The sounds of warp lightning crackling filled the air, as it rang throughout the underground...
Vermintide: The End Times Cometh (WFB-Venom)
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Chapter One
The sounds of warp lightning crackling filled the air, as it rang throughout the underground laboratory, several infernal machines clanking as they worked their mechanisms to better power the creation, the insides of the vat bubbling with Clan Moulders' new creation. In the distance, metallic clanging came closer, ringing in the ears of the packmasters as a rat in dark red armor came onto the wretched wooden platform, overseeing the bubbling vat.
He leaned over the makeshift wooden railing of the wooden platform, overseeing dozens of rats with electric prods, whips, and various other instruments surrounded the vat, terrified of what will emerge from the bubbly acid. Everyone in the laboratory ended up staring into the bubbling vat until it grew still, and a horrific sight released itself from the confines of its prison.
A monstrosity that no sane person should look upon, a creature that was so vile, even looking at it made the vermin trying to contain it tremble in fear as it thrashed around, its body covered with multiple rat heads, some looked as if they were in the middle of being birthed, others deformed, and the few lucky ones were all covered in fur, and they were all snapping at any who came too close. Its flesh moved, as if it had a mind of its own, mechanical bits covered its body, a giant wheel fused into the body of the beast, its head looked as if its skin was ripped off, its skull revealed, a symbol of Clan Moulder forever burned on its forehead.
Its jaws snapping together, making a sound that can make even the bravest of men tremble in fear, as it opened its own mouth, a spike made of warpstone replaced its tongue, it launched out of its mouth and impaled a nearby packmaster, and in one gulp, the rat was gone. It was that day, the Hell Pit Abomination was created, as the monster's tail whipped around the room, the rat in dark red armor couldn't help but smile, wondering how much havoc it would wreak in battle, he exploded in maniacal laughter as the abomination gobbled up another packmaster, claiming its second meal.
Never before has there been such a surge of technological advancements in Skaven history, things like giant rats seemed nothing like a minuscule accomplishment compared to this time of history. In a mere year, the Skaven quickly built new war machines, more warbeasts to fight for the "Great Horned Rat". What would've taken Skaven decades to build, took the clans a total of one year or more to bring upon this apocalyptic surge of ratmen and beasts. The other inhabitants of the world quickly named this era, "The End Times", for there was no escape from the verminous ratmen. No one was safe from the infectious wrath of the verminous rat men…
Chapter One
The Raid
Lanterns swayed in the cold breeze, two dwarves shuffled their feet, as their metallic boots clank against the rocky path. Behind them lay a tall and mighty mountain, carved onto one of its sides stands a massive metallic gate protecting one of the one many dwarven strongholds, Karak Kadrin, an underground city, bustling with lively dwarves as they make their way through the city and its marketplaces that never seems to halt. Much deeper into the mountain, miners pick away at the dirt and stone in search of the abundant metal ore the mountain holds within it. With each strike to the earth, a booming sound is made. As the dwarfs in the city continue their day, the booming and thundering sound from the miners can be heard ringing continuously throughout the underground.
Above ground, behind the various terrain and the scarce foliage, a gutter runner chitter silently squeaked to himself as he spies on the gate guards, he wore a grey hood covering his face, his beady red eyes glancing back and forth at the two guards. The rat grinned, The small-things are not scared-fear of the might-power of the Skaven, they will-die see the power of the rat-Skaven, they will run-scurry! He thought, waiting for the dwarves to slumber off to sleep, waiting for the sedative to take effect, which was shot with a blowgun, with the blow darts being small enough to contain enough toxins to knock out an elephant, and yet still not be felt. The runner had not expected it to take long, and in less than five minutes both of them were slumped up against the wall, sleeping peacefully, he took out a strange pistol, and shot toward the sky before it started descending to the ground, it exploded into a ball of green light. The rat took cover, as he heard the contraption shambling towards the gates, from the corner of his red eyes, he saw it.
The Doomwheel, an infernal device that requires rats to make it roll like a hamster ball, but it is as large as a building, with a spiked ram at the front to batter any who is unfortunate enough to get in its destructive path, a banner of Clan Mors attached to the back of the wretched contraption, with a slave rat pumping the needed warpstone energy to fire the green lightning the conduits shot out. It used a movement source that could get exhausted, so at times it could be the world's largest snail or bolt like a falcon diving in to kill its prey, and of course, it had tons of spikes, to strike fear into the enemy! The doomwheel quickly closed ground, whilst the dwarven horn was blaring, but it was too late. The infernal device crashed down the gates, it's speed that of an enraged rhino, as it crashed straight through lines of dwarves, while the warpstone conduits were charging, preparing to fire blasts of warp lightning, the slave rat being mildly inconvenienced by the highly toxic gas seeping out of the pump. The gates were soon flooded with a tide of rats, climbing over each other just to get the taste of blood. The wheel sped towards the capital until it came at a halting stop as the slave rats collapsed from exhaustion, the pilot threatening the rats that he will, "kill-eat them if they don't get moving."
The defenders of the gate weren't so useless, they had several artillery pieces in the distance. Recovering from the sudden attack from their ancient enemy, the dwarves slowly aimed a cannon at the doomwheel, as the dwarves guarding the gate soon became overwhelmed by the vermintide, sparks flew and blades hit flesh and clashed against steel. Several rats have lumbered into the destroyed gate, each carried a box on their back, with a deadly device in it, and then took up positions above their own and the dwarfs. The wheel started moving again, albeit slower than before, but just fast enough to dodge the incoming cannon shot that came for the device. The engineer piloting the device cursed as the cannonball took off a warp conduit, limiting its offensive capabilities. The dwarves, despite being overwhelmed held their ground, but unbeknownst to them, another one of the skavens contraptions was about to be unleashed on them. The horde of rats backed off, chittering as they took steps back, as the cranks made a rackety noise.
"Shields up!" Ordered one of the many dwarves, as the rats excitedly unboxed their packs, to reveal their "ratlings", as they called them, and took aim at the masses of dwarves.
The ten rats that went up, three exploded into a shower of giblets and blood, the other five unleashed a hail of warpstone bullets, piercing through all manner of armor. The rats immediately crashed through the lines, taking advantages of the enemies confusion, but even then, the ratlings didn't discriminate, it mowed down as many dwarves as it did Skaven, if not even more. The doomwheel crashed through buildings, seeking out the artillery as the front conduit shot forth a blast of warp lightning, barely missing some of the cannon crew, the rat continued to threaten the slave rats to continue powering and moving the wheel, else they are devoured by the many legions of rats. The gunners continued suppressing the dwarf reinforcements, but one by one the weapon teams ratlings broke down, exploding into bits along with their users.
The ratmen below surrounded the dwarven legion, no matter how many vermin tried to break the wall of dwarves, they were always repelled. The wheel had made it to the artillery crews, running down the cannons and many catapults that lay in its destructive path, green lightning shooting out the left, back and the front sides, the right only shooting out tiny sparks ever since it was grazed by a cannonball.
But then a monster, so disgusting, so absolutely horribly powerful, stomped through the busted gate, its four arms moving simultaneously, its immense weight cracking the stone beneath it, the dwarves resolve quickly crumbled when they saw the abomination, a nightmare vision of its appearance struck fear in the dwarves, if a creature like this rose fear in the dwarves, no race was safe. Like a bull, it bowed down its head and charged towards the blob of dwarves, crushing its used to be brethren, a beast that used to be one of his own, but now its form is now so twisted and corrupted, is it even a Skaven any more? Its own body was a weapon, any rat or dwarf unfortunate to get close enough would get snapped up by the many rat heads. The legion of dwarves just fell on their knees, it was too horrifying, its immense bulk overtook them, as they saw their gods abandon them to the ferocious abomination.
The first stage of the raid was complete, the remaining dwarves fled to the inner city of Karak Kadrin, the bulk of the verminous army came through the gates, the units that got into the city were just a small portion of the mighty army. The dwarf king of the hold, Ungrim Ironfist looked upon the massive army of various monsters and verminous contraptions atop his humongous tower, which was attached to the cavern walls in order to support its bulk.
"May the gods be with us, kin, for I fear not even all of the dwarves in the world could hold off this mass of rat spawn."
Admitted their king, the dwarves looked beyond the inner walls, and they couldn't help but tremble in terror that he was right.
The greatest of under-city known to ratkind, the immense city that was Skavenblight, one of the bases of operations for Skaven, buildings swayed in the freezing subterranean air produced from various contraptions powering the great city's denizens and its immoral experiments. The city spanned across several surface cities, housing an innumerable amount of vermin, the very place where most of the skavens' idea of warfare have come from, even the most immoral, horrific, and disgusting ideas are accepted and experimented on their unlucky subordinates, but the most important feature about Skavenblight, is that it housed the Council Of Thirteen.
A single rat covered in robes approached the two hulking Rat Ogres, rats who were spliced with ogres, a race that presumably has died out, stitches covering their body from their mutators mending and ripping their flesh repeatedly, their hands were replaced with metal blades or spiked balls, some even had warpstone spikes sprouting from their body. Rat ogres are a clan leaders' favorite bodyguards, they are barely intelligent, and are viciously loyal to their employer, they can never give up secrets of the clan they are employed to. Another thing about the rat ogres is their appearance is enough to scare off the most hardened of men. The hulking brutes let the rat pass by them, the rat quickly opened two doors into a room with a round table with thirteen chairs surrounding it. Twelve chairs were occupied with a diverse scene of rats, some had grey, black, brown, and orange fur, one rat had curved horns poking out of its forehead. The horned rat drilled his glare into the scribe slave, who was too afraid to speak.
"Speak, fool or we eat-die you!" Said Queek, the rat covered in bright red armor, covering nearly his entire body, save for his face, which was exposed to the elements.
"Yes, O' most powerful of lords! I c-come to report-tell that a s-skaven army is k-kill-scurrying dwarf city, Karak-Kadrin." Replied the timid scribe.
The clan leaders shifted in their seats, mildly surprised by the news, but the silence was broken by the horned rat when he started yelling, "No-no! Clans must gather warpstone for council plan!", immediately, this sparked a flurry of arguments among the leaders.
"Clan Pestilens retake-steal Lustria from lizard-things!" Said Skrolk, who wore a green robe that covered most parts of his body, but not his face, which was fortunate for the council, but under all those clothes, he had plague buboes and botches of fur covered his body from extensive exposure to various diseases, some say he is the plague incarnate.
"Yes-yes, but most importantly skaven-clans must gather warpstone for councils plan!" Screamed Vulscreek, the horned rat with his ruinous staff imbued with warpstone. Arguments dragged on about what the clan leaders should do, some threatened to end the alliance between the clans, some said that they should kill "dwarf cities" before they start invading the surface world. The council was starting to get agitated, swords were being drawn, snapping at each other and throwing various insults and each other. The thirteenth chair had skaven runes inscribed on it, with the symbol of the Great Horned Rat marked on the front, warpstone flowed behind the cracks and various wires that were strung around the outside of the chair. No rat dared to sit in it, for whoever dared would be struck by the energy stored in it, leaving a nice smoky pile of ash. The chair covered the room in an eerie, dark green light, slowly the clan leaders dropped back in their chair, mumbling under their breath.
Once the rats had calmed down, the chair receded its eerie power and went back to its normal state. The clan leaders reluctantly sheathed their swords, they had no choice in the matter, if they wanted to avoid their god's wrath.
"The Great Horned Rat commands us to gather warpstone for his smart-plan…" Declared Vulscreek, as several leaders grunted, and reluctantly agreed, then bowed down their heads.
"Go and tell armies of the skaven-clans to kill-gather, take-steal warpstone! Gather even the tiny-smallest fragment,"
"Oh yes, O' gracious of lords!" Responded the scribe slave.
"And fiail yourself a hundred times!" Demanded the horned white rat.
"Oh, it will be done, O' most powerful of lords!" And then just like that, the scribe ran off to report the new commands.
The bulk of the skaven army marched through the broken gates of Karak Kadrin, no longer was there a cold breeze, but a raging thunderstorm took its place, packmasters ran around the encampment, struggling to contain all of the mighty beasts. Some of the monsters ate various skaven slaves, but other than that the warlord commanding the army didn't give much attention to the problem. The doomwheel had taken minimal damage from the cannon, but other than that it was able to go into battle, various elite rats, which were called stormvermin, trained and drilled themselves as best as rats can do, which is not that great, as expected by rats. Despite the low amount of war machines, their firepower was unsurpassable when they actually work. The warlord of the rat horde went by the name Kretch Blacktail, despite being a coward in every sense of the word, he was a great strategist and knew when, where, and how to deal a vital blow to the enemy army in a matter of seconds.
The horde had used the destroyed buildings as places of rest before the attack tomorrow, the biggest building contained Kretch and his advisors, who were arguing over what plans should they use.
"Must bash down gate to make dwarf things die-scurry from us-us!" Argued one while another punched him right in the face.
"No-no must cave in tunnel before dwarf things do! If we fight on bridge we will scurry-die!" Retorted the one that knocked another advisor out cold.
Finally, the rat in dark brown armor spoke up, "Wrong-wrong, ogres, and abomination open-tear gate thing, let slaves first to soak-die the dwarf things ammunition, while the beast-things dig-tear a tunnel to let better rats kill-die dwarfs!"
Not surprising anyone, no one spoke up, probably because they didn't want to anger Kretch, for they feared him in his outbursts of rage whenever his plan is threatened by a better, and smarter plan. The most elite of the skaven were allowed to sleep in buildings, the others were ordered to pile up on each other if they wanted to survive the cold night.
The horn blared, straight into the ears of the ones outside, which awoke the rest of the camp. Immediately packmasters armed themselves with swords and whips to keep in line the horrid beasts, clanrats and stormvermin gathered their armaments and prepared for war. The skavenslaves were left with nothing but rags and broken weapons, despite their objection, they were forced to use the crude weaponry. As Tretch had ordered, the four behemoths of bulging flesh dug their claws, and blades into the gate. Some of the abominations had spiked balls for hands, so they reserved them for other, more appropriate actions. Rat ogres also did the same, and once all was well and done, they started to force open the gate, with their combined, immense strength, it really was no competition. The chains strained to keep the gate shut from the invaders, but even dwarven smithing was no match for pure disgusting strength. The gates were ripped open from their hinges and fell to the ground, smashing several slaves. No one mourned for them though, for who cared how many died? Who even cared if millions died, when your race literally populates like rats?
Clanrats and stormvermin poked the slaves forward, budging them ever closer to the dwarven front line, which was quite the distance away. The gate had revealed a bridge behind it, and several legions of Ironbreakers, which were some of the most elite dwarven infantry, able to hold off even the tiring hordes of skaven and their unholy beasts.
"Die for the horned rat, or you will-die fed to the ogres!" Howled Kretch, standing atop of his bone-breaker, a heavily modified rat ogre that was nearly as big as a building, but it came at a cost. Its immense weight forces it to use its own arms as legs, and his hands were replaced with warpstone drills, on top of its back, it carried a wooden platform for skaven warlords to stand upon.
Finally, the slaves surged into the bridge, already flooding it at all sides. Dwarven artillery shot over the heads of slaves, who dared not to look behind them. Already, thousands had died, but no matter how many the dwarves killed, there was always ten more to take its place. Thunderers shot into the massing lines of skaven, their rifles producing sounds like thunder, no surprise there. Quarrellers fired bolts into the mass of rats, no matter how many projectiles were shot, thrown, blasted, there was too many skaven to stop, it was a literal neverending surge of rats! Yet the horde still had many ways to go before they arrived at the frontline of the ironbreakers, yet their ammunition began to run out, bullets, bolts, balls, and boulders were scarce, yet the rat horde kept on flowing onto the bridge.
Behind the bloodied bridge, lay a giant hole in a wall, the size a building, with clanrats and stormvermin pouring into it, along with the weapon teams, and the hulking beasts, the two doomwheels started, their slave rats ready to make the infernal contraption bolt to the enemy line.
The last piece of ammunition, which was a cannonball flew through the ranks of slave rats, the cavern walls beside the artillery teams burst in shrapnel of flint and stone, as a torrent of both claw and blade struck shield and muscle. One of them was enough to stun the hardened of dwarfs, but four were enough to turn an entire army to stone, the packmasters let them loose into the surprised dwarves, their makeshift weapons replacing their hands made quick work of any dwarf in their way. Some accepted their death and fell to their knees, for how could you win, against a beast that cannot die?
