carts full of cannon balls to the gun crews, everyone rushing off to their assigned tasks at the behest of officers.

Roderick moved down the portside edge, examining each cannon. Teams of three were preparing the mighty weapons, but close to the far end of the line, one of them was being manned by only a single sailor. His companions were probably down in the hull, currently being roused from sleep, but Roderick took the opportunity to step in first.

The sailor was currently securing the cannon to the bulwark, so the recoil wouldn’t send the weapon flying back onto the deck and injuring anyone in its path. Roderick stooped to pick up the other end of the tackle, looping the rope beneath the barrel and tying it down to the railing on the opposite side.

“Hey, who the…. General Erdmann?” the sailor asked, blinking at him as he secured the knot he’d been tying. “what in the ploughin’ hells are you doing here?”

It was a crude way to address a superior, although Roderick technically wasn’t his superior in any capacity, so he brushed it off without comment.

“The captain has sent us to aid you,” Roderick replied.

“Us?” he echoed. He recoiled in alarm when he noticed Skyseeker standing by his side, the man having not noticed the Skaven until now.

“Ahoy-hoy!” she greeted, offering him a little wave.

“Uh, General? I don’t work with ploughin’ Skaven…”

“You do now, lad,” Roderick replied. “Stop wasting time and tell us what you need.”

“Pissing captain always sends me the greenhorns,” the sailor muttered. “Right, one of you needs to be on swabbing duty, the other will be carrying and loading the shots. Better decide quick, those fucking rats are won’t be waiting on us.”

“I’m not even sure you weigh twenty-four pounds, lass, so I’ll load,” Roderick said. “Think you can handle the swabs?”

“There’s nothing Skaven can’t handle,” she replied, puffing out her chest. “What do I do?”

The sailor pointed to a bundle of sticks nearby, Skyseeker bending over to pick them up. They were the same shape as cotton swabs, except they were as long as swords, the ends flaring out into bulbous shapes. There were three in all, and Skyseeker decided to just pick them all up and haul them over to the gun.

“Use the one with the sponge,” the sailor explained, pressing his thumb into a little vent on the rear of the iron barrel. Roderick knew enough about gunpowder to know he was blocking the spark vent so the cannon wouldn’t fire pre-emptively and blow the Skaven’s paws off. “Stick it down the barrel until it hits the bottom. Cleans out all the shit inside.”

She held the three swabs out, Roderick seeing the gears in her head turning as she figured out how she was going to manage carrying them around. Instead of just dropping the ones she didn’t need, she instead brought up her pink tail, holding two of the swabs out to it, like she was passing them off to someone. The scaly appendage wrapped around the hafts, flexible enough it could coil thrice times over the poles.

Now with her hands free, she brought the sponged swab to the barrel, poking it inside as instructed, pulling it back out when the sailor told her so.

“Okay, now do the same with the wad-screw. It’s that one with the spiral on the end. Hurry it up, now, we’re on a small fucking timer.”

She repeated the process with a different swab, using it like Roderick would use a ramrod to reload his pistol. The process between loading navel cannons and handguns was remarkably similar, except one was far more dangerous given the upscale in explosive power.

“Good, now stand clear,” the sailor instructed. “General? The cartridge.”

A short distance away lay a pile of white bags, Roderick recognising them as small sacks full of gunpowder. A barrel brimming with cannonballs sat to one side, another filled with canvas wads on the other. He rushed to pick one of the cartridges up, having to use two hands to do so, moving over to the end of the barrel and lifting it in.

“Now ram it home, rat,” the sailor ordered, pausing to rub his brow. “Gods, never thought I’d say those words in that order before…”

Skyseeker gave him an incredulous look, but didn’t bother asking what he meant. She was perceptive enough to know that she should use the third swab to do the job, this one ending in a simple cup-shaped recess. She rammed the cartridge to the back of the barrel, using her tail like a third arm to help to complete the task.

Next came the shot, Roderick lugging the twenty-four pounder across the deck, Skyseeker plugging it into the cannon. Last came the wad, which served to keep the shot and the cartridge in place while the cannon was readied.

“Help me run it out,” the sailor said, picking up a spool of rope connected to the cannon’s base. Roderick joined him, heaving the rope taut, Skyseeker hurrying to add her miniscule weight to the effort. The cannon rolled forward on its iron wheels, the tackle going slack as it was pushed flush against the bulwark.

Now in position, the sailor produced an iron nail, slotting it into the powder vent, piercing the cartridge inside. He then took out a long matchstick, jamming it inside the vent where he let it sit. All they would need now is a spark to light the fuse, and the cannon would fire.

Roderick could see they were running late compared to the rest of the crews lining the deck, each respective leader holding up lanterns, ready for the order to fire. Glancing out over the water, Roderick could see the Skaven ship was still maintaining its course some three or four hundred meters out, its bulk illuminated by two pools of green light, which emanated from a pair forward-facing cannons, mounted on the very front of the ship.

As he watched, one of the warp-cannons fired, this one landing short some dozen meters off, the splash of water momentarily obscuring the rat ship behind the spray. Like a company of artillery, the rats were zeroing in on them, becoming more accurate with each testing shot.

The wolfship continued its heavy turn, its weight felt with every slow change in angle, soon bringing its full broadside to bear.

“Stand aside, rat,” the sailor advised, using another rope to turn the barrel. Roderick made to help, but the sailor waved him away.

“You’ll fuck up our shot, General,” the sailor said. “Aiming is my job.”

Roderick deferred to his experience, letting the foul-mouthed sailor angle the barrel. Down the gun line, Roderick heard the call to aim being shouted from the mouth of someone with a foghorn for a voice. He could hear similar shouts from the deck below, probably from whoever was in charge of the hold’s weaponry.

“I said move ploughin’ back, rat,” the sailor chided. He stooped to collect a lantern of his own, one end of the stick trailing smoke. “you don’t want to be anywhere near that barrel when I light this son of a bitch.”

She hopped a safe distance away from the cannon, joining Roderick as he lingered by the ammunition barrels. The Skaven ship was maintaining its course, closing the distance fast. It was close enough now that he could make out the hundreds of Skaven scurrying about its decks.

“You may want to plug your ears, lass,” Roderick advised. “I can’t express to you how loud these guns are going to be.”

She took his word for it, covering her pink ears with her paws, shutting her eyes tight as the man with the foghorn voice gave the order to fire.

The sailor brought down his lantern, the neighbouring gun team doing the same, the matchstick making sizzling and popping sounds as the fuse ignited. The sailor took a few steps back, but stayed a little too close to the gun than Roderick would have been comfortable with. He wasn’t even covering his ears, suggesting he’d done this many times before, or was hard of hearing.

Roderick guessed at least thirty, maybe forty guns were on each side of the wolfship. The rats were about to be in a world of hurt, if not downright destroyed in a few moments. The Skaven hulk still wasn’t changing heading, surely they would try to evade?

He felt a tremor in the wood beneath his boots, the lower deck cannons the first to fire off. A second later, and their gun, along with the rest along the deck, discharged, the matchsticks burning to capacity. The monstrous gun fired off in almost perfect synchronicity with the others, the deck becoming a firework show of explosives. The barrel snapped at least two feet into the air, the cannon rocking back on its wheels as it delivered its bombardment. The immense recoil would have crushed anything directly behind the gun, but the tackle kept he gun secured to the bulwark, the tracks only moving as much as the slack let it.

As the gunpowder flash petered out, Roderick looked down the barrel’s length, seeing the sky had darkened with cannonballs, the stars obscured behind the curtain of ammunition. They arced into their highest point, then descended towards the Skaven ship. For a moment all he heard was the lapping waters and the ringing in his ears, and then the volley found its mark.

Even across the distance, crushed wood and pained cries reached his ears, more than a quarter of the broadside having found its mark in the Skaven clanship, its narrow profile meaning many of the shots had missed. Even so, the damage was immediate. One of the frontal warp-cannons shattered to pieces, the nearby Skaven being flung to the waters by the shattering impact. Chunks were torn from the bow, the hull pockmarked with scores of holes and even a few pockets of green flame. Whatever ammunition the lightning cannons used must have cooked off.

“There’s no time for gawking!” the sailor shouted. “Swab the ploughin’ barrel, rat! We’re firing again!”

“Shut up, sea-man,” Skyseeker snarled. “you’re slowest out of all of us.”

She did as ordered despite her attitude, plucking a swab from her tail and ramming it down the gun, but not without directing a mumbled insult to the sailor’s parentrat as she did.

The reload was exactly the same as before, although this time her cotton swab came out black with soot, and the sailor told her to wash it in a nearby basin before she used it again. As Roderick approached with the next cartridge, he saw that the Skaven ship was adjusting course.

Rather than continue its interception, the nose turned swiftly to the side, an unnatural burst of speed shooting it off to the right. It was speeding along as though the winds had curried to its favour, but as Roderick got a look at the vessel’s rear, he found the source of its newfound speed.

Attached to the flanks of the ship were two giant nozzles, shaped into cones placed one atop the other. From inside these cones blasted flames the colour of emeralds, the streams of jet bringing to mind images of dragon’s breathing flame, the water below the twin infernos bubbling violently with the immense heat. The constructs seemed to be made of iron, resembling steam engines one might find on dwarven vehicle, but Roderick had never seen steampower on such a scale before.

“What on Ulric’s frosty fucking breath is that?!” the sailor demanded, the man’s jaw going slack.

“Warpsteam engines,” Skyseeker answered, her goggles reflecting the twin-tailed blasts of green flame. “Ultimate warp-power, constructed by Skryre’s ingenious Warlock Engineers. Hope you man-things have more oars to spare!”

“That explains how they caught up to us so quickly,” Roderick muttered. The engines screamed like harpies as the Skaven ship blasted off into a higher gear, bringing its own broadside to bear.

Without warning, ports in the clanship’s rotting hull opened up, several dozen lightning cannons poking through. Lightning flashed, lances of energy bridging the gap between the two ships. Some fell short, others sailed wildly into the sky, but most were heading straight for the wolfship’s hull.

“Brace yourselves!” the sailor yelled, Roderick covering his head in his hands. A strike landed dangerously close to their right, the cannon crew unfortunate enough to be in its path flung away by the resulting blast. The air filled with electricity as more lances found their marks, one tearing down the crow’s nest, the lookout up there vapourised, another striking the hull below.

The calm demeanour of the crew teetered, but did not falter, the gun crews maintaing their duties as they reloaded. Skyseeker was shaken by the close call, but she kept up her duties, passing her swab from tail to hand as she rammed the cotton wad inside the barrel, she and Roderick helping the sailor to push the gun forward once more. Both ships were travelling parallel to each other now, the sailor having to angle the gun far to the right to compensate for the Skaven’s sudden speed.

The cannons on the lower deck fired, still organised enough to fire a synchronised volley, Roderick’s own cannon joining the fray as the sailor lit their matchstick.

Roderick felt his eardums quake as the cannon fired, discharging a cloud of smoke and flame. The round shots whistled through the skies, the Skaven ship buckling as they hit home, pockmarking its hull in several places. Even with its superior speed, the clanship couldn’t outrun every shot.

“Again! Ploughin’ again!” the sailor yelled, Skyseeker thrusting the swab into the cannon. The Skaven were gaining a lead, the wolfship turning to compensate, giving the gun crews a better firing arc, more volleys from below deck flying off. Roderick knew that aiming artillery involved a lot of calculations, but that didn’t compare to firing at a moving ship, from a moving ship, even just a slight mistake would result in a miss. It made him glad he wasn’t the one in charge of aiming.

The Skaven clanship used its superior engines to dodge, manoeuvring in random directions to throw off the crew’s aim. Whether their helmsman was skilled or just panicking, it made the clanship a difficult target to hit, most of the next thunderous volley missing as the Skaven made a powerful one-eighty turn, their lack of reliance on the wind allowing them to change direction at a whim.

Now the Skaven was sailing to the left, part of its hull covered behind a rising wave for a moment. When the water fell away, the Skaven unleashed another warp-lightning broadside, the lances of electricity coming close enough to paint the features of the sailors green.

The helmsman of the wolfship turned away from the volley, putting the rear of the vessel in the way of the lightning, in the hopes of narrowing their profile as much as possible. Roderick watched as several lances streaked passed, those that found their mark striking the stern with violent force, one destroying the deck directly behind the cabin he shared with Skyseeker. He felt the ship rock on its axel as more warp-power hit the rear end of the hull, what felt like the vibrations of an explosion travelling up his legs.

“What was that?” he demanded, directing his question to the sailor.

“One of the pumps must have been ploughin’ hit,” the sailor replied.

“Don’t we need those?” Skyseeker asked. She was cleaning out the barrel without even being told to do so.

“We can stay afloat with one down,” the sailor explained. “but if another goes, you best hope you can swim.”

“We’re turning the other way,” Roderick muttered, leaning on the nearby mast as the wolfship shifted, presenting its starboard side to the Skaven. The beat of the drums that signalled the orders to the rowers changed, shifting into a tempo that was faster, more aggressive.

“Ah, the captain’s ploughin’ changing tactics,” the sailor mused, Roderick narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“To what-what?” Skyseeker asked before Roderick could.

“Off the bulwark!” someone shouted, Roderick turning to see Von Kessel striding down the deck, a handgun clutched in each arm. “Everyone grab a rifle and brace yourselves, we’re cutting a swath through these vile vermin!”

The gun crews leapt into action, gathering towards the middle of the deck, where men were handing out rifles and ammo. Their sailor went over to join them, coming back with two long carbines, offering one to Roderick.

“No need,” he said, producing his two pistols, the one Skyseeker had stolen for him glinting in the moonlight. He did take some spare ammo, as there was plenty to go around. The sailor then turned to Skyseeker, and after he hesitated, he held the rifle out to her.

“You’ve shot a twenty-four pounder at your fellow rats,” he began. “figure you can handle one of these.”

“Keep noisy gun to self,” she said, waving him off. “Man-thing weapons not for rats.”

“Then what will you fight with?” the sailor asked. “In case you haven’t realised, we’re going to ram these rats right off their ship.”

“You can have this, lass,” Roderick said, unsheathing his Skaven blade. He tossed it to her, and she caught it mid-air, testing its weight with a flourish, flashing him a toothy smile.

The three of them took up positions deeper onto the deck, Roderick watching as the men drew swords from their scabbards, they must be readying for a possible boarding action. The ram was the pride of any wolfship, and he wondered how many ships these men had boarded during their careers.

The wolfship turned with the wind, the sails angling to compensate, pointing its most powerful weapon at the Skaven ship. From the vermin’s point of view, the skull of the ram must seem like a daemon out of the hells of Chaos, Roderick as eager as he was nervous to see it in action.

They bore down on the clanship, the forecastle’s cannons firing in succession as the distance between the ships closed, the bombardment of the cannons drowning out the pounding drums.

The clanship attempted to divert away, catching onto their plan. As the Skaven vessel turned, the movement exposed the powerful engines mounted on its rear, those manning the forecastle’s weapons taking advantage. The forecastle erupted in fire and thunder, Roderick swearing he could feel the ship recoil backwards as the many cannons fired, the Skaven ship caught right in the middle of their deadly firing arc.

He leaned over the bulwark to see the lower nozzle of the warpsteam engine had been hit in the volley, a cascade of steel of wood falling to the ocean, green flames coughing from the mechanical wound. The effect it had on the Skaven’s speed was immediate, the vessel slowing down considerably in its attempt to flee.

The wolfship’s sails flexed as they caught the wind, their speed reaching levels even racing horses couldn’t rival. As they bore down on the Skaven ship, spearing through the waves with ease, the Skaven turned to port, exposing the breadth of their hull, the muzzles of its many lightning cannons priming with electrical charge. It seemed they were going to loose one last desperate volley, and at this short a distance, it wasn’t going to miss.

“Get down!” he exclaimed, grabbing a surprised Skyseeker and hitting the deck, shielding her smaller body with his own. The sailors around him didn’t need to be told twice, the men who’d been watching alongside him throwing themselves from the bulwark, seeking refuge in the middle of the deck, as it was the safest place to brace at this angle.

The air filled with the sound of crackling currents, the beams of warp energy lancing around the ship, turning the sky into a perverted version of a thunderstorm. There was a monumental crash as the top of the forecastle was hit, the upper layer of portholes obliterated in green fire. A ruined navel cannon was sent flying through the air, arcing down towards the main deck, catching a sailor in its descent. The man was reduced to paste without so much as a cry, the cannons smashing through the deck where it buried down into the hull, causing unseen amounts of damage.

Another strike hit the starboard side, more ripping through the sails above Roderick’s head, once coming so close Roderick could have reached out and touched it. The warpstrike landed just short of where he knew the kitchen to be, just beyond the ship’s wheel. The lightning detonated like a hand grenade, and flying out from the blast were the unfortunate few who happened to be caught in its deadly radius. Even the helmsman was thrown clear, tossed off the bulwark and into the sea. The wheel was intact, fortunately, the device scrolling violently now that it was unmanned.

The ship lurched as the rudder was turned, even some of the sailors and their hardy sea-legs tripping over with the violent change in direction. Another tremor through the hull foretold another warp strike had hit the hull, Roderick dreading to think what the situation was like below deck.

As Roderick got off from Skyseeker, he returned to the bulwark, only to find that their ramming course was going way off course, they would sail straight passed the Skaven in a few moments. He tried to warn the sailors, but the deck was quickly being thrown into chaos, and the captain nor the officers were anywhere to be seen.

All of a sudden, the wolfship changed direction again, Roderick seizing the nearby mast as their course was corrected, the Skaven ship angled before the ram once more. He had seen the helmsman be thrown clear, someone must have quickly darted up there take his place, but who?

“Chocks away, man-things!” Skyseeker chittered, her high-pitched voice audible over all the shouting and cannon fire. Roderick turned to see her grasping the wheel in her two paws. She wasn’t tall enough to see over it, so she had simply climbed atop it, using her feet to help spin it faster. It looked like some sort of perverted reversion of a hamster wheel. He knew she was fast, but she’d darted up there almost instantly, it was uncanny.

“Ramming speed!” she exclaimed. “For Clan Mors! For the man-thing Empire!”

The ships collided, the weight of the crash comparable to two giants butting heads. Roderick had thought the ram had been cast from rock, and he was proven correct, the sheep’s skull splitting apart metal and wood alike, not even so much as buckling under the impact.

Skyseeker had directed the ram towards the centre of the Skaven ship, Roderick just able to see the clanship parting down its middle, the bow melting through the hull like a knife through butter, the cries of countless panicking rodents reaching his ears.

The ram depleted their speed in an instant, Roderick holding onto a nearby mast for support as the wolfship buckled with strain. A feminine cry rose up above the sounds of groaning wood, Roderick glancing over his shoulder to see Skyseeker arcing through the air, the violent impact having knocked her clear off her perch. The drop to the main deck was a good five or so meters, Roderick panicking as she hit the wood face-first with a loud thunk, her legs bending unnaturally over her backside as she lay there in an awkward pose.

“Skyseeker!” he cried, rushing over to her side. He released the breath he’d been holding when she stirred, blinking her red eyes up at him. “By Sigmar, are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Richard, thank you for asking,” she replied in an eerily level voice, one free of snivels or chitters. He helped her to her feet, the rat woman shaking her head as she brushed herself off.

“You did very well,” he added, looking to port. The Skaven ship had been cleaved in twain, and while the ram hadn’t gone all the way through, the damage had been done, the clanship starting to sink towards the waterline. Some sailors were throwing up victorious cheers upon seeing the Skaven wreck, a wave of calm settling over the ship.

The serenity was pierced by a pointed snarl, a ratman leaping up onto the portside railing, brandishing two curved swords. Another shriek raised to answer it, this one from the starboard side, a Skaven warrior scampering up onto the deck. He was joined by another, then two more, and very soon the deck was being swamped with rodents. The Skaven must be climbing up the hull from their ship, as eager to fight as they were to flee their ruined vessel.

The vermintides descended upon the sailors from both sides, those unlucky enough to be closest being hacked apart without mercy, one sailor being rammed through by a spear with a cruel gut hook on the end. The man was thrown onto his back, his cry of alarm wetted by a gurgle of blood seeping from his lips, the sailor grasping the haft with his callused hands.

The clanrat twisted his spear with a cackle, the sailor going limp. The men nearby brought their flintlock rifles to bear, blasting the rodent to pieces, his mangy body crumpling to the deck.

The ship became a thrashing, close-quarters bloodbath, the charging rats being met with sailors armed with rifles and handguns. Like infantry forming firing lines, they lined up in rows, standing shoulder to shoulder as they shot the incoming Skaven down.

Roderick moved his hands to his belt, drawing his two pistols and aiming them in one fluid movement. One of the rats was coming right for them, and Roderick pulled one of the triggers, his head vanishing in a cloud of red mist.

Swerving round, he fired his second shot, the backwash of smoke plastering his face. He took out the leg of a rat who’d just climbed the bulwark, sending the Skaven flipping away to the waters below.

“Get off man-thing ship, Skurvy paws!” Skyseeker shouted, charging into the fray. “I’m only rat allowed!”

Roderick reloaded, watching as Skyseeker cut down a clanrat that hadn’t noticed her approach, holding the sword in both her paws. Just like back on the Trantine Hills, the Skaven seemed more confused than alarmed by her presence, the rats watching her cut down three of their number before finally concluding she wasn’t on their side.

While he’d only seen Skyseeker use daggers in combat, she was handy with a blade, blocking a swipe from an overhead spear, moving in to give the sailors support. Roderick was reloaded, firing a lead ball at a clanrat moving in on her left flank, tearing a chunk through the rat’s furry abdomen, cutting down another rodent with his offhand pistol. It was a challenge to reload with both hands full, but he could concentrate on loading the paper charges with Skyseeker and the sailors taking most of the Skaven’s attention.

The bulk of the Skaven were concentrating on overrunning the main deck, leaving those on the bow and stern mostly alone, allowing them to fire down and the swaths of rats from vantage points. Some of the men had resorted to using the swivel guns at point blank range, firing at their own ship in an attempt to stem the tides, the cannonballs cutting visible lines through the Skaven ranks.

Yet for every rat killed, another was there to take its place, those that couldn’t reload their flintlocks in time falling back on their swords, the deck devolving into a chaotic brawl. The sailors formed pockets of resistance, the men in front covering the riflebearers as they reloaded, the crack of gunfire rising up above the sounds of clashing blades.

Despite the initial surprise advantage, the morale of the Skaven began to slip, some turning tail and dropping their weapons, hoisting themselves back over the bulwark, despite the protests of their comrades. The rats didn’t seem to be equipped for a prolonged skirmish, perhaps their heavy weaponry had been destroyed during the ram, or couldn’t be lifted up onto the wolfship easily.

“That’s right-right!” Skyseeker jeered, shaking her fist as she chased a ratman off the ship. “you better squirt fear-musk, stupid buccaneers!”

From over the bulwark reached a giant hand, fingers the size of Roderick’s arm gripping the railing. The palm tapered into an arm as thick around as a barrel, packed with steely muscles, the hide sheathed in a course layer of fur. More of the monstrous limb came into view as its owner hauled itself higher, and within a few moments, the terrible face of a ratman came into view.

The visage wasn’t too dissimilar from the other Skaven he’d seen, save for its exaggerated proportions. Its skull was as thick around as a lion’s, its face wrapped in what looked like bandages.

It turned its crimson eyes on Skyseeker, as she was the closest thing at present, splaying its powerful jaws wide. It unleashed a guttural roar, flecks of spittle flying from its throat, the sound reminding Roderick of angered trolls, the noise making his bones shake.

Skyseeker responded by loosing a pitiful squeak. “EEEEEK! RAT ORGRE!” she warned, as though it wasn’t obvious enough. “Change mind! I’m the one who squirts fear-musk!”

The rat ogre leaned its barrel chest against the bulwark, Roderick seeing that poking out of its backside were several green crystals, each lining the length of its spine like quills. He could also see metallic augments ingrained into the front of its broad shoulders, sheets of steel and what looked like flat screw tops drilled into its thick flesh. Had the Skaven welded armour pieces into this monster?

The ogre raised its other arm to clamber up onto the deck, but arm wasn’t quite the right term. From the shoulder to the elbow was a giant bicep with more muscle mass than his entire body, but from there on, the limb transformed into a steel amalgamation, a device not dissimilar from a corkscrew taking place of the forearm. The device ended in another of those green crystals, the mineral sharpened to a point, almost like a drill bit in a way.

The ogre used this metal arm as leverage, two thick legs lifting onto the deck, the ogre’s waist obscured by a red loincloth. Now on flat ground, the beast rose to its full height, towering at least thirteen feet into the air. Roderick noted that its flesh was stitched in places, almost as though parts of it had been grafted on by a surgeon, but surely the Skaven didn’t possess such abilities, did they?

“Move, Skyseeker!” Roderick warned, but the rat woman seemed paralysed with fear, she just stood there as the rat ogre turned its gaze on her. There was little intelligence in its eyes, the monster frothing at the mouth as it advanced on her.

It lifted its meaty arm, the one that wasn’t a metallic augment, curling its fingers into a fist, making to smash her into dust. She made to back away, but her foot caught on a jutting piece of wood, and she tripped onto her butt, Roderick looking on in horror as he fired his pistols in an attempt to distract the ogre.

His bullets ripped into the ogre’s massive pectorals, drawing blood, but the beast hardly flinched, bringing its fist down on Skyseeker. She cowered behind a raised hand of her own, the rat woman looking like a child in comparison to the ogre.

As the ogre brought down its arm, Skyseeker’s feeble limb blocked the blow, the monster recoiling as though it had struck steel, Roderick’s panic morphing to confusion as he looked down at her.

Skyseeker’s arms had changed.

Gone was her flesh and dark fur, replaced instead by solid, grey stone, the mineral conforming to the shape of her limb. It was cracked where the ogre had struck her, saving her from a grizzly end.

“EEEEEEEK!” she shrieked again, turning wildly back to give Roderick a look. “Help me Rick-rod! Being molested by rock-things!”

“Do not fear, miss Seeker!”

Roderick turned to see Wilfred on the far side of the deck, the wizard surrounded by sailors forming firing lines. He was raising his staff high, a bright light emanating from its tip.

“Druthandor protects you all,” Wilfred called. “Fight! In the name of the Emperor!”

Skyseeker wasn’t the only one under the spell’s influence. Several other sailors were being clad in rock, forming protective barriers across their flesh, mostly on the arms and chest, the Skaven dulling their weapons against this newfound protection.

The rat ogre, unable to comprehend what had happened, moved to strike Skyseeker down again, but this time she spurred into action, skittering out of its path as it brought its giant hand down, smashing a hole in the place she’d just been standing. Testing out her new, golem-like arms, she brought her paw down in a chopping motion, hitting the ogre across its thick wrist, the giant beast snarling with pain. Being struck with pure rock was bound to hurt anyone.

Roaring, the ogre swung out with its warpstone drill arm, backhanding Skyseeker across her chest. More of her body was clad in rock, but the impact still sent her reeling, the Skaven’s feet skidding along the deck as she was sent stumbling away.

“Shoot thing, Rick-rod!” she cried. “Shoot-Shoot-Shoot!”

Roderick wanted to get in there and help, but without a sword, all he had was his pistols. He took to one knee, firing one shot after the other, hitting one of the warpstones jutting from the ogre’s back, the gem shattering apart. He aimed another shot at its face, blowing a chunk out of the tip of its muzzle, but the beast had its sights solely on Skyseeker, and didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Bring it down!” Roderick commanded, grabbing the attention of a few nearby sailors, gesturing in the ogre’s direction. “Bring that abomination down, now!”

His fear for Skyseeker’s life seeped into his voice, but the sailors did as he bid, directing their attention to the largest threat, a trio of rifles firing off in succession. If bullets couldn’t bring it down, perhaps bleeding it out was the next best approach.

The ogre stumbled under the volley, but it remained on its feet, thrusting its drill-arm out, aiming for Skyseeker’s chest. She swiped the blow aside with her reinforced arms, but her face contorted as she did so, the movement causing her great pain. He’d been a fool to let her be disarmed, a weeping blade would do well right about now.

“Shoot gun, Rick-rod!” she urged, screaming when the ogre lunged forward, its jaws splayed wide, the Skaven narrowly ducking beneath its salivating jaws.

He thrust the ramrods down the barrels of his guns, hesitating when she shouted out again.

“Idiot! Meant big gun!”

Roderick cursed himself for being so foolish, glancing over to the nearest naval cannon. If there was anything they had on hand that could take down such a beast, it was one of those.

He slotted his pistols away, rushing over to the cannon. He didn’t like turning his back on Skyseeker’s situation, but this was his best chance at helping her. Charging in without Wilfred’s spell would only get the both of them killed. He made to push the cannon around, cursing when he realised it was secured in place by the tackle, Roderick taking out his knife and slicing off the ropes.

He collected a swab laying nearby, almost dropping it as he plugged the barrel. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, aware that every second wasted could spell the end of Skyseeker’s life. The men firing from the upper decks were covering him, making sure no Skaven got too close to stop him from his work.

