Two Sides of the Warp Token Update

2k words

***

“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 accidently 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 horses 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.

“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 heel, 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 reloading required a lot of concentration.

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 of her kind.

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. It was quite the intriguing development.

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 down 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 Skaven 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-things lies! Her fear of the beast only slightly outweighing her confidence, she flourished a dagger at the four-leg-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 as much Warpstone as you can eat. Yes-Yes?”

The beast said nothing, not even bothering to nod its head as the muscles in its long neck relaxed. 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 level 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 had gone. 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 firearm, she knew how deadly being hit by one of those could be, and she had the scars to prove it. 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-

As the sun rose, so too did the humidity of the forest, Roderick keeping his visor open so he didn’t cook alive inside his helmet. He still had 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 mercenaries out in the middle of the wilds.

Roderick leaned against the foot of a tree, drawing a waterskin from one of his pouches and sating his thirst. He’d expected the southern parts of the continent to be cooler than Imperial lands, but it seemed to be the opposite. Even before crossing the Vaults, he found the days becoming progressively warmer, even at the latest hours of the night he often found himself waking up cold with sweat.

Hours later, when the sun reached its highest point in the sky, he could go no further, Roderick’s body demanding that he rest. He searched for a place to stop, eventually coming across the base of a massive tree, its tall roots large enough to hide him from any prying eyes. He set his bags down next to the great oak, spreading them out 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-perishable foods like jerked meat and bread, typical foods for an army that was constantly on the move, 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, this time spotting the disturbed bush a few paces away, its spiky arms shaking 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.