Unexpectedly, a cannon shot out against an abomination, its body's flesh bulging and forming to better absorb the impact. As if a building had been knocked down, it trembled, and let loose a horrid howl, crushing several rats as it crumbled. Seeing this event, the dwarves resolve hardened, even in the most hopelessness of situations, their ambush had worked, several slayers, dwarves who had done away with armor in exchange for speed and ferocity, who had giant orange mohawks and beards as their only protection, dual wielding two dwarven axes. The most dangerous part of a Slayer is that they seek death because of their oath, they need to die in battle to a monstrous beast, for death was the only redemption for whatever horrible deed they may have committed.
"O' lord! The dwarf-things had laid a trap for us-us, what do we d-" The rat fell dead as a bolt stuck out of his back, penetrating his heavy armor. The dwarves pushed back the ratmen, chopping any who came close, walking by the abomination that had crumbled. The other beasts were in transit to the battle, but by the time they came it'd be too late, the skaven panicked and started throwing themselves into the frontline, but the "corpse" of the abomination let loose an enormous sigh, it had many hearts, as many ten, its last heart was beating slowly, knowing the sweet embrace of death was finally coming to end its life. Before it took its last breath, warpstone flowed through its veins, instantly restarting its ten hearts. The abomination, was quite literally, "Too Horrible To Die."
Its wounds healed in the middle of battle, it tore through the dwarves, as the other creatures came into the ranks, tearing them limb from limb, chopping off tiny heads with metal blades covered in their own clansmen blood. The slaves had overrun the ironbreakers with the help of the doomwheels, warp lightning surging both through the rat and dwarf ranks. The group with Tretch had looped around, surrounding the ironbreakers and finishing off any dwarf who dared to run from their ferocity. In less than one and a half days, one of the great dwarven holds had fallen, this stain of shame will never be rid off of Clan Drake Beards honor, if the clan even remained after The Raid.
The rats scrounged around the destruction, gathering warpstone and mining for even more, desecrating statues and banners, they had broken into the treasury and mounted every single gold piece on each rat ogre and abomination.
"Me-me will be praised, Queek will finally notice-praise me-me, yes-yes!" Shouted Kretch, as he giggled like an infant that just found its new toy, as he let loose a battle cry, in victory of Clan Mors, their dark crimson banner flying over the dwarven corpses, robbing everything they had worked their entire lives to build, only to see it be destroyed, in less than two days. But yet, one survived, maybe even the only survivor of Clan Drake Beard, he walked the tunnels of his desecrated home, when he had finally arrived back to the center of the dwarf hold, fire enveloped houses, his own kin strung upon poles of their own banners. His heart burned with rage, he swore an oath that he, himself will eradicate every single rat in all of the worlds. His name was Bardin Goreksson.
He leaned over the makeshift wooden railing of the wooden platform, overseeing dozens of rats with electric prods, whips, and various other instruments surrounded the vat, terrified of what will emerge from the bubbly acid. Everyone in the laboratory ended up staring into the bubbling vat until it grew still, and a horrific sight released itself from the confines of its prison.
A monstrosity that no sane person should look upon, a creature that was so vile, even looking at it made the vermin trying to contain it tremble in fear as it thrashed around, its body covered with multiple rat heads, some looked as if they were in the middle of being birthed, others deformed, and the few lucky ones were all covered in fur, and they were all snapping at any who came too close. Its flesh moved, as if it had a mind of its own, mechanical bits covered its body, a giant wheel fused into the body of the beast, its head looked as if its skin was ripped off, its skull revealed, a symbol of Clan Moulder forever burned on its forehead.
Its jaws snapping together, making a sound that can make even the bravest of men tremble in fear, as it opened its own mouth, a spike made of warpstone replaced its tongue, it launched out of its mouth and impaled a nearby packmaster, and in one gulp, the rat was gone. It was that day, the Hell Pit Abomination was created, as the monster's tail whipped around the room, the rat in dark red armor couldn't help but smile, wondering how much havoc it would wreak in battle, he exploded in maniacal laughter as the abomination gobbled up another packmaster, claiming its second meal.
Never before has there been such a surge of technological advancements in Skaven history, things like giant rats seemed nothing like a minuscule accomplishment compared to this time of history. In a mere year, the Skaven quickly built new war machines, more warbeasts to fight for the "Great Horned Rat". What would've taken Skaven decades to build, took the clans a total of one year or more to bring upon this apocalyptic surge of ratmen and beasts. The other inhabitants of the world quickly named this era, "The End Times", for there was no escape from the verminous ratmen. No one was safe from the infectious wrath of the verminous rat men…
Chapter One
The Raid
Lanterns swayed in the cold breeze, two dwarves shuffled their feet, as their metallic boots clank against the rocky path. Behind them lay a tall and mighty mountain, carved onto one of its sides stands a massive metallic gate protecting one of the one many dwarven strongholds, Karak Kadrin, an underground city, bustling with lively dwarves as they make their way through the city and its marketplaces that never seems to halt. Much deeper into the mountain, miners pick away at the dirt and stone in search of the abundant metal ore the mountain holds within it. With each strike to the earth, a booming sound is made. As the dwarfs in the city continue their day, the booming and thundering sound from the miners can be heard ringing continuously throughout the underground.
Above ground, behind the various terrain and the scarce foliage, a gutter runner chitter silently squeaked to himself as he spies on the gate guards, he wore a grey hood covering his face, his beady red eyes glancing back and forth at the two guards. The rat grinned, The small-things are not scared-fear of the might-power of the Skaven, they will-die see the power of the rat-Skaven, they will run-scurry! He thought, waiting for the dwarves to slumber off to sleep, waiting for the sedative to take effect, which was shot with a blowgun, with the blow darts being small enough to contain enough toxins to knock out an elephant, and yet still not be felt. The runner had not expected it to take long, and in less than five minutes both of them were slumped up against the wall, sleeping peacefully, he took out a strange pistol, and shot toward the sky before it started descending to the ground, it exploded into a ball of green light. The rat took cover, as he heard the contraption shambling towards the gates, from the corner of his red eyes, he saw it.
The Doomwheel, an infernal device that requires rats to make it roll like a hamster ball, but it is as large as a building, with a spiked ram at the front to batter any who is unfortunate enough to get in its destructive path, a banner of Clan Mors attached to the back of the wretched contraption, with a slave rat pumping the needed warpstone energy to fire the green lightning the conduits shot out. It used a movement source that could get exhausted, so at times it could be the world's largest snail or bolt like a falcon diving in to kill its prey, and of course, it had tons of spikes, to strike fear into the enemy! The doomwheel quickly closed ground, whilst the dwarven horn was blaring, but it was too late. The infernal device crashed down the gates, it's speed that of an enraged rhino, as it crashed straight through lines of dwarves, while the warpstone conduits were charging, preparing to fire blasts of warp lightning, the slave rat being mildly inconvenienced by the highly toxic gas seeping out of the pump. The gates were soon flooded with a tide of rats, climbing over each other just to get the taste of blood. The wheel sped towards the capital until it came at a halting stop as the slave rats collapsed from exhaustion, the pilot threatening the rats that he will, "kill-eat them if they don't get moving."
The defenders of the gate weren't so useless, they had several artillery pieces in the distance. Recovering from the sudden attack from their ancient enemy, the dwarves slowly aimed a cannon at the doomwheel, as the dwarves guarding the gate soon became overwhelmed by the vermintide, sparks flew and blades hit flesh and clashed against steel. Several rats have lumbered into the destroyed gate, each carried a box on their back, with a deadly device in it, and then took up positions above their own and the dwarfs. The wheel started moving again, albeit slower than before, but just fast enough to dodge the incoming cannon shot that came for the device. The engineer piloting the device cursed as the cannonball took off a warp conduit, limiting its offensive capabilities. The dwarves, despite being overwhelmed held their ground, but unbeknownst to them, another one of the skavens contraptions was about to be unleashed on them. The horde of rats backed off, chittering as they took steps back, as the cranks made a rackety noise.
"Shields up!" Ordered one of the many dwarves, as the rats excitedly unboxed their packs, to reveal their "ratlings", as they called them, and took aim at the masses of dwarves.
The ten rats that went up, three exploded into a shower of giblets and blood, the other five unleashed a hail of warpstone bullets, piercing through all manner of armor. The rats immediately crashed through the lines, taking advantages of the enemies confusion, but even then, the ratlings didn't discriminate, it mowed down as many dwarves as it did Skaven, if not even more. The doomwheel crashed through buildings, seeking out the artillery as the front conduit shot forth a blast of warp lightning, barely missing some of the cannon crew, the rat continued to threaten the slave rats to continue powering and moving the wheel, else they are devoured by the many legions of rats. The gunners continued suppressing the dwarf reinforcements, but one by one the weapon teams ratlings broke down, exploding into bits along with their users.
The ratmen below surrounded the dwarven legion, no matter how many vermin tried to break the wall of dwarves, they were always repelled. The wheel had made it to the artillery crews, running down the cannons and many catapults that lay in its destructive path, green lightning shooting out the left, back and the front sides, the right only shooting out tiny sparks ever since it was grazed by a cannonball.
But then a monster, so disgusting, so absolutely horribly powerful, stomped through the busted gate, its four arms moving simultaneously, its immense weight cracking the stone beneath it, the dwarves resolve quickly crumbled when they saw the abomination, a nightmare vision of its appearance struck fear in the dwarves, if a creature like this rose fear in the dwarves, no race was safe. Like a bull, it bowed down its head and charged towards the blob of dwarves, crushing its used to be brethren, a beast that used to be one of his own, but now its form is now so twisted and corrupted, is it even a Skaven any more? Its own body was a weapon, any rat or dwarf unfortunate to get close enough would get snapped up by the many rat heads. The legion of dwarves just fell on their knees, it was too horrifying, its immense bulk overtook them, as they saw their gods abandon them to the ferocious abomination.
The first stage of the raid was complete, the remaining dwarves fled to the inner city of Karak Kadrin, the bulk of the verminous army came through the gates, the units that got into the city were just a small portion of the mighty army. The dwarf king of the hold, Ungrim Ironfist looked upon the massive army of various monsters and verminous contraptions atop his humongous tower, which was attached to the cavern walls in order to support its bulk.
"May the gods be with us, kin, for I fear not even all of the dwarves in the world could hold off this mass of rat spawn."
Admitted their king, the dwarves looked beyond the inner walls, and they couldn't help but tremble in terror that he was right.
The greatest of under-city known to ratkind, the immense city that was Skavenblight, one of the bases of operations for Skaven, buildings swayed in the freezing subterranean air produced from various contraptions powering the great city's denizens and its immoral experiments. The city spanned across several surface cities, housing an innumerable amount of vermin, the very place where most of the skavens' idea of warfare have come from, even the most immoral, horrific, and disgusting ideas are accepted and experimented on their unlucky subordinates, but the most important feature about Skavenblight, is that it housed the Council Of Thirteen.
A single rat covered in robes approached the two hulking Rat Ogres, rats who were spliced with ogres, a race that presumably has died out, stitches covering their body from their mutators mending and ripping their flesh repeatedly, their hands were replaced with metal blades or spiked balls, some even had warpstone spikes sprouting from their body. Rat ogres are a clan leaders' favorite bodyguards, they are barely intelligent, and are viciously loyal to their employer, they can never give up secrets of the clan they are employed to. Another thing about the rat ogres is their appearance is enough to scare off the most hardened of men. The hulking brutes let the rat pass by them, the rat quickly opened two doors into a room with a round table with thirteen chairs surrounding it. Twelve chairs were occupied with a diverse scene of rats, some had grey, black, brown, and orange fur, one rat had curved horns poking out of its forehead. The horned rat drilled his glare into the scribe slave, who was too afraid to speak.
"Speak, fool or we eat-die you!" Said Queek, the rat covered in bright red armor, covering nearly his entire body, save for his face, which was exposed to the elements.
"Yes, O' most powerful of lords! I c-come to report-tell that a s-skaven army is k-kill-scurrying dwarf city, Karak-Kadrin." Replied the timid scribe.
The clan leaders shifted in their seats, mildly surprised by the news, but the silence was broken by the horned rat when he started yelling, "No-no! Clans must gather warpstone for council plan!", immediately, this sparked a flurry of arguments among the leaders.
"Clan Pestilens retake-steal Lustria from lizard-things!" Said Skrolk, who wore a green robe that covered most parts of his body, but not his face, which was fortunate for the council, but under all those clothes, he had plague buboes and botches of fur covered his body from extensive exposure to various diseases, some say he is the plague incarnate.
"Yes-yes, but most importantly skaven-clans must gather warpstone for councils plan!" Screamed Vulscreek, the horned rat with his ruinous staff imbued with warpstone. Arguments dragged on about what the clan leaders should do, some threatened to end the alliance between the clans, some said that they should kill "dwarf cities" before they start invading the surface world. The council was starting to get agitated, swords were being drawn, snapping at each other and throwing various insults and each other. The thirteenth chair had skaven runes inscribed on it, with the symbol of the Great Horned Rat marked on the front, warpstone flowed behind the cracks and various wires that were strung around the outside of the chair. No rat dared to sit in it, for whoever dared would be struck by the energy stored in it, leaving a nice smoky pile of ash. The chair covered the room in an eerie, dark green light, slowly the clan leaders dropped back in their chair, mumbling under their breath.
Once the rats had calmed down, the chair receded its eerie power and went back to its normal state. The clan leaders reluctantly sheathed their swords, they had no choice in the matter, if they wanted to avoid their god's wrath.
"The Great Horned Rat commands us to gather warpstone for his smart-plan…" Declared Vulscreek, as several leaders grunted, and reluctantly agreed, then bowed down their heads.
"Go and tell armies of the skaven-clans to kill-gather, take-steal warpstone! Gather even the tiny-smallest fragment,"
"Oh yes, O' gracious of lords!" Responded the scribe slave.
"And fiail yourself a hundred times!" Demanded the horned white rat.
"Oh, it will be done, O' most powerful of lords!" And then just like that, the scribe ran off to report the new commands.
The bulk of the skaven army marched through the broken gates of Karak Kadrin, no longer was there a cold breeze, but a raging thunderstorm took its place, packmasters ran around the encampment, struggling to contain all of the mighty beasts. Some of the monsters ate various skaven slaves, but other than that the warlord commanding the army didn't give much attention to the problem. The doomwheel had taken minimal damage from the cannon, but other than that it was able to go into battle, various elite rats, which were called stormvermin, trained and drilled themselves as best as rats can do, which is not that great, as expected by rats. Despite the low amount of war machines, their firepower was unsurpassable when they actually work. The warlord of the rat horde went by the name Kretch Blacktail, despite being a coward in every sense of the word, he was a great strategist and knew when, where, and how to deal a vital blow to the enemy army in a matter of seconds.
The horde had used the destroyed buildings as places of rest before the attack tomorrow, the biggest building contained Kretch and his advisors, who were arguing over what plans should they use.
"Must bash down gate to make dwarf things die-scurry from us-us!" Argued one while another punched him right in the face.
"No-no must cave in tunnel before dwarf things do! If we fight on bridge we will scurry-die!" Retorted the one that knocked another advisor out cold.
Finally, the rat in dark brown armor spoke up, "Wrong-wrong, ogres, and abomination open-tear gate thing, let slaves first to soak-die the dwarf things ammunition, while the beast-things dig-tear a tunnel to let better rats kill-die dwarfs!"
Not surprising anyone, no one spoke up, probably because they didn't want to anger Kretch, for they feared him in his outbursts of rage whenever his plan is threatened by a better, and smarter plan. The most elite of the skaven were allowed to sleep in buildings, the others were ordered to pile up on each other if they wanted to survive the cold night.
The horn blared, straight into the ears of the ones outside, which awoke the rest of the camp. Immediately packmasters armed themselves with swords and whips to keep in line the horrid beasts, clanrats and stormvermin gathered their armaments and prepared for war. The skavenslaves were left with nothing but rags and broken weapons, despite their objection, they were forced to use the crude weaponry. As Tretch had ordered, the four behemoths of bulging flesh dug their claws, and blades into the gate. Some of the abominations had spiked balls for hands, so they reserved them for other, more appropriate actions. Rat ogres also did the same, and once all was well and done, they started to force open the gate, with their combined, immense strength, it really was no competition. The chains strained to keep the gate shut from the invaders, but even dwarven smithing was no match for pure disgusting strength. The gates were ripped open from their hinges and fell to the ground, smashing several slaves. No one mourned for them though, for who cared how many died? Who even cared if millions died, when your race literally populates like rats?