Once the barrel was cleaned, he loaded up the cartridge, then the shot, each trip to and from the cannon feeling like he was moving through quicksand, Skyseeker’s cries of panic piercing him to the core. He glanced back to see her taking another strike from the ogre’s drill, the crystal tearing cracks in her magical armour. He knew the spell’s effects enough to know she wouldn’t last another hit like that.

With the cannon loaded, he thrust all his might into shoving it away from the bulwark, but he barely moved it a few inches across the deck. He was too weak, and the weapon too heavy. Why had he cut the ropes? He could have used them to help move it!

Just as he thought all hope was lost, the cannon began to move, its wheels squeaking as they rolled, Roderick looking over to see a sailor was adding his weight to the effort, Roderick recognising him as the one that taught Skyseeker how to swab.

“Get your asses over here and help!” the man shouted. “Put your ploughin’ back into it, General!

His orders hadn’t been directed at anyone, but a few more sailors nearby joined them, taking up positions at various parts of the cannon. With five of them, moving the cannon got a little easier, Roderick shoving his shoulder into the barrel as they turned it about, placing the ogre square down its sights.

“Rick-rod!” Skyseeker cried. The ogre had pinned her against the bulwark, putting its massive body in the way, cornering her.

“We need a light!” one of the men said, plugging the vent with a matchstick. Roderick searched the deck frantically, locating a lantern nearby, rushing overt to collect it. Rather than light the tip of the match, Roderick held the flame as close to the barrel as he could, throwing all caution to the wind in his haste.

“Down!” he yelled, the sailors scrambling clear. He prayed to all the Gods the gun wouldn’t miss at this range. Or Sigmar forbid, hit Skyseeker by accident…

As the ogre raised its arms, making to cut Skyseeker down, the cannon erupted, rocking back on its wheels as the barrel flipped towards the sky, Roderick’s hearing petering out as the thunderous report deafened him.

There was a split second before the cannonball tore a basketball-sized hole through the orge’s chest, Roderick able to see the night sky through the exit wound, a cloud of red mist filling the air. The ogre paused mid-strike, looking down at its mortal wound, tilting its head as though confused by the sight. It stood for a few moments, then its legs began to buckle, and it dropped to its knees, clawing at Skyseeker in one last attempt to attack her. It keeled against the bulwark, uttering one final growl before going still.

“Flee-run!” one of the clanrats shrieked. Seeing their abomination fall had struck fear into the rodents, the Skaven retreating back to their sinking ship, most leaping off the railing without a look back. Those that stayed met a swift end to cutlass and cannon, Roderick watching as the last few pockets of rats were mopped up.

There was a blur of dark fur, and Roderick couldn’t react in time before a small shape collided into his front, Skyseeker wrapping her arms around his stomach. It seemed the spell had worn off, her stone armour dissolving off her furry arms. He raised his hands in surprise as she nuzzled him, murmuring something inaudible into his chestplate.

“What was that?” he asked, his ears still ringing.

“You saved me,” she said, using a paw to lift away her goggles, her red eyes sparkling as she peered up at him. “Took time, but you saved me!”

“I had help,” he replied, gesturing to the sailors. They watched the rat snuggle him with strange looks on their faces, but Roderick couldn’t care what they thought of him right now, his relief palpable as he closed his arms around Skyseeker’s smaller frame, hugging her back.

“Yes-Yes, thank you too, sailor-mans,” she said, leaning away from his chest, but still keeping her paws locked behind his back.

The ship was in a state. Dozens of dead rats lay about the deck, and many sailors as well, the wood pockmarked with scorch marks and holes, the forecastle providing a ruined backdrop. The men didn’t waste any time, dispersing to help the wounded and to throw the Skaven overboard.

“Are you two well?” Wilfred asked, approaching from further up the deck, his staff clicking against the woodwork. “Miss Seeker, I hope my spell did not frighten you too much.”

She pulled away from Roderick, moving over to give the wizard a playful punch on the leg. “Never scared! Was fun having rock arms, should cast spell again.”

“Perhaps if another ogre comes climbing up from the sea, I shall.”

“Don’t even joke about that, man-wizard.”

“Speaking of which,” Roderick interjected. “did you see that thing’s arm? The one made of metal?”

“The augment?” Wilfred asked. “Yes, quite the perversion of flesh and metal. That crystal on the end seems very interesting…”

The wizard made his way over to the felled rat ogre, leaning down to fiddle with the drill it had for a left arm, the old man as intrigued as ever. He figured out that the crystal was held in place by a mechanism, and after unwinding it, the crystal popped free, landing between his feet with a thud.

“This must be warpstone,” Roderick muttered, hunkering down beside Wilfred. “Skyseeker mentioned them once or twice, but I’m not quite sure what it exactly is.”

“It’s Chaos manifest, magic in its purest form. Do not touch it, Roderick,” he chided, slapping his outstretched hand with his staff. “to simply feel its warmth is a risk to us both. These crystals are toxic, and extremely volatile, even in a refined state like this one is.”

A distinct giggling sound turned the two men’s attention upward, Roderick looking to see Skyseeker was shoving a piece of warpstone down her throat. She was up on the ogre’s back, already working on pulling out the other crystals lodged into the monster’s shoulders.

She noticed she had an audience, turning to give them a questioning look. Her cheeks were bulged, like a squirrel storing away acorns in its mouth, the rat woman spitting flecks of green dust as she talked with her mouth full.

“Man-things,” she said, pointing down at the warpstone drill. “You eating that or not?”

-xXx-

“Dozens dead, and just as many wounded,” Von Kessel muttered. “were that we had a fleet of our own to escort us, our casualties would have been far lesser in scope.”

They were gathered in the wolfship’s infirmary, a constricting little room located just beneath the forecastle, the wall lined with makeshift cots in which bandaged sailors lay. Medics going about their duties tending to the injured, though they seemed woefully understaffed.

“Many more would have perished if not for the good General’s actions,” Wilfred replied. “or his companion’s, either.”

“Yes, I heard some of the men’s reports,” the captain mused, turning to Roderick. “It seems you’re as decisive on water as you are on the land, Erdmann. My men and I thank you. Same goes to you, Skaven. Distracting that ogre bought us valuable time to deal with it.”

“Huh? Wassit you say, Kessel-man?” Skyseeker mumbled, giggling as she bit off a giant piece of warpstone like she was taking a bite from an apple. Her many pockets were overflowing with shards of the green crystal she’d looted from the orge, and she hadn’t stopped snacking on them since the end of the fight.

Roderick gave her a pointed shove with his arm. “He’s thanking you, lass,” he whispered.

“Oh! You are welcome!” she chimed, offering the captain a boisterous wave. “Will all these man-things be okay? Be shame to let so many slaves die. I mean sailors!”

“My first aid officers are highly trained,” Von Kessel answered. “However, if you could lend us some of your magics, Master Wizard…”

“But of course,” Wilfred replied, beginning to walk between the rows of beds, Von Kessel directing him towards the more critically injured, leaving Roderick and Skyseeker alone.

“Shall we go back to the cabin?” he asked her. “Don’t know about you, but I could do with some rest.”

“Yes-Yes, need nap time myself.”

With that, they made their way to the exit, walking out onto the deck after moving through a few small rooms. Some time had passed since their brawl with the clanship, and the deck was cleared of the dead, sailors washing away the blood and grime with mops. The sound of striking hammers was loud, Roderick glancing up to see more men up on the masts repairing the damage and replacing the tattered sails, the ship already starting to return to its former condition. These men must be used to field repairs if they could work so quickly.

“Question,” Skyseeker muttered between mouthfuls of warpstone. The green crystal was like a drug to the Skaven, she just couldn’t stop stuffing her face with it.

“Go on.”

“Rick-rod said you had surprise for Skaven. Before clanship interruption.”

That’s right, the poem, he’d completely forgotten about it. He fished inside his belt, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the slip of parchment brush his finger.

“Come over here,” he urged, leading her towards the bulwark, away from any prying eyes or ears. The sea was empty, the wolfship having sailed far away from the pirate and Skaven fleets battling it out on the horizons. With any luck, the pristine view should help set the mood.

“This is for you,” he began, Skyseeker watching curiously as he produced the folded parchment. She took it from him, her paw brushing his fingers, the Skaven turning it over like she was examining a strange treasure. She’d even pocketed the piece of warpstone she’d been snacking on, suggesting she was most intrigued.

“Open it,” he said when she didn’t seem to understand what to do. The parchment crinkled as she did as commanded, staring at the script written upon it, her eyes tracking the words. He felt nervous about her reaction, resisting the urge to wring his hands as she glanced up at him in confusion.

“I can’t read,” she informed him after a few moments.

“Y-You can’t…? Oh.”

“What’s it say?” she asked, passing the poem back to him. “Must be important message. Contract, perhaps? Better include interest rates!”

“You want me to read it for you?” he asked, shifting on the spot. He’d written the poem down so he wouldn’t have to say those things out loud, but it seemed she was illiterate to Reikspiel, and why should that surprise him?

“Rick-rod can read, can’t you? Hurry-Hurry! Time’s a wasting.”

“As you wish,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he smoothed out the parchment. “Ahem… Uh, Fur as dark as opal, eyes the shade of ruby… Some would call you as vile as Nurgle, but you’re just… gems, to me.”

Skyseeker chewed on one of her claws, humming to himself as she gestured for him to continue.

“If… you were to be my one, my heart would explode, like a… powder gun.”

Roderick scrunched up the poem. That was terrible! What had he been thinking, writing such drivel? He glanced down at the rat woman, his face blushing as he gauged her reaction. Perhaps leaping off the boat would be a better alternative to hearing what she had to say.

“Hmmm….” she said, scratching her scalp with a finger. She didn’t look pleased, nor embarrassed, her expression oddly thoughtful as she let the silence linger. “Shadow!”

“W-What?”

“Is riddle, yes-yes?” she asked, tapping her hands together. “Shadow’s are dark. Not have ruby eyes, confused by that bit. Can be vile, depends on person. ‘My one’ means my shadow… so must be shadow! Do I win treat?”

Roderick looked at her as though she’d just told him the ocean was made of cheese, sputtering as he tried to formulate a reply.

“Th-That’s not… That wasn’t a riddle!” he exclaimed, pinching his nose. “It’s a poem, Skyseeker. About you!”

“Me?” she echoed, staring up at him with a blank expression. “I don’t get it.”

“Look, you’re as dark as opal. Understand?” he asked, glancing down at the parchment. “And you’re eyes, they’re red, and rubies are red too. In human culture, those jewels are considered to be… beautiful.”

“So… man-thing thinks eyes are… pretty?” she asked, wringing her hands together.

“In layman’s terms,” he confirmed. “And ‘the one’ means something special as well. Some humans like to think there’s someone out there who’s perfect in every way, like a soulmate. I’ve never believed in phrase myself… until I met you, lass.”

He couldn’t believe he had to literally spell out his confessions to her, but at least he was being as direct as possible, there would be no misunderstandings now. He braced himself for her response, his heart beating like a drum.

“S-Soulmate?” she asked. Her lower jaw quivered, Skyseeker peeling off her goggles to let them hang around her neck. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words came out in a choking sound.

And then she burst into tears.

“Sk-Skyseeker?” Roderick asked, kneeling down to her eye level. “What’s the matter? Did I upset you?”

“No-No,” she mumbled, jamming her palms into her eyes. “Not sad, S-Skaven is s-so… so happy right now-now.”

His heart melted, Roderick wrapping his arms around her, Skyseeker sniffing as she leaned against his chest, her smaller frame trembling against him.

“N-No thing has… EVER,” she sniffed. “-said such nice riddle to Skaven b-before…”

“It’s not a…” He stopped himself, electing to just go with it.

When she got herself under control, she pulled back a little, Roderick drawn to the way her red eyes sparkled in the moonlight, her dark irises filling his vision.

“Rick-rod always making me feel happy,” she continued, her whiskers brushing his face. “So kind and considerate. Kindsiderate. First thought you just trying to learn secrets, tried to keep you out, but you found way inside all the same-same. Never let anything get so… close to Skaven before, but I’m glad my first friend is… uh, the first.”

The way she stammered her words was endearing, Roderick grinning as he dared to plant a hand on her shoulder.

“I wish to be… more than just friends, Skyseeker,” he started. “If that’s overstepping, or you’re not comfortable with that, then say so now so I can put my thoughts to rest.”

“M-More than friends?” she stammered. “What you mean?”

Taking that as a sign she wasn’t denying him, he reached out, cupping the back of her furry head in his hand, and leaning closer. He didn’t think Skaven kissed each other, but he saw no other way of expressing his desire than guiding her muzzle closer. She didn’t pull away, Sksyeeker’s eyes going wider than ever as he pressed his lips to hers, his heart skipping a beat as they touched. Her muzzle was nothing like a human face, yet her touch was warm and soft as silk, her whiskers tickling his cheeks, her pink nose cool and yielding.

He flashed back to his earlier pensiveness, when he’d first entertained the thought of liking her during their night at the inn. He had tried to deny his attraction to her back then, but he could no longer supress his feelings. She’d almost been felled by that ogre, and every passing day became more fraught with danger. The time they had together was finite, he had to take the opportunity now or regret it forever.

So he poured all the affection he could muster into the kiss, his pace hungry and aggressive, her tongue rising up to meet his own as he pushed passed her buck teeth. Her organ was slippery with her saliva, gliding along his tongue without friction as he explored her palate. She tasted of dried meat, and something else as well, a strange minty flavour catching him off-guard. It must be the aftertaste of warpstone on her tongue, a touch of worry creeping up on him as he remembered Wilfred describing the crystal as toxic. Surely a little exposure wouldn’t hurt…

Skyseeker was unusually passive during the kiss, her demeanour akin to a frightened deer as she stood rooted to the spot, her tongue touching his with a few tentative flicks. He pulled back, wiping a spot of dribble from his lips with his hand, chuckling when he saw her expression, a mix of confusion and excitement plastered over her muzzle.

“That’s, what I mean,” he said.

“W-What was that?” Skyseeker asked, giggling as she touched her muzzle. “Felt very weird.”

“A kiss,” he answered. “It’s something humans do to express affection. Did you like it?”

She answered him by leaning in, thrusting her mismatched lips to his, Roderick placing a hand on the nearby bulwark so he didn’t lose his balance. This time it was he who found himself on the defence, Skyseeker’s winding tongue coiling into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as she locked their organs together. She placed her hands on his shoulders, tilting her head to the side to deepen their connection, her desire palpable.

Her scent rose to the forefront of his attention, a rich, womanly smell that made his thoughts cloud over. He took greedy handfuls of her torso before his brain could process his actions, palming the hourglass curve of her waist, her fur like silken sheets. Skyseeker voiced a staggered gasp as he ran his hands over her, the sound snapping him out of his stupor, Roderick blinking as he pulled back. Gods, what had come over him? Her smell had been literally intoxicating…

She released him just before the lack of air became unbearbale, their lips smacking wetly as she sucked in her tongue like it was a strand of spaghetti, returning it to her mouth. She reached down and plucked one of his hands, bringing it to her cheek in a silent request to pet her.

“I-I’ve liked you ever since we met, Rick-rod,” Skyseeker muttered, leaning into his hand as he stroked her cheek. “Actually, that not true, I despised your man-thing musk. Wanted you to die-die after that… ‘incident’ with the horse – after I beat you in duel - but time’s change! Now want different things. Now want you.”

“I’ve likewise had a… change of heart,” Roderick replied, Skyseeker coming in to deliver a quick peck on his lips. “When that ogre almost killed you, it made me realise that our time together is fleeting, and if I didn’t take the opportunity soon, I may never get the chance again.”

She took out a chunk of warpstone from a pocket, inhaling the fumes trailing from the glowing rock. She sighed, placing the rock away as she addressed him. “All better reason to start breeding now-now.”

Roderick sputtered like a blabbering mental patient, Skyseeker watching in amusement as he tried to formulate coherent words.

“S-Steady on, lass!” he managed to say. “We only just kissed a second ago, and now you want to…?”

“You’re the one saying flattering riddles,” she shot back. “Way I see it, Rick-rod been wanting to breed for some time now. I’m ready if you are!”

“I… I’d thought you’d be a little more pensive about this,” Roderick admitted. “The way you talked about how Skaven treated your mother, or women in general, plus your experiences with those who found out about what you are. I expected you to be practically against bre… laying, with someone.”

“Is like Rick-rod says, you not like rat males,” she explained. “You make me feel… safe, always protecting Skaven wherever I go. Know you won’t hurt me-me. I… trust you.”

She pawed her face in a way that came off as embarrassed, Roderick knowing full well she didn’t say the word trust lightly. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, Skyseeker closing her eyes as she revelled in the sensation. Protecting her was an understatement, he’d duel with Khorne himself if it would put her more at ease.

He was about to kiss her once more when the clocking of boots drew his attention, Roderick meeting the eyes of a sailor walking by. He couldn’t care what these men thought of him in that moment, but a crowded deck that still smelt of blood was no place for confessions and intimacy.

“Let us retire to the cabin,” Roderick suggested, rising to his feet. “We can get some privacy there.”

“Good plan-scheme,” Skyseeker snickered, flashing him a mischievous grin as she took him by the hand. She seemed more excited than ever, dragging him across the length of the ship, Roderick stumbling along after her, the sailors parting before the rushing couple.

Roderick had never met someone who had come on so strong before, so open about a subject many considered taboo to even talk about. It was almost a little intimidating, having a woman take the lead, but Skyseeker’s forwardness was something he liked about her.

-xXx-

Roderick followed Skyseeker into their cabin, closing the door behind him. It was dark inside. A solitary candle sitting on the desk cast a dim, flickering light across the walls, Skyseeker’s black fur letting her meld into the shadows, giving her an air of mystery.

“So! We have arrived,” Skyseeker began, stating the obvious. Her tail flicked in a way he came to know as a sign of nervousness, her red eyes gleaming as she met his gaze.

“Indeed,” he replied, unsure how else to respond.

“So, uh… how does breeding work?”

“How does…? Of course, you wouldn’t know,” he sighed, shaking his head. She must be untouched, given what he knew of her history.

“I-I know!” she stammered. “I know everything about breeding, official expert in Skavenblight! But,” she added, looking away bashfully. “hypothetically, if Skaven didn’t know how to breed – which I do – then how would rat proceed? Relay the plan.”

“Making love isn’t about planning or following instructions, it’s about just following your instincts. That being said, I think the first step is to get out of this armour.”

Roderick made his way to the collapsible bed, turning to sit on the edge as he fiddled with his gauntlets, fumbling a few times in his haste to be rid of the armour. He felt Skyseeker’s gaze all over him, the Skaven looking him over unreservedly as he gradually disrobed, Roderick setting the armour pieces on the floor.

When he was only wearing his tunic and trousers, he made to remove them, then hesitated. Skyseeker was lingering by the door, one long leg crossed in front of the other, her tail going crazy behind her. Her earlier enthusiasm seemed to have diminished.

“Come,” he said, beckoning with a hand. “you don’t have to gawk from all the way over there.”

“I-I gawk whenever I want!” she snapped, but she skittered across the cabin all the same. She sat down beside him, her soft thigh pressing up against his left leg, batting her lashes at him as she lifted her muzzle. He cupped her chin in his palm, moving in to peck her once on the nose, then on the lips, her tongue sneaking out in a silent invitation. She moaned into his mouth, every little sound she made making his spine shiver, the Skaven pawing at his chest as they maintained another passionate kiss.

The taste of her saliva was sweet on his tongue, and when Skyseeker pulled away to catch her breath, thick strands of their mingled spit still connected them, the web falling to the sheets between them.

“W-What’s next?” she muttered, switching her focus between his eyes. “N-Not that I don’t mind this kissing, but isn’t there… more-more?”

“You really are new at this, aren’t you?” he laughed, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. The fact he was laying with an unspoiled maiden, Skaven or otherwise, was igniting his most base male urges. While he was tempted to just go straight for the main event, her experiences in the breeding pits gave him pause, and he thought it best he should tread lightly, take things slow so as not to startle or overwhelm her.

“As I said, just follow your instincts,” he continued. “We can do whatever you want. We kiss some more, you could touch me, or we could just cuddle. There are no rules.”

“I want to touch you,” she replied, not voicing it like a question, but not voicing it like an order either. He made to unbutton his tunic, but she stopped him, the Skaven placing her hands on his.

“Let Skaven do it,” she insisted, Roderick nodding as he let his arms rest by his sides. She pulled back the collar of the shirt, Roderick helping to slip his shoulders out from beneath it, Skyseeker fumbling with the buttons. She quickly worked out how to use them, popping them off one by one and exposing his chest, Skyseeker tilting her head like a curious dog as she admired him.

He shivered as she planted her wet nose against his pectoral, rubbing her muzzle against his skin, seemingly delighting in the texture of his skin. Her many whiskers tickled him with each twist of her head, Roderick chuckling as they brushed his nipples.

“What so funny?” Skyseeker asked, some of her usual gruffness returning, the rat undoing the rest of his buttons as she awaited his answer.

“Your whiskers,” he said. “they’re tickling me.”

He squirmed when she nuzzled her cheek against his chest again, Roderick batting at her playfully when she didn’t relent, his laughter filling the cabin.

“Skaven still has secret weapons hidden from Rick-rod! Yes-Yes~!” Skyseeker snickered, apparently finding this newfound admission very amusing.

She freed the last button, Roderick discarding the tunic over his shoulder, Skyseeker wasting no time in running her hands all over his naked torso. He faltered as she traced the indents of his abs with her fingers, her hands clad in that luxuriant furry coat of hers, like she was wearing a pair of gloves made from the finest silks.

“Rick-rod is so smooth and soft,” she cooed. “like fur, but not fur…”

“Mind the claws,” he muttered, shivering when she drew a line from his belly to his chest with a nail. She didn’t apply enough pressure to cut him, but enough that his nerves were set alight with tingles wherever she grazed him.

“Rick-rod is so sensitive,” Skyseeker mused, testing the firmness of his chest, her furry palms warm to the touch. “Not thought that was case for someone so… big. Another weakness to add to the collection! Hehe!”

“You really enjoy finding people’s vulnerabilities, don’t you?”

“Skaven always looking for exploitations,” she explained, making a point of brushing her palms over his nipples, knowing full well they were his most sensitive points. “To survive under-empire, one must figure out enemy weak points, while not revealing their own in the process. Difference between death and life!”

“Making love’s a whole other thing.”

“Not from where I sit-sit,” she replied. “Knowing more man-thing weaknesses than could have ever hoped for, should take notes later, yes-yes…”

Her explorations roamed lower, Skyseeker testing the firmness of his abs, leaving no inch of him untouched as she mapped him out. There was no need for modesty or reservations like back in the inn, and Roderick likewise took shameless handfuls of her in turn. He placed a hand on her muscular core, her soft coat hiding away bundles of flexible muscle that flexed at his touch, Skyseeker gasping as he copped a handful of her butt, her cheek tensing through the loincloth she wore. He travelled up her spine, his progress halted by one of her many belts strapped over her waist.

He went to undo the belt, but Skyseeker snapped her fingers together, bringing his attention back to her face.

“Want to see more of you, Rick-rod,” she breathed in a pleading voice, pointing down at his trousers, and the conspicuous bulge tenting his crotch.

“Alright,” he replied, motioning her to move away. He lay down on the cot, swinging his legs up onto the mattress, unclipping his belt. He pushed his thumbs below the waistband, then tugged it down, his shaft catching on his briefs before it bounced free.

Her attentions had brought rushing blood to his member, a pang of self-consciousness blooming in his chest as Skyseeker stared at his cock for what felt like a whole minute. Finally her eyes rose to meet his, and she tilted her head in that way she always did when she was confused.

“What’s that thing?” she asked innocently. She cut him off before he got a word out. “Wait! As in, what do you call thing?”

“It’s a… cock,” he replied. “Or a penis, whichever.”

“It’s a big one!” she exclaimed, climbing over his leg and kneeling between his thighs. “Are all man-thing cock-penis’ this substantial?”

“S-Some are more endowed than others,” he replied, her candour making him blush. She was treating his member like it was a puzzle box waiting to be solved, Skyseeker turning her head this way and that, her warm breath blowing across his sensitive flesh.

Roderick lurched as she hooked her fingers over his shaft, her impossibly soft fur sliding against him. “It’s squishy!” she giggled, testing his firmness by squeezing her hand. “Like a tail! Squish squish squeesh…”

She started swirling him around he was a ladle, his member flopping against his belly and thighs.

“C-Cut that out!” he stammered, barely holding back his own laughter as he seized her arm. “It’s sensitive, lass.”

“But I want to make you feel good!” she squeaked, still not taking her eyes off his organ. “Tell me what to do with the cock-penis.”

“What do you think you should do?” he asked back.

She chewed on a nail in thought, considering for a moment.

“I want to… kiss it. Is that wrong?”

“Not at all,” he replied, his heart hammering as she moved closer, directing her muzzle towards his tip. She pressed her lips against him, a smacking sound filling the room as she planted a lingering peck on his glans, his shaft twitching in response. Nodding to herself as though answering some unspoken thought, she next introduced her tongue, sliding her hot, slippery organ all the way up his underside from base to tip, the Skaven smacking her lips as she sampled his taste.

“Man-thing musk is… is salty,” she mused, Roderick sighing as she kissed his groin once more. “It’s so hot!” she added between licks. “Hotter than warpforge! How do your pants not burn right off?”

She planted her hands on his thighs, her delicate fur tickling him, Roderick shivering as shocks of pleasure travelled up his spine. She continued her attentions for a few minutes more, running her hands across his legs all the while, her movements giving him an idea.

“You can use your hands, too,” he muttered, Skyseeker pausing her licking to reply.

“Paws,” she corrected.

“Right. Use your paws to stroke it.”

“Like this?” she asked, raising her arm and then patting his length like she was patting a dog.

“No, no,” he chuckled. “I said stroke, not pet.”

“Oh, excuse Skaven while I find a man-thing dictionary real quick!” she shot back with a frown, but his laughter was infectious, and she soon grinned, giggling down at him. Exploring your partner’s anatomy should be fun as well as pleasurable, and he was glad to see she was pushing through her earlier insecurity.

He took her paw in his hand, her tail flicking against his legs as he did, wrapping her fingers around his erection. He guided her fingers up and down, and when he let go, she continued the motion, working into a slow rhythm.

Roderick leaned back on his elbows, releasing a sigh as her delicate coat encompassed him. He was hyperaware of each individual strand of her furry coat, the way it skimmed against his sensitive flesh a sensation he could only describe as sublime.

“Your hands are so soft,” he mumbled, her gentle strokes making him breathless. “Even the finest Imperial silks cannot compare…”

“You like my fur?” she cooed, adding little squeezes to her slow pumping. He felt her pillowy lips return to his member, Skyseeker combining her attentions just like he’d said. She planted sucking kisses at various points down his length, but then she grinned to herself, moving her hand down to the base of his shaft as she wetted her lips in anticipation.

With a cackle, she slid his glans into her mouth, hot slimy flesh folding over his tip, her lips sealing around the rib of his glans. He felt the smooth length of her tongue coil around him, its tapered tip slipping out of her lips to coat more of his length in a sheen of her saliva, Roderick curling his toes as the lining of her cheeks folded around him.

He lay back, letting his muscles relax as she applied more pressure with her hand, his vision glossing over. Roderick jolted when he felt something pointy press into the spine of his rod, collecting himself as she shot Skyseeker a frown.

“Mind the teeth,” he warned. “I’d rather keep this part of me intact, thank you very much.”

“Relaxation, Rick-rod,” she replied around his cock, the vibrations of her voice sending tingles through his core. “will be as careful as Skaven.”

“That’s what worries me…”

She opened her muzzle wide, giving him a clear view down her throat, Roderick watching as she let his length rest upon the flat of her tongue. She had only four teeth that he could see, an incisor trailing up from her lower jaw, and another poking out just behind the cleft of her upper lip. They were longer than his fingers when she splayed them out like that, a touch of alarm punching through his growing arousal.

He put such worries to the back of his mind. He had faith in Skyseeker, she was being gentle thus far, and he trusted her not to hurt him.

She slowly closed her muzzle, her incisors vicing against his length from both sides, applying a soft pressure. Her eyes locked with his as she slowly drew him out of her mouth, letting her teeth glide against his member, the unusual sensation catching Roderick off-guard.

“You’re creative for someone new to this,” he mumbled, his heart fluttering as she pulled away, her lips still connected to his tip by a thick strand of her drool. She smirked behind his length, then pulled him back into her mouth, digging the points of her incisors in a little harder this time. The sensations sent electric shocks coursing through him, Roderick throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling.

“Look at you,” she chittered, lifting her head away, still maintaining her slow, deliberate strokes with her hand. “Said I was cute before, but big man-thing trembling all over from just little licks. Ha!”

He made to voice a response, but she silenced him with another sordid kiss, the Skaven quickly figuring out his glans were his most sensitive area. She doted on him like that, alternating between using her teeth and her tongue, always keeping her movements slow, sensual. She was taking his warning to heart, keeping her speed cautious, Roderick overcome with desire at how considerate she was.

“You can speed up a little,” he said. “yeah, like that, that’s good…”

She tightened her grip, pumping him in quick, short bursts, her fur adding a wonderful texture to the friction. She was right, his extremities felt like they were quaking, it was a good thing he was lying down.

