Warp Token Update

2k words

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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 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, labelling me impulsive, tactless. The Emperor’s advisors were quick to call my mental stability into question. People demanded I should hang, but my service to the Empire ensured I was banished instead. I was sworn to only return when I, in the Emperor’s words: 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… thought you ate all of your bounty before? 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 fruit-things. Take-have twenty one fruit-things, 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 hoove-things, make Skyseeker warband look weak-weak. Then, when hoove-things least expect it… spring trap!”

“You thing 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 griffons 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 mountians. At the furthest reaches of her vision, she saw greenery dotting the fields of wildgrass, gently leading thick walls of trees. That must be a forest, it 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. There was something 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 youas 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 griffon wasn’t enough to worry about,” the man-thing muttered, stashing his canteen away as he glanced 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 then 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 griffon. 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 griffon’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, just ahead of them.

“Let’s take a look,” he said, lowering his voice. “Nice and quiet, okay? WE’ve come this far without incedent, don’t want to start now.”

The rat, Skyseeker, nodded, then plunged her face into the dirt. She cupped her hands 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 – flat grasslands stretching in every direction, with only the distant hill breaking up the plains. 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.