Clanrats and stormvermin poked the slaves forward, budging them ever closer to the dwarven front line, which was quite the distance away. The gate had revealed a bridge behind it, and several legions of Ironbreakers, which were some of the most elite dwarven infantry, able to hold off even the tiring hordes of skaven and their unholy beasts.
"Die for the horned rat, or you will-die fed to the ogres!" Howled Kretch, standing atop of his bone-breaker, a heavily modified rat ogre that was nearly as big as a building, but it came at a cost. Its immense weight forces it to use its own arms as legs, and his hands were replaced with warpstone drills, on top of its back, it carried a wooden platform for skaven warlords to stand upon.
Finally, the slaves surged into the bridge, already flooding it at all sides. Dwarven artillery shot over the heads of slaves, who dared not to look behind them. Already, thousands had died, but no matter how many the dwarves killed, there was always ten more to take its place. Thunderers shot into the massing lines of skaven, their rifles producing sounds like thunder, no surprise there. Quarrellers fired bolts into the mass of rats, no matter how many projectiles were shot, thrown, blasted, there was too many skaven to stop, it was a literal neverending surge of rats! Yet the horde still had many ways to go before they arrived at the frontline of the ironbreakers, yet their ammunition began to run out, bullets, bolts, balls, and boulders were scarce, yet the rat horde kept on flowing onto the bridge.
Behind the bloodied bridge, lay a giant hole in a wall, the size a building, with clanrats and stormvermin pouring into it, along with the weapon teams, and the hulking beasts, the two doomwheels started, their slave rats ready to make the infernal contraption bolt to the enemy line.
The last piece of ammunition, which was a cannonball flew through the ranks of slave rats, the cavern walls beside the artillery teams burst in shrapnel of flint and stone, as a torrent of both claw and blade struck shield and muscle. One of them was enough to stun the hardened of dwarfs, but four were enough to turn an entire army to stone, the packmasters let them loose into the surprised dwarves, their makeshift weapons replacing their hands made quick work of any dwarf in their way. Some accepted their death and fell to their knees, for how could you win, against a beast that cannot die?
Unexpectedly, a cannon shot out against an abomination, its body's flesh bulging and forming to better absorb the impact. As if a building had been knocked down, it trembled, and let loose a horrid howl, crushing several rats as it crumbled. Seeing this event, the dwarves resolve hardened, even in the most hopelessness of situations, their ambush had worked, several slayers, dwarves who had done away with armor in exchange for speed and ferocity, who had giant orange mohawks and beards as their only protection, dual wielding two dwarven axes. The most dangerous part of a Slayer is that they seek death because of their oath, they need to die in battle to a monstrous beast, for death was the only redemption for whatever horrible deed they may have committed.
"O' lord! The dwarf-things had laid a trap for us-us, what do we d-" The rat fell dead as a bolt stuck out of his back, penetrating his heavy armor. The dwarves pushed back the ratmen, chopping any who came close, walking by the abomination that had crumbled. The other beasts were in transit to the battle, but by the time they came it'd be too late, the skaven panicked and started throwing themselves into the frontline, but the "corpse" of the abomination let loose an enormous sigh, it had many hearts, as many ten, its last heart was beating slowly, knowing the sweet embrace of death was finally coming to end its life. Before it took its last breath, warpstone flowed through its veins, instantly restarting its ten hearts. The abomination, was quite literally, "Too Horrible To Die."
Its wounds healed in the middle of battle, it tore through the dwarves, as the other creatures came into the ranks, tearing them limb from limb, chopping off tiny heads with metal blades covered in their own clansmen blood. The slaves had overrun the ironbreakers with the help of the doomwheels, warp lightning surging both through the rat and dwarf ranks. The group with Tretch had looped around, surrounding the ironbreakers and finishing off any dwarf who dared to run from their ferocity. In less than one and a half days, one of the great dwarven holds had fallen, this stain of shame will never be rid off of Clan Drake Beards honor, if the clan even remained after The Raid.
The rats scrounged around the destruction, gathering warpstone and mining for even more, desecrating statues and banners, they had broken into the treasury and mounted every single gold piece on each rat ogre and abomination.
"Me-me will be praised, Queek will finally notice-praise me-me, yes-yes!" Shouted Kretch, as he giggled like an infant that just found its new toy, as he let loose a battle cry, in victory of Clan Mors, their dark crimson banner flying over the dwarven corpses, robbing everything they had worked their entire lives to build, only to see it be destroyed, in less than two days. But yet, one survived, maybe even the only survivor of Clan Drake Beard, he walked the tunnels of his desecrated home, when he had finally arrived back to the center of the dwarf hold, fire enveloped houses, his own kin strung upon poles of their own banners. His heart burned with rage, he swore an oath that he, himself will eradicate every single rat in all of the worlds. His name was Bardin Goreksson.
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Redking0380
Lost In The Rain
- Location
- Wet
Why did i get like 6 notifications from this thread when nothing changed
Redking0380
Lost In The Rain
- Location
- Wet
You would think there would be a special notifications for that.
Like 'Post has been edited'
Not 'Person has made a new post'
other then that its all good fam gotta fix those mistakes when found or just edit in general
Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Discovery Of Warpstone
The starry sky enveloped the marching army in caressing moonlight, as if they were at their homes, feasting and drinking with their families. The soldiers marched on while several knights on horseback rode behind them, matching their pace to the soldiers, their horses covered in only the heaviest of armor to deflect arrows and attacks of spears and swords. They were none other than the Reiksguard, an elite cavalry squad that devoted their entire life to the Empire, equipped with lances, they often ended a major confrontation in just one simple, yet majestic charge.
The reiksguard themselves wore the heaviest armor in all the Empire, some say they can survive a cannonball without even the smallest of dents, when they charged into battle, it was a beautiful sight to behold, if you aren't the one about to be mercilessly slaughtered, despite their lances, their tips remained sharp enough to fight in prolonged engagements, so they were able to fight in a drawn-out confrontation decently, unlike other shock cavalry, but that first charge decides it for them.
Behind them stood Karl Franz, the emperor of the Empire, and wielder of Ghal-Maraz, a magical warhammer that strikes as hard as a cannon, unlike his cavalry, he was lightly armored, preferring speed over heavy armor. The Empire was in need of a miracle, the underlings of the Empire were getting restless, wanting justice for their loss of men and various cattle and economic buildings, this is the very reason he came out here, to Mordheim, the city of the damned.
"Sir, the settlement is just ahead of us, what shall we do once we get there?" Asked one of his trusted men, as he brushed off some dirt that had accumulated on the horse's armor.
"I do not know, we may not even find what we are looking for, but rumors have piqued my curiosity, so whether we find what we are looking or not, hopefully, this expedition will calm down the subjects." Answered Karl Franz, albeit he wasn't really paying attention to his subordinate, but marveling at how far Mordheim has fallen, its very presence exhumed various aromas of death, disease, and echoes of screaming victims that had long gone to the other side. The army kept trudging on, a few scores of swordsmen and spearsmen to ward off beasts, and half dozens of artillery pieces to stain the ground in the blood of their enemies. Unlike the skaven, their technology may not have been as advanced, but at least it didn't kill their own men whenever they tried to use the blasted things.
A man ran out of the cities entrance and started screaming, "THE END TIMES ARE AMONG US, THE END TIMES ARE AMONG US, THE FORCES OF CHAOS WILL SPEW FORTH AND DEVOUR THE WORLD!"
This seemed to make the warriors less sure about marching straight in, but if some had a problem with it, they didn't say it, they marched into the city anyway, wondering what horrors awaited them. The incessant chattering of ghouls, and various spirits acting as if they were still alive, not knowing they were truly dead. The entirety of the army knew what they had stepped into. They had stepped into stomping grounds for various creatures, there is a reason, why Mordheim is considered the city of the damned. The very earth itself seemed to tremble as if a stampede of monsters had been awakened by the smell of fresh meat, their howls made the chattering cease.
"Defensive positions! Spearmen upfront, brace the tide!"
Without hesitation, the soldiers heeded their Emperor's command, a man covered in several plates of army stood in front of the spearmen, armed with a greatsword, one of the Empires deadliest swords in combat, able to cleave through even the thickest of soldiers. The man didn't wear a helmet, but instead wore a hat that was clearly too big to fit on his head, but decided that it looked a little better.
That goofy hat wearing warrior was named Markus Kruber, an elite swordsman who had experienced the ferocity and chaotic forms of the skaven, and various forms of chaos, and had lived to tell about it. Markus had a black beard covering most of his face, save for the front of his chin with had stubbles of hair, both of his hair, which was combed over. His face rugged and bore a mustache that connected with his beard. His eyes were demanding, a fire in his eyes, a rage that cannot be stopped, one that can only be quenched with blood. The synchronized marching suddenly stopped, as if they had met something even more ferocious and larger than them, the more time passed, the more nervous the soldiers became, but Markus stood his ground, never faltering.
"Run-flee! Elf-thing too strong-powerful!"
The soldiers looked up at a balcony, which was several stories high, and saw several skaven fighting against a person in a green robe, with a hood covering most of their face, and wore legging and bracers for defense. They had a bow hung on their back, whilst she was holding two daggers in each hand, both looking eager to bury themselves in someone. Like a flash, the skaven dropped dead to the floor of the balcony, one slumped out, cracking his skull on the pavement, not that it mattered.
"It's been long since we have met, haven't we Markus?" Said the elf woman as she took off her hood, revealing her elongated ears, her glistening white long hair, her slanted black eyes, a fur cloak draping over her shoulder, but other than that, she could be mistaken for a human.
"And your beauty hasn't diminished over the long years, eh, Kerillian?" Shouted Markus, both warriors couldn't help but smile, their friendship was forged in vicious battle, and it could never be broken or so they thought. The soldiers, of course, were very confused on who this elf was, but their Emperor didn't seem to mind, in fact, he pretty much seemed to ignore her appearance, signaling that the men leave her alone by waving his hand to just march deeper into the city.
"It's been years, what are you doing here now? Out of all the places for an elf, you choose this godforsaken place to take a vacation, is that it?", jested Markus, as she made her way down to the pavement. Being an elf, she was swift and agile, but yet retaining the strength of a man, if not more, she was graceful in her leaps, and hops, it was if she was a bird coming in a landing. "I was sent by the elven council to investigate your literal hellscape of a city."
"Don't have to be so blunt about it." Replied Markus, as he hefted the greatsword onto his shoulder in an attempt to look "cool". He became unbalanced because of its weight and it was as big as his body. The mighty blade penetrated the pavement while Markus clumsily got his footing together, while still maintaining a large grin on his face the entire time.
"Meant to do that!" He nervously joked, while he pulled the giant blade out of the ground, for some reason, it seemed very hard to do. At long last, he pulled the blade out of the pavement and wielded the formidable weapon properly this time.
"Still as dimwitted as ever, hm? You haven't changed at all, Kruber." It wasn't a question, but more like a statement. Markus sheathed the huge sword into its scabbard, which was just as large, and hung it over his large back. She extended her hand in a swift motion to her mouth, with one finger to her lips. Markus, reluctantly drew the greatsword, complaining that he had just put it away, a giant shadow around a corner seemed to get closer and closer to the corner, the two were pretty sure they could smell its foul breath, Kerillian flinched at the acrid smell.
A snarling, hulking mass of a rat ogre turned the corner, rags had covered its eyes, it carried several plates of armor over its shoulders and back, it also wore a makeshift helmet made to block swords. The ogre looked around, not even noticing the two warriors ready to kill the monster in its tracks, but yet it seemed like a toddler, aimlessly wandering and picking up shards of warpstone and putting the literal pure form of chaos into its gullet like it was candy.
Suddenly, a small rat covered in buboes came into view, a thing-catcher, a polearm which had forward curved horns, that closed shut around the neck of their warbeasts to stop them from escaping, and murdering their comrades.
"Scurry-run to cage-prison!" Just as the catcher closed around the rat ogre's neck, the rat was torn apart in a shower of blood and gore, the thing catcher splintered in a shower of wooden shrapnel, it was all a blur to Markus and Kerillian. When the beast was done, all there was left was several bone shards on the ground, along with a nearly destroyed skeleton, blood was everywhere, including the monstrous rat. Shouts that could only come from a person rang through the air, lingering, echoing through the city. The ogre seemingly inched closer to them, the chains that were fused in his body clinked and clanked when it moved, the rag fell off its face, revealing mechanical eyeballs replacing its normal, bloodlusting eyes. Faster than anything imaginable, Markus lopped off its head, and for good reason, since it nearly tore off his arm, "And good riddance!"
Markus spat on the ogre's corpse as he continued hacking its mangled, dead corpse. Kerillian just sat down on a nearby stump of mangled wood, patiently waiting for Markus's fury to subside. The howls of the packmasters rang through the air, looking for their now dead experiment, scores of stormvermin marched towards the impatient elf, and the human hacking away at the ogre only seemed to strengthen their speed and ferocity, "DIE DIE, MAN-THINGS, DIE!
"Markus now would be a good time to leave." She looked at the other end of the street, only to see several hulking shadows marching towards them, but something was wrong. Kerillian quickly grabbed Markus's collar and dragged him to the ground, as a glowing green projectile flew overhead, collapsing a building, "Morr? Are you there?"
The shadows came into the light, only to reveal some of the most cunning engineerings by Clan Skyre, and the cruelty and ingenuity of Clan Moulder, the Stormfiend. The hulking brute donned heavy plates of armor around its body, with skaven runes inscribed on each plate, their weaponry far too advanced for any race, it wore a gas mask covering the entirety of its face, pumps and several shards of wyrdstone poked out of the many cracks showing its body, but most fearsome of all, its hands. Instead of usual claws, it had blight launchers replacing them, which acted like cannons, but left a cloud of noxious gas in its wake, able to kill entire fields of soldiers if they were to even breathe it in, accompanying it was several rat ogres who cocked their heads to the intruders.
"Markus, this is no time to dawdle!" As swift as a couple of frightened rabbits, the two dodged through buildings, as the howls of the stormvermin inhaled the powerful gas, in a few minutes, they were all coughing blood, and soon, all of them had dug out their own eyes, leaving empty sockets behind. Without any sensible rat to guide them, the ogres just drooled and fumbled with rocks, the Stormfiend was smarter than its counterparts, and chased after the intruders, crushing anything in its way, charging through buildings, scattering the remnants of life in the city. It scoured the relative location of Markus and Kerillian, but despite its enhanced intelligence, it couldn't find them, it let loose a howl of frustration, determined to hunt down the two no-furs.
"Markus, you can be such an idiot sometimes!" Scolding Markus, who only replied with a low growl, the roars of the ravenous fiend rang in the air, like a bell tolling for someone's death, "If we don't get moving, we won't be the only ones to die a horrible, slow death!"
The plates clanged as the ravenous beast shook the very earth, unlike its brethren, it needed no packmaster to order it around, it knew well what to do. As it scoured the ruins, looking for any kind of sound, even the tiniest amount of sound would reveal its prey. The fumbling of the greatsword was noticeable, the fiend looked over at an abandoned wagon, it heard someone fumbling with what it suspected, a weapon, but by the amount they were struggling, the storm-fiend suspected a great weapon. It warily approached the cart, preparing the next shot of its delightful gas, "Come at me beast!"
Markus charged out of hiding, like a bull he crashed into the thirteen foot monstrosity, the greatsword cleaved through its various metal plates, but other than that the beast seemed relative fine, well, that was what Markus saw before he was headbutted, with tremendous force at that, onto the ground, the helmet on the storm-fiend didn't exactly help out with his situation either. The world spun around him, blotches of blackness impaired his vision, he heard what sounded like maniacal laughter, it sounded like when you put chalk to a board forcefully, it pierced the air just like that chalk screeching had been forever burned into his mind, spreading dread into Markus's mind, as he felt the world coming out of frame, before his eyes finally closed. The laughing stopped, as an arrow pierced the ogres head, the helmet shattering into dozens of tiny little pieces. It was no longer laughing, but instead, it fell to the ground without a sound, as if the disturbingly peaceful atmosphere had come back to the city in one fell swoop.