“What’s this thing?” Skyseeker asked, bringing her free hand below his shaft, and cupping his testicles.

Roderick released a sound he wouldn’t have dared let any soul hear, one that made the devious little rat smirk up at him.

“Steady on, there,” he warned. “My balls are sensitive.”

“Balls!” she echoed, giggling. “Good word for things. Is Rick-rod sensitive all over or something? First cock-penis, now these…”

“It’s doubly so for them. I mean it, lass. I know you like weak points, but you’ll knock me out of commission if you make one wrong move.”

“Oh ho!” she exclaimed, taking his words as more of an exciting prospect than a warning. She weighed his sack in her hand, lifting and lowering it as she tested their weight. He never seemed to get used to her fur, his crotch feeling like it was being buried in warm velvet, and he didn’t want to get used to this novel sensation.

She didn’t leave his cock alone even as she prodded his lower manhood, Skyseeker pursing his tip between her incisors, nibbling on his glans gently. Her eyes flicked to his as she drank in his reaction, the Skaven giggling as he supressed a moan.

“What else?” she asked suddenly, Roderick blinking his eyes back into focus.

“P-Pardon?”

“Said you like Skaven fur. What else does man-thing like about me?” she elaborated. “Riddle was nice, but details are nicer.”

“Well,” he began, his voice wavering as she returned to nibbling on his glans. It came off as intentional, like she wanted him to tremble while he flattered her. “As I said, your fur is immaculate, and words wouldn’t do justice to its colour, or texture. I also like how… different you are. The way your pink ears and nose stand out against your fur, it makes you look… cute.”

“I told you not to call me that!” she chided, applying more pressure around his base with her palm. It definitely had the effect of knocking him off-kilter, yet Roderick felt electrified with pleasure. “Proceed,” she added after collecting herself.

“I like that, below all that fur, you’re a loyal, pragmatic woman, whose so… uninhibited, but not in a bad way. Where I come from, the women are meek, prissy, and it can be hard to tell if they really mean what they’re saying. But you, lass, you just say whatever you’re thinking, you’re not afraid to speak your mind, even if what you say can sometimes be nonsensical. You’re unlike any maiden I’ve ever known, and ever since we had that bath… I can’t seem to get you out of my thoughts.”

Skyseeker’s smile widened with every word spoken, and she reached up to fiddle with her ear like a woman might ruffle their hair.

“Skaven is pretty great, yes-yes…” she cooed. “N-Not that I didn’t know all that already. Should reward man-thing for nice words…”

Skyseeker upped her tempo, pulling his glans into her mouth, then sliding her soft lips down his shaft, taking him all the way to the base. As she kissed his belly, Roderick felt his cock rub against the gooey roof of her mouth, his length flexing at its textured surface. She raked him with her tongue, mapping out the curves and turns of his veins, returning to his glans and lapping the rib in the way she knew he liked.

She’d clench her incisors against his base every now and then, not following any sort of rhythm, making sure Roderick never knew when to expect the sharp texture of her teeth. She was a quick learner if she was doing that on purpose.

Roderick’s length pulsed alongside his heartbeat, mirroring her change in speed. He watched as her pink tongue slid out of her lips to lap at his balls, Skyseeker cradling them in her palm so she could reach them. Every nerve in his body was alight with tingles, each one a shock of electricity with each wind and coil of her tongue.

Wet, lurid sounds filled the cabin as she began bobbing her head in his lap, the copious amounts of her saliva allowing the Skaven to glide back and forth on his shaft. Each time she kissed his base, his hips thrust of their own accord, his body unable to differentiate her narrow muzzle from a lover’s loins.

She steadied herself by grabbing his hip, as though afraid his sudden arching might throw her off, her red eyes shining as she glanced up at him. She was becoming ruthless in her pace, Roderick closing his eyes as wet flesh and warm fur cradled his sensitive parts.

“S-Skyseeker,” he groaned. “slow down a little…”

“Man-fing urt?” she asked around his rod.

“No, but-”

She wasn’t listening, continuing her desperate plunging with a renewed enthusiasm, Roderick’s words catching in his throat. He let loose an unbecoming moan as he felt the saliva bubbling around him begin to swirl, the noise of Skyseeker gulping reaching his ears. She was swallowing around him, voicing little moans as she took him all the way to her throat, her tail flicking around behind her. Just how was she not gagging right now? Perhaps her lung capacity far exceeded his own.

A sudden urge rose up through his core, his approaching orgasm setting his nerves into overdrive, Roderick taking fistfuls of the sheets in a bid to stave it off. Skyseeker’s punishing motions put a damper on the effort, one last stroke of her tongue sending him over the edge. His cock jumped as the first rope of his emission splashed into her mouth, all the muscles in his waist contracting as his back arched, forcing him as deep into Skyseeker’s mouth as possible.

Her eyes widened as his emission filled her palate, the Skaven pulling back, chewing on his dick with just the glans inside her lips. The sensation brought forth a second wad of his seed, the powerful contraction making the rat recoil in alarm. It landed against her snout, the pearly fluid dangling over her lip, where it hung for a moment before falling to the bed.

Unfiltered pleasure made Roderick a panting mess, another spurt of his come surging forth, this one falling down his shaft. His head filled with static, Roderick released a sigh as the pulses of ecstasy gave way to lingering euphoria.

He collapsed onto the bed, where he stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, his senses gradually returning. He looked down, seeing that Skyseeker was in quite the state. His seed was all over her snout, her drool spilling out of the corner of her mouth, her expression only describable as one who isn’t quite sure of where they are.

She blinked all of a sudden, the two staring one another down for a moment before she raised a questioning hand.

“What is this swill?” she asked, Roderick noting a drop of his come was dangling from her claw.

“It’s… semen.”

“Semen? Ha! Sounds like sea-man. Do I eat it?”

“Sky’, you may not want to-”

She coiled her long tongue around her digit, dragging the lurid mess into her mouth. She smacked her lips, scrunched her face, then tilted her head in thought.

“Mm. Spicy, and salty! I shall call it… spalty!”

Roderick watched as she bent down, beginning to lick his cock clean of their shared fluids, knives of pleasure stabbing through his lingering afterglow. She didn’t leave an inch uncleaned, and when his member was wiped free of his emission, she propped herself up on an arm, licking her lips.

She noticed he was staring, cocking her head at him. “What?” she asked in an innocent voice.

“Uh, you missed a spot, right here,” he said, pointing at his face.

“Man-thing’s face not messy!”

“No I mean- ah, hold on.”

He sat up, Skyseeker tracking him as he grabbed the corner of the sheets, and used it to wipe down her muzzle, cleaning it of the cloudy fluid draped over her muzzle.

“I should have warned you that would happen, apologise” he said, dropping the sheet. “Praise Sigmar but I needed that…”

“No apologising necessary,” she said, waving a hand. “was good surprise. Did I… did I do well?”

She drummed her fingers nervously at that, Roderick smiling as he took her by the chin. He guided her closer, the two sharing another wanting kiss, pouring their shared desire into every lick and stroke. By all the Gods’ the combination of her soft lips and fuzzy fur was driving him crazy.

Her tongue was longer than his, able to glance the back of his throat with ease, Skyseeker sensing that he was about to choke, pulling back at the last moment. He guided her onto her back, ravishing each other without pause, Roderick taking her by the hips.

When they broke apart, saliva dripping from their mouths, Skyseeker batted her eyes at him, closing one for just a little bit longer as she blinked through a daze.

“T-Take that as a yes-yes…” she muttered. “What now?”

“Now it’s my turn,” he replied, mapping out her hourglass figure with his hands. Her fur bulged from out behind her belts and straps, fastened far tighter than what should be comfortable.

He struggled with one of the belts, finding that lifting the clip left barely any room to manoeuvre, his frustrated grumbles making Skyseeker snicker.

“Not know how belts work, man-thing?”

“I don’t know how you breath inside these things,” he muttered, finally succeeding in freeing the belt, tossing it aside with a clatter. “And so many as well! Who on Sigmar’s name needs, what, ten belts?”

“Eleven, actually,” Skyseeker corrected with a raised claw. “And how do you not need pockets and pouches? Man-things so underarmed…”

“Or you’re just over armed…”

Seeing that he needed it, Skyseeker helped him, reaching for another belt looped over her belly. He had seen how many weapons she’d handed over to the captain back in Portomaggoire, but the amount of storage she possessed never ceased to surprise him. They looked made of leather, probably looted or stolen from his people if he had to guess, as he didn’t imagine Skaven leatherworkers were a thing.

Once they were done, all that Skyseeker was wearing was her sling, her bust contained within the dark cloth. Her breasts wobbled slightly along with her rapid breathing, Skyseeker bundling them up in her arms nervously as he ogled at them.

“Just relax, Sky’,” he said, smirking at her as he eased her hands away. He allowed her to take her time, wanting her to be the one to remove her improvised bra. She nodded after a few seconds, then hooked a thumb beneath the sling, peeling the garment slowly away, putting a display on for him whether she intended to or not.

Black fur gave way to two distinct globes, Roderick watching as the sling caught on two protrusions. As the garment dragged higher, two perky breasts clapped down onto her chest, coated in a shiny layer of fur just like the rest of her. Skyseeker’s build was like a swimmer, svelte and lithe, and while her breasts were similarly modest, they were a perfect teardrop shape, bouncing just a little bit with her movements.

They were a little bigger than he had expected, their weight must have been straining against the sling, making them appear flat, but he could see they were full and firm, the fur making them all the more appealing. She made to bundle them up again, but she hesitated partway through the movement, noting his expression.

“S-Skaven not as big as man-thing breeders,” she said in a self-conscious voice.

“Indeed not,” he admitted, Skyseeker faltering at that. “But, you’re not as lithe or as shapely as they are, lass, and I wouldn’t have that any other way.”

Her expression lifted, Skyseeker beaming at his words, Roderick reaching out a hand to her chest, diving it into one of her breasts. Her flesh was so tender, the fat spilling between his fingers with an impossible softness. She sucked in a harsh gasp, her thighs snapping together below him, her voice tapering into a sigh as he applied some pressure, his knuckles sinking wonderfully into her supple bosom.

“EEK!” she exclaimed, reaching up and smacking him on the forehead. “Stupid man-thing! Th-That hurts!”

“I-I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his temple, his flesh swelling where she’d hit him. He should have known they’d be sensitive beyond doubt, nobody had touched her there, she might not have even touched them herself if she was reacting so strongly.

“Better be sorry,” she grumbled. “have half mind to cut breeding short right now-now.”

“If that’s your wish,” he replied, calling her bluff. He made to climb off the bed, and Skyseeker went all of two seconds before she stopped him, using her tail to seize his wrist and drag him back. That thing was a lot stronger than he would have guessed.

“I was joking!” she chittered. “Imbecile…”

“I’ll be gentle this time,” he assured, Skyseeker eyeing him suspiciously as he returned to her chest. He silenced her concerns by drawing in for another kiss, her hesitance melting away as she closed the distance between them of her own accord. It seemed she was growing to like his way of expressing affection.

They broke away with a wet smack, Roderick returning his attention to her breasts. This time when he reached out, he was careful not to be too rough, and handle her with all the delicacy he could muster.

He drew slow circles with his thumb, her boob firm and supple beneath his movements, eliciting a gasp from the Skaven. It was a perfect handful, her soft flesh filling his palm as he cupped it, shaped it, lifted it in new ways that excited her. She squirmed and writhed, but kept her complaints sealed behind bared teeth.

An idea came to mind, and he slowly let go of her boobs, the way they bounced as they settled mesmerising him. Planting his hands to either side of her, he bent down, and pressed his face into her cleavage, her breasts acting like soft pillows on either side of his face. Her fur was cool against his cheeks, and once again his nose filled with her scent, as strong as a drug now that he was buried up to his nose in her fragrance. Had her smell always been this rich and sexy?

“R-Rick-rod,” she moaned. “What are you doing?”

He answered her by sliding his cheek against her bosom, positioning one of her nipples below his lips. Her protrusion was swollen, a soft pink in colour, covered slightly by her coat. He brushed the nearby fur aside with his finger, slowly drawing it into his mouth.

Now he could be a lot more placating with his attentions, stroking his tongue over her areola in one smooth circle, pinching it between his lips. Skyseeker released a comely whine, but did not whack him in the head this time, pushing her bust out in invitation.

Her arms looped around his shoulders, Roderick glancing up to see her eyes were shut tight, her head thrown back at an awkward angle. Seeing how receptive she could be was driving him crazy, the urge to just take her already was becoming harder to resist with each second.

He crawled his lips lower, his tongue following the muscular channels in her belly, Roderick sliding a hand down her hip. Everything about her was inhumanely soft, yet she was not a weak individual, flexing muscle pressing up against wherever he touched. It was as though she were a marble statue come to life, her body as lean as a dancer or swimmer, her muscles sculpted by a lifetime of hardship. How she had managed to hide such beauty from her horny kinsman, he had no idea.

As his mouth brushed the beginnings of her mound, she spoke up. “W-Where man-thing going now?” she moaned, rolling her hips as he his arms around her long legs, slipping his hands across the sheets to cup her butt. “Oh, I know! I suck man-thing’s cock, now you suck mine? Rick-rod makes best deal-barters…”

Through touch alone, he could sense how pert her ass was, her cheeks flexing with steely muscles as he gave them a little pinch. Yet her loincloth prevented him from feeling all, Roderick wasting no time in sliding the cloth down.

“Wait-Wait,” Skyseeker muttered, reaching for the waistband. She was moving too slow for Roderick, so he just tugged her underwear down on his own, but he barely moved it an inch before meeting resistance. “I said wait!” she complained, turning onto one leg and moving a hand to her rump.

From here Roderick could see a hole had been sewn into the loincloth, allowing her tail to poke through the garment, Skseeker feeding the appendage through. He hadn’t seen that feature before, as her back was obscured behind her cloak.

Once her tail was free, he slid her underwear down her slender legs, his gaze inexorably drawn to her womanhood. A wonderful slice of pink stood out against her dark fur, her entrance located a little lower than where he expected it to be. She was swollen, her puffy lips wet with her liquid excitement, its shape a little more alien than a human woman’s, but Roderick was drawn in all the same.

Her smell had been strong when he’d mouthed her chest, but now it was overpowering, each flex of her rosy vulvar seeming to add more to the overwhelming sensation. The closest thing he could associate it to was chocolate, of all things, Roderick unable to help himself but brush one of her inner thighs with his cheek as he breathed it in.

“Something about your smell, lass,” he began, Skyseeker shivering as he breathed hot air on her loins. “It’s ambrosial, fragrant. Thought you’d want to know.”

It was a rather blunt way of telling her, but he knew Skyseeker would appreciate a little ego-stroking.

“Y-You smell breeder-musk?” she asked, watching him through heavy eyelids as he kissed around her mound, teasing her by avoiding her most erogenous zone. “Thought only rats could smell that. Man-thing really like it?”

“Do you have to ask at this point?”

She opened her mouth, but he never gave her the chance to speak, leaning in to plant a sucking kiss on her nethers. She was so fever-hot he could almost feel his face scald over, Skyseeker uttering a sound that was a mix between a mewl and a squeak. He felt a drop of her anticipation wet his lips, Roderick opening his mouth to drag his tongue down one side of her lips, then up the other. Her flesh was as soft as her fur, but the added dampness gave it a wonderful texture, his tastebuds sparking with her unfamiliar flavour as he mouthed at her more ardently.

Skyseeker created a wonderful arch with her back, her mewl tapering into a wail that he would have mistook as a sign of pain in other circumstances. She sank back to the sheets when he pulled away, her thighs shaking around his face as he looked up the length of her body.

“Try and keep it down,” he muttered, feeling his chin dribbling with her nectar. “We’re not alone on this ship, remember?”

“C-Can’t help it!” she gasped, blinking her eyes at him. She shuddered as she watched him lick the mess on his face clean, a sight she clearly enjoyed. “Man-thing reaching into every nook and cranny on Skaven!”

“Am I going too fast? Does it hurt?”

“By the Horned Rat, no! Rick-rod so… affectionate. Skaven mate would never be so tender with breeder, n-not that I’m fragile or anything!”

He chuckled at that, returning to her nethers with newfound vigour, lapping and kissing her delicate folds. The fur surrounding her entrance brushed his mouth as he drew deeper into her passage, her burning walls welcoming his questing tongue. Her wrinkles and texture were wholly different to any human woman he’d eaten out before, but his mind, clouded with her musk, found her alienness all the more enticing. What would it feel like to plunge his member inside this furry entrance, feel these odd textures seal over his organ?

A touch of doubt folded over him as he retreated a little to catch his breath. The inside of her entrance was different, as was the outside, and more specifically, its size. She was far smaller than a woman’s entrance, as was befitting her naturally small stature. Mating in earnest didn’t look possible given their differences.

He steeled himself. No matter, his goal was Skyseeker’s pleasure, and even if his dick couldn’t fit, his tongue was more than making up for it.

She shrieked as he wrestled with her long legs, resting the underside of her knees over his shoulders, pressing his hands into her malleable thighs as he lifted her. Skyseeker was almost upside down at this position, her head and upper back in contact with the bed, the rest of her held up by Roderick, her weight meagre enough that he could support her.

At this orientation, he could reach her loins much deeper than before, Roderick redoubling his efforts to core her out. Skyseeker groaned as he lapped at her innermost reaches, biting down on her hand in an attempt to be quiet.

After delivering a particularly powerful stroke, his chin bumped against a small nub, Roderick quirking a brow. He drew back, Skyseeker shuddering as the few inches of his organ wound their way out of her depths, the she-rat taking fistfuls of the sheets. She mumbled something he didn’t catch, probably her asking him why he was stopping.

He used his fingers to split her open, Roderick noting his chin had brushed a hood of skin, located on the bottom corner of her lips, a short way inside her. Confirming his suspicions, he sealed his lips around the nodule, using his tongue to paint shapes on it. Skyseeker’s reaction was violent, crying out as though she’d just been shot, her legs sealing around his head hard enough to hurt.

Her clitoris was on the opposite side of where he expected one to be, and not quite on the outside, but it made little difference, Roderick caressing it with as much care as he could manage. The Skaven wouldn’t stop moving, everything from her chiselled stomach to her muzzle writhing and rolling as his organ drilled harsh pleasure into her core. He wondered if she had ever touched her sweet spot, her reaction seemed to convey she hadn’t.

“You alright down there?” he asked, drawing back so he could speak. Am I-”

He felt something warm and scaly loop over his neck, Roderick glancing down to see her tail had sealed over his throat. She tugged on it like it was a spool of rope, pulling him back into her nethers, her message obvious enough. He suckled her clitoris between his teeth, Skyseeker applying enough pressure on his neck that he couldn’t pull away, his windpipe threatening to seal. Almost being choked should have alarmed him, yet he felt a pang of excitement overcome his senses. He’d never been handled like this before…

She was constantly moving, every shape he drew on her bead making her twist at angles that might cause concern if he didn’t know how limber she could be. She locked her thighs around his head, surrounding him in that wonderful fur, and trapping her scent so it became all the more potent. Already he could feel his loins swelling with a newfound stamina despite having just climaxed himself. This musk of hers was affecting him in both mind and body.

“More speed!” she whined, growling as he took her bud into his mouth, thrashing it with quick licks. “Quick-Quick!”

Although his jaw was aching, he did as she asked, clutching her hips tightly as he sped up his efforts, his fingers sinking into the doughy flesh of her haunches. As her excitement mounted, so too did the pressure on his neck, Roderick raising a sweaty hand to pull it away. It took far more strength than he realised to loosen her grip, so he yanked it instead to get her attention while his mouth was otherwise occupied.

Her already narrow walls seized around him, a moan escaping from Skyseeker’s lips. Curious, he pulled her tail again, and this time her groan was much louder, her passage vicing against his tongue with enough strength to cut off circulation. The appendage was closely positioned to her womanhood, perhaps some nerve endings entwined there?

He didn’t bother asking if he was hurting her. The noises she made, the way she flexed against his mouth, her pungent musk, they were all clear tells of her mounting excitement.

Her muscles seized around him, her tail slapping against his head like a fish out of water, one last glance on her clitoris sending her over her limit. A torrent of her nectar cascaded forth, Roderick doing his utmost to continue his doting licks to ease out her climax, his efforts rewarded by a cute mewl from the Skaven. He took fistfuls of her ample butt to keep her genitals locked to his mouth, the sound of his own kisses filling his ears as her emission dribbled down his chin.

Even in her position she was able to thrust against his face, her body appearing glossy as the candlelight danced over her curvy figure, Roderick admiring her as she rode out the throes of her climax. Her upward thrusting began to slow, her breathing returning to slow, heavy pants, her gaze fogging over as one last shudder coursed through her.

She gazed up at him, her eyes full of adoration, and then she doubled over, her head lolling over the edge of the cot.

She murmured appreciatively as he lowered her to the bed, taking a moment to run his hand up her rump and back, his touch making her shiver. He crawled up her prone body, taking her in his arms as he lay beside her, Skyseeker batting her eyes as she pressed her muzzle into his chest.

“You smell like me,” she muttered, the statement making her giggle. “Does… Does breeding always feel like that? So good-good?”

“You’re adorable, Sky,” Roderick replied, tugging her closer. She opened her mouth in a silent invitation, and he leaned in, his lips meeting hers as his skin slid against her fur, the two melting into one another. He felt her tail slither over his legs as they stayed like that for a while, Skyseeker breaking off with a smack.

“At least you didn’t call me that other word,” she muttered, but he could see her annoyance was just a front. “I like how man-things kiss,” she added. “nothing like this back in Skavenblight.”

“How do Skaven kiss?” he wondered.

“Licking, nuzzling, brush whiskers on whiskers.”

“Like this?” he asked, lowering to her neck. He ran his tongue up and down her fur, switching between licking and brushing his nose against her fragrant coat. She squirmed on the bed, pawing at him in a mock attempt to keep him away, her laughter filling the cabin.

“Th-That tickles!” she shrieked, Roderick grinning when he finally relented.

“Ah, who’s learning who’s weaknesses now, hmm?”

“Stupid man-thing,” she mumbled, her breasts squashing against him as she moved closer. “Hold me and shut face.”

It was a request too heartfelt to deny, Roderick tugging her closer, the two content to stare at the ceiling for a while, enjoying one another’s presence. Roderick couldn’t put it into words, but this just felt right. It had been months since he’d had the chance to start a relationship with someone, but this went beyond any simple bond. Skyseeker had fought beside him, earned his respect and had even provided some helpful insight on his past. Chaospawn, rodent, these were things he would have called her once, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth now.

Soon she tapped at his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts, Skyseeker peering up at him expectantly.

“I want to breed-breed, Rick-rod…”

She placed a hand on his chest, easing him into his back. She swung one long leg over his hips, planting her knees on either side of his waist as she sat on his stomach, her tail whipping out to touch his shaft.

“I think I’m a little too big for you, lass,” he muttered. Skyseeker placed a hand on his lips, silencing him.

“Shh! We are mating and that is final,” she snapped, Roderick’s face warming at her sudden assertiveness.

“Sky’,” he began, lifting her hand away. “you’re barely half my height, it’s not going to work.”

“Skaven has slain many man-things, outwitted a gryphon, beat Rick-rod in a duel, became temporary clawcaptain, and skittered into man-thing city without ever being detected – exceptthatonetime. If I can do all that, then I can breed with a man-thing cock.”

He could see that her mind was set, and there was no point in arguing with her. Her liquid excitement plastered his belly as she slid down his body, his member sandwiching between her pert cheeks.

“It’s going to hurt at first,” he warned. “Every woman’s first time popping the cherry does, but it’ll only last a little while. Assuming I don’t displace your organs or something…”

“Popping my what?” she asked. “Never mind, stop talking already and let me focus! Mating will require absolute precision…”

Her tail wound around his length, pressing it flat against his leg as she shimmied over his lap, placing her feet on either side of his waist. His length dragged across her puffy lips, the two gasping in unison as their tender flesh connected, his cock flopping out from between her thighs where it rested against her mound.

She was taking her sweet time, mumbling calculations under her breath as she crouched over his waist, her thighs quivering as she adjusted her footing. Reaching down, she parted her entrance with her fingers, her pink groin like a magnet for his eyes. Roderick’s earlier reservations about their size difference wasn’t just self-flattery, he really was too big for her, and that was only more pronounced with their genitals lined up.

She slowly lowered herself down on him, her rosy flesh meeting his swelling glans in a tender kiss. Her insides splayed open, the tiny opening clenching down on his glans with the strength of a fist, a fresh surge of her juices leaking out to wet his shaft. Skyseeker was shivering all over, taking in a shaky breath as her passage stretched over the head of his cock.

“Easy now,” Roderick stammered, his warning more for himself than for her. A suction that bordered on pain gripped his glans, almost as though her insides were trying to drag him deeper of their own accord.

Skyseeker’s eyes bogged out of their sockets as she took an inch of him inside her, Roderick squirming as she wrapped his base in in her tail, using the appendage to angle him in. He was splitting her open, their bodies fighting for every centimetre of Skyseeker’s downward journey, Roderick holding back grunts as her spasming passage welcomed him.

“S-Sigmar preserve me,” he groaned, throwing his head back. “I fear you may cut off my blood flow at this rate.”

“Sh-Shut up,” she snarled, pausing with her hands on her knees, letting herself accustom to his size. “Every word you speak-speak makes my… thing move.”

He knew what she meant. Every subtle movement on his part made her shiver, and likewise, every shift of her passage made him groan in turn. It was as though with every millimetre gained brought their nerve systems closer, unfiltered pleasure bouncing between them.

“And stop moving!” she added, her passage clenching around him. “Can’t take it deep-deep if man-thing moves.”

“That’s like asking me to stop breathing,” he replied, his cock swelling against her sopping walls, more of her honeyed fluids leaking down to wet his thighs.

“Ahhhh!” she wailed in a blend of arousal and pain. “Stupid man-thing! Be still, now-now!”

She slid a little further down, reaching the halfway point, her tunnel so tight its silky walls conformed to his member like a second skin, pouring over every contour like molten steel into a forge. He could feel her swelling clitoris pressed up against his underside, the way it was constantly being moved around by his intruding organ must be driving Skyseeker mad with pleasure, the Skaven clutching his belly as though afraid she may lose her balance.

Her little body was shaking all over, her red eyes shut tight as she struggled to cope with the overwhelming sensations. He closed his hands over her pink paws, her lids slowly opening, revealing a gaze full of carnal lust. She must have seen the same thing in his eyes, as a fresh burst of confidence steeled her nerves, Skyseeker opening her legs and crouching, taking two inches of him in one quick motion.

His member was already bottoming her out, and they still had a quarter of the way to go, loud squelching noises filling the cabin as Skyseeker fought to take him all the way.

Voicing an unsteady mewl, she crouched down fully, her walls rippling apart as she pulled the rest of him inside. His tip kissed the deepest reaches of her vent, squashing up against a cushiony membrane of flesh. Her lips wrapped over his base, more of her excitement oozing out to drench his loins. He shared a shudder with Skyseeker as they relished in their newfound unison, the sensation of her rippling walls bearing down on him from all sides nothing short of spectacular.

“Th-There,” Skyseeker muttered, leaning back and planting her hands on his knees, giving him an enticing view of their coupling. “Told Rick-rod I’d conquer the cock.”

“Never speak those words outside this room,” Roderick grumbled. “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts,” she replied. “but, is good kind of hurt, like pulling out overgrown whisker. Hm. Or putting one in might be better way of saying…”

“It should pass soon, not to worry.”

She stayed crouched over him for a few moments longer, growing more used to him the longer they stayed mated. He could sense her heartbeat through her quivering walls, the Skaven panting for breath as though she’d just run a lap of the ship.

Demonstrating a tentativeness he’d never seen from her before, Skyseeker slowly began to move her hips, stirring his organ around her intimate reaches. While she was inexperienced, there was something amazing about her unrefined movements, Skyseeker taking his advice to heart as she let instinct guide her, his cock swelling as her soft walls caressed him. Just as he’d said in his poem, she was like a pure gemstone, uncut and untouched. Or perhaps a piece of warpstone would be a more apt analogy.

Keeping his shaft locked inside her, she began to make circles with her hips, grinding his cock against her slimy walls, every squeeze on her end eliciting a gasp from Roderick. Just like stuffing a lead ball down the wrong calibre gun, mating with Skyseeker shouldn’t be possible, but somehow they were making it work, her alien passage accommodating to his organ, but never quite drowning out that sense of pain Roderick could feel, the wires of his nervous system crossing at this intense experience.

Even her most minute movements were translating into raw, harsh shocks of pleasure, but Skyseeker wanted more – he could see the desire in her eyes, those black irises piercing him. She switched up her directions, rocking from side to side, driving his member into her walls in new ways Roderick had never felt with previous partners.

Her pace was lazy, but each grind of her hips ended with a rippling shock that made Roderick see points of light. There was no rhyme or reason to her movements, and the mystery of which angle she’d go next only enticed him further, each clench of her walls bringing forth a new surge of bliss.

