Warp Token Update

2k words

***

“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. A more concentrated place of scum and degeneracy you’ll never find. I hear every one of them 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 halting at that. “Although, pirates infest the Tilean coast like a disease. There’s a good chance we’ll run into one of their ships. By Sigmar, 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!”

“There’s no reason to be alarmed,” Roderick said. “We’re over a hundred men, plus one Skaven strong, with two cannons for every man. 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 an even bigger warpstone booty. That was, until giant monster came from depths and gobbled him up, ship and all! Skretch stabs it from the inside, kills monster-thing as punishment, but monster doesn’t let him go, no-no! He drowns at ocean bottom 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 stinking 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 WAY worse!”

-xXx-

Fur as dark as opal

Eyes the shade of ruby

To all others, you’re 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, as his thoughts had been occupied by the mysterious ship that had been following them. Ever since it had been spotted, the vessel had gotten closer and closer over time, somehow able to ride the currents faster than the wolfship, despite its ramshackle appearance.

A possible engagement 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. 

No matter, he had more pressing issues to concern himself with. 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.

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 thing?” one of the sailors shouted. From between the explosions, new sharp instances of colour suddenly 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, the vessel bursting into flames.

“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. It seemed witnessing her people’s energy had excited 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 battleing 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 candor, 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 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…

“Our pursuers,” Wilfred muttered, clutching his wreath as he staggered to his feet. The lightning had caught near every man by surprise, even Skyseeker had hit the deck in alarm. “They’ve caught up to us at last.”

“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 sir’s as the sailors launched into action, Roderick helping Skyseeker get to her feet and out of their way. He stood in front of the captain before he could pass, 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 otherwise.”

“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. 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, their voices raising above all other sounds.

Roderick moved down the portside edge, examining each cannon lining the bulwark. 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 greehorns,” 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 certain you barely even 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 laying nearby, Skyseeker bending over to pick them up. They were the same shape as cotton swabs, except they were as long as swords, one end of each stick flaring out into a bulbous shape. 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. “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 wood, Skyseeker holding the swabs out and away with little effort.

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 clock.”

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, if you will.”