"Oh gods Markus, you were just supposed to hide… Bumbling idiot." She threw Markus over her shoulder, and despite her thin frame, she was surprisingly strong, able to carry Markus and his great sword. Fortunately, she was able to kill the storm-fiend before it could finish the off Markus, so that was at least something for her to smile upon. She stared at the body of her once alive foe, the symbol of Clan Mors was sketched on every plate, embossed in gold, and lined in warp stone dust. Taking note of that, she quickly moved away from the storm-fiend, not wanting to perish to mere green dust.
"Hunt-search man-thing, and elf-thing! Kill-bring them-them to greatest warlord, Gnawdell, yes-yes!" The packmasters cracked their whips, and simultaneously, the varied ogres rose, forming ranks, there were dozens, maybe even hundreds if you looked closer, "Bring glory-riches to the greatest clan! Kill-steal for Clan Mors! KILL-KILL ALL THE THINGS!"
Marching toward the Emperor's army, the storm-fiends let loose their fanfare of horrible, maniacal laughter, splitting the very air in half as the ogres marched to the tired soldiers, like lambs to a slaughter, they didn't stand even the smallest hope in hell.
Discovery Of Warpstone
The starry sky enveloped the marching army in caressing moonlight, as if they were at their homes, feasting and drinking with their families. The soldiers marched on while several knights on horseback rode behind them, matching their pace to the soldiers, their horses covered in only the heaviest of armor to deflect arrows and attacks of spears and swords. They were none other than the Reiksguard, an elite cavalry squad that devoted their entire life to the Empire, equipped with lances, they often ended a major confrontation in just one simple, yet majestic charge.
The reiksguard themselves wore the heaviest armor in all the Empire, some say they can survive a cannonball without even the smallest of dents, when they charged into battle, it was a beautiful sight to behold, if you aren't the one about to be mercilessly slaughtered, despite their lances, their tips remained sharp enough to fight in prolonged engagements, so they were able to fight in a drawn-out confrontation decently, unlike other shock cavalry, but that first charge decides it for them.
Behind them stood Karl Franz, the emperor of the Empire, and wielder of Ghal-Maraz, a magical warhammer that strikes as hard as a cannon, unlike his cavalry, he was lightly armored, preferring speed over heavy armor. The Empire was in need of a miracle, the underlings of the Empire were getting restless, wanting justice for their loss of men and various cattle and economic buildings, this is the very reason he came out here, to Mordheim, the city of the damned.
"Sir, the settlement is just ahead of us, what shall we do once we get there?" Asked one of his trusted men, as he brushed off some dirt that had accumulated on the horse's armor.
"I do not know, we may not even find what we are looking for, but rumors have piqued my curiosity, so whether we find what we are looking or not, hopefully, this expedition will calm down the subjects." Answered Karl Franz, albeit he wasn't really paying attention to his subordinate, but marveling at how far Mordheim has fallen, its very presence exhumed various aromas of death, disease, and echoes of screaming victims that had long gone to the other side. The army kept trudging on, a few scores of swordsmen and spearsmen to ward off beasts, and half dozens of artillery pieces to stain the ground in the blood of their enemies. Unlike the skaven, their technology may not have been as advanced, but at least it didn't kill their own men whenever they tried to use the blasted things.
A man ran out of the cities entrance and started screaming, "THE END TIMES ARE AMONG US, THE END TIMES ARE AMONG US, THE FORCES OF CHAOS WILL SPEW FORTH AND DEVOUR THE WORLD!"
This seemed to make the warriors less sure about marching straight in, but if some had a problem with it, they didn't say it, they marched into the city anyway, wondering what horrors awaited them. The incessant chattering of ghouls, and various spirits acting as if they were still alive, not knowing they were truly dead. The entirety of the army knew what they had stepped into. They had stepped into stomping grounds for various creatures, there is a reason, why Mordheim is considered the city of the damned. The very earth itself seemed to tremble as if a stampede of monsters had been awakened by the smell of fresh meat, their howls made the chattering cease.
"Defensive positions! Spearmen upfront, brace the tide!"
Without hesitation, the soldiers heeded their Emperor's command, a man covered in several plates of army stood in front of the spearmen, armed with a greatsword, one of the Empires deadliest swords in combat, able to cleave through even the thickest of soldiers. The man didn't wear a helmet, but instead wore a hat that was clearly too big to fit on his head, but decided that it looked a little better.
That goofy hat wearing warrior was named Markus Kruber, an elite swordsman who had experienced the ferocity and chaotic forms of the skaven, and various forms of chaos, and had lived to tell about it. Markus had a black beard covering most of his face, save for the front of his chin with had stubbles of hair, both of his hair, which was combed over. His face rugged and bore a mustache that connected with his beard. His eyes were demanding, a fire in his eyes, a rage that cannot be stopped, one that can only be quenched with blood. The synchronized marching suddenly stopped, as if they had met something even more ferocious and larger than them, the more time passed, the more nervous the soldiers became, but Markus stood his ground, never faltering.
"Run-flee! Elf-thing too strong-powerful!"
The soldiers looked up at a balcony, which was several stories high, and saw several skaven fighting against a person in a green robe, with a hood covering most of their face, and wore legging and bracers for defense. They had a bow hung on their back, whilst she was holding two daggers in each hand, both looking eager to bury themselves in someone. Like a flash, the skaven dropped dead to the floor of the balcony, one slumped out, cracking his skull on the pavement, not that it mattered.
"It's been long since we have met, haven't we Markus?" Said the elf woman as she took off her hood, revealing her elongated ears, her glistening white long hair, her slanted black eyes, a fur cloak draping over her shoulder, but other than that, she could be mistaken for a human.
"And your beauty hasn't diminished over the long years, eh, Kerillian?" Shouted Markus, both warriors couldn't help but smile, their friendship was forged in vicious battle, and it could never be broken or so they thought. The soldiers, of course, were very confused on who this elf was, but their Emperor didn't seem to mind, in fact, he pretty much seemed to ignore her appearance, signaling that the men leave her alone by waving his hand to just march deeper into the city.
"It's been years, what are you doing here now? Out of all the places for an elf, you choose this godforsaken place to take a vacation, is that it?", jested Markus, as she made her way down to the pavement. Being an elf, she was swift and agile, but yet retaining the strength of a man, if not more, she was graceful in her leaps, and hops, it was if she was a bird coming in a landing. "I was sent by the elven council to investigate your literal hellscape of a city."
"Don't have to be so blunt about it." Replied Markus, as he hefted the greatsword onto his shoulder in an attempt to look "cool". He became unbalanced because of its weight and it was as big as his body. The mighty blade penetrated the pavement while Markus clumsily got his footing together, while still maintaining a large grin on his face the entire time.
"Meant to do that!" He nervously joked, while he pulled the giant blade out of the ground, for some reason, it seemed very hard to do. At long last, he pulled the blade out of the pavement and wielded the formidable weapon properly this time.
"Still as dimwitted as ever, hm? You haven't changed at all, Kruber." It wasn't a question, but more like a statement. Markus sheathed the huge sword into its scabbard, which was just as large, and hung it over his large back. She extended her hand in a swift motion to her mouth, with one finger to her lips. Markus, reluctantly drew the greatsword, complaining that he had just put it away, a giant shadow around a corner seemed to get closer and closer to the corner, the two were pretty sure they could smell its foul breath, Kerillian flinched at the acrid smell.
A snarling, hulking mass of a rat ogre turned the corner, rags had covered its eyes, it carried several plates of armor over its shoulders and back, it also wore a makeshift helmet made to block swords. The ogre looked around, not even noticing the two warriors ready to kill the monster in its tracks, but yet it seemed like a toddler, aimlessly wandering and picking up shards of warpstone and putting the literal pure form of chaos into its gullet like it was candy.
Suddenly, a small rat covered in buboes came into view, a thing-catcher, a polearm which had forward curved horns, that closed shut around the neck of their warbeasts to stop them from escaping, and murdering their comrades.
"Scurry-run to cage-prison!" Just as the catcher closed around the rat ogre's neck, the rat was torn apart in a shower of blood and gore, the thing catcher splintered in a shower of wooden shrapnel, it was all a blur to Markus and Kerillian. When the beast was done, all there was left was several bone shards on the ground, along with a nearly destroyed skeleton, blood was everywhere, including the monstrous rat. Shouts that could only come from a person rang through the air, lingering, echoing through the city. The ogre seemingly inched closer to them, the chains that were fused in his body clinked and clanked when it moved, the rag fell off its face, revealing mechanical eyeballs replacing its normal, bloodlusting eyes. Faster than anything imaginable, Markus lopped off its head, and for good reason, since it nearly tore off his arm, "And good riddance!"
Markus spat on the ogre's corpse as he continued hacking its mangled, dead corpse. Kerillian just sat down on a nearby stump of mangled wood, patiently waiting for Markus's fury to subside. The howls of the packmasters rang through the air, looking for their now dead experiment, scores of stormvermin marched towards the impatient elf, and the human hacking away at the ogre only seemed to strengthen their speed and ferocity, "DIE DIE, MAN-THINGS, DIE!
"Markus now would be a good time to leave." She looked at the other end of the street, only to see several hulking shadows marching towards them, but something was wrong. Kerillian quickly grabbed Markus's collar and dragged him to the ground, as a glowing green projectile flew overhead, collapsing a building, "Morr? Are you there?"
The shadows came into the light, only to reveal some of the most cunning engineerings by Clan Skyre, and the cruelty and ingenuity of Clan Moulder, the Stormfiend. The hulking brute donned heavy plates of armor around its body, with skaven runes inscribed on each plate, their weaponry far too advanced for any race, it wore a gas mask covering the entirety of its face, pumps and several shards of wyrdstone poked out of the many cracks showing its body, but most fearsome of all, its hands. Instead of usual claws, it had blight launchers replacing them, which acted like cannons, but left a cloud of noxious gas in its wake, able to kill entire fields of soldiers if they were to even breathe it in, accompanying it was several rat ogres who cocked their heads to the intruders.
"Markus, this is no time to dawdle!" As swift as a couple of frightened rabbits, the two dodged through buildings, as the howls of the stormvermin inhaled the powerful gas, in a few minutes, they were all coughing blood, and soon, all of them had dug out their own eyes, leaving empty sockets behind. Without any sensible rat to guide them, the ogres just drooled and fumbled with rocks, the Stormfiend was smarter than its counterparts, and chased after the intruders, crushing anything in its way, charging through buildings, scattering the remnants of life in the city. It scoured the relative location of Markus and Kerillian, but despite its enhanced intelligence, it couldn't find them, it let loose a howl of frustration, determined to hunt down the two no-furs.
"Markus, you can be such an idiot sometimes!" Scolding Markus, who only replied with a low growl, the roars of the ravenous fiend rang in the air, like a bell tolling for someone's death, "If we don't get moving, we won't be the only ones to die a horrible, slow death!"
The plates clanged as the ravenous beast shook the very earth, unlike its brethren, it needed no packmaster to order it around, it knew well what to do. As it scoured the ruins, looking for any kind of sound, even the tiniest amount of sound would reveal its prey. The fumbling of the greatsword was noticeable, the fiend looked over at an abandoned wagon, it heard someone fumbling with what it suspected, a weapon, but by the amount they were struggling, the storm-fiend suspected a great weapon. It warily approached the cart, preparing the next shot of its delightful gas, "Come at me beast!"
Markus charged out of hiding, like a bull he crashed into the thirteen foot monstrosity, the greatsword cleaved through its various metal plates, but other than that the beast seemed relative fine, well, that was what Markus saw before he was headbutted, with tremendous force at that, onto the ground, the helmet on the storm-fiend didn't exactly help out with his situation either. The world spun around him, blotches of blackness impaired his vision, he heard what sounded like maniacal laughter, it sounded like when you put chalk to a board forcefully, it pierced the air just like that chalk screeching had been forever burned into his mind, spreading dread into Markus's mind, as he felt the world coming out of frame, before his eyes finally closed. The laughing stopped, as an arrow pierced the ogres head, the helmet shattering into dozens of tiny little pieces. It was no longer laughing, but instead, it fell to the ground without a sound, as if the disturbingly peaceful atmosphere had come back to the city in one fell swoop.
"Oh gods Markus, you were just supposed to hide… Bumbling idiot." She threw Markus over her shoulder, and despite her thin frame, she was surprisingly strong, able to carry Markus and his great sword. Fortunately, she was able to kill the storm-fiend before it could finish the off Markus, so that was at least something for her to smile upon. She stared at the body of her once alive foe, the symbol of Clan Mors was sketched on every plate, embossed in gold, and lined in warp stone dust. Taking note of that, she quickly moved away from the storm-fiend, not wanting to perish to mere green dust.
"Hunt-search man-thing, and elf-thing! Kill-bring them-them to greatest warlord, Gnawdell, yes-yes!" The packmasters cracked their whips, and simultaneously, the varied ogres rose, forming ranks, there were dozens, maybe even hundreds if you looked closer, "Bring glory-riches to the greatest clan! Kill-steal for Clan Mors! KILL-KILL ALL THE THINGS!"
Marching toward the Emperor's army, the storm-fiends let loose their fanfare of horrible, maniacal laughter, splitting the very air in half as the ogres marched to the tired soldiers, like lambs to a slaughter, they didn't stand even the smallest hope in hell.
Chapter Three
Chapter Three
A Dwarf's Duty
The flames crackled, as if taunting Bardin for losing his only home, the giant firestorm burned away the corpses of his kinsmen, those that can now never be truly honored. The smell of their burning flesh made the dwarf nauseous, as he quickly moved further away from the stench he was greeted with another horrific sight, though not as foul smelling like the last.
He saw his chieftain's body parts strung upon several stakes that were stabbed into the ground, a feeling of hatred and sadness flooded Bardin's mind, dwarves are hard headed and stubborn but rarely did they cry. Bardin collapsed onto his knees, his eyes filled with tears, and stared at the rocky tunnel ceiling, his beard wet from his cries of agony and desperation, his rambling echoed throughout the great dwarf hold, but yet none could hear him, none could comfort him.
Minutes passed as Bardin incoherently screamed, pleaded and shouted, all the while smashing his fists into the rough stone floor, with each strike wounding and blooding his hands. A short while later, Bardin wiped away his tears with his sleeves and stopped, for if he did it too long, he probably would've broken his hand. As He rose on to his feet, in lieu of emotions started to surface onto to him. He didn't feel that he deserved to live, and his kin to die, these dwarves were his comrades, sure they had their disagreements every once in a while, but Bardin knew that no one was perfect, much less the dwarves.
Regaining control over his emotions, and after waiting for the flames to die out, he was able to recover a charred ax and a burnt helmet. It was a start, not a very good one, but a start nonetheless. He walked over to the giant mounds of bodies that littered the bridge, and reluctantly trampled over his fallen comrades, and happily stepped on some rat skulls, promptly cracking them, a sound that brought joy to Bardin. After climbing up several corpse piles, he finally arrived at the other end of the bridge, only to see more unnecessary destruction, houses were ruined, dwarves were impaled on stakes, entire temples and sacred places were desecrated with raki runes, describing several foul curses insulting the clan and the dwarven gods. Bardin ignored these grudgingly but felt that it would be more offensive if he scraped off the runes with his burnt ax. After resisting the urge to go into a mental breakdown and just cry in a corner for the rest of his life, he made it to the once pristine gate that led to the surface, he saw the moonlight sky and the beautiful shining stars, Bardin couldn't believe how fast things can change in the world, one moment you're on a bloody battlefield, the other you're outside, looking at the various stars, and the beautiful starry night sky.
"Beautiful… maybe we should stop hiding, and meet these ratspawn head on."
After gazing into the sky for various minutes, he got back to the mission on hand, to eradicate the entirety of the raki race, but in order to do that, he had to know where to start. Bardin was confronted with one single path, that leads straight into a forest, and then to a cursed Empire city, as far as Bardin knew, this was the only civilization in thousands of miles.
"Mordheim it is then…"
Despite Bardin's reluctance, he felt like he was needed there, and he had nowhere else to begin, besides, what harm would it do to check? Following the path to his destiny, he let out a sigh, wondering how fast his life could change, the right hand of the chieftain now turned into a vagabond, roaming the land for the glimmer of hope that could make his revenge possible.