He revelled in the pleasure for a few loving minutes, then reached out, placing a hand on her muscular core. There was a fresh moisture to her fur, sweat droplets that looked like rain clinging to her coat to give her a glossy sheen, Roderick mapping out her belly in all its glory. He was rewarded with another cute mewl from Skyseeker, his fingers trailing higher as he followed the contours of her diminutive, but no less toned body.

“Does man-thing always get so… touchy at breed-time?” she asked, her bottom lip falling as he cupped one of her pert breasts, the malleable fat filling his palm perfectly.

“Only for the finest lasses,” he replied, grunting when his attentions were rewarded by a powerful clench of her passage. “I feel as though I could run my hands all over you a hundred times and never be satiated.”

“You can touch Skaven all you want-want,” she cooed, pushing her bust out in invitation. “Spent whole life avoiding contact, will need Rick-rod’s help making up for lost time-time.”

“Happy to be of service,” he replied, holding her stare as he caught a nipple between his fingers, giving it a strong pinch. She was the first to break, her eyes lidding as he lifted his other hand and kneaded her free breast, her assets as soft as dough. Roderick was being rougher, but if Skyseeker was feeling any discomfort, then she didn’t voice it, her comely sighs and gasps ensuring him she was anything but pleased.

“Want to try new thing,” Skyseeker said. “Hold paws please.”

His heart fluttering, he took her outstretched hands, following her gaze as she peered down at their genitals. Taking in a breath, she rose her hips from his, his glans scraping against her walls as she lifted away. Her pink flesh clung to his pale skin with surprising strength on its way out, his cock glistening with her juices as the candle light flickered over it. When she reached his thickest point, she chewed her lower lips, barely biting back a cry as her entrance once again split open to what must be painful proportions.

The ring of muscle that was her entrance seized over his pulsing length, as though it was fighting against Skyseeker’s efforts, Roderick doubling over as she continued to rise. The tightness was almost unbearable, but the waves of pleasure chasing the pain shouldered any troubled thoughts aside.

When she reached the lip of his glans, she paused, then lowered herself down again, this time taking things much faster than before. The pressure on his member rolled down from tip to base, the sound of her generous cheeks clapping against his thighs filling the cabin as she hilted him in an instant.

She raised her mouth to the ceiling, her muzzle parted, but no sound came out, the Skaven shivering as currents of mingled pain and ecstasy flooded her body.

“Sky’? he asked, letting her hands go and tapping her on the thigh.

“Mmm?” she moaned, glancing down at him. Her eyes were facing two different directions, bulging in a way he feared they might fall right off at the slightest disturbance. Roderick faired no better, the pressure she exerted over his rod stealing his breath away. She wasn’t feeling any looser even after all these minutes, and that both worried and excited him.

Once she’d regained her faculties, she lifted off him again, the two grunting in unison as the harsh contours of his human organ brushed the furrowed flesh of her Skaven entrance. Only at her highest point was Roderick allowed a reprieve, one she was quick to take away as she slammed back down on him again.

As she continued to rut him into the sheets, Roderick’s eyes lingered elsewhere. Her long legs were angled such that her knees pointed towards the ceiling, the flesh on her meaty thighs rippling each time she hilted him. She’s used those things to scale trees, climb city walls, and dash across vast distances. They’d only grown stronger during her arrival from the north, and now she was using them solely for his pleasure.

He reached out to run his fingers down her inner thighs, the Skaven’s bestial pace slowing as he touched her. They were easily the largest part of her, aside from the torso, packing an unusual amount of strength behind her soft fur and supple fat, Roderick delving his hands further in search of that firmer tissue.

Her wide hips rose and fell, rose and fell, her movements aided along only by the glistening sheen of fluids oiling his length. He reached round to test the firmness of her buttcheeks, Skyseeker sucking in a staggered breath as he gave her ass a squeeze.

The next time she rose off his shaft, her movements were slow, placating. On the next, her upper half seemed to turn to jelly, the Skaven flopping onto his chest with all the grace of a drunkard. Her face landed off to the side, Roderick encouraging her to lay over him.

“You alright, lass?”

“Man-thing cock tires Skaven…” she murmured, pressing her nose into the nape of his neck. She drew lazy circles on his skin with her tongue, grinding against his shaft with a similar fatigue. “Plus, Skaven has bred like six times now…”

“You’ve what? Oh, you mean you came? Wait, six?”

“Technically seven, if one counts that time you clean-groomed me back in city.”

“D-Do you not have a refractory period?”

“Factories in Skavenblight owned mostly by warlords and Grey Seers. Why you ask?”

“No no, refractory. It means you need time between… breeding, to put it in your words. You only need a break now?”

She shrugged, lowering her muzzle back to his neck, switching between licks and sucking kisses. That explained all the slimy nectar she was coating him in. Six times, he couldn’t believe it.

“Give one second, Rick-rod,” she muttered between nuzzles. “Will be back on paw-feet in no time.”

“I have a better idea,” he said, Skyseeker pausing to look at him. “let me show you another way humans breed.”

She loosed a surprised squeak as he bundled her up in his arms, turning to lay her down on the cot, her vent squeezing around him as he stayed lodged inside her. Now she was on her back, their positions reversed, Skyseeker pointing her muzzle up at him as he slid a hand along her thigh.

“Don’t squish Skaven,” she whispered, wringing her hands together. “You are heavy thing.”

“I’d never bring you to harm, lass.”

“Except when you shot me back in forest.”

“… Except that time,” he admitted. He brought his mouth to hers, having to bend down at an awkward angle in order to reach her, Skyseeker gasping as her soft lips drew him in. He kissed her anxiety away, and when he drew back for breath, she cupped his hair, keeping their mouths locked for a few seconds longer.

“Stupid man-thing,” she muttered, her eyes fluttering. Now able to dictate their pace, Roderick began to move his hips, finding that his urges to simply rut into her were quelled by her physicality. Her narrow tunnel squeezed and fought constantly as his length slid out of her. When her lips rolled past his glans, he thrust back down again, Roderick wincing as the pressure on his loins reached barely tolerable levels.

Skyseeker’s feminine sighs and mewls let him know she could handle this new rhythm, Roderick holding onto her hips as he continued to ravish her. Her upper torso twisted one way as her waist ground against him, her dark fur roiling like a liquid as she touched herself with her paws, pinching a nipple between her fingers just as he had.

On the next slow thrust, Roderick’s breath caught in his chest. He could reach so much deeper in this position, and as such, the limits of her passage were well within reach, his glans compressing against the thin membrane roofing her tunnel. Lost in the haze of euphoria, he’d applied a little too much pressure on it, and his glans had broken through the initial resistance, plunging into her most intimate depths.

Skyseeker made a sound she hadn’t voiced up to now, her tail slapping the sheets violently between his thighs, her eyes bogging out once more.

“Gods,” Roderick snarled, the membrane choking his tip. “Are you well, lass? I didn’t-”

She sealed her thighs around his waist, using those muscular legs to pull him further into her, Roderick almost toppling over by her sudden show of assertiveness. That barrier of tightness stretched around him, Skyseeker shuddering as there was a popping sensation, and then more of his length plunged through into a little chamber beyond her vagina.

“Fuck,” he groaned, letting slip a rare curse as the stimulation overwhelmed him. “What is th-that?”

“P-Place where rats pups come from,” she replied, gasping as he flexed inside her.

She must mean her womb, its wet, slippery lining almost the perfect size for his throbbing glans, so tight that he feared any movement on his part might send him crashing into orgasm.

“Keep breeding man-thing,” she snapped. “Need to-to feel your- WAIT!” she yelled suddenly, seizing his chin and guiding their faces closer until all he saw was her dark irises. “Question! Can man-things and Skaven make… pups?”

She must be worried she would end up like her mother or the other female Skaven, bloated with countless litters.

“No, we can’t,” he said, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hmm. Not believe you.”

She pulled him deeper into her innermost space with her long legs, his rod squashing up against its roof in a cruel stroke that sent them both reeling.

“W-What?”

“Not believe you!” she repeated, planting a hand on his chest. “Give Skaven your pups, man-thing. Fill me with them, just to be sure.”

His heart fluttering, he resumed his ruthless rutting, plunging between her legs at a faster rate, gauging her face to make sure she could handle what he was giving her. The entrance of her womb suckled on his length like a hungry mouth as he peeled away, sending tingles of pleasure rippling up his body, that popping sensation returning as he unplugged that little chamber, only to return to its pocket of warmth at the next thrust.

Every slap of their hips sent tremors cascading up Skyseeker’s small frame, her breasts rippling like the surface of a disturbed pond. She was soft in all the right places despite her lean build, the texture of her silky coat further adding to the sensation.

In the relative silence of the cabin, the sound of his organ slapping wetly into her yielding vent was very loud in his ears. He could sense how full he was making her, Roderick able to see the skin on her belly bulge as he plugged her womb with his organ. Were she a human, she would never have been able to tolerate the intensity, but Skyseeker had always been a flexible individual.

“You’re so deep,” she purred, her hand still on his chest. “Go faster. Yes-Yes, like that. Eh, where’s my warpstone?”

She draped her arm over the cot, fumbling with her discarded belt. When it came back, she was clutching a shard of the rock, Skyseeker devouring it in two bites flat. When she exhaled, her breath condensation was slightly green in colour, her depths swirling as the euphoria hit her.

“Skaven has become decadent,” she murmured. “Breeding and warpstone at same time-time? Man-thing making me feel like broodmother…”

“Does that bother you?” he panted, snapping out of his bliss to flash her a serious look. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel like she was back in the breeding pits.

“Very little,” she replied, reaching up to crawl her tongue over his neck. “If Skaven were to make litter, Rick-rod would be number one breeding choice, you’re so nice and caring and nice and… other things. I know you’d take care of me.”

His thoughts swimming with desire, he cradled her muzzle in his hand, her blissful gaze meeting his as he continued to rut her into the bed. She found that she could rise her hips to meet his thrust and deepen their coupling, Roderick faltering as he split the entrance to her womb open with renewed desperation, his measured movements quickly becoming bestial ruts. There was something liberating about giving himself over to the building ecstasy, to be finally able to show his desire to Skyseeker after days of holding back.

“I’m close, Skyseeker,” Roderick grunted, holding onto her hips for dear life.

“You going to spurt that spalty stuff inside me?” she cooed, her candor making him twitch against her slimy walls. “Do it, man-thing, breed Skaven, now-now!”

Her tone was somewhere between an order and a beg, but she didn’t have to plead, Roderick’s putting all his strength into his thrusts as he gave over to his base instincts. He snorted like a bull as her narrow depths suddenly seized up, Roderick feeling her juices seeping around his girth as she climaxed for the umpteenth time tonight. The fact he could make a woman come so much was exhilarating, sparking the carnal parts of his mind with fresh flames of passion. No wonder her kind called her breeder, every part of her was just so fuckable.

“Claim me,” she purred, her eyes wandering over his red face. “Claim Skaven, make me your breeder!”

She gripped him tighter between his thighs, as though afraid he might separate from her, but that was the last thing on Roderick’s mind. The pleasure built up to an unbearable crescendo, one last slam into her passage sending him faltering over.

Just like the moment before a cannon shot, there was a moment where time seemed to stand still, and then he doubled over, planting his hands to either side of her trembling frame as his rod seized up. Skyseeker opened her mouth in a silent wail as he plunged a rope of his emission into her Skaven reaches, grinding his hips forward to force it as deep inside her as he could. He growled like a beast as he felt her narrow walls tighten in response, Skyseeker draping her arms over his shoulders as their shared bliss made her its plaything.

Her rolling walls encouraged a second rope of his ejaculate to surge forth, his hips pumping of their own accord as he plugged the hot mess directly into her womb. He could feel that little chamber filling to capacity, his seed bubbling out of it and down his shaft once there was nowhere else to go. Just as he’d advised Skyseeker, he let pure instinct dictate his movements, the pair thrusting against each other in an attempt to keep the pleasure rising ever higher, their mating reaching such untethered limits of carnality that even Slaanesh would have blushed at their sordid dance.

Their clumsy limbs locked together, her pink nose brushing his as they sought out a desperate kiss, Roderick feeling her pliant tongue fill his mouth. They were so mismatched, but he couldn’t be more glad that they had made this work, the fact they had forced their way through countless biological differences was a feet worthy of champions.

Her soft walls roiled around him in an almost milking motion, encouraging another load of his emission to cascade forth. Their combined fluids were leaking out of her now, wetting their thighs, the dripping sounds it made making Roderick blush.

The bliss seemed to stretch on into the minutes, when in reality only a few fleeting moments had passed, Roderick’s sense of time washing away as he relaxed into Skyseeker’s arms, sagging on top of her, the Skaven adjusting so that he wasn’t crushing her.

Like climbing out of a dream, Roderick opened his eyes, the lingering afterglow, along with her musk, making him giddy and not a little weak at the knees. He looked to see Skyseeker was peering back at him, her lust-filled gaze sending another shock of emotion coursing through him.

“Not bad for a man-thing,” Skyseeker giggled, leaning back to bask in the afterglow. She was being flippant, but her tone betrayed her satisfaction. He wondered how she felt, revelling in this new world of sensations, having her virginity claimed, the satisfied look on her face giving him all the answers he needed.

Roderick winced as he tried to slide out of her, but met resistance soon after. The circle of muscle walling her womb tightened over the rib of his glans, as did her entrance, the lips sealing over the base of his cock. It felt like someone had slipped a pair of cockrings on him.

“Gods,” he grunted. “how much control do you have down there?”

“Mine,” she chimed, her leg coiling over one of his legs, her thighs tightening their grip on his waist as they sealed around him. Now he was really stuck, shivers of pleasure rolling up his spine as he tried to buck out of her, but finding himself unable to move.

“Come on, lass, let go.”

“Mine,” she said again. “My cock now, Rick-rod, time for me to use it.”

“Woah, hang on,” he said, groaning when she started to shake her hips. “So soon? I need a break first.”

“Well I don’t! Come on, Rick-rod, hurry-hurry!”

“Give me a few minutes first, alright? Not everyone here can come over and again.”

“Urgh, fine. Still my cock though,” she added, giggling when Roderick gave up his efforts. It looked like he was staying lodged inside her for the time being, not that he was complaining. He could feel their shared fluids sloshing around him, his glans plugging what felt like an obscene amount of it inside her womb.

“Pet my ears,” she mumbled, lifting one of his arms to her face, Roderick obliging with a quiet chuckle, stroking the membrane in random directions. “Did I do breeding right?” she added. “Did I make you feel good? Please say yes-yes…”

“You were wonderful,” he replied, nuzzling against her in the equivalent of a Skaven kiss. “however, I can see one or two things you could improve on…”

“Then Skaven will just have to practice!” she chimed, taking his joke as a serious comment. “Will be on Rick-rod’s level in no time!”

“You may need to be bred several times for that to happen,” he said, lifting his gaze to her own. Her irises dilated, the implication enrapturing her.

“Then claim me,” she urged, her muzzle breaking into a mischievous grin. “Claim me a hundred times, a thousand! When we reach desert, I want to be so claimed I can’t even walk-scurry!”

“Let’s make it so,” he chuckled, leaning forward to bring her lips in range of his, gently starting to piston his hips once more.

Chapter 10: Landfall

Roderick awoke with a satisfied yawn, stretching his aching arms over his head. Last night’s events had left him sore all over, and he wasn’t just talking about their battle with the Skaven ship or the ogre. He and Skyseeker had made love so many times that he couldn’t quite add them all up, Roderick blushing as he could still feel the exotic taste of her on his tongue.

There was a soft weight on his chest, Roderick looking down to see Skyseeker sprawled across his torso, posed like a deer that had just been run over by a tank. She had quite literally passed out from their proclivities, he remembered, most likely the only reason their rutting marathon had ended in the first place given how energetic she’d been.

He tried not to disturb her, but leaving the bed with her on top of him was an impossible task, and soon the rat woman opened her eyes, one of them zeroing in on his face before she closed them again. “Morning, Rick-rod,” she chimed, snuggling up against his bare chest.

“Morning,” he echoed, scratching her behind the ears in the way he knew she liked. After a few moments he swung his legs off the bed, planting his feet on the cold wooden planks as he ran a hand through his hair. There was enough light spilling through the window to see by, Roderick glancing down to see their discarded clothes messing the floor. “How are you feeling?” he added, noting that she was trying to rub every part of her body at once.

“My limbs are numb, my fur is sticky, and breeding place feels like it’s been ripped apart and put back together. Couldn’t be better!”

They shared a chuckle as she got up on her knees, shimmying up behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders. She began to massage his arms, occasionally leaning in to give his neck a doting lick, Roderick blinking over at her in confusion.

“What are you up to back there?” he asked.

“Grooming!” she explained. “Common practice after nap time.”

He made to say that’s what baths are for, but having her soft hands all over him was a pleasant sensation, Roderick leaning back to let her clean away the sweat and grime he’d accumulated through the night.

“Can’t believe I’ve bred with a man-thing,” she giggled, running her fingers through his hair. “Gnawdwell told me to watch out for surface-dwellers, not to let them give me their pups. Hehe! Would have an aneurism if he ever found out. Wait-Wait,” she added, pausing her stroking. “The Great Lord is watching! I-It’s not what it looks like, oh studious Lord!” she said, turning her head and directing her words to the ceiling. “Skaven is just breeding the man-thing for intelligence!”

Roderick followed her gaze, but there was nobody was there. “We’re quite alone in here, lass.”

“Idiot! Great Lord has warpsight!”

She certainly seemed convinced this Lord was in the cabin with them, but Roderick had never heard of a thing called warpsight before, asking her about it.

“Is ability!” she explained. “Lets Skaven see over massive distances, detect magical energies! Can’t you see them?”

“No?” he asked, sparing the room a glance.

“Ah, of course, you a man-thing. Not to worry, Skaven has eaten enough warpstone that I have the sight too! N-Not that its any better than yours, oh great Lord, whom is paean to brilliance!”

“Are you… embarrassed, that your Lord knows about is?” he asked, failing to stop a touch of uncertainty creep into his voice.

She glanced up at him, her expression shifting. Gripping his arm for support, she raised herself above him, pressing her cheek into his, her whiskers tickling his face.

“Never,” she whispered, her tail waving back and forth behind her. “I am Rick-rod’s luscious mate, Great Lord, not your-yours! Bet you didn’t see that coming with all your precious books and foresight, did you? HA!”

He didn’t know what she was going on about, but he let her have her little moment of rebellion, then stooped to collect his clothes. As he got dressed, he heard a distinct sound coming from out the window, Roderick making his way over while buttoning up his tunic. He peered out over the sill, his eyes widening.

“By the comet! Skyseeker, come take a look!”

“What is it?” she asked. She was stepping into her loincloth that served as her underwear, her breasts still hanging free as she scurried over. “I swear, if it’s the Skabrus I will jump off this boat.”

He gave her room to see, the fur on her muzzle ruffling in the breeze as she looked out across the ocean. Sloping out of the lapping waters was a beach, feeding into a sloping landscape of white sand that lined the horizon from right to left. Flocks of gulls coasted the shores in search of prey, their wings framed against the azure sky as they banked and swooped.

“Never been more glad to see land in my whole life!” Skyseeker exclaimed. “Ship rocking so much is making Skaven sick.”

“I know how you feel,” Roderick replied. “Still though, don’t be too quick to be excited. Few men of the Empire have ever journeyed to these lands, and I imagine far fewer Skaven have either.”

“What you know about… uh, what’s it called again?”

“Arabia,” he said. “and I know little. It’s a realm of sand and heat, full of savages and beasts. Humans have made settlements out there, but they know nothing of Sigmar’s light. We must steel ourselves, lass, this will be the most treacherous leg of our journey yet.”

“Will need my daggers back-back,” she replied. “And other weapons, maybe some more warpstone too! Might pick through ogre’s body again, see if I missed any, yes-yes…”

“Let’s go see Wilfred first,” Roderick said. “I want to check up on him, plus he might be able to convince the captain to give you your stuff back.” She made for the door, but he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “After you get dressed,” he said, taking a pointed glance at her hanging bosom.

-xXx-

“There seems to be less wounded in here than last time,” Roderick muttered, striding across the room with Skyseeker by his side. They were back in the infirmary, moving between the rows of stretchers, men wrapped in bandages lying in various states of lucidness. Those who were conscious didn’t even bat an eye at Skyseeker, they were too used to her presence by now to cause concern.

“Man-things are very resilient,” Skyseeker added, dodging around a nurse walking the other way. “Warp energy melts all thing-things, nothing to be scoffed at!”

“I think it’s only because of Wilfred that casualties are at a minimum,” Roderick said. “Ah, there he is now.”

The wizard wasn’t hard to identify with his green robe and grey hair, the pair coming up to greet him. He was busy murmuring an incantation under his breath, bent over a wounded sailor with a horrible gash running down his arm.

“Fredwil!” Skyseeker began. “Need knives and stuff! Desert not far off now!”

“Hush,” Roderick said. “He’s casting a spell, don’t distract him.”

They waited for a few moments, listening to the incomprehensible words Wilfred was muttering. With a wave of his staff, the wizard finished the chant, placing a hand close to the sailor’s wound. Roderick watched as the bloody wound began to stitch together before his eyes, the flesh mending as though an invisible needle was suturing the wound. In an instant the damaged was reversed, leaving no trace save for a pink scar. No matter how many times Roderick witnessed Wilfred’s rituals, the results never ceased to amaze him.

“Apologies,” Wilfred muttered, cradling his temple as he turned to face them. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch what you said. Something about a knife?”

“Arabia is finally within sight,” Roderick explained. “Skyseeker here wants to rearm posthaste. Are you okay, Will?” he added. “You look weary.”

“Directing the whims of the flesh is a… taxing affair,” Wilfred replied, leaning on his staff. “I am not the young man I once was.”

“When was that, a millennium ago?” Skyseeker mumbled, Roderick nudging her with his elbow to silence her.

You should get some rest, old friend,” Roderick insisted.

“I’ll rest when the wounded are safe,” Wilfred replied, waving a hand. “They came on this expedition under my authority, and I’m responsible for them.”

The wizard took a step towards the next stretcher, but faltered, and it was only thanks to Skyseeker’s quick reactions that she caught him before he fell, the old man muttering a thank you to the Skaven.

“They have their own nurses and medics,” Roderick urged. “Let them tend to the injured for a time.”

“I should hardly expect the uninitiated to heal organs and ligaments, Roderick,” Wilfred replied, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

“Man-wizard needs his nap time,” Skyseeker added. “Might fumble next spell without sleep-rest, might turn organs into stone by accident! Stone brains! Imagine that!”

Wilfred made to argue, but his resistance soon melted away. “… Perhaps you are right, Miss Seeker, that did happen once or twice during my years as an initiate…”

“Wait, what?” Roderik asked. “You turned someone’s brain into stone?”

Roderick flashed back to all the times Wilfred had healed his wounds, a concerned look on his face.

“So we’ve arrived upon the shores of Arabia, have we?” Wilfred continued, ignoring Roderick’s question. “Fine news. Soon the artifact will be in the hands of Sigmar’s heirs. I can almost feel its power resonating through my thoughts…”

“So can I!” Skyseeker chimed. “Sounds like… chittering voices on wind-gale. Horned Rat’s speaking, perhance.”

“I can’t hear anything,” Roderick added.

“Perhaps you will in time, once your proximity to the artifact closes in,” Wilfred said. “We should fetch the captain to discuss strategy, and what supplies he has to spare.”

They waved over a sailor to request an audience with Von Kessel, the man hurrying off out of the infirmary. Wilfred was quick to question Skyseeker over how she could detect the artifact while they waited.

“Skaven can do anything! Warp power never beyond rat’s reach.”

“Have you any formal training before?” Wilfred asked, to which she shook her head. “Hmm. Perhaps your ability to ingest warpstone warrants your magical aptitude. How fascinating! Perhaps you should have snacked on some during your lessons, Roderick,” he chuckled, Skyseeker laughing along with him at his little joke.

“Make fun of me all you want, but I’m the only one here without voices in his head,” Roderick shot back.

After a few minutes, the captain arrived, making his way over to them. His ornate uniform was a little tattered in places, and hit peacock hat was missing, Roderick surmising it may have been damaged during the battle with the Skaven. “Master Wizard. Erdmann, Skaven,” Von Kessel began, addressing the trio. His tone wasn’t mocking, it seemed he was a little more forthcoming after seeing them all work to stop the Skaven from boarding his ship. “I assume this is about our next course of action, now that we’re a few hours from the coast of the Cracked Lands?”

“Indeed,” Wilfred replied. “While I brought provisions of my own, I must humbly ask to requisition some of your supplies for our journey into the desert.”

“So soon?” Von Kessel asked. “Master wizard, you’ve stayed up all night tending to these men. Perhaps a short rest is in order, for all of us.”

“I’ve walked more leagues than all of you combined,” Wilfred grumbled. “a little short of sleep is nothing to concern yourselves over.”

“I suggest we make camp on the shore first,” Von Kessel added. “Send scouts out to map the land, see if any of the savages are out there waiting for us.”

“We’ve lost to much time going around those pirate fleets,” Wilfred said. “Any more delays, and we risk our enemies getting to the artifact first.”

“And losing you because you keep pushing yourself is a too great a risk,” Roderick interjected, his tone more forceful this time. “Will, you must rest.”

“But time is-”

“-of the essence, I know old friend. That is why Skyseeker and I shall go on ahead.”

Wilfred glanced up at him wildly, quick to shake his head no. “Not a chance! You will lose your way quickly in those endless dunes, and it’s only through my wards and spells that we can ensure our success. We discussed this back in Altdorf.”

“Skyseeker can lead the way to the artifact,” Roderick continued. “right lass?”

“Probably,” she muttered, and upon seeing his skeptical expression, added: “Definitely! Relic stands no chance of hiding from my inscrutable warpsight.”

“You do have some magical ability,” Wilfred admitted. “but what kind of Sigmar’s servant would sit around resting while you walk into uncharted lands? I wish to aid you in your quest. Both your quests,” he added, glancing at Skyseeker.”

“Master Wizard,” Von Kessel began. “you can lend us your aid, even from here. My sailors still suffer from the wounds inflicted upon them, they need your healing if they are to survive. I know it’s not our place to order the Conclave, but my nurses can use your assistance.”

The wizard glanced at all three of them, then sighed, shaking his head dejectedly. “You’re quite right, captain, it is my duty to ease suffering, not to neglect it. I will stay.”

Wilfred seemed to deflate as he leaned against the nearby wall, his frustration clear as day, but Roderick had said all he could on the matter, and they both knew it was the right decision.

“Skyseeker will need her weapons back,” Roderick said, addressing the captain. “and if you have a spare sword for me, I’d appreciate it. This Skaven one is poorly smithed.”

“We can visit the storeroom and get you refitted with some proper Imperial steel,” Von Kessel replied. “Get you out of that Tillean scrap you’re wearing. Your weapons are down there too, Skaven.”

“My rearmament has come at last,” she snickered. “Arabian’s shall tremble with fear-musk, soon-soon!”

-xXx-

Roderick flexed his fingers, watching the segmented plates of his shining gauntlets slide along with his movements. The Reiklander swordsmen who’d greeted him back on the Portomaggoire docks had brought spare suits of armour with them, and before long, he’d swapped out his Tilean plate with a fresh suit.

The cuirass was a deep shade of silver that bordered on grey, with gold trimmings along the pauldrons that shined in the low candlelight of the ship’s storeroom. Emblazoned onto the chest was the Riekland coat of arms, the chestpiece tapering into a skirt that hung over his thighs, split into two pieces so one could run at full kilter without tripping over their gear. A cape bearing the reds of whites of the homeland hung proudly from his shoulder, and plumes of horsehair of the same colour sprouted from the top of his new helmet.

While it was more ornate than his mercenary getup, it felt good to be clad in homeland steel, just wearing the plate filling him with a fresh surge of piety. He gave it a test by walking from one side of the room to the other, the padding inside his sabatons providing a pleasant softness to his heels.

“How does it feel?” Wilfred asked, the wizard stood off to the side as he watched Roderick pace.

“A touch heavy,” Roderick replied. “but nothing I cannot handle.”

“Do not be afraid to discard it should the need arise,” the wizard said. “Weight will be your most pressing issue in the days to come. You must weigh yourselves with enough food and water to survive your venture into the desert, but not so much as to burden yourselves. Scavenging off the land will be next to impossible without spells or good fortune.”

“Burdened with food sounds like good problem to me,” Skyseeker chimed, the Skaven sitting on one of the benches, its surface messy with spare swords.

“Don’t be so sure of that, Miss Seeker. Look here…”

He led them over to the far corner, gesturing with his staff to a shelf mounted on the wall. Lining the wood was four waterskins, probably made from goat skin, each one as long as his arm. Beside them were leather bags, the smell of jerked meat wafting into his nose as Roderick approached.

“I prepared these supplies while you were dressing,” Wilfred explained, watching as Skyseeker lifted one of the waterskins. “I can’t be certain how far away the artifact is, so you must take as much as you can carry, and ration what you can.”

“Curses!” Skyseeker snarled, her arms bulging as she struggled to shoulder the waterskin, her legs buckling under the effort. “Thing weighs more than a rat! We really need-need all this?”

