Warp Token 2 Word Update

2k words

***

Almost as proud as the day he’d uplifted the bitch, Skyseeker. Ironsnout had not been gifted a breeder for some time now. Perhaps he would take a liking to her, if the mood struck him. If not, then Gnawdwell would have his revenge, and another head to put on a spike. He couldn’t decide which he preferred.

-xXx-

“HELLOOOOOOOOOOO MAN-THINGS! IT’S ME, SKYYYYYSEEEKER! IT HAS BEEN LONG TIME, HOW ARE YOU? DON’T CARE! I’M DOING GOOD-FINE, ONLY PUKES THREE TIMES TODAY FROM EMOTION SICKNESS. EMOTION? MOTION! SEAMAN NEED TO MAKE WARP TECH STABLISERS FOR BOAT. MAKE IT SO!”

In an impressed display of Skaven deference, the pair of man-thing sailors standing nearby physically stepped away from her, probably because they could not cope with her absolute presence. She scrutinised them from beneath her goggles, watching how close their hands went to their swords. She had been living among the crew for over two weeks straight, and their had been no acts of deception since – she had even come to respect their presence – but it never hurt to be suspicious.

She wouldn’t change her attitude where she in their shoes – even though shoes were stupid and just weighed you down. From their perspective, she had fought alongside them on this very deck on a terrific sea battle with a Skaven warship three weeks past, firing the cannons and even steering their ship with her own paws. She did not understand why, but when the man-things watched her kill the other Skaven, they took that as a sign that she was loyal to their cause, and had treated her well enough since. She was practically claw-captain by this point, nearly every one of the two-hundred crew knew and feared her wrath.

Skyseeker stretched her slim arms over her head, suppressing a yawn as she sauntered over to the bulwark. A gazillion liters of water commanded her view, the waves glittering like crystals until the bumpy lands of a coast took up the horizon, Skyseeker glimpsing snow-capped mountains and the occasional city.

Having so much space above her head was absurd. She’d lived her life in the warrens of Skavenblight, a gazillion liters of rock shielding the under-city from the threats of the surface. It had been difficult to acclimate, she had fallen victim to constant bouts of dizziness and vertigo, but she had become strong, and such things no longer hindered her. She still needed her goggles to protect her precious eyes from the glare, but the lenses provided other advantages she would need for the days ahead.

“Must you announce yourself every morning, lass?” a voice asked behind her. “You’re like a little rooster.”

Skyseeker whirled so fast her hood sloughed off her head, beaming at the man-thing. He was tall enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes, as blue as the ocean they coursed through, a sensation that always sent her glans into overdrive. A mane of thick brown fur sprouted from the top of his head, its deep colour contrasting with his lighter skin tone, combed and soft. His features were hardened with a hundred battles, yet he was still possessed by a certain youthfulness.

He was built like a warlord, at least so far as she could tell. Where she preferred her cloak and belts to travel light, he was weighed down with armour, always clad in either boiled leather or steel plates from the neck down. This gave him a near constant complexion of a knight, which was apparently an accomplished title in the man-thing Empire.

Skyseeker bolted over and wrapped her paws around his hips, shoving her snout into his stomach since she couldn’t reach his face, the human laughing down at her as he placed his gauntleted hands on her back.

“Did you truly miss me that much?” he chuckled. “I was only down in the kitchens helping with the prep. I’m fairly sure I told you I would be up early.”

“Never leave Skaven alone again!” Skyseeker demanded, burying her muzzle against his breastplate. His wonderful musk filled her nose. “Rick-rod should know better than to let me die of loneliness.”

“I brought you a peace offering,” he added, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a parcel. “Salmon, your favourite.”

“Hm. Gimme.” She swiped the package from him, ripping into the pink meat with her incisors. Normally she wouldn’t be anywhere within eye-sight of a male while she ate, but her relationship with Roderick was far from normal. It had been over a month since they’d met in the forests of Tilea, once on the fields of two clashing armies, and another in an isolated clearing in the middle of nowhere. Both times they had tried to kill each other, but with a little ingenious Skaven diplomacy, they had come to a truce, and had agreed to traverse the mercenary state together.

During their travels, they had come to know one another deeply, and secrets had been revealed. Skyseeker had been sent by her indominable Lord Gnawdwell to recover a weapon of power from the distant lands of Araby, its deserts laying across an entire ocean. She’d learned that Roderick had been given a similar mission from his Emperor, and the two had joined forces. It turned out they had much more in common than their tasks, and a few deadly battles and a generous amount of warpstone inhalation later, she had bedded the human. He was about as far removed from a Skaven as was possible, yet it was that exact quality that had drawn her to him. She often considered what Roderick made of her, his race detested ratmen and ratwomen alike, though the way he was so eager in their breeding sessions had done wonders for her confidence.

By the time the two of them had finally recovered the relic, they’d been at an impasse, and the lines between duty and love had blurred. In the end, Skyseeker had relinquished her want of the relic. She could not hope to bring Roderick back to Skavenblight, neither of them would ever be safe there, but the Empire was foreign lands, and with her new human allies, she felt as safe as she’d ever been.

They had returned from the Araby deserts victorious, relic in hand, and had been sailing on Captain Von Kessel’s wolfship for two weeks. She had not seen so much of a whisker of the relic since – it had been locked up in the armoury belowdecks for safekeeping – and while Skyseeker’s curiosity was piqued, Roderick’s was on a whole entire level.