On the path he saw several blood stains on the beautiful green grass, he ignored them, thinking it was just the raki's doing of killing travelers, but once he had reached the forest, he couldn't help but disagree with himself, as he saw several human bones, still stained with splotches of flesh and blood.
"Damn raki beasts, those vermin, and their abominations…"
He kept his guard up while he walked the path through the forest, he could swear on his honor and pride that he was being watched. He never really act upon his suspicions, because if it really was a raki war beast, well, he would be dead by now. At last, Bardin's suspicions got the better than him, and he turned around and yelled out the mightiest battle cry he could.
"SHOW YOURSELF, RAKI WAR BEAST!"
The huge behemoth appeared out of the forest, it's acidic breath overcame Bardin's senses with the stench of sulfur and rotten eggs, and he saw what had been stalking him all this time.
A behemoth made of magma, it walked on all fours, trampling several skeletons under its enormous bulk, it's massive crimson horn rested at the front of its curved face, baring its huge fangs at Bardin. It was covered in scales, but Bardin knew full well what they were, as they were covered in flames that rivaled the sun, curved spikes ran along it's red, brutish body, but what surprised Bardin the most, is the dwarven throne on it's back, in fact, he remembered it from somewhere. Larger than a house, it circled Bardin, displaying several dwarven runes that were etched onto its muscular legs ever since it was born.
"Well?! Come at me, if you are truly raised by dawi, than fight like one!"
Bardin's challenge irked the massive beast, seemingly impressed by Bardin's courage in the face of frightening, for if he hadn't, he wouldn't be considered a dwarf, wouldn't he?
"My clan may be gone, but I will guard its honor, for am I 'not a dawi?"
The beast reared it's massive head, facing one of its giant eyes, attempting to look into Bardin's identity. The massive claws of the creature, like it scales, were engulfed in searing hot flames and were sharp to the point, the beast drew back from Bardin, closing it's humongous jaws together, making a loud snapping noise in an attempt to scare him.
"Well? Will you not kill me? If not, I will take my leave!"
Before Bardin could turn around to walk away, giant claws surrounded his body, and before he knew it, he was lifted up into the air, feeling the sear hot flames burning his flesh. But then, he was let go, landing into the throne upon the beast.
It reared its head up to Bardin, making a sinister grin, well maybe it wasn't, but Bardin couldn't tell since the creature's huge fangs made it look evil, and quite devilish. Bardin inspected the ornate throne, trimmed with gold and silver, and the occasional dwarven rune, but yet he found something that shook him to the core. He found a nameplate set up near the top of the throne, inscribed in dwarven runes, it read, "Ungrim Ironfist, Slayer King Of Karak Kadrin."
The name made Bardin shed a single tear, and the beast shared his sense of loss, and his desire for revenge, it let loose a powerful roar, as it started stomping through the forest, destroying any obstacle that dared come in its path. Bardin raised up his burnt ax, and let loose a thunderous shout that could probably be heard all the way to Reikland. As Bardin shook in the beasts thunderous stomps, he found another nameplate, once again inscribed in dwarven runes, below the other nameplate, once again Bardin read it, "Kaden, Warbeast Of The Slayer King."
"Well then! Let's go get ourselves covered in the blood of raki scum, eh? How's that sound to ye?"
Kaden roared a thunderous cry, with Bardin quickly noting that down as a yes.
A Dwarf's Duty
The flames crackled, as if taunting Bardin for losing his only home, the giant firestorm burned away the corpses of his kinsmen, those that can now never be truly honored. The smell of their burning flesh made the dwarf nauseous, as he quickly moved further away from the stench he was greeted with another horrific sight, though not as foul smelling like the last.
He saw his chieftain's body parts strung upon several stakes that were stabbed into the ground, a feeling of hatred and sadness flooded Bardin's mind, dwarves are hard headed and stubborn but rarely did they cry. Bardin collapsed onto his knees, his eyes filled with tears, and stared at the rocky tunnel ceiling, his beard wet from his cries of agony and desperation, his rambling echoed throughout the great dwarf hold, but yet none could hear him, none could comfort him.
Minutes passed as Bardin incoherently screamed, pleaded and shouted, all the while smashing his fists into the rough stone floor, with each strike wounding and blooding his hands. A short while later, Bardin wiped away his tears with his sleeves and stopped, for if he did it too long, he probably would've broken his hand. As He rose on to his feet, in lieu of emotions started to surface onto to him. He didn't feel that he deserved to live, and his kin to die, these dwarves were his comrades, sure they had their disagreements every once in a while, but Bardin knew that no one was perfect, much less the dwarves.
Regaining control over his emotions, and after waiting for the flames to die out, he was able to recover a charred ax and a burnt helmet. It was a start, not a very good one, but a start nonetheless. He walked over to the giant mounds of bodies that littered the bridge, and reluctantly trampled over his fallen comrades, and happily stepped on some rat skulls, promptly cracking them, a sound that brought joy to Bardin. After climbing up several corpse piles, he finally arrived at the other end of the bridge, only to see more unnecessary destruction, houses were ruined, dwarves were impaled on stakes, entire temples and sacred places were desecrated with raki runes, describing several foul curses insulting the clan and the dwarven gods. Bardin ignored these grudgingly but felt that it would be more offensive if he scraped off the runes with his burnt ax. After resisting the urge to go into a mental breakdown and just cry in a corner for the rest of his life, he made it to the once pristine gate that led to the surface, he saw the moonlight sky and the beautiful shining stars, Bardin couldn't believe how fast things can change in the world, one moment you're on a bloody battlefield, the other you're outside, looking at the various stars, and the beautiful starry night sky.
"Beautiful… maybe we should stop hiding, and meet these ratspawn head on."
After gazing into the sky for various minutes, he got back to the mission on hand, to eradicate the entirety of the raki race, but in order to do that, he had to know where to start. Bardin was confronted with one single path, that leads straight into a forest, and then to a cursed Empire city, as far as Bardin knew, this was the only civilization in thousands of miles.
"Mordheim it is then…"
Despite Bardin's reluctance, he felt like he was needed there, and he had nowhere else to begin, besides, what harm would it do to check? Following the path to his destiny, he let out a sigh, wondering how fast his life could change, the right hand of the chieftain now turned into a vagabond, roaming the land for the glimmer of hope that could make his revenge possible.
On the path he saw several blood stains on the beautiful green grass, he ignored them, thinking it was just the raki's doing of killing travelers, but once he had reached the forest, he couldn't help but disagree with himself, as he saw several human bones, still stained with splotches of flesh and blood.
"Damn raki beasts, those vermin, and their abominations…"
He kept his guard up while he walked the path through the forest, he could swear on his honor and pride that he was being watched. He never really act upon his suspicions, because if it really was a raki war beast, well, he would be dead by now. At last, Bardin's suspicions got the better than him, and he turned around and yelled out the mightiest battle cry he could.
"SHOW YOURSELF, RAKI WAR BEAST!"
The huge behemoth appeared out of the forest, it's acidic breath overcame Bardin's senses with the stench of sulfur and rotten eggs, and he saw what had been stalking him all this time.
A behemoth made of magma, it walked on all fours, trampling several skeletons under its enormous bulk, it's massive crimson horn rested at the front of its curved face, baring its huge fangs at Bardin. It was covered in scales, but Bardin knew full well what they were, as they were covered in flames that rivaled the sun, curved spikes ran along it's red, brutish body, but what surprised Bardin the most, is the dwarven throne on it's back, in fact, he remembered it from somewhere. Larger than a house, it circled Bardin, displaying several dwarven runes that were etched onto its muscular legs ever since it was born.
"Well?! Come at me, if you are truly raised by dawi, than fight like one!"
Bardin's challenge irked the massive beast, seemingly impressed by Bardin's courage in the face of frightening, for if he hadn't, he wouldn't be considered a dwarf, wouldn't he?
"My clan may be gone, but I will guard its honor, for am I 'not a dawi?"
The beast reared it's massive head, facing one of its giant eyes, attempting to look into Bardin's identity. The massive claws of the creature, like it scales, were engulfed in searing hot flames and were sharp to the point, the beast drew back from Bardin, closing it's humongous jaws together, making a loud snapping noise in an attempt to scare him.
"Well? Will you not kill me? If not, I will take my leave!"
Before Bardin could turn around to walk away, giant claws surrounded his body, and before he knew it, he was lifted up into the air, feeling the sear hot flames burning his flesh. But then, he was let go, landing into the throne upon the beast.
It reared its head up to Bardin, making a sinister grin, well maybe it wasn't, but Bardin couldn't tell since the creature's huge fangs made it look evil, and quite devilish. Bardin inspected the ornate throne, trimmed with gold and silver, and the occasional dwarven rune, but yet he found something that shook him to the core. He found a nameplate set up near the top of the throne, inscribed in dwarven runes, it read, "Ungrim Ironfist, Slayer King Of Karak Kadrin."
The name made Bardin shed a single tear, and the beast shared his sense of loss, and his desire for revenge, it let loose a powerful roar, as it started stomping through the forest, destroying any obstacle that dared come in its path. Bardin raised up his burnt ax, and let loose a thunderous shout that could probably be heard all the way to Reikland. As Bardin shook in the beasts thunderous stomps, he found another nameplate, once again inscribed in dwarven runes, below the other nameplate, once again Bardin read it, "Kaden, Warbeast Of The Slayer King."
"Well then! Let's go get ourselves covered in the blood of raki scum, eh? How's that sound to ye?"
Kaden roared a thunderous cry, with Bardin quickly noting that down as a yes.
Chapter Four
Chapter Four
A Monster In The Making
Markus slowly awoke, letting out a massive groan, as he opened his eyes to look around at his surroundings, "What in Morr..?"
"About time you've woken up, mayfly, I was starting to get worried!" Kerillian dashed into view, in a partly destroyed house, with a campfire in the middle of the living room, with several slabs of meat placed upon it, "Urggh, what in the bloody name of Taal happened..?"
He was still disoriented, he felt his stomach wanted to revolt against his body and let out what little he ate a few hours earlier, "Well, for starters, you tried to destroy a beast that was about this huge," She made a gesture over Markus's head, displaying how big the monster he tried to fight was, which was more than twice the height of Markus, who was six feet tall, she continued, "And not surprisingly me, or anyone else, you failed miserably and got a nice little bump on your forehead!" She tapped his forehead, which sent tiny signals of pain throughout his head. All Markus did was sigh and laid himself down again, closing his eyes, shutting out Kerillian's jests about what an idiot he had to be to do that, "I'm going to try to get some more sleep before we go out again, and I'd prefer it if you left me alone right now."
"Fine, fine, mayfly, sweet dreams, don't let the rats bite." She continued caring for the fire, occasionally flipping and moving around the meat, she glanced around, the city, for now, stayed eerily silent, sometimes, a gust of wind would brush by her face, but that was all she saw, or even felt in the city. This didn't feel right, the skaven always were chittering in the dark, always scheming, she suspected that they would at least send spies or scouts.
"Unlike them, but maybe we really did escape their grubby little paws." She reassured herself by telling herself that repeatedly, maybe they really had escaped the rats, for now. The night caught the two heroes with it's warm, yet cold embrace, quiet was the full moon as it ascended into the sky, all that was heard was the pattering of the rain hitting the pavement, revealing the hidden runners with its all-seeing moonlight.
"Lord Tretch demands-see on no furs, not grovel-bleed in dirt-mud!" Groaned one of the runners wearing a dark hood over his face, who had three others who followed behind him, those were wearing grey hoods, showing their lesser rank to the commander, "But O' greatest of lords demand we spy-sneak on the man-thing and elf-thing, we-we not suppose to fight-kill them yet-yet.."
"Silence insolent underling! Or feel the wrath of my claws-fangs, now do as I say-command you to do-kill!" The rat with the dark hood trudged through various puddles that had been left from the drenching rain, this proved to be an advantage for them, as they quietly sneaked into a position that had let them see the two heroes. Kerillian was still stoking the fire, she had started stuffing her face with the meat slabs she had been cooking, saving the rest for Markus, showing off that she can be generous at times.
She took a quick glance around outside, quietly addressing her surroundings, but the downpour of rain was far too much for her, even with her eagle eyes she could barely make out things less than a few dozen yards.
"This blasted rain, where did it come from anyway? Just an hour ago there wasn't even a single drop of water here!" Growing ever more frustrated, and probably crazy, she resigned back to stoking the flames of the fire, occasionally moving around the branches that kept the heartwarming flame alight. The rats chittered in the downpour, occasionally shuffling in their hiding place, gazing upon the elf and man through the destroyed wall of the house. One rat took a rifle that was more than twice the length of its body, while another rat took out a shield with the top cut in order to fit something on there, with the sides acting as barriers so the gun piece couldn't fall off as easily off the shield. The rat with the rifle awkwardly placed it on top of the shield, with an another using the shield as cover, and holding it in place so the gunner can have an accurate shot. This way, the shooter and shield carrier had some protection while also giving the shooter a somewhat accurate shot, who said rats can't be smart? The rat primed the rifle's firing mechanism, reacquiring his rusty marksman training, looking through what appeared like a scope, aimed at the sleeping Markus.
"Steady, steady..!" Exclaimed the rat quietly, urging the shield bearer to hold it steady, as he held in his breath, and put his claw on the trigger. The gun went click, and again it clicked, and for a third time, it clicked. Their bag of bullets was gone as if something or someone interfered with their plan. The rain assaulted the four hooded rats, along with the gun, seeping into the various cracks of the mediocre craftsmanship, the rats merely sat in silence, "Fool-fools! Hide jezzail, we-we go in and kill man-thing and elf-thing with our two paws-paws!"
Quickly and silently, they covered the rifle with a ragged cloth, dropping the shield under a nearby crevasse, each rat pulled out blades covered in a green, chunky substance, which was warpstone turned into a deadly liquid, causing the afflicted to grow weak, while piercing through armor like butter, "Two of you will go-sneak to the right, the other two will run-silent to the left, I will sneak-sneak through the middle…"
Just like that, the plan was in motion, even when they stepped on branches, or into puddles, no sound was made, their primal instincts kicked in, their mouths frothed with green foam, going into a death frenzy, preparing for battle. Two came in from the left, facing a doorway, with Kerillian still taking care of the fire, who seemed oblivious to their presence. As they prepared to slaughter the heroine, they heard the clanging of metal coming towards them, they tried to turn around as fast as they could, but even then that couldn't stop death from embracing them with it's cold, foreboding arms.
The other two coming in from the right had climbed up to the ruined attic, which had a convenient hole for them to enter, as they slunk around the attic, they found a hole leading to Kerillian and the fire, once again she seemed blissfully unaware of their existence. The rats searched the entire room with their eyes, Markus was no longer on the floor. Nothing was there were Markus had slept, all they saw before they felt the darkness embrace them, was Kerillian smiling, as she nocked two arrows onto her bow, and before they knew it, they went back to the hell they were made from.
The leader, who was not as gullible and idiotic as his underlings, knew what had happened, it isn't hard to guess since he had heard their death howls before they had died.
"Fools-fools..!"
The rat slinked into the house, not making a sound, his paws lightly touched the wooden flooring, as if he was floating. Markus lay in wait, patiently anticipating a foul rat to come through the hole, he peeked around the corner to find nothing there, but he swore he heard a sound. The vermin clung onto the ceiling with all of his paws, while both of his weeping blades were on his back, waiting for the foul man-thing to let down his guard, as Kerillian climbed up into the attic, to see if there were even more rats that needed cleansing. Markus eased into the lonely room, the campfire still very alive as if the rain didn't even exist, and it only burned brighter than ever before. With the man-things back to the vermin, he silently dropped down from the ceiling, his paws avoiding the creaky floorboards.
He drew his blades, and thrust them both into Markus's chest, piercing the breastplate he had wore to prevent this kind of attack, but nonetheless, the instrument of Markus's pain penetrated through his supposed to be armor, and his very flesh.
Markus felt his body giving out, he sensed the toxins entering his body, he dropped his great sword, it clattered against the old wooden flooring, as his vision blurred, the edges of his eyes turning dark green, he stumbled to his knees and breathed raggedly, he felt the world around him crumbling and dismantling itself, as he fell on his side, resting in his own pool of blood.