“I have travelled a scorched land before, a long time ago,” Wilfred replied. “You will churn through these reserves quickly under the oppressive heat. I can conjure water from the vapours in the air, but if you insist on going along without me, weighing you down is the only recourse left to you.”

“I’ll carry the food-snacks,” Skyseeker said, reaching for the satchels.

“What, so you can eat them all without me?” Roderick asked, giving her a sideways look.

“Scandalous! I’d do no such thing!” she snapped, her guilty expression telling him otherwise. “You’re big and hunky,” she added, poking him on his chestplate. “if anyone can carry all these things, it’s Rick-rod.”

“When you put it that way…” Roderick mused, relieving her of the waterskins while she giggled up at him. He glanced over to see Wilfred scrutinising them, clearly suspecting something more had developed between them, but not commenting on it.

“One last thing,” the wizard said, holding up a crooked finger. He moved over to one of the benches, and when he came back, there was a leather bag under his arm, along with a scabbard as long as Roderick was tall. “Your armaments. I believe you’ll find this more suiting to your needs than a paltry vermin sword – no offense intended, Miss Seeker.”

He thrust the scabbard into Roderick’s arms, the leather creaking as he grasped the wrapped hilt. Inside was a greatsword, an impressive weapon usually reserved for elite infantry. He pulled down the scabbard a little to inspect the blade, a sliver of polished steel reflecting his features. A little deeper up the blade were a pair of small hooks jutting from the steel – demiguards designed to protect the hand when halfswording. Coupled with his hundreds of spare charges for his guns, he felt more than equipped to deal with what lay ahead.

“And this is for you, Miss Seeker,” Wilfred added, placing the bag in Skyseeker’s paws. “Every blade from your… expansive arsenal is in there.”

“Better be,” she grumbled, untying the string holding the bag shut. Her signature weeping blades was the first thing she retrieved, sliding them inside her waistbelt in two swift movements.

“Well then, that is all I have for you.” Wilfred continued. “we’ll be making landfall within a matter of hours. Miss Seeker, I wonder if I might pull you aside for a while? If you’re going to guide Roderick through to the artifact in my stead, a little bit of mediation will go a long way.”

Roderick wanted to say it would be easier to summon the Lord of Change than to get Skyseeker to meditate, but stayed his thoughts.

“Not bringing Rick-rod with us?” she asked, turning to him for reassurance. It was an odd change from her usual almighty Skaven confidence – perhaps now that they were mated, her breeder instincts perceived him as her protector. He didn’t think she could be more endearing, but she was somehow managing.

“I think I’d just be a distraction,” Roderick said. “and you’ll need as few of those as possible if we don’t want to get hopelessly lost out there.”

“No pressure at all!” she scoffed sarcastically. “Fine. Lead on, wizard.”

“It should be sufficiently quiet up in the officer cabins,” Wilfred said, the Skaven following him out of the storeroom.

-xXx-

The wolfship’s great anchor dropped to the water with a splash, the linking chains grinding loudly against the pulleys as the sailors manning the mechanism waited for it to hit the seabed, one of the men locking the chain tight with a pull of a lever.

The sails were reefed, letting the unfiltered, midday light bake the occupants of the deck, Roderick shielding his helmeted face as he peered out over the portside railing. Foam curdles clawed their way south, the murky depths transitioning into bleached sand, the tide visible against the beach as squiggling lines of discoloured slate and seashells.

Beyond the shore, the land began to slope upwards, craggy rocks breaching the earth in places. The sand didn’t end, however, the colourless flecks stretching on into the limits of his vision, where the heat haze made everything look odd and fuzzy. This was so far removed from any sort of environment Roderick was used to, it looked positively dead in comparison to Imperial lands.

“This is as close to the shore as we can get without beaching ourselves,” Von Kessel explained, leaning on the bulwark to Roderick’s right. “Hope you don’t mind getting your feet wet.”

“It’ll be a nice reprieve before walking that scorched earth,” Roderick replied with a pointed nod to the desert. “You have my thanks, captain,” he added. “For transporting us all this way. I only wish it hadn’t come at the cost of so many good men.”

“A price of war I’m sure you’re all too aware of, Erdmann.” He glanced over his shoulder, the captain’s plumed hat whipping in the breeze. “if you need me to spare a man or two to accompany you, I can arrange an escort.”

“No,” Roderick replied, shaking his head. “your men fare well on the tides of water, not so much on tides of sand, I’d imagine.”

“You’d walk willingly into the Cracked Lands with nothing but a sword and a rat for company?” Von Kessel chuckled. “Insane. Then again, I suppose walking a path of desperation is the one thing left to an exile.”

The captain turned to face him, looking Roderick up and down.

“I don’t know all the circumstances of your fall from grace,” he began. “perhaps some details are embellished, and others have been conveniently forgotten, but that matters little now. You’re a braver man than I to go out there, and for that, I wish you success in your quest. The Empire needs more Generals with guts, not less.”

He extended his hand, Roderick blinking before taking it with his own. It was a stark change from the surly captain accusing him of treason back in Portomaggoire.

“Rick-rod and Kessel-man making friend-friends now?” a feminine voice chirped, Roderick turning to see Skyseeker and Wilfred approaching from further up the deck. “Thought you hated each other? Nonsensical!”

“You ready to go then, lass?” Roderick asked, ending his handshake with the captain to address her.

“All meditated up!” she confirmed. “Is amazing what Skaven can think of when there’s no interruptionings around. Warpsight is so clear-clear.”

“I don’t know how you managed to do that, old friend,” Roderick asked.

“She found my warpstone samples I was hoping to archive once we returned to the Empire,” Wilfred muttered. “Ate the tubes as well. It was a truly fascinating sight.”

“Should have hid them better!” she chided, cackling when the old man shot her a frown.

“So you’re all set on your journey, Roderick?” Wilfred continued, walking over and starting to fuss over his armour and pack, checking the straps to make sure they were fastened tight. “You have all you need? Remember, hydration will be your number one concern.”

It was amusing and a little charming to see Wilfred worrying over him like a mother hen. While the wizard was inherently compassionate due to his druidic background, he mostly reserved his tolerance for plants or elves, and it made Roderick forget sometimes that he was a son of Sigmar like the rest of them. He remembered Skyseeker asking him if Wilfred was his father, and while he’d declined such a claim, perhaps an uncle, or surrogate grandfather might be closer to the truth than not.

“Do not fret, Wilfred,” Roderick chuckled, easing the wizard away. “You handpicked our supplies yourself, we have all that we need.”

“Of course, of course,” the wizard muttered, giving him a pat on the shoulder with a feeble hand. “Good luck to you both, and may Sigmar guide you.”

There was nothing more to be said, Von Kessel leading them over to a part of the bulwark obscured by a climbing net. The knotted ropes draped down the hull towards the water, Skyseeker wasting no time in stepping down onto the first set of loops.

Roderick placed one armoured foot on the railing, preparing to follow her down, when Wilfred placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Remember what I said, Roderick,” Wilfred whispered. “Beware the artifact, but do not let it fall into the wrong hands. Make the right choice.”

Roderick pursed his lips, then nodded to the old man, Wilfred letting him climb down unimpeded. He could feel the wizard’s and every other sailor’s gaze on him as he lowered down the net, soon reaching Skyseeker who had paused halfway down.

“What was that all about?” she asked. “What did man-wizard whisper?”

“Nothing important,” Roderick replied, praying she couldn’t read his expression too easily. His worries were for not, for she beamed up at him as they resumed their descent.

“Yeah, man-thing words never are. E-Except yours, Rick-rod,” she added, wiping her muzzle with a paw.

He chuckled at her sheepishness. She had always made it clear humans were inferior to her intellect, but now that he’d shown her a world of affection, she was as flustered as any young damsel, her attempts at flirting clumsy, but no less appreciated.

Once he was close enough to the ground, Roderick stepped off the net, his sabatons splashing into thigh-deep water. Breakers curdled with foam pulled him towards the shore, the wolfship’s shadow looming away for a dozen odd meters.

He offered a hand to help Skyseeker down, the two making for the beach. She had to practically leap over the water to keep up with his paces, the Skaven holding up her cloak by the hem so it didn’t get too wet, Roderick glancing down to catch an eyeful of her exposed butt.

They reached dry land before long, Roderick feeling so small measure of comfort at the fact. After days of living on a ship, walking upon firm ground was a treasured reprieve, even if this land was one of mystery and danger.

The view to the right was the same as on the left – the curving beach stretching out and away until the haze of distance obscured it, the shore losing its slight curve the further away it went. The way ahead rose into a few scattered pairs of jagged cliffs overlooking the shore, the rock clusters as bleached as bones.

There were no pathways or roads, Roderick’s feet sinking into the sand as they navigated the slope, the sound of the breakers easing into the backdrop. When they emerged onto one of the overlooking cliffs, Roderick turned around to survey the wolfship, now far below and small enough to be covered by his arm. It had been reversed into the shore, likely as a means the crew could make a hasty getaway should anything come attacking – from the shore or the sea. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, he did not want to be stranded in this place.

“Ocean is so… big-big,” Skyseeker mused as she joined him, her lenses clicking as she admired the view. “Never left Skaveblight’s under-tunnels before Great Lord chose me-me for mission, and now… Can’t even see Skavenblight anymore, even with goggles…”

“You alright, lass?” he asked.

“Yes. Wait, no. Maybe sorta,” she finally said, glancing up at him. “Is hard to believe I made it to not-man-thing lands at last. Feels like I’ve scurried over threshold of the world! Found a whole new place to conquer and claim!”

“Technically we’re still on the same continent, but I know what you mean,” he said, the cool sea-breeze blowing his hair back. “We’re further from our people than ever, even Sigmar’s voice is weak in this place. From now on it’s just us and the natives.”

“Just how I like it,” Skyseeker said, smirking at him. “Now the only man-thing I have to deal-deal with is you. And you’re a pawful let me tell you.”

“So where to?” he prompted, gesturing to their flank. Beyond the cliffs was leagues of sand in all directions, the landscape broken up in places by steep ravines and cresting sand dunes, with strange bright green flora sprouting up randomly throughout the desert, the closest of which too far for Roderick to get a better look at. “Wilfred said only a magic user can find the artifact, so which way are we headed?”

“Showtime,” she chittered, closing her eyes as she cracked her knuckles. “Need to focus, man-thing, so please shut mouth for a second.”

He stepped back as she raised a hand, her features scrunching up in concentration. After a few lingering moments, she tilted her head, as though she’d heard a noise, yet the only sound in Roderick’s ears at that moment was the wind. What did this psychic connection with the relic feel like, he wondered, if that was how best to describe it? A pull in the air, along with whispering voices as Wilfred alluded too? Perhaps he should ask at some point.

Her eyes blazed open, then she jabbed a finger down the cliff face. “That way!” she chimed, then she stopped, considered, then moved her hand slightly to the left. “I mean, that way! Warpsight says relic is there!”

“Then lead on,” he replied. “This time, I will follow you.”

“That makes me pawleader!” she announced, placing her hands on her hips proudly. “First champion of Lord, then clawcaptain – temporarily – and now pawleader. Is there nothing Skyseeker can’t do!?” she shouted, her voice echoing into the distance.

“I like your confidence,” Roderick mused. “but let’s press on, I’m sure Wilfred’s wondering why we’re just standing here.”

“Bye Fredwil!” Skyseeker yelled towards the ship, waving her hand, then waving it harder after a short delay, leading Roderick to wonder if the wizard might have returned the gesture.

They turned their back on the shore, moving down the slope and into the awaiting desert. Once they were shielded from the sea breeze, the true might of the heat bore down on Roderick, his brow already wet with moisture beneath his helmet. Wilfred had warned him the heat would be like no other, but this was borderline excruciating, Roderick praying their journey through these lands would be swift.

At the bottom of their descent, the dune began to even out, but never quite flattening as they pressed on further inland. The sand was slippery beneath his feet, his pace slowing as he sank inches into the ground with each stride, leaving deep footprints in his wake. He couldn’t imagine pulling a wagon or other vehicle through this place, how did the locals navigate this place? On foot alone?

Skyseeker was a little better off than him, clad only in her belts and cloak, her wide feet allowing her to spread her insubstantial weight over a larger area. The added supplies she carried made her a little clumsier than usual, but she voiced no complaints aside from the occasional mutter of disapproval. It didn’t need to be said she preferred to travel light.

It didn’t take long before they navigated their way closer to one of those plants he’d spotted before, the pair stopping beside one such specimen to examine it. While it looked like a plant, it wasn’t like anything Roderick had seen before. It was as tall as two men, with squat limbs like those of a tree, its green body covered over in a layer of spikes. A purple sunflower sprouted from its top, the blend of bright colours perplexing to say the least.

“It’s hard to imagine anything growing in this place,” Roderick mused, noting that clusters of similar plants could be seen in every direction. “Bet Wilfred would have loved to study them.”

“Can we eat it?” Skyseeker asked, tilting her head.

“I wouldn’t risk it. We have rations, no need to live off the land just yet.”

They left the strange, tubular plant behind, and proceeded deeper into the desert, wisps of sand creating sheets of dust around them. They journeyed in silence, but eventually Skyseeker was the one to break it.

“Urgh, forgot how much walking everywhere suck-stinks! Where’s relic already?”

“You tell me, you’re the one who can sense it.”

“Carry me, Rick-rod,” she said, stopping and peering up at him expectantly.

“Carry you?” he echoed. “I’m already hauling most of our supplies, now you want me to carry you as well?”

“Please?”

“I’m not your pack mule! If you think I’m going to lug you around like royalty you-”

“Will let you breed all over my face-face if you do~!”

“Well you don’t weigh that much. Up you get.”

He got to a knee, gesturing at his pack, Skyseeker skirting around until she stood behind him. She looped her hands around his neck, placing one foot just over his rump, the other on his shoulder as she began scampering up his body.

She giggled as he stood back up, the laughter trailing into a yelp as she almost fell off, Roderick quickly taking her by her legs as she hung them over his shoulders. Now sitting on his neck, she lay her hands on his helmet, clutching the plume for balance as he set off, her silky thighs filling the sides of his vision.

“Good view up there?” he asked, Skyseeker giggling as he jostled her into a better position.

“Certainly! Fine view of sand, sand and… wait! Nevermind, it’s just more sand.”

“Pray that is the only thing we see out here,” he muttered, working up a sweat as he crested the next dune.

Chapter 11: The Dead Lands

Roderick alternated the next few hours between piggybacking Skyseeker and letting her walk beside him, the desert heat faltering as the sun began to set. Nothing had accosted them during their travels save for a few hardy reptiles toughing it out in the baking sun, such as snakes with patterned scales and large scorpions who blended in with the sun-bleached rocks.

“Sun’s about to go-leave,” Skyseeker said from atop his shoulders. “Move east, my new man-legs, see some rocks we can use to make camp.”

He’d passed her the compass Wilfred had packed for him, Skyseeker quickly learning the cardinal directions so Roderick could get an idea of where they were going. The relic was a straight shot south according to her warpsight, and while he knew little of magical abilities, he had faith that Skyseeker wouldn’t get them lost.

The shelter she mentioned soon manifested in the form of a rock cluster, one that should provide ample cover from the elements. He set Skyseeker down once they reached it, Roderick taking a moment to sit down and rest his legs.

“Pass the steel sticks,” she chimed, digging a small pit in the sand nearby.

“Firestarter,” he corrected, passing it to her. They had passed a thorny brush some time back, and had collected its branches for kindling, the Skaven setting about making a small campfire.

As she struck the two pieces together, Roderick looked out over the dunes, the task made more difficult by the angle of the sun. It looked so large sitting flush against the horizon, turning the sands into a sea of glittering gold and harsh, black shadows made by the dunes.

“Ah-ha!” Skyseeker announced, finally driving a spark onto the kindling. “Behold, Skaven fire. Not as good as warp fire, but still.”

“Good work,” he said, tossing her a piece of fish from his ration pack. “Didn’t have to help you at all there. You’re a fast learner.”

“Rick-rod doesn’t have to flatter me,” she giggled as she chewed. “I know that I’m brilliant – plus we are breeding mates. Speaking of which, believe that I have a Skaven promise to fulfill…”

She leapt on him, nuzzling against his face, her whiskers brushing his cheeks. He laughed as she pawed at his chest, planting her knees in the sand on either side of him as he brought a hand to her jaw.

Her joined her soft lips to his, but before it could go any further, he heard an odd sound, Roderick tilting his head to the side, straining to listen over Skyseeker’s sloppy kisses as he glanced out at the sands. There was something out there, something below the dune they were currently sitting on.

He pushed Skyseeker away, the Skaven blinking at him in confusion. “R-Rick-rod? What’s wrong?”

“Stamp out the fire,” he urged. “Quickly!”

She turned, bringing her heel to the campfire without hesitating, killing the flames with a few hard stomps. The pocket of light ebbed away, leaving them in near total darkness.

He pulled Skyseeker closer, bringing a finger to his lips in an unspoken request for silence, the Skaven nodding her understanding. He moved his finger to point down the slope, and she slowly followed it with her eyes, her breath catching as she saw it too.

Lurking out in the dunes was a construct, a cart to be precise, held aloft by a pair of iron wheels, and sitting inside it were two figures. They were thin, but unusually tall, the glint of silver telling him they wore metal helmets. They wore some sort of orange sash about their chest, everything from the stomach down obscured behind the cart’s rim.

The cart was being pulled by two horses, but something about their shape was off-putting, but Roderick couldn’t tell what. They watched, transfixed, as one of the figures raised a long whip, the crack echoing across the desert as they spurred the horses on, the cart moving a little closer towards their dune.

As it drew closer, Roderick’s eyes widened in alarm. The sound of clacketing bones overthrew the noise of the trundling wheels, his gaze drawn to the horses. The animals had no flesh. No muscle, no sinew, even their eye sockets were empty, yet they carried themselves briskly at the driver’s behest. They snorted and tossed their heads every which way, stamping hooves of ivory into the sand.

The figures in the cart was likewise fleshless, skeletons made manifest, cracking their undead wards with their whip again. Roderick could make out slack jaws, filled with grinning teeth, empty gazes scanning the sands with a palpable malice.

The chariot altered course, skirting that base of his and Skyseeker’s dune. He reached over his shoulder, taking his greatsword by the hilt, Skyseeker copying the gesture as she gripped her knives. They held a collective breath as they watched the undead creatures patrol the area. They could obviously see, but how clearly? More importantly, how had these monsters come back to life?

He feared they would have to do battle with the skeletons, but the chariot soon altered course, making for an adjacent dune. Only when he could no longer hear its wheels did Roderick release the breath he’d been holding, Skyseeker’s tense little body releaxing as she followed suit.

“What was that!?” Skyseeker demanded, then answered her own question. “looked like a bone-thing being pulled by more bone-things!”

“Vampires can make undead thralls,” Roderick muttered. “perhaps these lands are home to blood-suckers?”

“It guard-protects the relic,” Skyseeker mused. “think there are more-more?”

“I don’t know. We best be on our guard,” Roderick replied.

“I already am, stupid!”

“You know what I mean,” he added. “We’ll have to forego campfires from now on, make sure we aren’t spotted. I don’t know how we can kill a skeleton, assuming they can be killed at all…”

“Is getting cold,” Skyseeker muttered, bundling herself in her arms. “stupid desert-place. Hot one second, freezing the next!”

Roderick reached for the blanket in his pack, rolling it out and encouraging Skyseeker to lay down. Rest wouldn’t come easy after what they just saw, but they had to try. Once she was down, Roderick cuddled up to her from behind, shielding her smaller body with his own, the Skaven reaching up to cradle his face with a paw.

“Thank you, Rick-rod,” she whispered. “Promise to breed with you when Skaven not so exposed.”

He chuckled, planting a kiss on her forehead, the she-rat squirming and laughing as he held her there for a few seconds longer, the two soon settling in for the night.

-xXx-

After a quick breakfast, they continued their journey through the early hours of dawn, hoping to get in as much travel while the heat was tolerable. Their path brought them before the area they had seen the chariot during the night, Roderick detouring over to examine the tracks it left behind.

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d say these look like normal horse prints,” Roderick began, kneeling in the sand as he eyed the chariot’s path. It swerved in seemingly all directions, leading Skyseeker to believe the chariot had been on patrol duty, and not searching for trespassers. At least not yet.

“Rick-rod seems surprised,” Skyseeker mused. “Fredwil not warn you of bone-things?”

Roderick shook his head. “He only said that Chaos may take new forms this far from the Empire’s light. Although…”

“What?” she asked.

“I’ve never heard of the Chaos Gods reanimating men and creatures like this before,” he added. “The corrupted men of Nurgle are a close comparison, but those skeletons didn’t seem like a result of plague or infestation to me. Perhaps some new Ruinous Power stirs in these lands…”

“Damn you Chaos-things!” Skyseeker shouted, gesturing at the sky. “Leave us be and go die in warpfire! E-Except you, Horned Rat, do whatever you want-need.”

Not wanting to linger, they picked up the pace, leaving this dune behind for the next. Sand was everywhere. In her eyes, down her lungs, even inside her hood, it seemed to just go wherever it pleased no matter what she tried, her cloak providing little respite against the sweltering heat accompanying it. It was like the Trantine Hills all over again, only a thousand times worse.

She couldn’t believe she had been so hard on Tilea – at least back then the water she drunk didn’t immediately make her tail glands swell with cramps. There had also been trees for shade and crevices for shelter, but out here there was only nothingness, each rising dune promising some new obscured feature, only for disappointment to rear its head at every crossing.

At least the company was worthwhile. That was one change from Tilea that she could appreciate. No longer was each exchanged word between them full of malice or distrust, instead there was an unspoken air of relaxation surrounding them, their indulgence back on the wolfship having sated their desires for one another – for the moment of course. She could see in his eyes that he longed to breed her again. That was good. She wanted him to watch her tail, she wanted him to admire her and her alone.

It felt so liberating to be craved in such a manner, to have allowed Roderick to see a side of her even she didn’t know existed. Nothing about her was hidden from him, and likewise, she knew all his secrets, and the realisation made her weak at the knees in more ways than one. But she had to control her newfound breeding urges – now wasn’t the time or the place, not with all those creepy bonemen riding around.

-xXx-

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Roderick asked, holding out a hand to shield his face, his gauntlet glinting in the light.

They had been going on for the better part of the day, their supplies slowly but surely diminishing as they plunged deeper into the desert. It made the load lighter on her back, which was relieving, but that feeling was quickly chased by worries of starvation. Perhaps she’d been too eager to ignore Wilfred’s warnings…

But her worries seemed to have just become in vain, Skyseeker using her goggles to zoom in on what he was looking at.

“They don’t,” she answered. “See man-thing? Told you crossing desert would be easy peasy.”

“Don’t remember you saying that,” he muttered, following her down the sandy slope, making a beeline for the strange feature. It was a little out of the way from the relic’s direction, but not enough to put them completely off-track. What they saw wasn’t another chariot, thank the Horned Rat, but a discolouration on the horizon, easy to pick out against the brown, dusty backdrop.

It was a handful of dunes off to the east, and crossing each one brought the image more clarity. Sand gave way to spiky underbrush, first a muted, bleached colour like dirt, but gently taking on more vibrancy the further in it went, until devilweeds became bushes of lush leaves. There were plants, too, not the prickly kind they had seen thus far, but the tall, wooden kind, like those back in Tilea, lining the humps of grassy fields.

“Life, this deep into the desert?” Roderick mused as they came one dune closer. “After leagues of dust… how is this possible?”

“Horned Rat’s filthy blessings, of course!” she chimed. “And if I know anything about surface-world – and I’m an expert at this point – it’s that plants equals water!”

“We should proceed carefully,” he warned. That wasn’t suspicion in his eyes, was it? “Whatever wildlife lives in this place, it’ll be drawn here. Remember the gryphon?”

“Wish I didn’t,” she mumbled, slowing her strides. “Alright, Rick-rod, made your point-point. Slow and steady!”

Curtailing her excitement, they passed over the last dune with caution, and soon enough, she was standing with grass stalks sprouting between her clawed toes. Behind her was sand, but before her was paradise, like a slice of Tilea had been scooped up and dropped down by the paw of a God. A flock of birds flitted from left to right, helping to sell the image, and Skyseeker was confident she could pick up the calls of bullfrogs from somewhere nearby.

Bushes obscured the landscape ahead, blooming wildflowers adding dashes of colour. Beyond them rose a distinct noise, the trickle of water unmistakable. It really was as though the Horned Rat had blessed them with fortune. Skyseeker led the way, pushing through the sparse undergrowth, soon coming upon a clearing. The grass reached almost unnatural levels of green the further it went, Skyseeker soon spotting a winding river flowing through the oasis.. It was being fed by a babbling brook, the water nestled between rows of bountiful trees with leaves thick enough to provide dappled pools of shade.

“Sweet refreshment!” Skyseeker exclaimed, rushing down the incline. She was suddenly thrust back onto her rump as Roderick seized her by the scruff of her neck, holding her back.

“Wait! That’s not water, that’s…”

She was about to reprimand him, when she took a closer look at the river, her demeanour shifting. Most water she’d seen on the surface was blue, but that wasn’t the case for this one. It was pink, its substance so cloudy she couldn’t see the riverbed, the colour clashing with the green, bountiful surroundings.

Tilting her head in confusion, she inched closer, Roderick following closely behind as they approached the river’s edge. She brushed its surface with her whiskers, her nose filling with the acrid stench of copper.

“Supposing this isn’t a normal thing on the surface-world?” she asked, waving a paw in front of her muzzle.

“Of course not,” he chided, scanning his surroundings with a horrified look. “I knew this was too good to be true. Gods, everything here is being… fermented by blood.”

“Look! See more over there!”

A short distance upstream was a breach in the treeline, the pair looking through to see the oasis opening up, exposing more branching riverbeds stretching further to the east. There were dozens of them, each flowing crevice filled to the brim with the crimson liquid.

“It trails in from the south,” Roderick noted. The lands between the blood took on the appearance of spoiled carcasses, brown and bloodied, Skyseeker able to pick out bones of long-dead giant creatures with the help of her goggles. “How many bodies would be needed to make this many rivers run red? What could be capable of such slaughter?”

“We have saying in Skavenblight,” Skyseeker replied. “you find shard of warpstone, you don’t think about where it came from. Now is a time to NOT ask where blood comes from.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Roderick muttered. “I’d rather die of heatstroke than spend another second in this place.”

Skyseeker nodded her agreement, the two turning back the way they’d come. Roderick was taking great care to avoid touching any of the thickets and trees, his disgust palpable. She wondered if it was just the plants feeding off the liquid, and if the animals hadn’t acquired a taste for blood either…

-xXx-

They spent three long days trekking across the desert, keeping out of the way of the occasional chariot that crossed their path. Whether it was the same bonemen or multiple patrolling chariots, Skyseeker couldn’t say, but they seemed to become more numerous with each passing day.

While the blood rivers had been a troubling detour, it provided a visible landmark, forming a band of green and brown to their east. While she didn’t need it to find the relic’s location, thanks to her warpsight, it would prove useful on the return trip. If it did indeed flow out to the ocean, returning to the wolfship should be simple matter of following it.

“Let us rest for the moment,” Roderick called once they reached the peak of the next dune. “Gods, we’re burning through this water,” he added as he lifted one of their waterskins, taking a long draw.

“Not to worry, we are close,” she assured, sitting down beside him.

“Indeed? Can you sense its presence or something?”

“No,” she chuckled. “I can see it, and so can you! Look-Look.”

She pointed to the south, and from their vantage point they could see boundless desert in all directions, save for a solitary feature at the very limits of their vision. Through the sepia haze was a dark stretch, little pinpoints rising up through the empty horizon.

“Look where?” he asked. “I see nothing.”

“I forget you have stupid man-thing vision,” she muttered, reaching up to lift off the goggles. “Here,” she added, passing them over. “use wonderful Skaven technocracy to visualise.”

He handled her apparatus with considerable care, bringing them to his face and holding the lenses over his eyes. “Where is… ah ha,” he said after a few moments. “I see towers, buildings…”

“Is a city,” she confirmed. “And if I were to hide-stash a relic, it would be in a locked burrow, but a city would be close second.”

She chuckled as Roderick glanced down at her, the human asking her what was so funny.

“You look humorous with goggles on,” she giggled. “like a hairless warlock.”

He pulled a face, chuckling along with her before passing the goggles back. “We’re so close now,” he said, leaning back on the sand. “City must be no more than a days’ walk. A couple more nights from now, and we’ll have completed our mission.”

“Almost can’t believe closeness!” she breathed. “Feels like it was only three days ago I was scurrying through a different country.”

“That’s because we were,” Roderick chuckled. “Had you stayed your previous course, you might be halfway through the Border Princes by now, along with the rest of your Skaven clanmates. We’ve gained days, if not weeks, of a lead on them.”

“Never got to thank man-thing,” she said, taking his paw into her own and squeezing. “ever since knowledgeable Lord thrust me into surface-world, have been bumbling over own paw-feet trying to get here. Then you came along, and now Skaven has made more progress than could ever imagine! Not that I really needed you!” she hurriedly added. “Could have done it with my eyes closed! But efforts are still worth commending, so… thank you. For all things. I know I owe you more than words, but it’s all I have… unless you want a weeping blade?