Once or twice, she had caught him standing outside the armoury doors, doing…. well, nothing. He’d just stand there with his back turned, and it sometimes took two or three calls to get his attention. Sometimes it almost seemed like he was listening to something her superior ears could not. It wouldn’t have surprised her if Roderick had not been in the kitchen’s at all this morning, but down in the lower cabins, listening… but for what?

Skyseeker finished her slice of salmon, stowing the paper in one of her many pouches. Could come in handy later on. “I accept peace offer, Rick-rod,” she said.

Roderick reached down and ruffled her head, brushing the spot between her ears he knew she liked. She shoved him away halfheartedly, enjoying the attention.

“I meant what I said,” Roderick added. “Not even Von Kessel shouts as loud as you do, some of the men might start to complain.”

“What is point in being meek-quiet, when I have so much important things to say?” Skyseeker retorted. “Volume equals knowledge.”

“I doubt Wilfred would agree with that,” Roderick said, wagging a finger. “He’s older than you and me combined.”

“And it shows,” she scoffed. “His fur’s as wrinkly as his skin.”

Roderick held back a snort, shaking his head at her, but she didn’t detect any disapproval in his expression.

“Anyways,” Skyseeker said. “Is that the Imperial Empire thing?” She turned and trotted back to the bulwark. She hopped deftly onto the railing, and although her tail stretched out for balance, Roderick reached out and held onto her paw all the same. His concern for her safety never ceased to be endearing, even if it was misplaced.  

“No,” Roderick said, meeting her gaze as they looked out over the ocean. “That is Lyonesse, a state of Brettonia. They control the entire western coast of the continent, at least until the Middle Sea.”

“Tell me of these Bretons,” she said.

“A state built on the chivalry of pretentious aristocrats,” Roderick said. “They live by codes of chivalry and honour, as long as said codes benefit themselves only. If you ever heard the phrase get off your high horse, it is the Brettonians who it is based from. They call anyone who isn’t a knight errant a peasant, as though riding a horse is all it takes to be a nobleman. Still, their skill with winemaking is undeniable.”

“You not sound like fan,” Skyseeker noted. “They enemies of Imperial place?”

“On the contrary, the Empire and Brettonia are staunch allies. Snobs or not, their heavy lance charges hit harder than a giant’s club. Not as hard as a well-oiled handgun, of course,” he added, patting the butt of his pistol.”

“Please don’t tell Skaven we will be going there,” she whined. “Skaven hates snobs.”

“Unfortunately, Von Kessel’s going to make port for a resupply in a few days,” Roderick replied. Skyseeker flopped down onto the bulwark in defeat. “It won’t be all bad,” he added. “It is only for one night, you can stay aboard the ship if you want.”

“Skaven hates ship too,” she complained. “Too much sway-sway, want to feel dirt under paws. Perhaps another heist is in order…”

“Please do not turn the whole town against us,” Roderick sighed. “Remember what happened in Portomaggoire?”

“Skaven was not detected… much,” she defended. “And we scattered quick-quick, yes? No man-things were wise to presence.”

“Except for the poor man you stole from. And the city guard who investigated. I heard a rumour when we docked in Magritta that the entire city went into lockdown for nearly a week.”

“Skaven was too quick for lockdown!”

“And if you hadn’t been?”

Skyseeker cocked her head in confusion. “I do not understand question.”

“Nevermind,” he said. “I forgot I was dealing with Clan Mors greatest assassin.”

“Former!” she corrected. “Skaven now ally with Empire. As staunch as Bretons. Stauncher! The God-Emperor cult is now Skaven’s cult.

“It’s just Emperor,” Roderick said. “not God-Emperor. Sigmar was sometimes called a God-King, but He is not around anymore. Just do yourself a favour and just say Emperor.”

“Does Rick-rod plan on introducing me?” Skyseeker asked. She wasn’t sure how she felt about meeting man-thing Lords. Allies or not, their races were at war.

“I hadn’t thought to. Our destination lies within the Capital, Altdorf, and the Conclave of Wizards behind its walls. It’s vaults are where Wilfred wants to put the relic we found for safekeeping.”

Skyseeker noted that Roderick had not referred to Wilfred’s mission as a collective, as if his goals differed from the wizard’s.

“How long will that take?” she asked. “Feels like Skaven has been on ship forever.”

“If the winds are good, and we don’t run into trouble, another two weeks, perhaps,” Roderick said. “Come now,” he said when he saw her sulking. “You’ve come this far, you can handle a few more days of sailing.”

“But sailing is boring! Can’t even shoot cannons or steer ship without Kessel-man running Skaven off. Nothing to do but watch stupid water.”

“I can think of a few things that may help pass the time,” Roderick said, his tone turning sly, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.

“B-Breeding?!” she exclaimed, shivering at his proximity.

“Shhh!” he chided, stifling a laugh. “Announce yourself all you want, but don’t announce that. The crew doesn’t know about us yet, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Volume equals knowledge!” she shouted. “Skaven accepts your offer, Rick-rod. But first! Need more fish,” Skyseeker said. “Breeding always make Skaven hungry, better to eat beforepaw. Time to raid kitchen, let’s go-go!”