"Markus!"
She nocked an arrow and loosed it on the rat's knee, going straight through his kneecap, the rat howled in pain and agony, while dropping both of his blades, digging themselves into the boards, while he wailed on the ground, screaming in horrible pain as he took out the arrow. Having dealt with the unwanted intruder, she quickly came to Markus's side, dropping several arrows onto the flooring, taking out a bag from the inside of her quiver.
"Shhhh, hush mayfly, everything will be fine…"
She untied the bag, and she took out a small case, as big as her fist. She opened the case, displaying some sort of slimy substance, she took a worried glance at Markus as he groaned in pain. Without hesitation, she threw off Markus's breastplate, and then tore apart his shirt, revealing his back. His veins were bulging, as if they were about to burst out of his body, the area around his injuries were green, the green poison still dripping into the open wounds. She dug her fingers into the slimy substance contained within the case and rubbed it all over the wounds made by the vermin's blades. Kerillian flipped over Markus's now unconscious body, and repeated the same process again, once she was done, she dragged Markus to a corner, and slumped him against the cleanest wall she could find, if you could call it clean.
"The God's must hate you, Markus, I mean come on mayfly! Getting hurt twice in a row! A new record for you…"
She may have laughed it off, but she worried, like all elves, she hid her sensitive side, after all, you can't really trust anyone in this world. Even the ones closest to you can be monsters in disguise. She had tried to go to sleep, but it is hard to doze off when there is a vermin screaming at the top of his lungs in agony.
The city of Altdorf was enormous, not as large as Skavenblight, but still a large city. It's walled loomed over the buildings of the enormous establishment, it's port always importing and exporting goods, along with several immoral "goods". Its beauty must be appreciated though, even by dwarven standards, they consider it a masterpiece, shame that the same can't be said about the Empire's weaponry. Altdorf was a coastal city, it even had two drawbridges, one leading out into a rotting, diseased, and barren swampland, and the other leading out into a lush, beautiful grassland, ripe with game. The flag of the Empire stood atop the largest building, home to the Offices of the Empire, and one of its missing residents was the leader of the council, the Emperor.
Houses were lined up neatly in several formations, the streets clean despite being… streets. But yet this was all a facade because as you came to the corners of the great monopolis, you would find that houses would seem rotten and rundown, with families wearing nothing but rags. Lamp posts were scattered around the city, but not in the slums, only mere lanterns hanged upon small makeshift poles made from various garbage. A small, starving, and awfully skinny skaven was curled up in a ball on some cardboard, hidden by the smallest of ragged blankets with various holes in it The tiny vermin didn't belong to any clan, skaven hate each other on a mutual level, but they despised him the most, but he wondered why his own clan, even his own mother, who probably didn't even know he existed, hated him. For he was birthed with a "defect", a severe disadvantage to his kin. He was born with the ability to feel mercy and compassion.
He shivered in the cold, his chipped teeth chattered against one another in the freezing night, he had been hunted throughout Altdorf by the fanatic religious group who coined the name, "Witch Hunters", he dreaded the tolling bell that clanked on the cart that carried his hunters, he could hear them mocking him, taunting him.
So cold… I hear them coming, but it's so cold…
He thought to himself, for all he could do is think, he barely had any protection against the savagery of the cold, his fur was too thin, too small. But yet he felt he needed to run, his primitive instincts were starting to toss aside any thoughts of despair, after all, skaven are experienced in the art of running the other way. He tied the remains of his ragged blanket around his neck, then he picked up the small cardboard and hanged it over his head, to protect him from the blundering rain. He peeked out of the alleyway, looking for the cart that carried the witch hunters, after making sure the coast was clear, he walked out of the smelly alley and into the street, while being pelted by the heavy rain. He wandered the dimly lit slums, he turned a corner and found a brightly lit building, with the sounds of people cheering, and just having a great time.
He wished he could be having a great time.
Reluctantly, he tossed the piece of cardboard away, into what he thought was a trash can. He covered his rat-like face with the ragged blanket, as to not disgust the inhabitants of the tavern, and went up to the somewhat well-made door, well, it wasn't broken off the hinges, that's for certain. Putting his grubby paws on the doorknob, and as he twisted it, the door revealed the insides of the rambunctious tavern. As soon as he went in, he felt the warm embrace of the fireplace burning in joy, but that was immediately replaced by dread as he saw the drunken men stare at him in what looked like a mixture of disgust and curiosity. And drunkenness.
"'Oi! Ya seem a tad bit furry mate."
Understandably, some of them just kept drinking their tankard filled with ale. Some bombarded him with several questions, others just glared at him for having fur and looking uncivilized. The tavern was littered with unconscious men, with several chairs tipped over on their side, and the tables covered with the stench of stale ale, and a giant skull rested on the top of the counter of the bar. The bartender was cleaning tankards, with several tables and chairs in the back being washed with a cloth by a man, who he suspected to be the owner of the tavern.
He timidly approached the cleanest of the tables, with only one of the chairs being straight, and not torn into several pieces of oak, as he sat down on the rough surface of the chair. A fairly sober man pulled up a chair to the table where he was sitting at and sat across from him. The strange man wore a hat with an emblem of a falling comet, emblazoned in copper. He also wielded a pistol at the left side of his hip, with a sword at the right side of his hip. The man also wore an overly large trench coat. He cleared his throat while staring into the rat's eyes.
"I've never seen one like you before, much less alone."
The man seemed to have a certain kind of contempt for him, thought the tiny rat couldn't understand why, but he felt uncomfortable with the emblem on the man's hat, it reminded him of a certain group that had wanted to cleanse something of his. By mustering up all of his courage, which wasn't a lot, and suppressing his timid thoughts, he let out a single sentence.
"H-hello, and who might you b-be..?"
Then he was promptly knocked out with the flat side of a sword to the back of his head. The last thing he was able to see was the poorly lit streets, he felt the cold hard rough cobblestone as he was being dragged, and then he was thrown into a cage atop a wagon, and was hauled off into the night, little did the raki scum know, he would soon meet someone that would make them both very special.
A Monster In The Making
Markus slowly awoke, letting out a massive groan, as he opened his eyes to look around at his surroundings, "What in Morr..?"
"About time you've woken up, mayfly, I was starting to get worried!" Kerillian dashed into view, in a partly destroyed house, with a campfire in the middle of the living room, with several slabs of meat placed upon it, "Urggh, what in the bloody name of Taal happened..?"
He was still disoriented, he felt his stomach wanted to revolt against his body and let out what little he ate a few hours earlier, "Well, for starters, you tried to destroy a beast that was about this huge," She made a gesture over Markus's head, displaying how big the monster he tried to fight was, which was more than twice the height of Markus, who was six feet tall, she continued, "And not surprisingly me, or anyone else, you failed miserably and got a nice little bump on your forehead!" She tapped his forehead, which sent tiny signals of pain throughout his head. All Markus did was sigh and laid himself down again, closing his eyes, shutting out Kerillian's jests about what an idiot he had to be to do that, "I'm going to try to get some more sleep before we go out again, and I'd prefer it if you left me alone right now."
"Fine, fine, mayfly, sweet dreams, don't let the rats bite." She continued caring for the fire, occasionally flipping and moving around the meat, she glanced around, the city, for now, stayed eerily silent, sometimes, a gust of wind would brush by her face, but that was all she saw, or even felt in the city. This didn't feel right, the skaven always were chittering in the dark, always scheming, she suspected that they would at least send spies or scouts.
"Unlike them, but maybe we really did escape their grubby little paws." She reassured herself by telling herself that repeatedly, maybe they really had escaped the rats, for now. The night caught the two heroes with it's warm, yet cold embrace, quiet was the full moon as it ascended into the sky, all that was heard was the pattering of the rain hitting the pavement, revealing the hidden runners with its all-seeing moonlight.
"Lord Tretch demands-see on no furs, not grovel-bleed in dirt-mud!" Groaned one of the runners wearing a dark hood over his face, who had three others who followed behind him, those were wearing grey hoods, showing their lesser rank to the commander, "But O' greatest of lords demand we spy-sneak on the man-thing and elf-thing, we-we not suppose to fight-kill them yet-yet.."
"Silence insolent underling! Or feel the wrath of my claws-fangs, now do as I say-command you to do-kill!" The rat with the dark hood trudged through various puddles that had been left from the drenching rain, this proved to be an advantage for them, as they quietly sneaked into a position that had let them see the two heroes. Kerillian was still stoking the fire, she had started stuffing her face with the meat slabs she had been cooking, saving the rest for Markus, showing off that she can be generous at times.
She took a quick glance around outside, quietly addressing her surroundings, but the downpour of rain was far too much for her, even with her eagle eyes she could barely make out things less than a few dozen yards.
"This blasted rain, where did it come from anyway? Just an hour ago there wasn't even a single drop of water here!" Growing ever more frustrated, and probably crazy, she resigned back to stoking the flames of the fire, occasionally moving around the branches that kept the heartwarming flame alight. The rats chittered in the downpour, occasionally shuffling in their hiding place, gazing upon the elf and man through the destroyed wall of the house. One rat took a rifle that was more than twice the length of its body, while another rat took out a shield with the top cut in order to fit something on there, with the sides acting as barriers so the gun piece couldn't fall off as easily off the shield. The rat with the rifle awkwardly placed it on top of the shield, with an another using the shield as cover, and holding it in place so the gunner can have an accurate shot. This way, the shooter and shield carrier had some protection while also giving the shooter a somewhat accurate shot, who said rats can't be smart? The rat primed the rifle's firing mechanism, reacquiring his rusty marksman training, looking through what appeared like a scope, aimed at the sleeping Markus.
"Steady, steady..!" Exclaimed the rat quietly, urging the shield bearer to hold it steady, as he held in his breath, and put his claw on the trigger. The gun went click, and again it clicked, and for a third time, it clicked. Their bag of bullets was gone as if something or someone interfered with their plan. The rain assaulted the four hooded rats, along with the gun, seeping into the various cracks of the mediocre craftsmanship, the rats merely sat in silence, "Fool-fools! Hide jezzail, we-we go in and kill man-thing and elf-thing with our two paws-paws!"
Quickly and silently, they covered the rifle with a ragged cloth, dropping the shield under a nearby crevasse, each rat pulled out blades covered in a green, chunky substance, which was warpstone turned into a deadly liquid, causing the afflicted to grow weak, while piercing through armor like butter, "Two of you will go-sneak to the right, the other two will run-silent to the left, I will sneak-sneak through the middle…"
Just like that, the plan was in motion, even when they stepped on branches, or into puddles, no sound was made, their primal instincts kicked in, their mouths frothed with green foam, going into a death frenzy, preparing for battle. Two came in from the left, facing a doorway, with Kerillian still taking care of the fire, who seemed oblivious to their presence. As they prepared to slaughter the heroine, they heard the clanging of metal coming towards them, they tried to turn around as fast as they could, but even then that couldn't stop death from embracing them with it's cold, foreboding arms.
The other two coming in from the right had climbed up to the ruined attic, which had a convenient hole for them to enter, as they slunk around the attic, they found a hole leading to Kerillian and the fire, once again she seemed blissfully unaware of their existence. The rats searched the entire room with their eyes, Markus was no longer on the floor. Nothing was there were Markus had slept, all they saw before they felt the darkness embrace them, was Kerillian smiling, as she nocked two arrows onto her bow, and before they knew it, they went back to the hell they were made from.
The leader, who was not as gullible and idiotic as his underlings, knew what had happened, it isn't hard to guess since he had heard their death howls before they had died.
"Fools-fools..!"
The rat slinked into the house, not making a sound, his paws lightly touched the wooden flooring, as if he was floating. Markus lay in wait, patiently anticipating a foul rat to come through the hole, he peeked around the corner to find nothing there, but he swore he heard a sound. The vermin clung onto the ceiling with all of his paws, while both of his weeping blades were on his back, waiting for the foul man-thing to let down his guard, as Kerillian climbed up into the attic, to see if there were even more rats that needed cleansing. Markus eased into the lonely room, the campfire still very alive as if the rain didn't even exist, and it only burned brighter than ever before. With the man-things back to the vermin, he silently dropped down from the ceiling, his paws avoiding the creaky floorboards.
He drew his blades, and thrust them both into Markus's chest, piercing the breastplate he had wore to prevent this kind of attack, but nonetheless, the instrument of Markus's pain penetrated through his supposed to be armor, and his very flesh.
Markus felt his body giving out, he sensed the toxins entering his body, he dropped his great sword, it clattered against the old wooden flooring, as his vision blurred, the edges of his eyes turning dark green, he stumbled to his knees and breathed raggedly, he felt the world around him crumbling and dismantling itself, as he fell on his side, resting in his own pool of blood.
"Markus!"
She nocked an arrow and loosed it on the rat's knee, going straight through his kneecap, the rat howled in pain and agony, while dropping both of his blades, digging themselves into the boards, while he wailed on the ground, screaming in horrible pain as he took out the arrow. Having dealt with the unwanted intruder, she quickly came to Markus's side, dropping several arrows onto the flooring, taking out a bag from the inside of her quiver.
"Shhhh, hush mayfly, everything will be fine…"
She untied the bag, and she took out a small case, as big as her fist. She opened the case, displaying some sort of slimy substance, she took a worried glance at Markus as he groaned in pain. Without hesitation, she threw off Markus's breastplate, and then tore apart his shirt, revealing his back. His veins were bulging, as if they were about to burst out of his body, the area around his injuries were green, the green poison still dripping into the open wounds. She dug her fingers into the slimy substance contained within the case and rubbed it all over the wounds made by the vermin's blades. Kerillian flipped over Markus's now unconscious body, and repeated the same process again, once she was done, she dragged Markus to a corner, and slumped him against the cleanest wall she could find, if you could call it clean.
"The God's must hate you, Markus, I mean come on mayfly! Getting hurt twice in a row! A new record for you…"
She may have laughed it off, but she worried, like all elves, she hid her sensitive side, after all, you can't really trust anyone in this world. Even the ones closest to you can be monsters in disguise. She had tried to go to sleep, but it is hard to doze off when there is a vermin screaming at the top of his lungs in agony.
The city of Altdorf was enormous, not as large as Skavenblight, but still a large city. It's walled loomed over the buildings of the enormous establishment, it's port always importing and exporting goods, along with several immoral "goods". Its beauty must be appreciated though, even by dwarven standards, they consider it a masterpiece, shame that the same can't be said about the Empire's weaponry. Altdorf was a coastal city, it even had two drawbridges, one leading out into a rotting, diseased, and barren swampland, and the other leading out into a lush, beautiful grassland, ripe with game. The flag of the Empire stood atop the largest building, home to the Offices of the Empire, and one of its missing residents was the leader of the council, the Emperor.
Houses were lined up neatly in several formations, the streets clean despite being… streets. But yet this was all a facade because as you came to the corners of the great monopolis, you would find that houses would seem rotten and rundown, with families wearing nothing but rags. Lamp posts were scattered around the city, but not in the slums, only mere lanterns hanged upon small makeshift poles made from various garbage. A small, starving, and awfully skinny skaven was curled up in a ball on some cardboard, hidden by the smallest of ragged blankets with various holes in it The tiny vermin didn't belong to any clan, skaven hate each other on a mutual level, but they despised him the most, but he wondered why his own clan, even his own mother, who probably didn't even know he existed, hated him. For he was birthed with a "defect", a severe disadvantage to his kin. He was born with the ability to feel mercy and compassion.
He shivered in the cold, his chipped teeth chattered against one another in the freezing night, he had been hunted throughout Altdorf by the fanatic religious group who coined the name, "Witch Hunters", he dreaded the tolling bell that clanked on the cart that carried his hunters, he could hear them mocking him, taunting him.
So cold… I hear them coming, but it's so cold…
He thought to himself, for all he could do is think, he barely had any protection against the savagery of the cold, his fur was too thin, too small. But yet he felt he needed to run, his primitive instincts were starting to toss aside any thoughts of despair, after all, skaven are experienced in the art of running the other way. He tied the remains of his ragged blanket around his neck, then he picked up the small cardboard and hanged it over his head, to protect him from the blundering rain. He peeked out of the alleyway, looking for the cart that carried the witch hunters, after making sure the coast was clear, he walked out of the smelly alley and into the street, while being pelted by the heavy rain. He wandered the dimly lit slums, he turned a corner and found a brightly lit building, with the sounds of people cheering, and just having a great time.