It came out a little more emotionally than she wanted, but something about Roderick’s eyes just turned her insides to mush. Much like that stoneflesh spell Wilfred had cast on her, but the exact opposite.

“You owe me nothing,” he insisted. “I’d have hardly ever made it here myself if not for you, lass. We’ve both saved each other numerous times, thanks isn’t necessary.”

“But you must want something in return for all hard work!”

“Your company alone is enough reward for me,” he replied without missing a beat, grinning down at her.

“If you’re trying to distract me by seducing Skaven… it’s working.”

“With all seriousness though,” he added. “I know it might seem unnatural to you, but we humans don’t place value on someone based off what they can give us. You’re my friend and my lover, Skyseeker, and that’s enough for me.”

“What about breeding?” she prompted.

“I… suppose that would be an acceptable trade,” he added coyly. “But, let’s save it for later. Ploughing each other out here with the flies and the chariots isn’t really setting the mood for me.”

“You can plough me once we reach city,” she replied, rising to her feet. “Should provide much more incentive to reach it, yes-yes?”

-xXx-

They left behind the blood rivers, the perverse greenery fading into the haze while the city grew in definition, Skyseeker picking out the bastions and turrets lining the length of the perimeter wall. It was far grander in size compared to Portomaggoire, made of chunks of sandstone bigger than Roderick’s whole body, towering so high into the air she could barely see any rooftops.

One last dune separated them from the city, and as they crested the slope, Skyseeker turned around, unable to see the rivers or the ocean, even with the aid of her goggles. She had come such a long way, it felt like an age had passed since she’d descended the steps of Lord Gnawdwell’s tower. She didn’t really know how her journey would conclude back then (aside from complete victory), but she certainly hadn’t expected it to be in the company of her man-thing mate. To think she would never have come to know him if either of them had decided to kill the other rather than make that initial deal…

“You alright, lass?” Roderick asked, snapping her back to the present. “See something out there?”

“N-No, nothing,” she replied, resuming her climb. After a few minutes, they were stood in the shade of the city wall. Craning her neck up, she noted that the bricks of sandstone were stacked into the dozens high, which was an odd design choice to Skyseeker. Higher walls betrayed the notion that something on the inside was valuable and worth stealing.

“Wish Fredwil had given us a ladder,” Skyseeker grumbled, turning her eyes to the sand. “Hmm. Perchance we can dig burrow? Crawl under?”

“How about we search for an entrance first?” Roderick suggested. “Any city must have a gate of some kind.”

Turning to the left, the wall stretched on until the desert haze made things blurry and hard to see. To the right, the wall continued on before jutting at a right angle, Roderick taking up the lead as they proceeded in that direction.

They stayed close to the wall, so as to not expose them to the turrets, which would make good spots for snipers. She was becoming increasingly doubtful that her enemies were up there searching for targets – they had walked straight up to the walls without incident – but perhaps they were biding their time, like Skaven readying an ambush.

They rounded the right angle of the wall, walking for a few minutes before coming across a gate, just as Roderick thought there’d be. The archway was framed by smaller sandstone bricks, and just beyond the entrance was a pair of swinging doors, currently open, their surfaces carved with strange symbols and shapes.

Before she could take a closer look at them, her foot caught on something, and she would have ploughed face-first into the sand if Roderick hadn’t been there to catch her.

She flashed him an appreciative look, then looked down at what had tripped her. Sprawled out on the sand was a corpse, the creature almost as large as a rat ogre, with forearms as thick around as her torso. Its armour looked like it had been scrapped together from various sources – a metal pauldron here, a leather gauntlet there – its looted armour decorated in red pigment in the shape of giant handprints.

Between the gaps in its armour she could see its skin was green, and from its large face, ivory tusks protruded from its bloodied mouth. She looked to Roderick with an unspoken question in her eyes, the man-thing narrowing his eyes as he looked the body over.

“Greenskins,” Roderick muttered. “Plenty of their ilk back in the Empire. Looks like we’re not the first to come looking for the relic.”

The corpse was not alone. Dozens more of the ‘greenskins’ surrounded the outer gate, some with slash wounds, others with arrows protruding from their necks and chests. They were rotting in the sun, a foul stench permeating the air, leading her to believe the battle had happened some time ago.

“Seems they laid siege,” Roderick noted, peering into the gate. The floor was made of sand, a few more bodies piled up against the inner walls, the skeleton of a battering ram plugging the passage. “Stay close.”

“These green-things,” Skyseeker began, her feet kicking up dust as she followed him inside. The tunnel was mostly shaded by a stone roof, curved at the edges, slots on either side making fine positions for archers to shoot anything that approached. “tell me something about them. Fought things before?”

“Many times,” he replied, stepping over the battering ram’s framework, the construct a meshwork of ropes and wooden beams. “Greenskins, or Orcs as they call themselves, are a bunch of savages and tribals, with no grasp of honour or even a culture – unless you count raiding as a culture. Once they see something they want gone, they’ll toss a thousand bodies at it if it means accomplishing that goal.”

“Ingenious,” she muttered. It sounded like a Skaven tactic to her. “Weaknesses?”

“If you’re good at taunting, they’re easy to goad into making a mistake. Don’t underestimate them, though. They might be savages, but they’re far from stupid.”

The inner gate was destroyed, the two halves laying on the ground just beyond the wall. Standing upon said gate, Skyseeker wiped away the caking dust with her foot, exposing tens of scrolling hieroglyphs etched onto the reinforced slab. They looked like a bunch of squiggling lines to her, but perhaps they told of the city’s name, or maybe warned trespassers about going any further.

A warning the Orcs did not listen too. There were even more of the greenskins laying about here, entire squads of the creatures trailing into the streets beyond. The ground was still as sandy as it was outside the walls, but tall, square buildings made from limestone rose up to either side of the pathways to form streets, the constructs pockmarked with spider-web cracks, but still standing strong in the heat.

Each building brought to mind images of the bunkers nestled in Skavenblight’s heart, each one a cube surrounded by reinforced pillars, their rooftops as flat as the surface of a table. She could see more hieroglyphs carved into some of the buildings, some sporting more intricate reliefs than others, the coloured artworks standing out against the desert tones. Perhaps those were more important buildings, like shops, or council chambers for the city’s warlords.

“Seems Orc siege didn’t go so good-good,” Skyseeker mused, pausing to examine the bodies. “enough dead-things here to fill a warband, and they’re only just inside the wall!”

“One thing you should know about Orcs,” Roderick warned. “Just when you think you’ve wiped them all out, that’s when more of them come.”

They walked forwards, Skyseeker grabbing the hilt of her daggers as they left the gate behind. It was so quiet, every crunch of sand created by each pace made loud in contrast. Even the wind seemed muted, the sounds it made as it filtered through the narrow alleyways akin to muted screams.

Stepping over another Orc body, she turned her attention to the structures again. The designers were clearly showing off their skill and wealth, no surface left untouched by motifs or carvings, but not everything was pristine. Some walls had crumbled, leaving carpets of rubble that blocked some of the streets – results from the Orc siege if she had to guess. While the fact the Orcs may have found the relic during their attack troubled her, something far greater was bothering her.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, the two passing beneath an ornate archway, and into an open space that reminded her of the market square back in Tilea. In its centre was a giant monolith, the stone structure towering high into the air, so tall and thin she didn’t see how it was possible to create such a thing. Decorated upon its four faces was a giant symbol of an eye situated above a winged skull, the image stretched so it covered as much of the faces as possible.

“Good question,” Roderick replied, pausing by the monolith’s bronze base to admire it. “Perhaps the Orcs wiped out the city to a man? They’ve done it before…”

“But, we should have seen other bodies by now-now!” she pressed. “I see only Orcs.”

Roderick shrugged his shoulders, his armour creaking. As he led her through the square and back into another street, she got her answer, a spot of ivory rock half-buried in the sand catching her astute gaze.

She pawed at the sand around it, soon realising it was no rock at all, but a skull. Digging a little further around, she found a discarded bow submerged in the sand, getting Roderick’s attention with a snap of her fingers.

“Ah-ha! Bonemen lived in city place! That’s why we see only dead Orcs, piles of bone-things probably right below our paw feet.”

“That’s… a morbid image,” Roderick admitted, eyeing the ground with a grimace. “At least we know the skeletons can be killed. If only Wilfred were here, he’d have loved to study all these carvings, deduce their mysteries.”

“Beg to differ, I like it when it’s just us two,” she replied, sidling up and curling her tail over his leg.

He grinned down at her, reaching over to scruff the fur between her ears, Skyseeker chuckling as she batted him away, her laughter echoing through the empty street. Her words were closer to the truth than she let on – she would have been terrified to explore this place by her lonesome.

They passed through more gridlocked streets, each set of buildings arranged in perfectly square blocks, Skyseeker taking a moment to peer into one of the doorways at random. The air inside was musty, every surface made from cut sandstone that was too course for her paws. Pots and vases decorated the sparse furniture, the layout oddly reminiscent of the man-thing dwellings she’d seen in the past. Perhaps the bonemen had been man-things, before their skin had peeled off?

“Find anything?” Roderick called from the street.

She retreated from the homestead, shaking her head up at him.

“So what’s our plan?” he added. “Should we be searching every building for this relic? If we have to turn this whole city on its head, we’ll be here for weeks.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she chided, tapping her skull with a claw. “Think about things – if you had to hide super secret weapon, where would you put it? In the biggest, securest building of course! Searching every burrow not necessary, just the important-looking ones!”

“I hope you’re right,” he muttered, following her down another turn.

“Am I ever not?” she shot back. He made to reply but she talked over him. “Don’t answer that! Less talk, more searching, Rick-rod.”

As they moved on, she began to see larger structures looming over the rooftops, her warpsight rewarding her with a delicious psychic pulse that set her nerves into overdrive. The relic was that way, she could literally feel it.

They soon came upon a structure similar to the outlying wall, a pair of pylons rising from the sand at the end of the next street. They were flared at the bottom but very thin at the top, their surfaces as decorated as the rest of the buildings they’d seen thus far. The two pylons were conjoined by an archway of pillars, forming a shadowy doorway that went through the wall and deeper into the city. It looked almost like a gateway at a glance. The carvings etched into the pylons depicted figures wielding staves, standing head and shoulders above smaller counterparts who looked up to them for guidance. Could those be paintings of the relic she sought?

They ducked beneath the monuments, stepping around more Orcs, soon emerging into an entirely different part of the city. Gone was the tight, orderly structures of the outlying homesteads, replaced by vast sightlines occasionally broken up by large, decorative structures. Skyseeker could see buildings big enough to be considered complexes in their own right, surrounded by columns carved with yet more intricate symbols. There were more of those monoliths as well, stretching up like fingers of stone throughout the city, that same hieroglyph – the eye and the winged skull – chiseeled into them. There were temples ringed by massive statues as well, with giant staircases leading up to their doorways, their domed rooftops carved with golden patterns that shone in the sun.

What really drew her gaze were the structures looming over the vista. While the temples and monuments were as tall as Gnawdwell’s tower, buildings even larger cast entire sections of the city into shadow. One was a monument, as tall as the Bell of the Horned Rat, covered with golden motifs, while beside it was a pyramidal structure, its weathered surface pockmarked with eroded blocks of sandstone. While the sun had reduced the structure to a withered appearance, its scope was no less impressive. Each block appeared to be the size of a small house, its sloped surfaces carved into perfect, acute angles.

“There!” Skyseeker exclaimed. “The relic is in that thing!”

“The pyramid?” Roderick asked. “You are certain?”

“Ohhh yes-yes, I can feel it… in my bones! Ha! Get it? BONES. B-Because the bonemen and… Eh, forget it, Skaven humour too smart-clever for man-things.”

Shaking his head, Roderick continued on into the city, Skyseeker following behind.

-xXx-

“Please don’t tell me its being fed by blood,” Roderick mumbled.

They were stood by one of the temples, drawn in by a mysterious glittering just off to the structure’s side. A short stone wall ringed around an outdoor section jutting from the temple’s flank, and inside it was an explosion of colour. Palm trees arranged in a small ring danced in the breeze, their bases obscured by leafy ferns and green bushels. It almost resembled a garden, the low walls holding back the tides of sand from choking the oasis.

“Let’s find out,” Skyseeker replied, vaulting over the wall. Her paws landed on soft grass, Skyseeker holding out an arm to push the low-hanging leaves away as she delved deeper, the lapping of water reaching her ears. After a short plunge, she emerged into a clearing, a pool of water standing before her. It was knee deep at its centre, Skyseeker able to see the gravelly bottom from this angle.

“Not look like blood,” she called over her shoulder, Roderick emerging from the ferns a moment later. He made to stop her as she bent over, but wasn’t fast enough, Skyseeker cupping her paw with water and taking a sip. “Mm! Taste’s good!” she added.

“A welcome reprieve,” Roderick sighed, sitting by the water’s edge. He pulled out a waterskin, dipping its thin neck into the pool. “I feared what we’d do for our return trip. We’ve gone through most of our water just getting here.”

Skyseeker didn’t waste any time, casting her cloak and belts aside before plunging into the pool, the cool water soaking her fur through. She dipped her head below its surface, surfacing to shake out the water from her face, splashing Roderick in the process.

The trees and shrubbery was so thick she could almost convince herself she was in a forest, as long as she didn’t look up at the pyramid towering over the backdrop. She was so close now, her prize merely resting at the far end of the city. A part of her urged her to just run full kilter towards the pyramid, but evidence suggested that the city was as lifeless as the Orcs, they could afford to take a small rest before the final push.

As she rubbed the water into her hot fur, she felt Roderick’s gaze on her, turning to give the human a coy look.

“You like watching Skaven bathe?” she asked, chuckling as his cheeks blushed. “Care to join me instead of staring?”

“Tempting, but one of us has to stay alert,” he replied, refilling the next waterskin.

“Alert?” she echoed. “for what? Green-things made place into ruin, city is abandoned.”

“Don’t you think this is too easy?” he asked. “We just up and walked through the gate completely uncontested. This place is supposed to be the sanctuary of an all-powerful weapon, we should have come across some obstacle by now.”

“Maybe Orcs got rid of obstacles?” she suggested, but Roderick wasn’t convinced, his shoulders tensing as he looked over his shoulder, as though he’d sensed something creeping up on them. She should do something to relax him.

“Well, Skaven is glad for break,” she said, lifting a long leg out of the water to scrub her thigh. She angled herself so that Roderick could see the inside of her leg, and as though she were a magnet, his eyes wandered over to stare at her again.

“I’m not sure how it is that I’m the one who’s suspicious, and you’re completely relaxed,” he muttered.

“Want to know my secret?” she asked. “I’m finally taking bath after weeks of smelly man-thing ships and walking through hot deserts, helps loosesn up the muscles. You know what isn’t loose right now?”

She crawled towards the edge of the pool, clutching her sling and folding part of it up, not enough to expose her bosom, but just enough to entice him.

“My pussayyyy,” she added, snickering beneath a paw. Roderick had taught her the word back on the ship, and she liked how it sounded.

“Subtle,” he said. “But perhaps we should keep our guard up, at least until we possess the relic.”

“You’re no fun! At least do my back-back,” she added, turning around on him. “You can keep watch while you do that, yes-yes?”

She lifted her rump, holding herself there for a few moments before settling into his lap, plucking the waterskin from his hand and casting it away. Her tail slithered over his leg, holding him tight as she writhed against his waist, making sure he felt her springy cheeks through her loincloth.

“I… very well,” he admitted, running his smooth fingers through the fur on the back of her neck, Skyseeker quietly chuckling to herself. He was already relenting, very good…

She settled in on his leg, straddling it between her thighs. It didn’t make a very good seat given his armour, but she made do, sighing to herself as she relished the feeling of his hands on her coat.

“Your paws are warm,” she muttered, leaning against his chest and putting as much of her in contact with him as possible. “Use thumbs, yes-yes, like that…”

He pressed his hands deeper into her fur, her flesh twitching in response to his prodding, Roderick drawing slow circles on her shoulders. She loosed a sigh that was a little more comely than appropriate, resting an arm on his leg and fiddling with the belt there and hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“How’s the water?” he asked. “Not too cold?”

His efforts to distract himself were so adorable. She craned her neck, her frame so small compared to his that she had to look up to meet his eyes.

“Why doesn’t man-thing find out for himself?”

He reached for the discarded waterskin, but she slapped his wrist, stopping him. “Wait! Not like that! Like this-this…”

She reached into the pool, cupping her paws, then rose them above her head. She tipped her palms, letting the water cascade down her fuzzy head, droplets travelling down the indents of her muscles, drawing his eyes to her curves.  Hoping he wasn’t dense enough that she had to explain, she remained firmly rooted to his lap, continuing to soak herself through.

Thankfully he got the picture before she started drowning, leaning his giant frame over hers as he bent double, planting his lips against her neck. The mix of her fur and the water was enough to entice him, Skyseeker giggling as he mouthed eagerly at her coat, licking her dry.

“Well?” she cooed.

“I think I may need a little more to form an opinion,” he replied, her glands squirting her musk at his salacious words. He moved lower, licking her between her shoulder blades, Skyseeker trembling as he glanced her spine. His earlier resistance was just melting away, her scheme coming along better than she thought it would.

“Give me your face,” she ordered, bending her head backwards over her shoulders. His upside-down features filled her vision, Skyseeker reaching up to grab him by the chin. She guided his lips to hers, a moan slipping out of her throat as they joined, his warm tongue filling her muzzle.

Like the coiled snakes of the desert, his organ wound around her own, her body shivering each time he glanced her palate. Man-thing kissing was weird but wonderful, and she vastly preferred it over the nuzzles and sniffles that was the Skaven equivalent.

Their lips smacked dryly against each other as their saliva dried in the hot air, Skyseeker quickly formulating a plan. Still holding him like that, she reached between her legs to cup her paw beneath the pool, then splashed the liquid over their conjoined muzzles, hoping he’d appreciate the added lubrication. Instead, his eyes blazed open, Roderick separating from her as he made sputtering and choking sounds.

“By Sigmar, what did you do that for?” he asked, wiping his mouth with his wrist.

“Y-You said you wanted more water!” she stammered. “Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he chuckled, coughing into his hand. “it went up my nose a little, but it’s fine.

She was a little embarrassed by her clumsy miscalculation, but that soon melted away as he slid a hand down her flank, taking fistfuls of her fur, Skyseeker shivering as he ran a finger over her abs. His other arm reached out for the pool, and Skyseeker made sure she didn’t move with him, letting him press more of his weight into her furry back. She shivered as he brought a wet hand to her chest, cupping her breast through her sling, Roderick watching over her shoulder as her fat sprang back into shape when he let go.

“You look like you’ve been chiselled from marble,” Roderick suddenly said. “the way your fur clings to you like that… beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” she snapped, the surprise compliment dulling her usually sharp tongue. “-for a man-thing,” she added. “So, uh, you like wet Skaven?”

He answered her by taking her by the waist, Skyseeker squeaking as he suddenly lifted her off his lap, holding her against his belly. The way he could toss her around with those big arms never ceased to excite her, more of her musk filling the air as he positioned her so that they were eye-level, Roderick resting his chin on her soft shoulder.

She watched as he undid his gauntlets, placing them aside before letting his smooth hands rest on her hips. Before she could utter a word, he crawled them over her waist, cupping them over her mound for a few moments, as though he was remembering where her breeding chamber was.

He felt up her thighs next, running his warm palms across their inner lining, the man-thing admiring how soft and plush she felt, Skyseeker opening her legs in a silent request to divert his attentions.

She could feel his heartbeat pounding against her back as he moved towards her loins, a drip of her excitement escaping down her leg. He spread her furry labia apart, tracing her delicate lips with his fingertips as he slipped an arm around her waist, holding her close.

“Hah! So much for keeping your guard up,” she teased, her voice tapering out as he slipped a finger inside her. “I – ah! – I knew you couldn’t resist Skaven charms forever.”

“You stuffed your rump into my face and sprayed your scent everywhere, how’s that fair?”

“You think Skaven knows meaning of fair?” she laughed, reaching up to hold the back of his head. “Breathe it in,” she cooed, pulling him close. “I want you reeking of my musk, hehe…”

His warm breath washed over her as he let her smell mark him, the absurdity of the situation making her chuckle. Skaven Warlords would sometimes bestow their musk upon a rat as a sign of favour or ownership – that meant she now technically owned Roderick, did she not?

She laughed again. Even without meaning to, her schemes were always bringing her out on top, and now she possessed a man-thing Warlord. What a brilliant mind she possessed.

Her hysterics tapered into soft moans as he brought a finger to her loins, easing it into her tunnel. Her clenching walls welcomed his digit like a hungry maw, her muscles drawing on him to come deeper, but Roderick resisted her, teasing her as he traced her entrance.

She squirmed and grumbled, ready to sit on his hand and hurry him along, but he slipped a hand around her belly, clutching her against him. Her toes just about scraped the grass as Roderick flipped the circumstances back on her – now holding her in his lap while she attempted to wrestle free. She couldn’t hope to match his strength in this position, but there was something delicious about being overpowered, forced to sit back while he had his way with her. It should be embarrassing, but the powerlessness only heightened the pleasure she was feeling.

She tensed up as he finally relented, pushing his finger inside her until his knuckles were swallowed up by her lips, her slick juices erasing all sense of friction and letting him glide along. Her creased passage compressed down on him, Skyseeker relaxing against his chest as she revelled in the sensations of being filled.

“Do-Do that again,” she mewled, rubbing her thighs together. “where you curl finger. Ah! Yes-Yes, that’s it…”

She was tight enough that just moving his finger seemed to take an effort, but she was rewarded with waves of pleasure rolling up through her core. Her response seemed to please him, Roderick sliding his hand up her torso to cup one of her breasts, the soft fat wobbling as he cradled it in his palm. Skyseeker had never taken much notice of her bosom, aside from a few experimental prods and touches back when she was barely bigger than a pup and wasn’t quite sure what she was. They didn’t seem all that appealing to her, but they may as well be new toys to Roderick, his hands and eyes always on them whenever the chance arose. Perhaps male man-things were allured by their shape, how odd…

She was pulled out of her thoughts by a sudden shock, Roderick’s finger pressing up against her sensitive bud. She mewled and squeaked as he slid a second finger inside her, pinching her nub between his two smooth digits, moving and squashing it in ways that drove her crazy.

“Man-thing,” she gasped in a comely voice. “Breed me, breed me now-now…”

She shuddered as he slowly wrested his fingers free, her passage sealing around him as though it couldn’t stand to be empty. He peeled out of her twitching opening, his digits still joined to her entrance by a thick strand of her juices. He stroked her hips and thighs, his movements tickling her, Roderick’s mouth splitting in a grin as he watched her squirm. He was so intimate, his gaze at once covetous and adoring, nothing at all like the Skaven who’d earned breeding rights back in the pits.

She gasped as his pace turned up a notch, catching her by the hips and hoisting her into the air, her feet hovering off the ground. She ground her rump against his crotch as he shuffled onto his knees, bending her forward so she had to hold out her arms to keep from falling over. She braced her paws into the shallow pool, finding herself on all fours as Roderick kneeled behind her, Skyseeker peering behind to see him fumbling with his greaves.

“Need help with that?” she asked, reaching out with her tail. She had enough control over the appendage to help loosen some of his buckles. Once the armour on his thighs was free, she hooked the end of her tail into his briefs, sliding them down his legs. His shaft was already swelling, probably because of her alluring musk, her eyes lingering on it as she remembered how much it had hurt during their first mating session. Would she feel just as sore this time? She hoped so.

She arched her back as Roderick traced the indent of her spine with his paw, her butt pushing out reflexively. It had been dark and moody back in the ship cabin, but now her ample rear was on full display in the desert sun, Roderick laying a hand on her shapely cheek as he admired her.

“You like what you see-see?” she purred, tilting her hips from side to side. He nodded in silence, Skyseeker frowning as he batted him in the face with her tail. “Say it,” she demanded.

“I like what I see,” he replied, Skyseeker chewing her lower lip as she stared off into the ferns. She didn’t need audible proof to know her body was pristine, but it was nice to hear it anyway.

“Then stop staring and claim me,” she said. Reaching back with a paw, she gripped one of her cheeks, spreading it and exposing her loins to him, the fat of her cheek spilling through her fingers. She could see the effect she had on him, his eyes drawn to her dripping folds.

She was aching for him, but she let him come to her, her tail flicking faster and faster as he shuffled closer, taking his shaft into his hand. He angled it toward her rump, Skyseeker feeling its shape lay between her cheeks, the base of her tail curling over his tip. His cock was so hot, almost to the point it burned her, but never quite crossing that boundary.

He slid his hands over her flanks, seizing her by the hips, the way her flesh contoured making for perfect handles. It was a silent announcement that he was about to mount her, Skyseeker sinking her arms up to the biceps in the water as she braced herself, lifting her tail out of the way to present herself to him.

In a single motion, he slid his member inside her, Skyseeker pushing back as Roderick eased forward. She heard him snort as her passage hugged him on his way in, Skyseeker sighing as a wonderful ripple of pleasure danced up her body from her waist to her muzzle.

She knew she was far too small to take him so quickly but Roderick knew how much she could take, pushing against her clenching walls until he bottomed out, the way the rib on his glans raked against her walls making her whine. He just kept coming and coming, until finally her ass clapped against his thighs, her twitching entrance sealing over his base.

“Has Rick-rod grown a few inches since last time?” she growled, her spine straightening as her walls expanded to accommodate him. “Can man-things do that?”

“Talk about a boost in confidence,” he replied, grunting as she flexed around him. “But no. I think we’re just too physically different from one another that we’ll never quite fit together.

“So breeding will always be like this?” she asked. “How serendipitous!”

She ground her hips, stirring him around inside her until she found a better position, her efforts making Roderick falter. She flicked him with her tail, and he got the message, Roderick pulling out of her, holding onto her hips for dear life. He fought for every inch, her folds so narrow it was a wonder he’d even manage to get inside her in the first place. When only the tip was still inside her, her muscular entrance suckling on his tender glans, he thrust back in, the sensation she felt akin to being gutted by a hooked knife. Any deeper and he’d start moving her internal organs around, but that was just the way she liked it.

Together, they found a rhythm that was slow but satisfying, Skyseeker mirroring his movements so their coupling was as raw as possible. He let his hands wander across her thighs and butt, his infatuation with her curves and fur making her giddy and even a little flustered. She still couldn’t believe he found her attractive, or beautiful in his own words. She would have suspected deceit if he wasn’t currently breeding her.

“You can get so deep-deep like this,” she marvelled, her ears twitching as he delivered a powerful thrust, as though to help accentuate her point.

“Think you can take it even further?” he asked, Skyseeker peering over her shoulder to meet his gaze.

“I can take anything,” she shot back.

Her expression shifted as he reached down, slipping his fingers beneath her tail, looping the appendage around his wrist for a better grip. Just like when he’d gripped the reins of that horse, he gave her tail a yank, her passage spasming around his length at the sudden flare of sensations. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t not hurt either, drops of her liquid excitement flooding her tunnel as he used her tail to pull him into her.

She raised her neck to the blue skies, uttering a comely moan as her wrinkled folds slid against the ribs and contours of his shaft. Roderick was likewise affected, her already narrow passage constricting even further now that the nerves in her tail were being put under strain. He could have relented, but he didn’t, the pleasure getting the better of him as they enjoyed their newfound tempo.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asked, his voice just audible over the slaps of their lovemaking.

“Little late for concern, fool-fool,” she muttered. “Of course it hurts!”

“Want me to stop?”

“Never!”

He applied even more force, pulling her tail hard enough her feet left the ground on each hard thrust, her eyes rolling back as he split her apart. Perhaps she’d been too hasty to assume she owned him, Roderick was using her like she was a broodmother, ready to take his seed and deliver a new batch of pups for the Clan.

She was all too aware of the way her sensitive bud scraped against the underside of his shaft, her most sensitive weak point always in contact with him thanks to her smaller size. On his way out, if she angled herself just right, his tip would squash it against the floor of her tunnel, putting an insane amount of pressure on it and teasing out more of her liquid love.

Either he was perceptive, or driving his glans against her sensitive spot was driving him mad as well, for Roderick quickly caught on to her needs, making sure to drive his tip into her fleshy bud as he plundered her depths.

The stimulation was too much, her paws giving out beneath her, her cry of alarm cutting off as she plunged face-first into the pool. Dappled light filtered through from above, Skyseeker blowing bubbles as she glanced around her new, underwater surroundings.

Roderick was still pounding into her from behind, his grunts made muffled and distorted. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed her little tumble yet, too caught up in taking handfuls of her to see her plight. Not that she was in any danger of drowning, the pool was only deep enough here to reach her neck. In fact, it was quite a surreal change of scenery, her world now one of sloshing water and peace, the cool liquid on her face calming her. Coupled with the newfound tranquillity with Roderick’s rutting, she may as well have ascended beyond this plane of existence.

Roderick did take notice after a time, reaching down to pluck her from the pool, her spine arching as she surfaced with a wet sputter. He asked her what happened, Skyseeker choking on her words as she replied.

