Skaven Word Update

2.5k words. Probs the first chapter ends here.

***

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, chimneys and exhaust ports spewing satisfying amounts of soot. Ominous lights flickered above and beyond the levels surrounding the Mors district, the sprawling grottos pockmarked with holes and burrows 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 war gear 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 practicing their aim.

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

Skyseeker knew which tunnel networks led out of the city, despite the 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 clan districts making up the heart of the under-city. Warp lightning cannons watched vigilantly over the main passages that approached the districts, covered by battlements that were draped with banners displaying the symbols of various Great Clans. Skyseeker and her accompanying stormvermin passed between one of the main gates protecting the heart of the city, 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, the occasional polluted lake obstructing the sprawling shantytowns.

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 armies gathering here, 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 invade into 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 a gentle background buzz as the tunnels trailed higher and away from the 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 hulk-hulks 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. “The Great Lord promised me food for mission,” she muttered. “You have-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 lord’s great offer,” he snapped back, making a show of angling his halberd in her direction. 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?”

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 hand pleadingly as the other reached for her belt. “I take half, that fair trade.”

For a moment she thought the stormvermin was onto her, 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, and that gave her just the barest amount of leverage in terms of agility.

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 glinted as it pierced his war gear, dark blood dribbling out of the fresh crack in his armour.

“You give back food now!” she snarled over the ratman’s 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 hand, 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 tried to advance 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 darkness, and she took cover behind a rock, peering over its jagged surface as the stormvermin taunted her, jabbing his halberd in random directions like he was chasing off ghosts. He came dangerously close to her hiding place at one point, but soon he grew tired of searching, the wound she’d cut into his stomach bleeding more and more as the minutes passed.

Struggling to keep his stomach closed, 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 palm 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 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…

No matter. 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 cavern.

-xXx-

Skyseeker felt the surface-world before she saw it. What seemed like a soft caress her from the front, making her dark fur roil like warpfire flames as the barest of breezes filtered down the tunnel and cooled her burning muscles.

She hated it.

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 could 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 poked her head out from below a lip of earth, exposing her face to the sunlight.

Her urge to convulse was forced back as she beheld the sky, for reasons that should be obvious. While she hated 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 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-dweller cities, but for a female, whoose 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 white 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 tall, 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, 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 soft dirt nearby. They bobbed lazily in the murky water, some large enough to house a warband, some barely large enough to hold one or two Skaven. The constructs were 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 that walled the undercity.

There was maybe a dozen of these shantycraft moored to the island, Skyseeker hopping over to the smaller 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 hand, 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 hand in anymore…

Skyseeker paddled further up the snaking river, stopping when a sinister ring carried over the bog, loud and powerful. She turned her head, seeing a collection of pointy shapes reach 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, if she even livedthrough her journey to the desert-lands at all.

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