He wished he could be having a great time.
Reluctantly, he tossed the piece of cardboard away, into what he thought was a trash can. He covered his rat-like face with the ragged blanket, as to not disgust the inhabitants of the tavern, and went up to the somewhat well-made door, well, it wasn't broken off the hinges, that's for certain. Putting his grubby paws on the doorknob, and as he twisted it, the door revealed the insides of the rambunctious tavern. As soon as he went in, he felt the warm embrace of the fireplace burning in joy, but that was immediately replaced by dread as he saw the drunken men stare at him in what looked like a mixture of disgust and curiosity. And drunkenness.
"'Oi! Ya seem a tad bit furry mate."
Understandably, some of them just kept drinking their tankard filled with ale. Some bombarded him with several questions, others just glared at him for having fur and looking uncivilized. The tavern was littered with unconscious men, with several chairs tipped over on their side, and the tables covered with the stench of stale ale, and a giant skull rested on the top of the counter of the bar. The bartender was cleaning tankards, with several tables and chairs in the back being washed with a cloth by a man, who he suspected to be the owner of the tavern.
He timidly approached the cleanest of the tables, with only one of the chairs being straight, and not torn into several pieces of oak, as he sat down on the rough surface of the chair. A fairly sober man pulled up a chair to the table where he was sitting at and sat across from him. The strange man wore a hat with an emblem of a falling comet, emblazoned in copper. He also wielded a pistol at the left side of his hip, with a sword at the right side of his hip. The man also wore an overly large trench coat. He cleared his throat while staring into the rat's eyes.
"I've never seen one like you before, much less alone."
The man seemed to have a certain kind of contempt for him, thought the tiny rat couldn't understand why, but he felt uncomfortable with the emblem on the man's hat, it reminded him of a certain group that had wanted to cleanse something of his. By mustering up all of his courage, which wasn't a lot, and suppressing his timid thoughts, he let out a single sentence.
"H-hello, and who might you b-be..?"
Then he was promptly knocked out with the flat side of a sword to the back of his head. The last thing he was able to see was the poorly lit streets, he felt the cold hard rough cobblestone as he was being dragged, and then he was thrown into a cage atop a wagon, and was hauled off into the night, little did the raki scum know, he would soon meet someone that would make them both very special.
Chapter Five
Chapter Five
The Monster Inside
"Wake up you scoundrel!", the man screamed into his ears, and for once in his life, he wished he had lost his sense of hearing. He bolted upwards, hitting his head on the ceiling of the cage, which was somehow small enough, he could only crouch. Recovering from his injury, he looked at the man in the trenchcoat who looked like this was just a normal day for him.
"What are you?"
Despite his innocent enough curiosity, he knew that the man knew full well what he was. A filthy skaven from the underworld, after all, that symbol of the falling comet is the mark of the Witch Hunters, the group that had been hunting him down ever since he came sulking out of the sewers. Ignoring the hunter, he saw that he was inside a cage on a table, surrounded by several beakers, test tubes, candles, and a few shelves with books on how to purge corruption along with science and advanced mathematical books. The room was fairly bright, illuminated by a fireplace in the left corner of the room, the room with fairly furnished, with a large couch set up near the fireplace with a coffee table in front of it. Another table was to the left of the vermin, which he saw a giant tube with a black liquid inside of it, he would've ignored it all together if it wasn't for the fact that it was moving erratically in its prison.
"ANSWER ME!"
The rat yelped in fright so loud, he banged his head on some of the bars of his cage, which only made him yell louder in pain.
"I'm a vermin!"
He blurted out both his life story, and his kind's history in an instant, which seemed to amuse the witch hunter, once the vermin had stopped speaking, he walked over to the table with the seemingly to be alive liquid, but he casually ignored it as he revealed a poker in his hand.
"Now, I'm going to torture you for days on end, non-stop, and no matter how much you scream I will torture you, hunt down your kin, and-" The witch hunter couldn't finish as the entrance to the room was nearly blown off its hinges, displaying a women wearing a cage around her head, along with red robes, her hair seemed to be on fire. Then he realized her HAIR was on fire, and she held something that looked like a torch in her hands.
The women looked at the vermin in the cage, and understood what was going on, and motioned the witch hunter to follow her outside of the room, reluctantly, he nodded and went along, but before he made his leave, he left this hanging in the air.
"Don't get too comfortable, I will come back."
The rat seemed to get even more frightened, somehow. Recovering from his frightened state, he tried his best to try to escape, from what he found, he discovered that the cage was seemingly stained with old blood, and it was heavily rusted because of that. He didn't want to think about whose blood it came from, so he tried to shove his arm through one of the steel bars, which barely fit. The gears in his head were turning, as he felt around the outsides of the cage for the lock. A few minutes later he felt something different from the left side of the cage, he felt around the lock even more, until he found the thing he was looking for, the keyhole. This wasn't his first time being abducted, he used to be kidnapped by his kin, as well the witch hunters on various occasions, but living on the streets had taught him how to expertly pickpocket people's racist, and break into several homes.
He snaked his fingers around the bars, and carefully dug them into the keyhole, using his experience in order to lockpick the lock. In a few seconds, he heard the lock making a click sound, and then he swung open the cage. He timidly jumped onto the floor, despite his size, he could at least look over the table without any trouble.
The liquid thing seems interesting… but no, I should escape while I still can…
As much as he tried resisting the feeling to touch the vial of blackness, he felt drawn to it, he felt it's loneliness. Without knowing it, he stepped closer to the vial, gazing longingly into the darkness contained inside the vial. He unconsciously picked up the large vial, he rubbed his arm onto the vial, clearing away some of the dust that had to start to pile up, the living liquid seemed to stare at him as if it was looking into his soul.
Behind him, a mirror had started glowing vibrantly, it's surface rippled and showed an old man in a bright white robe, with a white, and gold trimmed cape, along with a wooden staff. Behind him stood the man that had threatened to make the rat's life hell, and the women that had barged in earlier. As the mirror became clearer, only then the man in the white robes face became still as the naive little rat threw the vial at the ground.
The liquid took advantage of what had happened, and slithered up the vermin's leg, stopping until it had gotten to his chest, and dig itself into him. He didn't seem very happy about that, as he thrashed around the room, knocking over several bookshelves, and then proceeding to toss the couch around the room, for some reason. When his temper tantrum stopped, he laid on the ground, breathing heavily, he couldn't help but freak out about what had happened.
Don't go downstairs.
"Who said that?" Shouted the rat as he looked around the room, looking for even the tiniest of life, but he found himself all alone in the room. Growing ever more anxious, and insane, and went towards the door, and opening it with a loud creak, peeking out with a very cautious attitude. He walked out after making sure the coast was clear, not a single person in sight, and he soon understood why. He looked out a window, and saw the streets below, he also spied the fountain, with a statue of Karl Franz standing atop of it, with his fabled hammer, below him. He concluded that he was in a very large, and high tower. He stared at the window for some time.
Jump.
He quickly found some stairs, and walked down those instead, ignoring the stranger in his head.
Coward.
As he walked down what seemed like an eternity of stairs, he had gotten to another floor, this one seemed like it had the same layout as the last. He looked at a clock on a nearby wall, but he couldn't tell time, so I guess he couldn't figure out what time it was.
It's 12:30.
"Thank you..?" The rat turned around and kept walking down the staircase version of hell.
JUMP COWARD!
The suddenness of the strange voice had shocked the rat enough so that he tripped and started falling down the stairs.
Close enough.
This dragged on for a whole twenty-five minutes, he heard shreds of conservation while tumbling down, in fact, he saw a man that was so shocked to see him, the rat could swear his jaw was unhinged. When he had finally reached the bottom, he came out of it rolling straight into a wall. He was wondering why he hadn't died yet, or if he had several broken ribs, and or legs.
Get up, weakling.
"Not a very nice thing to say…" The rat grumbled as he shook off his sense of dizziness, and nausea from falling down several stories of stairs. As he stood up, in front of the exit were several witch hunters, most were skinny, and carried rapiers with pistols at their side, but some wielded huge, cleaver-like axes that most likely could chop a man in half. It didn't help his confidence that the heavy brutes had embedded iron spikes into their backs, and had stuck skulls onto the end of them. They weren't that handsome looking either, but he couldn't really criticize them on their looks.
"Surrender now, and we might not hurt you as much, foul creature!"
The witch hunters didn't seem very keen on pulling their punches, he turned around only to see the woman, whose hair was on fire for some odd reason, in front of a group of swordsman, and she too was screaming at him, though not as threatening.
"Whatever he said!"
A frightened rat he was, trembling in fear of being sandwiched by dozens of soldiers, he tried his best to figure out a way to get out of this situation, and he came to the greatest way out of this. He put up his hands to surrender.
What are you doing? You're making us look bad!
"What do you mean? We're going to die!" As he said that, his arms started fighting against him, to the soldiers, it looked like he was trying to fly away from them.
Stop… fighting!
"Let's just surrender!" He tried his best to resist whatever control the strange voice had over him, but he was just too weak.
Obey!
A black tentacle sprouted from his left shoulder, as it dug itself into a wall, and hurled a chunk of the wall at the massed group of witch hunters. It crashed straight into one of the brutes, promptly crushing all of his ribs and several other unimportant parts.
"What are you-" He was cut off as several of the soldiers started surrounding him, but he could hear them cursing under their breath. Before he could understand what was going on with his body, his entire arm was covered in some sort of inky blackness, despite its liquid state, it seemed to be perfectly solid. Instinctively, he punched one of the soldiers in the chest, promptly launching him through a wall.
How..?
He seemed to lose control of himself, his body being covered in the same inky blackness that transformed his arm. His face was covered by two inky white streaks had replaced his eyes spanning up his head, his mouth enlarged, with his teeth replaced by sharp white fangs. He had grown from a mere three feet tall, to a colossal twelve feet tall, nearly hitting the ceiling of the room, and grabbed a soldier by the throat, lifting him into the air.
"Freedom at last!"
Shots rang out throughout the building, but the hunters were shocked at what the monster did in front of them, it absorbed their shots as if they were nothing. The rat, now a giant monster covered in the alien blackness, crushed the man's windpipe, and threw him into the growing mass of hunters and swordsmen, knocking them down like bowling pins. He tossed aside a soldier, then both his neck and mouth extended, and he lunged forward and tore off someone's head.
"I've forgotten how delicious one's mind can be!"
He had to stop periodically to in order to speak, because it was still chewing and crunching the man's skull, and eating his savory, delicious mind.
Chew before you speak, it's rude to talk with your mouth full!
Oh, go eat someone's head.
The men started screaming, it was chaos. Despite the soldiers, and hunters effort, they couldn't seem to land any successful hits on him, it was too quick, too agile. The monster rampaged grabbed a man by his leg, using him as a weapon, laying waste to his comrades. He cleaved through the soldiers like they were nothing, occasionally eating one or two faces in the midst of combat.
"Enough of this!"
It turned a full one-eighty, to see the fiery-haired woman doing something strange to her staff. He threw the soldier that he had been using like a ragdoll, he was already dead after all.
"Do you really think, your fiery stick here will hurt US?"
The inky black monster edged closer to the woman, only to hear her say some strange phrases, and get a fireball shot into its chest.
FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!
It howled in anguish, as the flames spread across its body, the inky black mask covering the rat's face had burned off, revealing his own. He felt his body shift into his control, his cowardly instincts went into overdrive. He used the last remains of his supernatural strength, and ran straight through a wall, revealing him to the luscious streets of Altdorf.
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF SIGMAR IS THAT?!"
Bystanders didn't really take kindly to his appearance. After all, people don't like the stench of burnt fur, and a giant monster in the middle of their heavily guarded metropolis.
Use our strength to get away!
How?! I don't know where to begin!
Think of something, I'll try my best to shape it!
He thought hard, harder than he had ever thought about something before, if you ever corner a skaven, just know they will try their hardest to think of the most insane, and the stupidest escape plan. He shot out his left hand, aiming it at the roof of a fairly large house, as a black tentacle shot forth, gluing itself into the roof.
He could hear the hunters and soldiers starting to regain their confidence, talking about how they would dismember his corpse, and hang them onto the city's walls. He pulled on the tentacle, lifting him into the air, he lifted his right hand, and another tentacle shot forth at a nearby roof, as he alternated between the two. Swinging around the city like a monkey on vines would do. He wondered how it looked like from the people below him, a huge monster with a tiny charred rat head, swinging around the city, causing several roofs to collapse in his wake. Probably scared them half to death honestly.
I can't keep up with this, I feel my strength fading.
Come on, just a bit longer..!
His burst of adrenaline suddenly wore out, along with the stranger's power. In the middle of swinging into the slums, it had suddenly sunk back into his body, while he was slinging, and he was about to turn a corner. He could only manage out a few words before his fatal impact.
"Oh-!"
Hours passed before he regained consciousness, cursing under his breath as he realized that he was covered in debris, along with his own blood. Using the power of the strange voice, he was able to free himself and run away from the scene of the crime, slinking away into a nearby sewer. He set himself down in the cleanest surface he could find and relaxed his body, but of course, he couldn't get that change, as a monstrous black head that resembled the mask that had covers his face. sprouted from his shoulder. He jumped back a bit at first, but he became used to it, as the head set itself down on his left leg, he even put his hand on it, stroking it, and judging by the purring noise, he guessed the weird monster liked it.
"What are you?"
"A fairly stupid question, is it not?"
"How is it stupid?!"
"Simple, you are no longer you, I am no longer I, we are we."
"You're saying that I am no longer my self, and you aren't yourself? And what do you mean by 'we are we'?"
"By that, I mean we are no longer us, but a part of something bigger."
"And what is that?"
"We. Are. Venom."
The head staring deep into his eyes, cackling, the tiny white streaks ever expanding. What did he think of this? Well, like any failure would think, he found a way to start a new life, a life that could possibly blossom into something beautiful, or absolutely wretched and horrifying.
He didn't mind losing his identity, because he never had one, after all, he had no name, and nothing to his name.
"Do… you have a name?"
"Why are you asking?"
"It seems you are a potent enough host, so I at least would like to get to know your name."
He laughed sheepishly, trying his best to derail the topic on the conservation, but the head kept staring at him, never breaking its gaze.
"Well?"
"Don't laugh.."
"I swear on my inky black soul."
"I don't… have a name."
The head's concentration was broken instantly, as it bombarded him with questions.
"What do you mean? Everyone has a name, even birds have names!"
"No one really thought I deserved one," He smiled as he slyly let loose this gem, "What's your name anyway?"
"Venom."
"I thought we were no longer ourselves?"
"It was a figure of speech!"
The two stayed silent, as the rat stroked Venom's head, finally being able to rest after weeks without food, or anything really.
"Do you… want a name?" The rat didn't know why Venom had asked so shyly, but he decided better not to dwell upon that.
"Well, any suggestions?"
"How about… Cryboy The Cowardly?"
"Oh, shut up, I never I shouldn't have asked."
"Ok, ok, but seriously, how about… Arthur?"
"That seems to be a strange name."
"You don't spend a few weeks in a glass prison without picking up a few things."
"I like it. I guess I'm Arthur now!"
Arthur didn't really know why, but it felt great to have something he never had in his life, even if it was something so miniscule has a name, but something about his name gave him purpose. He wondered if this is what it felt like for everyone who had gotten their name for the first time, he was so happy, he could just dance until a year passes by!
But he couldn't, since that would most likely break his fragile bones, compliments of him crashing into a building.
"Are you tired?"
"I'm exhausted more like it, it felt like I ran a marathon today."
Black slime spanned out across the cold sewer stone, forming what looked like a mat, along with a pillow. Despite its not so great appearance, Arthur laid himself down into the slimy bed, to his surprise, it was warm and comfortable, as his companion formed a slimy blanket over him, and with it covering Arthur, he never seemed to get too cold or too hot, it was always just right. It was not long before he slumbered off, with Venom not too far behind. The two nobodies snored with delight, as the morning dawn shined upon the surface of Altdorf, littered with searching parties for the two criminals.
The Monster Inside
"Wake up you scoundrel!", the man screamed into his ears, and for once in his life, he wished he had lost his sense of hearing. He bolted upwards, hitting his head on the ceiling of the cage, which was somehow small enough, he could only crouch. Recovering from his injury, he looked at the man in the trenchcoat who looked like this was just a normal day for him.