“I, uh, I… was thirsty! Needed small pickmeup. Definitely meant to fall in.”

“Of course you did,” he replied, his sly tone suggesting he didn’t believe a word.

“Keep breeding,” she urged, changing the subject and wiggling her butt. “Have bred four times already, let’s make it five.”

“Still can’t believe you can come so much and keep going,” Roderick muttered, resuming their rutting.

“As I posited – I can take anything. And! Skaven has more energy than you,” she added with a laugh. “Although… man-thing does give ridiculous amount of pups when you breed. If you were Skaven, I’d be nursing a billion litters by this point…”

“You’ll have a few more soon,” he murmured, the two rocking together as his thrusts began to take on a desperate pace. “I’m getting close.”

“Then fill me,” she urged. “I want your slime deep. Make it so!”

His shaft slid up inside her, bringing with it harsh pleasures that coursed into her from every angle, her tight passage flexing around him in contracting waves that matched the tempo of her pounding heartbeat. He could feel his member swelling, pushing her flexibility to its absolute limits.

Roderick was soon throwing all his weight against her, his grunts and her moans combining with the slaps of their lovemaking to make the oasis feel like their own little breeding pit. He was rutting like a Skaven in heat, his eyes filled with palpable need whenever she chanced a look over her shoulder, one she satiated by meeting each of his thrusts with a teasing ground of her hips.

She shrieked in surprise as he once more closed an arm over her belly, lifting her from the pool and into his embrace, her writhing backside pressing against his torso again. Her fur swirled against his skin as his other hand wound over her breasts, holding her aloft as he impaled her at this new, wonderful angle.

Her tail wound over his waist for leverage, Skyseeker reaching up to cradle his face in her paw, her muzzle level with his neck. She nuzzled his throat, her mouth parting slightly as he returned her affections.

This new closeness and the change in impalement made her flex hard, the membranes of her breeding chamber stretching over his glans as he ploughed deep into her stomach. With a few more clenches of her passage, she sent Roderick crashing over the edge. Filled with all sorts of new noises, Skyseeker groaned as she felt a rope of his seed fill that narrow chamber at the end of her tunnel, his hot emission filling her. She’d said she wanted it deep, and he didn’t disappoint, this new fullness sensation all she could think about as he bred her.

She joined him in his climax, her slick fluids coating his flexing shaft, her spasming muscles drinking out another rope from him. She could feel his fluids fill her breeding chamber to capacity, his slime dripping down her vent as the pair writhed against one another.

His thrusts became relaxed, but still persistent, as though Roderick needed to screw his pups deeper into her in the hopes she may one day bear his seed, Skyseeker welcoming it with a carnal need. She shivered in his lap as the ache of euphoria washed over her, her tail going haywaire as it swiped over his lap, but his hold on her was tight, and she wasn’t subjected to another fall.

They slowly came down from their shared highs, Roderick setting her back down on the sand, Skyseeker sticking close to him for a few moments longer. Lifting herself off his cock was like trying to climb over a wall that was too high, Skyseeker bracing her feet against his knees for leverage. Thick, pearly fluids slid down his thighs as she climbed off him, one last shiver running up her spine as they separated.

She sank unceremoniously into the pool, as giddy as she’d ever felt, flashing him a covetous smile as she eyed the mess they’d created on his crotch.

“Looks like you’ll need a wash-clean now, man-thing,” she chuckled. “Come-Come, get in.”

“If I do that, we’ll be going another round. Or ten,” he added. “We both know how you get when there’s bathing involved.”

“In that case, give me few minutes to prepare.”

“Didn’t you just say you could handle anything?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, splashing him with water and making him laugh.

“Hey, watch the armour!” he chuckled. “You’ll get it rusty.”

She pinched her chin between two claws, pondering for a moment.

“While ploughing man-thing ten more times would be nice, having the relic would be… nicerer,” she mused as she walked out of the pool, her fur dripping with moisture. “We breed after mission is accomplished.”

“Skyseeker denies another lay? I must be dreaming,” Roderick joked. “But you have a point, we are only a few hours’ walk from the pyramid, and there may yet be orc survivors lingering nearby. Assuming they didn’t hear us just now,” he added sheepishly. “Let me just wash this mess off.”

“Good luck trying to remove breeder musk,” she chuckled, Roderick quirking an eyebrow as he moved towards the water’s edge.

Chapter 12: The Relic

After traversing the wide streets of the temples, they finally arrived at the pyramid. The mountain of sandstone blocks was even more impressive up close, each one almost the size of the housings they’d seen just inside the city walls. While it didn’t match the heights the Bell of the Horned Rat reached, it was a very close second.

“How do you suppose the skeletons made that?” Roderick asked, gesturing to it. The two were mounting the steps of a vast staircase leading up to the base of the structure, the pyramid built on an elevated plateau that overlooked the city. “Those blocks must weigh hundreds of pounds each.”

“Hmm. Employed skavenslaves,” Skyseeker answered after a little deductive reasoning. “dedication of slaves very optimal.”

“I would guess it was magic,” Roderick said. “I once saw a wizard lift a giant boulder and use it to crush a horde of beastmen. These skeletons must have some equivalent of mages.”

At the top of the stairs lay more orcs, further confirming her suspicions that the pyramid had been their goal. Her warpsight confirmed the relic was nearby, visible as a swath of magical fog with an obvious centre ( though nto so obvious to the uninitiated like Roderick), but the fact the greenskins had failed to retrieve it troubled her. All evidence suggested the city had been wiped out during the siege, so what had stopped the orcs from stealing the relic away? Maybe the Horned Rat had manifested to help her in her mission? That seemed to be the most exciting explanation, so surely it must be the correct one?

There was another staircase on the far side of the platform, this one leading down to the pyramid’s base. From this height, she could see that the pyramid was partially submerged into the plateau, with a long crevasse creating a channel leading towards the middle of the near face. The walls of the channel stretched a little higher than the ground level, stacked with reinforced bricks to keep the sand from spilling in.

At each of the four corners of this long entryway were ornate pylons, the same design as those they’d seen back in the first region of the city. While the channel was longer than it was wide, the breadth between the walls was spacious enough that five doomwheels could roll through side by side with room to spare. Was the relic paraded through this place before being sealed away inside? She’d be surprised if it hadn’t been, these skeletons seemed the flashy type.

“I see more orcs down there,” Roderick muttered, shielding his eyes as he looked into the crevasse.

“Alive?” she asked, using her goggles to zoom in on where he was looking.

“No, but there’s at least two piles of them down there. Perhaps the city inhabitants left their worst traps and defences for last.”

They proceeded down the steps, the walls tall enough to block out the sun as they reclined below ground. She felt physically colder as she stepped into the shadows, a feeling so unnatural after days of walking in the hot climes of this strange world.

As was becoming the custom, the walls here were painted over with elaborate markings, column after column of them stretching on towards the pyramid. They passed by pedestals mounted to either side of the crevasse, some occupied by tall monuments like the others, but smaller in scale. Others sported statues of figures that were larger than life, and it was here Skyseeker got a proper look at what the inhabitants of the city looked like.

They were humanoid, much like Roderick, but different in many other ways. The statues were chiselled to appear wearing robes, leaving only their five-fingered hands visible. Its arms were crossed over its chest, the hands a muted yellow colour. As her gaze wondered to its face, she flinched, meeting the empty sockets of a large golden skull. The visage was carved into an eternal grin, the skull’s head tilted slightly down, as though the statue was tracking her as she walked beneath it.

There was another statue of its likeness on the opposite side, its stone figure chipped in places, an orc corpse laying by its feet. It almost seemed to be gloating over the dead greenskin, the way its tilted head admired the creature.

The next pair of pedestals sported more monuments, perhaps serving as decorations, or some ceremonial purpose, it was impossible to tell. After a bit more walking, they were halfway through the crevasse, the walls flaring out a little further to create a courtyard, a fountain that had long since dried up occupying the middle of the space.

Another two more pedestals flanked the area, one of which was occupied by something Skyseeker hadn’t seen thus far. Leaning against the wall was a statue, not made from the stones like the others, but chiselled from some sort of dark material, like ebony or onyx. It stood on a pair of digitigrade legs, much like her own, only the three tows were long and fat, tipped with dull claws made from metal. The giant legs were as tall as Roderick, tapering into a lean torso that was obscured slightly behind a skirt, fastened to the statue by gold belts that hung loosely on its hips.

Unlike the figure, these belts were made from actual silks, not stone, the crimson ribbons contrasting against the blacks and golds. The stomach was bare, every ab and muscle carved with such perfection it was almost lifelike, each contour visible if one looked at just the right angle.

The torso rose into a pair of broad shoulders, a barrel chest obscured behind a decorative poncho, clipped together at the front by an ornate clamp that resembled the winged skull that was prevalent in this city – perhaps that was the coat of arms symbolising this place. Atop its shoulders sat a skull, but the bones didn’t resemble a human face. The visage was pointy, like a beak, with thick teeth jutting from the upper lip. The lower jaw was missing.

Clutched in its massive hands was a pair of curved swords, the yellow blades stained and eroded, but still wickedly sharp. Its arms were crossed over its chest, standing to attention like the stormvermin who guarded Gnawdwell’s tower.

“These skeletons enjoy their decorative flare,” Roderick said as he eyed the statue. “I’ve never seen so much ebony carved into one statue.”

“Those swords are bigger than I am!” Skyseeker added, noting that the statue was thrice Roderick’s size if one didn’t include the crown it wore. It was a simple piece, made from rock that branched into three sections, hardly worth stealing.

They circled the fountain, Skyseeker peering into the bowl just in case there was any water left behind, but the recess was as dry as the sand - if one didn’t count the orc keeled over the rim, his lifeblood staining the basin.

Just as Roderick had noted, there were many more orcs in this courtyard, clustered around another of those battering rams. They must have brought it to breach the pyramid. The siege equipment lay destroyed, however, caved in as though someone had dropped a boulder on it from high above.

“Here’s hoping we don’t need a ram to get inside,” Roderick mused as he crossed to the far side. “You coming lass?” he asked, when he noticed she was lagging behind.

“R-Rick rod?” she whispered. “Look!”

He turned, following her pointed arm back to the statue, his eyes going wide.

The head had turned.

For a horrific moment she stared into those empty sockets of its bestial skull, and then the rest of the statue slid into motion. It lifted those bent legs off the pedestal with a sound like two stones scraping together, turning its dark body in their direction.

“Gods,” Roderick muttered, reaching over his shoulder and grabbing the hilt of his greatsword. “Living stone – what nightmare could create such a thing?”

She saw him swallow a visible lump down in his throat, but he bit his trepidation back as he drew his weapon, the long blade sliding against its leather scabbard. While the man-thing weapon was huge, it dwarfed in the face of the statue’s dual blades, but Roderick’s faith in Imperial steel was steadfast.

The greatsword glinted in the light as Roderick took up a stance, Skyseeker following suit as she drew her weeping blades. Her confidence scattered when she noted how woefully inadequate her daggers were compared to her counterpart, but she had to remember she had the advantage of warp-power.

“Stay behind me, Skyseeker,” Roderick warned, flipping the visor of his helmet down.

“Screw you and not in a good way-way!” she shot back, scurrying beside him. “We fight stone-thing together! Attack-Charge!”

She struggled to remain steady as the statue rumbled the ground with each of its strides, approaching the pair with a kind of slow caution, always stood in the same upright posture. The statue lowered its head, peering down its long, bone muzzle at Roderick, its massive feet cracking the tiles as it moved towards him. Only now did she see that the stains on its weapons wasn’t a result of wear or erosion, but blood. Orc blood if she wasn’t mistaken.

On its next step, it raised a one golden sword above its head, its movements unnaturally fluid. The fur on her arms ruffled as it brought its blade down towards Roderick, her partner stepping out of the arc in the nick of time. The statue remained gyroscopically stable from the waist down, only its torso moving as it bent its massive body down to reach him.

The construct cocked its bony head, then brought its second sword to bear, thrusting it towards Roderick’s chest. Rather than step aside, Roderick raised his greatsword, knocking the strike aside using the flat side of his blade. The sudden change in momentum caused the construct to overreach, opening it up to a counter that Roderick took advantage of.

He chopped the statue across its giant forearm, but his blade bounced off its shining hide, the statue turning its head again as it pulled away, returning its arms to its chest. It seemed to be considering him, as though it was confused by his retaliation. Perhaps the orcs hadn’t put up much of a fight to it.

Roderick had to crane his neck to meet its eyeless gaze, gripping his weapon tightly in his gauntlets as he began to walk over the tiles. The construct sidestepped to the right, mirroring his movements, the two drawing a circle between each other as they searched for openings.

The construct was the first to move, stepping in to slice its blade from right to left, throwing its considerable mass behind the blow. Not wanting to meet the attack, Roderick stepped back, but this time the construct followed through. It turned on its bent legs, bringing its two blades together as it whirled around, even Skyseeker’s sharp gaze struggling to keep track of the weapons. At the end of its spin, it brought down its offhand blade in an upward strike, catching Roderick in the arm. The blow sent him tumbling backwards, his armour clanking as he fell to one knee.

“Rick-rod!” she called, fearing the worst, but the armour must have taken most of the attack, Roderick staggering to his feet a second later. The statue seemed drawn to Roderick, perhaps seeing him as the biggest threat, or maybe it was something about seeing a skeleton with flesh. Either way it was ignoring her, giving her the perfect chance to strike.

As the statue advanced on him, she scuttled in from behind, keeping clear from its line of sight as she approached. It was so tall, its immensity only accentuated by its slow, calculated steps. Fear gripped her, memories of being chased by the gryphon coursing through her mind – she was but a rat before the feet of giants, what could she do?

It took another lunge at Roderick, her mate dodging out of the deadly swipe. She swallowed back her fear - she could not let herself be afraid now. She had a friend to protect, a reputation to uphold. What would be the point of completing her mission if her one true ally died now, on her vigil?

Steeling herself, she darted in, daggers raised high as she approached its right leg. She formed an x in the air as she slashed it across the back of its calf, the corrosive points drawing green lines across its polished limb. She had summoned all the strength she possessed, but even with the help of warp power, her blades bad barely punched through the stone.

While the attack seemed superficial, it had drawn the construct’s attention, the statue turning its gaze from Roderick to her, Skyseeker thankful that her goggles were obscuring the panic in her eyes. It bent its long legs, bringing her tiny body into range, holding one of its swords out horizontally and bearing it down on her, giving her barely enough time to react.

She leapt into the air, the statue’s arm swiping beneath her feet, Skyseeker reaching into her cloak as she felt the air crack below her. Her paw gripped a pair of warp stars, and she thrust her arm out, landing in a crouch a moment later. The stars glinted in the light as they travelled, lodging themselves into the statue’s muscular stomach. Such an attack would have sent most Skaven to their dooms, but the construct didn’t even react, seeming to sneer at her with its wicked beak-face.

Keeping to a crouch crouched, the statue charged her, holding its arms wide and crossing the distance between them rapidly. She could feel the mass barrelling towards her, Skyseeker dodging for her life as its blades came at her from above, the statue intending to skewer her on the spot. Her back met the pavement as she rolled aside, the giant swords impaling inches into the ground and showering her in yellow dust.

As the construct yanked its weapons free, Skyseeker pressed the advantage, screeching a war cry as she raised a weeping blade, slicing the statue down the length of its forearm. Perhaps she was mistaken, but she thought she saw its stone hide flex like muscle as she cut it across the wrist. Was this thing truly made from stone, or flesh? Perhaps both?

There was a sudden movement to her left, the hilt of a golden blade coming straight for her. She tried to move aside, but she was too close, and the statue caught her in the stomach. She arched through the air, her lungs emptying of air as she was sent sliding across the courtyard.

She clutched her ribs as she struggled to her feet, a flare of pain pulsing up from beneath her paw. The blow had broken something inside her, but she had little time to worry about that now, the statue walking towards her, its gait stilted, slow. It was always lightning quick when its swords were in range, but came off as slow and sluggish otherwise, the contrast in speeds throwing her off from guessing its next move.

Skyseeker righted herself, her eyes darting to the side. Roderick was charging in, holding his greatsword like it was a lance, one hand clutching the blade tightly. He drove the point of his weapon into the statue’s thigh, as it was the only thing he could reach. She expected his attack to glance off, the statue’s armour resistant to even her corrosive blades, but instead, the tip of the sword slid into the stone, Roderick voicing a snarl as he thrust with all his strength. It only sank a scant few inches, but that was more than what she had done, and it proved the statue wasn’t invulnerable.

“Don’t slash, stab!” Roderick exclaimed.

The construct made no sound, but if its skull had eyes, they’d be full of fury as it redirected its attention. It swiped with both its swords, Roderick pulling his greatsword free and ducking away, taking up a defensive stance in the nick of time. The statue didn’t morph into another attack, but rather turned on the spot as before, using its own momentum to chain into another cleave from the side.

Roderick countered, slashing the massive swords from below, sending them sailing overhead. The effort must be putting massive strain on his body, but the construct afforded him little chance to dodge. It harried him with furious blows, forcing Roderick onto the defensive, backing him up towards the passage they’d come down from.

Roderick panted beneath his helmet, the statue silent in contrast as it kept him on the retreat, preparing another of its overhead attacks. It tilted its wrists, lowering its swords until the tips glanced the ground. With a pronounced step, it lifted its swords off the floor, raising a curtain of sand and stone with it. The blades emerged through the falling dust, the human stepping clear.

Rather than follow through, the statue pirouetted, coming to an abrupt halt with its back turned to Roderick. It raised its arms above its head, bringing the hilts of its swords together and twisting. There was a loud, locking sound, and suddenly the two weapons became one, the statue holding the double-bladed staff as though it was some sort of holy relic.

With a speed that shouldn’t be possible on such a giant creature, the statue whirled on Roderick, thrusting its staff out one-handed. The conjoined blades gave it the range it needed to catch him across his chest, the impact of metal-on-metal echoing through the crevasse, Roderick sent skidding across the ground.

“Rick-rod!” she called out. The statue unlocked its conjoined weapons, bringing its two swords back to its chest, holding them in a cross just like the first time they’d seen it. Yelling out, she charged the statue down, lifting one of her daggers high and placing her other paw on the hilt. She threw all her weight into the strike, aiming for wher she had cut it before. Just as Roderick advised, stabbing proved better than slashing, her blade sinking up to the midpoint into the stoneflesh.

The leg began to rise up, lifting Skyseeker along with it a few inches before she let her dagger go. Before she even touched the ground, the statue’s three-toed foot turned, planting hard against her front, kicking her away like an errant pest.

She felt like she’d been struck by a hammer, once again sent flying across the courtyard, her journey coming to a painful halt as her back hit the fountain. Skyseeker tasted copper, spitting out a wad of blood that had formed in her throat, wiping her muzzle as she snarled up at the statue.

Between it legs she saw Roderick was slowly getting to his feet, recovering quickly despite the statue’s surprise attack. He had that armour to protect him from the worst of the blow, but all she had was her flimsy cloak.

She was an easy target, sitting there in a daze, but the statue’s stilted gait afforded her precious moments to scurry away, Skyseeker leaping into the basin to create distance. The construct severed the fountain top with a swipe, chunks of stone raining down on her head. She scurried out of the bowl, the statue ploughing through the fountain like an enraged ogre, smashing through all that stood in its way.

The air cracked, the sound chased by its own echo, a chip of stone shattering off the statue’s elbow. The construct turned, flinching as a second gunshot rang out, ripping into the creature’s neck and sending a puff of dust flying.

“Over here you blasphemous abomination!” Roderick shouted, holding his two pistols out.

The statue turned on the human, able to hear his taunt despite its lack of flesh. Slotting his handguns, he flourished his greatsword, the statue possessing enough intellect to see it as a challenge, bringing its attention back to him.

Once more it interlocked its blades, forming a towering staff. With its free hand it reached down for its leg, pulling the weeping blade she’d lodged in it free. There was no blood on it, just a thin layer of dark dust. She felt a pang as the construct formed a fist around the dagger, the sound of crunching metal reaching her ears. It opened its giant hand, letting small shards of green metal fall between its fingers.

It lunged for Roderick, but he was ready for it, dodging out from the path of another long stab. He had the stamina and the strength of a warlord, but she could see he was tiring, and she doubted a being made of stone was limited by energy. If the fight came down to attrition, they would both be dead.

She wanted to rush in and help, but she was now down a dagger, and attacking it head-on again would only add to her growing wounds. She needed to exploits its weaknesses, attack it when it least expected, but what could she do?

Her eyes were drawn to the spot her weeping blade had penetrated its thick hide, creating a small wound. They could only reach its legs at this height, which would only reward superficial wounds at best. If they wanted to hurt this thing, they needed to reach its torso, or the head, but the statue was careful to keep itself upright as it duelled with its tiny, human adversary.

Her gaze flicked to the side, then up. The walls of the crevasse were not smooth, full of gaps and divots, withered away by time and heat. She grinned as a scheme began to formulate, Skyseeker slotting her dagger into its scabbard as she took off in a run.

“Rick-rod!” she exclaimed. “Keep stone-thing busy!”

The construct must have thought she was coming in for an attack, unlocking its staff and swiping a sword at her like a giant meat cleaver. She dropped onto her butt, extending her legs out and sliding over the pavement, right between the statue’s long legs. She scuttled back to standing, rushing past a confused Roderick.

“What are you doing?” he called. “Where are you going?”

“Lure stone-thing this way-way!” she said, gesturing with a paw. “Towards wall! Don’t worry, there is madness to my methods!”

“Alright!” he replied, his trust in her causing her heart to flutter despite the circumstances. Every movement caused pain to shoot up her spine, but she ignored it, the sounds of the duel subsiding a little as she approached the wall.

She picked the sheer façade on the left as her choice of approach, reaching up to clasp the lip of the lowest sandstone block. She hugged the brickwork like a pup clutching its mother, Skyseeker gritting her teeth as it added pressure to whatever rupture lay in her stomach.

She scaled one layer of blocks, then another, and soon the ground was a harsh fall below her. She didn’t need to go all the way to the top, just enough to enact her plan. Ten or so meters should do it.

The heat combined with her prior exertion caused her progress to slow, her heart rate rising as she heard the clanging of crossed swords somewhere beneath her. Each delayed second added to the chances Roderick would slip up, make a mistake.

She was almost too afraid to look, worried that as soon as she peered down, that would be the moment Roderick would perish, but she summoned up the courage to see that he was following her plan, backing up towards the passage, the statue putting more pressure on him.

The construct afforded him no time to recover, always switching from duel-wielding its swords, to joining them in its deadly staff, always keeping the human guessing to where the next attack would come from. Just a little closer, that was all she needed…

She gripped the block with one paw, turning away to watch the pair draw further into the passage. Swords the size of fully grown Skaven sliced though the air, Roderick raising his weapon to block. The curved blades should have cleaved through Roderick’s steel, but the Imperial weapon held strong, clanging metal ringing out as they clashed. Roderick tried to hold fast against the blow, but he was fighting the strength of a literal statue, and he cried out as the construct leaned forward, prying his weapon out of his hands through force alone.

The weapon rattled across the ground, the sound drowning out over Roderick’s shouts as the statue hit him with an upward slash of its sword. Rather than bounce off his armour, it sliced clean through, starting from below his arm and ending dangerously close to his neck, the metal rending in twain.

She shouted his name, never hearing herself so scared before, her eyes going wide as he stumbled onto his back. The wounds hadn’t killed him outright, but they’d obviously pierced flesh. If he’d been any closer…

Unarmed and wounded, Roderick could barely scramble away as the statue advanced, locking its weapons into its staff form once more. It planted its feet to either side of his prone body, raising the staff above its head. She was out of time, she had to act now.

Casting her sense of self-preservation aside, she let go of the wall, using her feet to propel herself into freefall. For a horrible second she thought she wouldn’t make it, that Roderick hadn’t brought the construct far enough into the passage for her to reach. She was going to splat straight into the pavement next to him!

She gripped her weeping dagger in her paw, trusting that her aim was true. Time seemed to slow as she reached the halfway point of her freefall, Skyseeker watching the statue bring its staff down, the pointed tip aimed at Roderick’s chest. It was already in motion; she wasn’t going to make it.

Spitting out a curse, she held her paws out, leading with her dagger. She punctured the statue between its shoulders, her momentum slowing to a crawl as she impaled the half-stone, half-flesh up to the hilt. Gravity did the work for her, Skyseeker moving down the statue’s flank like she was sliding down a tightrope, the statue freezing up as she carved a channel into its torso.

Her momentum slowed to a halt when reached its waist, Skyseeker planting her feet on its hindquarters. She leveraged her blade free, what appeared to be sand spewing forth from the deep gash, the Skaven leaping free. Hitting the ground caused another shock of pain from her stomach, but that was nothing compared to the reward of her efforts.

The construct seemed confused as to the sudden damage she’d caused, its pensiveness allowing Roderick to scramble clear. It lowered to one knee, propping itself up on one of its swords, the impact forming a webbing crack in the ground.

Its skull tilted, but the statue did not collapse. Instead, its knee slid against the stones, its backward-shaped legs flexing as it made to recover. She had only seconds to act, but that was more than enough for her.

Flipping the blade into a reverse grip, she charged forward, grabbing the hem of its skirt, hoisting herself onto its back. The wound she’d slashed into its flank lay between her feet as she ran across the construct, its sheer size all the more obvious now that she was in contact with it. It felt like she was rushing across one of the rocky overhangs back in Skavenblight, but she soon made it to the thing’s shoulders, the skull turning to peer back at her in what may have been confusion.

“How the tables turn!” she cackled, driving the point of her dagger into its head. She didn’t have the momentum to match her prior attack, but bone was easier to pierce than stone, and her blade sank wonderfully deep into its cranium. She gave it a pointed twist, pulled her weapon back, then stabbed it in a different place.

The construct craned its neck, lifting its skull to the skies in a silent wail. Its grip on its sword loosened, and its belly hit the ground in a booming crash, Skyseeker still standing tall on its shoulders. Its left arm reached up to claw at her, but she danced out of the way before it could grab her.

Clanking metal drew her eyes up, and she saw Roderick striding over, weapon back in his hand. Blood dripped down his cuirass, but he had the strength to raise his sword over his shoulder. With a grunt, he smashed the statue across its muzzle, a visible crack forming down the bridge of its wide nose. The construct sagged, its head having trouble deciding which of them it should peer toward.

Roderick raised his weapon again, Skyseeker following suit with her dagger. Again and again, they drove their weapons into the construct’s head, the stubborn creature refusing to die even as pieces of its skull were flung aside. Like warlords beating down troublesome clanrats, they hacked the construct apart, both of them seeing red.

The statue raised a trembling hand, groping for one of its discarded swords, but Roderick placed an armoured heel on its wrist. Uttering a warcry for Sigmar, he held his weapon by the blade, driving the point towards its eye socket. The plates of bone caved under the blow, the creature flailing against the ground.

At last, the statue’s movements began to slow, its giant limbs settling. If a creature that was formerly a statue could die, then that was what Skyseeker was witnessing, its massive body going limp beneath her feet.

“I told you to… to lure thing!” Skyseeker said, her breathing hitching with every word spoken. “Didn’t lure it far enough! Almost didn’t make that leap...”

“And I told you… this was too easy,” Roderick replied, and then he fell to his knees, his sword clanging as he dropped it. Jumping from the felled statue, she rushed to his side, her concern overruling her annoyance.

“Rick-rod!” she breathed. “You bleed! Remove stupid armour! Quick-Hurry!”

She helped him undo the clasps securing his cuirass, Skyseeker holding it by the neck and prying it off. A pungent scent of blood hit her in the face, along with a sight that made her grimace. The inlining of the armour was coated red, two slashes across his chest drawing her gaze. Once his tunic was removed, exposing his bare skin, she saw there was also a nasty bruise on his flank, swelling into a lump, and when he pried off his stifling helmet, there was a tickle of blood leaking from his nose.

“Rick-rod…” she said again, softer this time. He looked a mess, her heart racing when he moved an arm, but a lance of pain forced him to stay still.

“Fetch me a roll of bandages, would you?” he asked, nodding to his pack. “I think my shoulder is broken….”

She scurried to his flank, flipping open the leather flap and diving a paw inside. Rations, bullets, a waterskin… where were they? She was aware of every second wasted as she rummaged for the bandages, but eventually she found them, moving back to this front with a roll in hand.

She took one end and began to wound them around his torso, Roderick yelping in pain as she worked. He was hurt all over, no matter where she touched him she was causing him tremendous pain, but she had to stem the bleeding.

“Are you alright, lass?” he asked her. “That… thing… hit you pretty hard back there.”

“Hurts to breathe, but don’t worry about Skaven,” she replied, walking another circle around him to make sure the bandages stayed tight.

“Probably a broken rib,” he continued. “Anything else?”

“I said don’t worry!” she snarled. “Skaven heal very quick-fast, not issue. Man-things do that too… right? Y-You will be good-fine?”

“I-I don’t know. It all hurts. Help me remove these gauntlets,” he grumbled.

The metal was crumpled in places, bent out of shape thanks to the forceful blows of the statue. Although it had saved him from death, the injuries he’d sustained were immense, Roderick barely able to move his right arm for some reason.

“Dislocated,” he explained after she quizzed him. “I’m going to have to pop it back in.”

“Know how to do that?” she asked.

“I’ve done it to others in the past,” he replied, the uncertainty in his voice not doing wonders for her confidence.

Using his other arm, he reached over to the problem shoulder, his movements tentative. She wanted to help, but he knew more about man-thing anatomy than she did, and all she could do was stand back and wring her paws. He bit down on a leather belt from his gauntlet as he raised his limb, applying pressure on his shoulder from behind. There was an audible snap as something inside him rolled into place, Roderick growling through bared teeth as pain rocked him.

When he was done, he was just able to brace his wounded arm against his chest, Roderick wincing as he spat out the belt. From the waist up all his armour was discarded, laying in a heap nearby. He was still in a state, but at least he wasn’t in risk of bleeding out.

“I… I think you’ll have to go get your relic without me,” he wheezed. “By the Gods, everything hurts…”

“Shut up,” she muttered. “man-thing will heal,” she added, the notion directed towards herself as much as it was to him.

“We can’t tarry,” he insisted. “I’ll wait here for you, lass, just-”

“Skaven not come all this way just to leave Rick-rod behind, so just shut mouth!” she snapped.

He could see her mind was set, taking a moment to calm his breathing. Skyseeker peered over the courtyard, wondering how long that statue had stood guard, and if there were any others nearby…

“Should we go back to oasis?” she suggested. “Give Rick-rod time to rest?”

“No. No, the pyramid is right there, I can make it that far,” Roderick said. “Help me up.”

Skyseeker ducked underneath his better arm once she helped him to his feet, the human donning his tunic he wore beneath his armour, wincing as he raised his arms into the sleeves.

“You have my thanks, by the way,” Roderick murmured. “That plan of yours saved my skin. If you hadn’t thought of it…”

“I’m always scheming,” she replied with a toothy grin. “Don’t sell yourself short. Man-thing fought like a warlord,” she added, wanting to return the compliment. “Even marvellous Lord Gnawdwell would have trouble holding own against… whatever that thing was.”

“I hope it will stay dead,” Roderick grumbled, glancing at the fallen statue. “If dead is the right word.”

“Should have brought cannon and balls to make sure.”

Her comment got a laugh out of Roderick, the human leaning down to embrace her, Skyseeker wrapping her arms around his stomach, careful not to apply too much pressure.

“We’re so close,” he said, releasing her. Skyseeker straightened her cloak as she returned to supporting him, keeping her tail coiled around his leg just in case he lost his balance. “Let’s keep moving, I wish to finally see this relic with my own eyes.”

She shared the sentiment, reminding herself that although the fight was over, her mission was not. After retrieving his sword, they skirted the fallen statue, Skyseeker sparing it one last glance before they pushed ahead. Roderick’s legs were spared the worst of his injuries, so walking him along wasn’t too much of a struggle.

They left the courtyard behind, delving into next passage beyond, the walls lined with more pedestals mounted with decorative urns and monuments. There were more statues, but her racing heart calmed when she noted they weren’t the alive kind, their weather-beaten figures extruding from the walls themselves.

The crevasse sloped lower into the earth, the air taking on a chill as the sun lowered behind the pyramid’s peak. The passage terminated in a dark archway, built into the base of the pyramid’s sloped flank, held aloft by a pair of ornate pillars.

They paused before the arch, peering into the darkness within. It was pitch black inside, the narrow hallway leading into the heart of the pyramid.

“A moment,” Roderick said, reaching for his pack. He produced a lantern, flicking a little switch on the side, a yellow light flicking on inside the glass casing. Of course, he possessed no goggles or warpsight like she did, his kind couldn’t see well in the dark. “Let’s go.”

An eerie silence hung over them as they stepped inside, the walls narrowing until they could barely walk side by side. The lantern’s aura cut through the gloom, reflecting off walls that may not have seen light since the pyramid’s construction, each step of her feet and clank of his armour echoing three or four times around them.

Her sense of distance became distorted in the darkness, what might have been ten minutes of walking passing them by. She could no longer see the outside light when she turned to look back the way they’d come, her fur crawling as she considered if some hidden mechanism hadn’t tripped and sealed them inside.

Just when she was starting to think the passage would never end, it did. The wall opened up into a circular chamber, too vast for the light of the lantern to illuminate it all, but with the help of her goggles, she was able to get a better look at its scope. It was about twenty meters deep, the walls culminating into curves rather than sharp points, a bit like a giant dome of sandstone. In the centre of the room was a platform, ringed by a step that raised it slightly off the ground. Sitting on the platform was a rectangular foundation, the edges trimmed with golden reliefs, the face on the near side covered in runes.

Something was laying on top of it, and as they approached the step, the lantern’s light allowed them to see it. It was a stave, the haft made from what appeared to be a pole of solid gold, covered over in contrasting black wrappings. One end terminated into a small block of stone, carved into the shape of a pair of skulls not too dissimilar from that horrible statue she’d bested.

“The relic!” Skyseeker breathed, her warpsight rife with magical energy. The object of her mission, right there in front of her. She could hardly believe it.

“Why just… leave it out in the open?” Roderick asked, glancing around the chamber. “Are there no guardians? Or traps of any kind?”

“Stop jinxing!” Skyseeker chided. “Not want to fight another stone-thing again…”

They circled the platform, but they could see no pressure plates, no tripwires, or any discernible features that would hint at any defences in place. There was only one other thing worth noting. A throne stood on the far side of the relic, and slumped upon it was the shape of a figure, its body clad in a flowing, gilded robe not unlike what the construct had been wearing. This place was full of statues, though why the builders would carve one here, she had no clue.

Deeming it safe, Skyseeker and Roderick stepped onto the platform, her gaze locked on the relic. It really was just sitting there, ready to be plucked by her paws.

“My guardians have failed.”

She almost dropped Roderick in alarm when there was movement in the corner of her eye. The figure in the throne was moving. As the lantern’s light washed over it, she noticed its hands and feet were actually made from skin, far more sunken than should be possible. Its flesh was literally clinging to it in scraps, exposing pale bone at the wrists, but despite that, the figure rose to its feet, so tall that it towered over the both of them despite the platform being raised off the ground.

She took a step back, Roderick following suit as it opened its eyes with two fleshy clicks. Its features were the colour of rot, the skin on its cheeks flaky, parts of it peeled away to expose red patches. It had no ears – those had withered away with time – instead possessing two dark holes on the sides of its head. It didn’t have a nose either, just an upraised cleft with two vertical slits, and below that was its jaw, one half of it shaved away to expose its teeth. She wasn’t sure whether she was looking at a face or a skull.

Standing out against its decayed features were its eyes, glowing an icy shade of blue, made all the more prominent in the surrounding shadows. They seemed to flicker every now and then, like warp fire dying in a forge, those blue points fixing on the pair of interlopers.

“The pyramid has been breached,” it mused. Its voice was like dust, course and strained, yet there was an underlying power to it that made her fur crawl. “And by pitiful vermin no less. Pests such as thee do not suffer the sands for long.”

“That’s no way to talk to the lady,” Roderick replied, but the creature wasn’t looking at her, its cold eyes were pointed solely on him. First the statue, now this pestilent creature, everything in this city seemed to ignore her and focus on Roderick! Did nobody here recognise Skaven significance?

“D-Do we have to kill-fight you too?” she asked, trembling when the creature shifted its gaze to her. Roderick may have been acquitted to the undead, but seeing what should be a corpse moving and speaking had shaken her. This was just like how Skretch was described, all horribly mutilated, cursed to unlife.

“It would seem so,” Roderick said, clasping his greatsword in both hands. Even with his battered arm, he was taking up a stance, Skyseeker sucking down her fear as she followed suit. Before they could act, however, the undead creature raised a leathery hand, the last two of its fingers missing their flesh entirely.

“Stay your weapons,” it commanded in a booming voice. “I would not exchange blows, but words with thee.”

“You wish to talk?” Roderick asked, lowering his sword a little.

“What are you called?” it demanded, the way its dusty voice echoed making it sound like there were two of them speaking. “The peace in this temple has reigned absolute, I would know of the ones who would break it.”

Skyseeker shared a glance with Roderick, shrugging up at the human. If this thing wanted to have pleasantries before doing battle, that was all the better for her nerves.

“My name is Roderick Erdmann of Altdorf,” her friend began. “Son of Hedmar and Agatha Erdmann. Sigmar’s Heir and – former – Imperial General.”

“Barbarian,” the guttural creature scoffed. “You have come far from your discordant lands. How arrogant the flesh are, to dare call their fractured lands an Empire.”

Roderick narrowed his eyes, the creature turning its gaze on Skyseeker, giving her an expectant moment to begin. She swallowed, mustering up all her bravery as she addressed the zombie.

“I am Sk- Wait! Let me start again!” she quickly added, placing a paw on her chest. “Ahem. I am Zral Skyseeker of Skavenblight. Son – I-I mean daughter – of… parentrat and Queek Headtaker. Possibly. Maybe. The sneakiest assassin of all Clan Mors, and Gnawdwell’s champion, yes-yes. Also a clawcpatain – temporarily, hehe....”

“Your name is Zral?” Roderick asked, Skyseeker nodding. “You never mentioned it.

“Man-thing never asked!” she replied, but the truth was she’d forgotten it. Zral was one of the few things her parentrat had said to her right before saving her from the ratwives. It had only come to mind after she told Roderick of her mother.

“A snivelling rat, calling itself otherwise,” the undead creature interrupted. “Does your stagnant kind still gnaw on the bones of the dead? Hoping to consume ambition, rather than learn it yourselves?”

“Bones as barren as wasteland,” she explained. “not much nutritional value.”

The creature scrutinised her, giving her the impression she had not answered his question correctly. Shrugging, she turned to present matters, gesturing at the zombie with her weeping blade.

“Look, dead-thing, we’ve come for-”

“I know why you are here,” it said, cutting her off. “All intruders share the same goal as thee.”

It walked up to the platform, Skyseeker noting the bones on some of its toes were visible. Despite its size and decrepit appearance, its movements were oddly swift, like it was hovering just above the ground rather than walking across it, its flowing robe trailing along behind it.

It paused behind the pedestal, raising a disfigured hand. “The Stave of Ankhili, an obsession of the living and dead alike.”

“Ankhili?” Roderick asked. “What does that mean?”

“All things within Nehekhara serve their creators. The Stave is one of many of Ankhili’s constructs, sealed within these walls until called upon.”

“Sealed?” Roderick echoed. “It’s just lying there.”

“Its power was required,” it replied, sneering at him as though his comment had offended it. “The orc raids had become a nuisance, and the Stave’s seals were broken. Its power was meant to thwart, yet it only served to encourage their assaults.”

“The relic didn’t work?” Roderick asked.

“It served its function, but the Gods had other plans. The unbinding ritual summoned a tremendous amount of energy, and we were exploited. An echo was projected through the Warp, one felt among all the known World.”

“That must be what made Council have vision, and started my mission!” Skyseeker exclaimed, driving a fist into her paw. “Echo-thing was felt by Grey Seers!”

“Plus Wilfred and the College of Mages.” Roderick added. “And whoever else with a keen sense of magic, such as the orcs. How’d this ‘echo’ happen?” he added, turning back to the creature. “You said you were exploited? By who?”

“Perhaps it was Tzeentch,” it replied. “manipulating the unbinding from the shadows. Or it was Khorne, his influence grows on bloodshed, he would have reason to revel in the slaughter as invaders carried our walls. It could have been some lesser deity of the Aethyr, who sees our peril as nothing more than a show of amusement. Who are we to fathom the reasonings of Gods of Chaos?

“Horned Rat did it,” Skyseeker tittered. “Sounds like thing He would do.”

“It matters not,” the creature continued. “You’ve fought through my massacred city, and now thee is ready to claim the Tomb King’s spoils.”

“Those statues are your guardians?” Roderick mused.

“As Ankhili’s Keeper, it is my sworn oath to the Kings to guard this pyramid from the living. My Ushabti are an extension of-”

“Blah blah blah, you letting us have relic-thing or not?” Skyseeker interrupted. “you talk a lot for a thing that should be DEAD.”

The creature, or Keeper as it called itself, scowled at her before straightening its shoulders. “Naïve child,” it muttered. “Do what you will.”

“So… we can take relic?” she pressed, glancing at the stave.

“My oath confines me to this room,” the Keeper continued. “Only to be fulfilled on my King’s word, or my failure to preserve its contents. I have no means of which to stop you from absconding with my charge.”

“Uh, what?” Skyseeker asked. “Not answer question.”

“I see what you’re implying,” Roderick mused. “You want us to take it, which will in turn free you from this oath?”

“Free?” the Keeper huffed. It was the first time she’d heard the thing speak in a tone that wasn’t borderline comatose. “The cursed dead are never free, Barbarian. My failure will result in my bones turning to dust. A dust that will be forgotten, but not forever. One day I will serve again, under a new King, in a new dynasty, perhaps.”

“So… you won’t fight us?” Skyseeker asked.

“My oath binds me to protect the Stave, which I have fulfilled, with my constructs still roaming the streets above. A fact thee can attest to, it seems.”

“And… that means you won’t fight us? Correct?” she pressed. She couldn’t be sure of its intentions until she had a definitive answer.

The Keeper sighed, a sound like that of a dying Skaven taking its final breath.

“No,” it said, seemingly done with its roundabout way of talking.

“Splendid!” she said, clapping her paws. “Now, if THEE could just get out of THEE way, we can take THEE relic off your paws.”

The Keeper gestured to the Stave, but did not touch it. It seemed she and Roderick would have to take it themselves.

“I’d doubt your intentions, Tomb King,” Roderick began. “but, your Ushabti already tried to stop us before. Just know that I’ll release you from your oath prematurely if you try anything.”

The Keeper said nothing, giving them one last piercing stare with its blue eyes before turning around, returning to its throne, leaving just her and Roderick on the platform. They watched it sit down, then Roderick turned to face her.

“Well then. Moment of truth, eh lass?” he asked. “We’re finally here.”

“Indeed,” she replied, wringing her paws together. As easy as it would be to reach out and seize the Stave, they both stayed rooted to the spot, not quite meeting each other’s eyes as they waited in tense silence.

She knew this moment would come ever since he’d admitted his mission mirrored her own, yet for all the time she’d had to plan it out, she wasn’t sure what to do. They’d come so far together, and now they stood on the proverbial precipice, her heart and her brain in conflict over her next move.

The silence persevered for only a few fleeting moments, but to Skyseeker they seemed to dwell in the crypt for an age, until she sensed a shift in Roderick’s demeanour, the human looking down at her. Perhaps he too was having an internal debate, one that he seemed to conclude after a moment, opening his mouth to speak.

“Well what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Take it.”

“W… What-What?” she stammered. “How you mean?”

“It’s yours,” he added, gesturing to the Stave. “You’ve earned it. Go complete your mission.”

She tried to speak, but a string of random noises was all she could manage. She wiped a paw down from between her eyes to her nose, trying to compose herself.

“B-But Rick-rod! Thought YOU wanted relic-thing?”

“I did, and a part of me still does,” he admitted, looking to said object. “But, just like Wilfred told me, perhaps it’s about time I started thinking about someone else’s needs, rather than my own. Besides,” he added, placing a hand on her shoulder. “you’ve come too far to walk away empty handed.”

“Not as far as Rick-rod has,” she pointed out. “What about man-things exile? Thought you needed relic to clear name-name?”

Roderick hesitated, but his resolve quickly returned.

“And deny your freedom in the process? I’d rather live the life of an exile, than one with a guilty conscience,” he replied. “Why do you argue with me, lass? You’ve spoken of little more than the relic since the day we met – don’t get cold feet now. Go on.”

The relic drew her eyes, its glory no doubt reflecting in the lenses of her goggles as she stared. This was not what she thought would happen. She expected turmoil, she expected their alliance to break under the weight of their shared mission, but instead he was giving her permission? How was he always undermining her? It was so frustrating, but so exciting at the same time. No one ever outsmarted her, nobody.

Gnawdwell’s mission, Clan Mors’ future, her place within Skavendom. So many layers within layers were battling inside her. Yet, there was one thing that stood out among the others, one that held far more value to her than all others. She couldn’t believe it, but she’d come to care for the man-thing during their time together. Not just for the breeding – though that certainly played a major factor – but her feelings for him were undeniable.

Taking him up on his offer now would doom him. His Empire would shun him, as would Wilfred, and it was all for her sake. Such heights of consideration were unreachable to her… or were they?

“No,” she mumbled, a new scheme coming to fruition. There was still a way out of this that saw them both win (her a little more so), and her boundless intelligence had thought of one. “No!” she said, louder this time. “Relic is for you, Rick-rod!”

He flashed her a concerned look. “Lass,” he sighed. “You’ve said some… fairly unhinged things before, but perhaps that statue rid you of a few marbles? This is what you’ve always wanted!”

“You’re all I’ve wanted, Rick-rod,” she snapped. “All Skaven’s life has been spent looking over shoulder, casting suspicion, being target of death-schemes. Rick-rod is first thing ever to treat otherwise! Journey-mission has been only time I’ve let guard down around other thing. Can’t go back to life without that, without you!”

“But what about your mother?” he pressed. “You told me that with this Stave, you planned to free her.”

“Not logical!” she replied. “One Skaven not enough to raid breeding pits, even with relic. Most guard-protected place in all Skavenblight! Only told man-thing that to dissuade it from Stave.”

“You… mean you were lying when you said that?” he asked.

“No-No! This was before Rick-rod’s riddle, before things changed between us-us! Thought you were planning betrayal, take Fredwil’s side! Skaven has always wanted to save Broodmother!”

“Then why can’t you now?” he asked. He didn’t seem angry at her, but his voice was firm, his eyes narrowed.

“You not understand, you not seen breeding pits. You think Tilea invasion had lots of rats? Think again! Vermintides within under-empire uncountable, and Broodmothers are the heart of all under-empire. Nothing touches them. Parentrat cannot be free, but mother made sure I could be. Will not squander chance by going back!”

He rubbed his temple, considering her words.

“And what about your Lord?” he asked. “If you returned to him empty-handed, I doubt he would grant you your freedom.”

“Rick-rod, is like you said before, Skaven is free,” she said. “Gnawdwell cannot touch Skaven from so far, and I don’t need Lord’s protection or permission anyway-way. Since leaving Skavenblight I’ve gained more allies than I can count on paws. You, Fredwil, Kessel-man, all man-things on wolfship. Empire will see me as friend if I gift relic to Rick-rod!”

“If this is about repaying me again, banish the thought,” he replied. “I didn’t do everything up to this point expecting to whisk the relic from you in the end. You’re the closest friend I’ve had in what’s felt like an age, lass. You deserve to succeed.”

“Success means nothing if Rick-rod has to fail,” she said, intentionally mirroring his own words. “I can’t have relic. If that were so, Skaven would have to go back to Skavenblight without you… and thinking about that hurts chest. Don’t know what the man-thing word is, but becoming right-paw assassin would be… lonely without you. Man-thing part of my life, can’t go back to before. Just can’t.”

He fell silent, as did she. She was all too aware of the Keeper watching them from his throne, but he didn’t show any sign of impatience. How could he, sitting in this darkness for however long up to this point?

“I think I know what word you’re looking for,” Roderick began, lowering to a kneeling position. “When humans can’t go on without someone, that means they’re in love with them.”

“Then put me inside this love,” she insisted. “because I need you, Rick-rod! Forever-ever! If relic is price for that, then I accept deal-bargain!”

“Perhaps… we should decide on this later?” Roderick suggested. “Sleep on it?”

“Time for delays has passed! We decide this now-now.”

“It won’t be a simple matter, you know,” he sighed. He was starting to come round to her way of thinking, that was good. “If you wish to stay with me, and return to the Empire, I don’t think I have to tell you how dangerous it’s going to be. Wilfred and I will watch over you, that goes without saying, but every other human will be out for your blood. You’ll have to be constantly on your guard, ever vigilant, not just from the common folk, but witchhunters, sorcerers, even magicians like Wilfred who aren’t so forthcoming. Walking about freely will be a rare commodity for you, there’ll be no one else you can trust.”

“Brilliant!” she exclaimed, Roderick quirking a brow at her. “New enemies to track, plus new schemes to craft? Check and mate! Can I have place for burrow? Not like sunlight very much, plus need private place to make plans.”

“You can have whatever you want, lass.” He paused for a moment, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Perhaps with my rank restored, I could afford to buy you a nice plot of land for you to dig your own little under-empire. Would help keep you out of sight. That sound reasonable?”

Skyseeker shrieked in excitement, looping her arms around his neck and leaping into his embrace, Roderick reaching out to catch her.

“Easy, easy!” he said. “Watch the arm!”

“Sorry!” she said, pulling away a little. “Of course is reasonable! As long as man-thing visits!”

“Trust me, I’ll never leave your side. You’re certain on this course of action?” he asked. “There was a time not long ago you spoke very highly of your victory. You really want to throw it all away for… me?”

There was nothing left for her to say, so she nodded, a look of determination on her face.

“Very well,” he relented. “I shall claim the relic, in Sigmar’s name.”

He got to his feet, passing her his greatsword, Skyseeker struggling to hold the giant weapon aloft. He turned to the Stave, making his way over to its podium, one arm bundled against his chest. In the inky shadows beyond, the Keeper regarded him with its cold eyes, not uttering any advice or words of caution.

Roderick paused before the relic, his last footstep echoing off the walls, reaching out with his good arm. As his fingers inched towards the haft, the words Wilfred spoke to her on her first night aboard the wolfship echoed through her thoughts.

While the Conclave has theorised it can influence people’s intents, its mind-control properties may go both ways. Do you truly believe your Lord will be able to use it, or will it perhaps use him as soon as he lays a finger on it? Will it control you, if you were to touch it?

“W-Wait, Rick-rod...!”

Too late, his fingers had curled around the leather wrapping, Roderick lifting the Stave off the slab. It seemed to weigh more than it looked, Roderick grimacing as he held it out in front of him, peering at the two skulls that topped the weapon. She felt the air grow thick with energy, the tendrils of magic visible in her warpsight redirecting to the relic’s new wielder.

She rushed forward, but the air was so heavy it was like she was wading through molasses, her progress frustratingly slow. She moved around his side, noting his eyes were clamped shut, his arm trembling.

She called out to him, even her voice sounding distorted to her own ears. She glanced to the Keeper, brandishing her weeping blade, expecting a fight, but the creature was still content to sit on its throne, gaze solely fixed on Roderick.

Her eyes shifted, first to the Stave, then to her dagger. Roderick wasn’t answering her, and the Stave was obviously responsible. What else could it do if she didn’t act right this instant?

She raised her weapon, but Roderick’s eyes blazed open at the next instant, fixing themselves upon her.

“No!” he yelled, and a strange sensation washed over her, one that compelled her to do as commanded. Her paw fell to her side, sliding the blade back into her belt before she even had time to realise what she was doing.

That thick, soupy feeling in the air began to subside, Roderick gasping as though he hadn’t taken a breath in minutes. She couldn’t be certain in the dim light of the lantern, but Roderick’s face had taken on a slightly withered appearance, a few strands of his brown hair losing their colouration.

“Rick-rod?” she whispered, taking him by the arm. There were goosebumps all along his skin. “You alright-right? What happened?”

“I felt a… rush,” he replied, turning the stave over in his hand. “as though all the power in the world was mine for one fleeting moment. Everything is… tingly…”

“You better not be mind-controlled,” she grumbled.

“No, I am well,” he replied, giving her one of those little grins of his. “It tried to compel me, though,” he continued. “I heard a whisper. It told me that… all will bend, or fall before me. Staring with you,” he added, a solemn look on his face.

“You nearly did,” she murmured. “Actually that’s not true. Man-thing made Skaven sheath dagger.”

“My apologies,” he replied. “I-I didn’t mean to do that, lass. It just…”

“Skaven is fine,” she insisted. “So how is relic? Good as the tales tell?” she added, trying to lighten the mood.

“I… don’t like it,” he murmured. “It reeks of Chaos, and I don’t think touching it is the best course of action.”

“It is done,” a gravelly voice breathed, the pair turning to the Keeper. “Leave this place, the remaining Ushabti will be drawn to my resting place in time.”

“… Hey, Rick-rod, question,” Skyseeker began. “Can you use relic-thing on dead-thing?”

“No,” the Keeper answered, a touch of annoyance in its dusty tone.

“Why not?” she asked. “Pass it here Rick-rod let me have a go.”

“I think we’ve tarried long enough,” Roderick replied. “It’s over. Let’s leave this place, I feel like I’ve not seen the sun in hours.”

They turned to the stone passageway they’d entered from, passing through the threshold and out into the confined entryway beyond. She stole a look back at the Keeper, noting its arms were reclined against the armrests of the throne, the blue light from its eyes slowly going out. It hadn’t been lying about its oath releasing it from this world.

Hoping to never see another creature of its ilk again, she turned her back on it, she and Roderick leaving the chamber behind for good.

-xXx-

Skyseeker helped Roderick lay down among the grass, placing his greatsword down nearby. They’d walked out of the crevasse and back into the city proper, returning to the oasis, as it was the more hospitable option as opposed to the empty temples.

“Rick-rod sure you feeling fine?” she asked, taking a seat beside him, dipping her feet into the cool water of the pond. “Stumbled a few times back there.”

“That fight with the statue has caught up with me is all,” he answered, laying his head on the ground and staring at the sky. “It’s done,” he added. “Our mission is over. I feel as though I could sleep for a day straight.”

“We’ve earned at least THREE days of nap time,” she said, laying down with him. She draped an arm over his chest in a silent request to cuddle, Roderick obliging without pause. “How’s… How does being relic-thing owner feel?”

“I feel its weight upon my shoulders,” Roderick replied. The Stave was clutched in his opposite hand, his grip on it tightening after a second. “I’ve resisted the corrupted call of Chaos before, but this feels wholly different. No more whispers, though, fortunately.”

“Maybe whisper saw Rick-rod’s faith in mar-sig and scurried away,” she suggested, Roderick grinning at her.

“It’s Sigmar,” he chuckled. “How do you always manage to reverse everyone’s name?”

She shrugged, settling in on the soft grass.

“Would you like to hold it, lass?”

She cocked her head at him. He had not let go of the relic since claiming it back in the temple, and now he was offering it to her? She sat up, looking the Stave over, the way it gleamed in the light only adding to its allure. She reached out a paw, but before she could touch it, something made her hesitate. Her people were a fickle one, and her obsession of the relic wasn’t entirely gone just yet. She doubted she would ever be able to let the Stave go once she touched it.

“No,” she answered, resting her paw on his stomach. “Not my prize any more.”

Roderick looked like he wanted to argue, but she shook her head.

“My mission is complete,” she continued after a few moments, watching a cloud drift by. “Skaven has recovered relic – just as masterminded Gnawdwell asked, but maybe not in way he intended,” she giggled. “Won’t be glad-happy once he knows of my betrayal.”

“You don’t sound very concerned.”

“That’s because my mate is Rick-rod, Controller of Minds! With you in my possession, and a ship of man-thing allies as backup, nothing can stop me! I am now a free rat!”

“Funny of you to think you’re the one in control of this relationship,” he said, smirking at her. “You do realise I have the literal power to bend wills with this staff.”

“That power is mine-mine too,” she replied coyly. “Allow me to… demonstration.”

She swung a leg over his knees, loosening his belt with practiced speed. Roderick immediately set the Stave aside, running his hands up her furry thighs, shifting beneath her into a more comfortable position.

“See?” she chuckled, batting her tail against his leg. “You can’t resist Skaven wiles.”

“Apparently not,” he replied. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he bent her forward, snatching the tip of her muzzle with his lips, joining with her in a gentle kiss. She’d been concerned about his shift in demeanour after he’d claimed the Stave, but all those worries were soothed by his warm embrace.

She believed in his willpower, his strength absolute. He would resist whatever force lurked within the relic, perhaps even learn to control if given time.

Could he dominate the will of all their enemies one day? Raise an army, found an Empire of his own, perhaps? She reigned in her ambitions. Small steps first, worry about the big changes later, and changes there would be, for her life was about to take a steep curve.

“You think we have time for a breed or two?” she asked once they’d parted. “Will Kessel-man wait for us?”

“Wilfred will keep him there as long as he wishes,” Roderick replied. “He knows our trek across the desert will be long, so I think we can afford to spend a little while just… relaxing.”

“Among other things,” she cooed, reaching down to pull her loincloth to the side, her movements slow, but deliberate, Roderick’s eyes falling to her nethers. “I’m so glad I did not kill-stab you during fight-tussle, Rick-rod.”

“Love you too, Zral.”

-The End-

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Call

Chapter 2: Tilea

Chapter 3: Enemy of my Enemy

Chapter 4: The Trantine Hills

Chapter 5: Common Ground

Chapter 6: Portomaggoire

Chapter 7: Setting Sail

Chapter 8: Conflict of Interest

Chapter 9: Confessions

Chapter 10: Landfall

Chapter 11: The Dead Lands

Chapter 12: The Relic