"What are you?"
Despite his innocent enough curiosity, he knew that the man knew full well what he was. A filthy skaven from the underworld, after all, that symbol of the falling comet is the mark of the Witch Hunters, the group that had been hunting him down ever since he came sulking out of the sewers. Ignoring the hunter, he saw that he was inside a cage on a table, surrounded by several beakers, test tubes, candles, and a few shelves with books on how to purge corruption along with science and advanced mathematical books. The room was fairly bright, illuminated by a fireplace in the left corner of the room, the room with fairly furnished, with a large couch set up near the fireplace with a coffee table in front of it. Another table was to the left of the vermin, which he saw a giant tube with a black liquid inside of it, he would've ignored it all together if it wasn't for the fact that it was moving erratically in its prison.
"ANSWER ME!"
The rat yelped in fright so loud, he banged his head on some of the bars of his cage, which only made him yell louder in pain.
"I'm a vermin!"
He blurted out both his life story, and his kind's history in an instant, which seemed to amuse the witch hunter, once the vermin had stopped speaking, he walked over to the table with the seemingly to be alive liquid, but he casually ignored it as he revealed a poker in his hand.
"Now, I'm going to torture you for days on end, non-stop, and no matter how much you scream I will torture you, hunt down your kin, and-" The witch hunter couldn't finish as the entrance to the room was nearly blown off its hinges, displaying a women wearing a cage around her head, along with red robes, her hair seemed to be on fire. Then he realized her HAIR was on fire, and she held something that looked like a torch in her hands.
The women looked at the vermin in the cage, and understood what was going on, and motioned the witch hunter to follow her outside of the room, reluctantly, he nodded and went along, but before he made his leave, he left this hanging in the air.
"Don't get too comfortable, I will come back."
The rat seemed to get even more frightened, somehow. Recovering from his frightened state, he tried his best to try to escape, from what he found, he discovered that the cage was seemingly stained with old blood, and it was heavily rusted because of that. He didn't want to think about whose blood it came from, so he tried to shove his arm through one of the steel bars, which barely fit. The gears in his head were turning, as he felt around the outsides of the cage for the lock. A few minutes later he felt something different from the left side of the cage, he felt around the lock even more, until he found the thing he was looking for, the keyhole. This wasn't his first time being abducted, he used to be kidnapped by his kin, as well the witch hunters on various occasions, but living on the streets had taught him how to expertly pickpocket people's racist, and break into several homes.
He snaked his fingers around the bars, and carefully dug them into the keyhole, using his experience in order to lockpick the lock. In a few seconds, he heard the lock making a click sound, and then he swung open the cage. He timidly jumped onto the floor, despite his size, he could at least look over the table without any trouble.
The liquid thing seems interesting… but no, I should escape while I still can…
As much as he tried resisting the feeling to touch the vial of blackness, he felt drawn to it, he felt it's loneliness. Without knowing it, he stepped closer to the vial, gazing longingly into the darkness contained inside the vial. He unconsciously picked up the large vial, he rubbed his arm onto the vial, clearing away some of the dust that had to start to pile up, the living liquid seemed to stare at him as if it was looking into his soul.
Behind him, a mirror had started glowing vibrantly, it's surface rippled and showed an old man in a bright white robe, with a white, and gold trimmed cape, along with a wooden staff. Behind him stood the man that had threatened to make the rat's life hell, and the women that had barged in earlier. As the mirror became clearer, only then the man in the white robes face became still as the naive little rat threw the vial at the ground.
The liquid took advantage of what had happened, and slithered up the vermin's leg, stopping until it had gotten to his chest, and dig itself into him. He didn't seem very happy about that, as he thrashed around the room, knocking over several bookshelves, and then proceeding to toss the couch around the room, for some reason. When his temper tantrum stopped, he laid on the ground, breathing heavily, he couldn't help but freak out about what had happened.
Don't go downstairs.
"Who said that?" Shouted the rat as he looked around the room, looking for even the tiniest of life, but he found himself all alone in the room. Growing ever more anxious, and insane, and went towards the door, and opening it with a loud creak, peeking out with a very cautious attitude. He walked out after making sure the coast was clear, not a single person in sight, and he soon understood why. He looked out a window, and saw the streets below, he also spied the fountain, with a statue of Karl Franz standing atop of it, with his fabled hammer, below him. He concluded that he was in a very large, and high tower. He stared at the window for some time.
Jump.
He quickly found some stairs, and walked down those instead, ignoring the stranger in his head.
Coward.
As he walked down what seemed like an eternity of stairs, he had gotten to another floor, this one seemed like it had the same layout as the last. He looked at a clock on a nearby wall, but he couldn't tell time, so I guess he couldn't figure out what time it was.
It's 12:30.
"Thank you..?" The rat turned around and kept walking down the staircase version of hell.
JUMP COWARD!
The suddenness of the strange voice had shocked the rat enough so that he tripped and started falling down the stairs.
Close enough.
This dragged on for a whole twenty-five minutes, he heard shreds of conservation while tumbling down, in fact, he saw a man that was so shocked to see him, the rat could swear his jaw was unhinged. When he had finally reached the bottom, he came out of it rolling straight into a wall. He was wondering why he hadn't died yet, or if he had several broken ribs, and or legs.
Get up, weakling.
"Not a very nice thing to say…" The rat grumbled as he shook off his sense of dizziness, and nausea from falling down several stories of stairs. As he stood up, in front of the exit were several witch hunters, most were skinny, and carried rapiers with pistols at their side, but some wielded huge, cleaver-like axes that most likely could chop a man in half. It didn't help his confidence that the heavy brutes had embedded iron spikes into their backs, and had stuck skulls onto the end of them. They weren't that handsome looking either, but he couldn't really criticize them on their looks.
"Surrender now, and we might not hurt you as much, foul creature!"
The witch hunters didn't seem very keen on pulling their punches, he turned around only to see the woman, whose hair was on fire for some odd reason, in front of a group of swordsman, and she too was screaming at him, though not as threatening.
"Whatever he said!"
A frightened rat he was, trembling in fear of being sandwiched by dozens of soldiers, he tried his best to figure out a way to get out of this situation, and he came to the greatest way out of this. He put up his hands to surrender.
What are you doing? You're making us look bad!
"What do you mean? We're going to die!" As he said that, his arms started fighting against him, to the soldiers, it looked like he was trying to fly away from them.
Stop… fighting!
"Let's just surrender!" He tried his best to resist whatever control the strange voice had over him, but he was just too weak.
Obey!
A black tentacle sprouted from his left shoulder, as it dug itself into a wall, and hurled a chunk of the wall at the massed group of witch hunters. It crashed straight into one of the brutes, promptly crushing all of his ribs and several other unimportant parts.
"What are you-" He was cut off as several of the soldiers started surrounding him, but he could hear them cursing under their breath. Before he could understand what was going on with his body, his entire arm was covered in some sort of inky blackness, despite its liquid state, it seemed to be perfectly solid. Instinctively, he punched one of the soldiers in the chest, promptly launching him through a wall.
How..?
He seemed to lose control of himself, his body being covered in the same inky blackness that transformed his arm. His face was covered by two inky white streaks had replaced his eyes spanning up his head, his mouth enlarged, with his teeth replaced by sharp white fangs. He had grown from a mere three feet tall, to a colossal twelve feet tall, nearly hitting the ceiling of the room, and grabbed a soldier by the throat, lifting him into the air.
"Freedom at last!"
Shots rang out throughout the building, but the hunters were shocked at what the monster did in front of them, it absorbed their shots as if they were nothing. The rat, now a giant monster covered in the alien blackness, crushed the man's windpipe, and threw him into the growing mass of hunters and swordsmen, knocking them down like bowling pins. He tossed aside a soldier, then both his neck and mouth extended, and he lunged forward and tore off someone's head.
"I've forgotten how delicious one's mind can be!"
He had to stop periodically to in order to speak, because it was still chewing and crunching the man's skull, and eating his savory, delicious mind.
Chew before you speak, it's rude to talk with your mouth full!
Oh, go eat someone's head.
The men started screaming, it was chaos. Despite the soldiers, and hunters effort, they couldn't seem to land any successful hits on him, it was too quick, too agile. The monster rampaged grabbed a man by his leg, using him as a weapon, laying waste to his comrades. He cleaved through the soldiers like they were nothing, occasionally eating one or two faces in the midst of combat.
"Enough of this!"
It turned a full one-eighty, to see the fiery-haired woman doing something strange to her staff. He threw the soldier that he had been using like a ragdoll, he was already dead after all.
"Do you really think, your fiery stick here will hurt US?"
The inky black monster edged closer to the woman, only to hear her say some strange phrases, and get a fireball shot into its chest.
FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!
It howled in anguish, as the flames spread across its body, the inky black mask covering the rat's face had burned off, revealing his own. He felt his body shift into his control, his cowardly instincts went into overdrive. He used the last remains of his supernatural strength, and ran straight through a wall, revealing him to the luscious streets of Altdorf.
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF SIGMAR IS THAT?!"
Bystanders didn't really take kindly to his appearance. After all, people don't like the stench of burnt fur, and a giant monster in the middle of their heavily guarded metropolis.
Use our strength to get away!
How?! I don't know where to begin!
Think of something, I'll try my best to shape it!
He thought hard, harder than he had ever thought about something before, if you ever corner a skaven, just know they will try their hardest to think of the most insane, and the stupidest escape plan. He shot out his left hand, aiming it at the roof of a fairly large house, as a black tentacle shot forth, gluing itself into the roof.
He could hear the hunters and soldiers starting to regain their confidence, talking about how they would dismember his corpse, and hang them onto the city's walls. He pulled on the tentacle, lifting him into the air, he lifted his right hand, and another tentacle shot forth at a nearby roof, as he alternated between the two. Swinging around the city like a monkey on vines would do. He wondered how it looked like from the people below him, a huge monster with a tiny charred rat head, swinging around the city, causing several roofs to collapse in his wake. Probably scared them half to death honestly.
I can't keep up with this, I feel my strength fading.
Come on, just a bit longer..!
His burst of adrenaline suddenly wore out, along with the stranger's power. In the middle of swinging into the slums, it had suddenly sunk back into his body, while he was slinging, and he was about to turn a corner. He could only manage out a few words before his fatal impact.
"Oh-!"
Hours passed before he regained consciousness, cursing under his breath as he realized that he was covered in debris, along with his own blood. Using the power of the strange voice, he was able to free himself and run away from the scene of the crime, slinking away into a nearby sewer. He set himself down in the cleanest surface he could find and relaxed his body, but of course, he couldn't get that change, as a monstrous black head that resembled the mask that had covers his face. sprouted from his shoulder. He jumped back a bit at first, but he became used to it, as the head set itself down on his left leg, he even put his hand on it, stroking it, and judging by the purring noise, he guessed the weird monster liked it.
"What are you?"
"A fairly stupid question, is it not?"
"How is it stupid?!"
"Simple, you are no longer you, I am no longer I, we are we."
"You're saying that I am no longer my self, and you aren't yourself? And what do you mean by 'we are we'?"
"By that, I mean we are no longer us, but a part of something bigger."
"And what is that?"
"We. Are. Venom."
The head staring deep into his eyes, cackling, the tiny white streaks ever expanding. What did he think of this? Well, like any failure would think, he found a way to start a new life, a life that could possibly blossom into something beautiful, or absolutely wretched and horrifying.
He didn't mind losing his identity, because he never had one, after all, he had no name, and nothing to his name.
"Do… you have a name?"
"Why are you asking?"
"It seems you are a potent enough host, so I at least would like to get to know your name."
He laughed sheepishly, trying his best to derail the topic on the conservation, but the head kept staring at him, never breaking its gaze.
"Well?"
"Don't laugh.."
"I swear on my inky black soul."
"I don't… have a name."
The head's concentration was broken instantly, as it bombarded him with questions.
"What do you mean? Everyone has a name, even birds have names!"
"No one really thought I deserved one," He smiled as he slyly let loose this gem, "What's your name anyway?"
"Venom."
"I thought we were no longer ourselves?"
"It was a figure of speech!"
The two stayed silent, as the rat stroked Venom's head, finally being able to rest after weeks without food, or anything really.
"Do you… want a name?" The rat didn't know why Venom had asked so shyly, but he decided better not to dwell upon that.
"Well, any suggestions?"
"How about… Cryboy The Cowardly?"
"Oh, shut up, I never I shouldn't have asked."
"Ok, ok, but seriously, how about… Arthur?"
"That seems to be a strange name."
"You don't spend a few weeks in a glass prison without picking up a few things."
"I like it. I guess I'm Arthur now!"
Arthur didn't really know why, but it felt great to have something he never had in his life, even if it was something so miniscule has a name, but something about his name gave him purpose. He wondered if this is what it felt like for everyone who had gotten their name for the first time, he was so happy, he could just dance until a year passes by!
But he couldn't, since that would most likely break his fragile bones, compliments of him crashing into a building.
"Are you tired?"
"I'm exhausted more like it, it felt like I ran a marathon today."
Black slime spanned out across the cold sewer stone, forming what looked like a mat, along with a pillow. Despite its not so great appearance, Arthur laid himself down into the slimy bed, to his surprise, it was warm and comfortable, as his companion formed a slimy blanket over him, and with it covering Arthur, he never seemed to get too cold or too hot, it was always just right. It was not long before he slumbered off, with Venom not too far behind. The two nobodies snored with delight, as the morning dawn shined upon the surface of Altdorf, littered with searching parties for the two criminals.
Chapter Six
Chapter Six
The Scourges Of Altdorf
The makeshift bed Arthur slept on was gone, it had retracted to the safe confinement that is his body. He felt a certain tugging at the edges of his mind as if someone that was very frustrated was trying to wake him.
I SAID, WAKE UP!
Arthur slowly, and begrudgingly opened his eyes.
"Go die in a sewer."
"We are in a sewer, you moron."
"Well damn, guess we are gonna die in a sewer."
"Just get up already."
Reluctantly, Arthur slowly got up, very slowly.
"I'M STARVING!"
"Too bad."
At last, he had finally gotten up and made his way to the sewer exit. Not surprisingly, it hadn't changed much, other than the wrecked house in the distance. It brought back some not so good memories.
"I need something to conceal myself."
"Use me."
"You are probably the worst thing I can use to conceal myself."
Before Venom could make a sly remark at Arthur, he dodged behind a small house, eyeing a small massing of townspeople. It was hard to see through the amassing crowd, but Arthur could see a handsome, tall man with a pointed, slanted nose shaking the flurry of hands, all while smiling and complimenting them.
"Who is that? Can we eat him, along with the crowd?" The question had a certain bite to it that shocked Arthur, what didn't shock him is the part when he said if they could eat them. Arthur did think about it, but it seemed just plain out wrong to him, he couldn't bear hurting people, much less innocent people who don't know how to fight.
"No, that's wrong."
"But they look juicy, succulent, and delicious..!"
"We'll eat the snobby man if he threatens us."
"Yes!"
Arthur sat down on the pavement, slumping himself up against the house's walls, trying to figure out how to move around the city without being revealed. His thoughts clicked together in a few seconds, making a plan so idiotic and crazy, that it might just work.
"Let's just go out in broad daylight."
"Something's wrong with you."
Despite Venom's protests, Arthur got up from his position, and turned around the house's corner, walking in the sunshine. Arthur found that he actually had both pants and a shirt on, most likely a "gift" from his stay in the tower he was imprisoned in. The apparel he wore was purple and blue stripes, and it didn't look too bad on him if he wasn't a rat he'd probably be good looking.
"Hello, sir," a boy, who was quite young, but still taller than he was had approached him with a question, "Do you know where I might find a snobby noble?"
"What is a 'noble'?" Arthur soon found that he had gained generous amounts of confidence ever since bonding with his companion, and he quite liked the feeling of being able to speak without dying from terror with every word he spoke.
"Jerks with good-looking clothes and handsome looks, and the occasional snob."
"Oh, then that man over there."
The boy nodded and walked towards the apparently snobby noble, who now started to irritate Arthur, for some odd reason.
"Wait, are you not curious about what I am?" Arthur seemed confused about why the boy had nonchalantly disregarded the fact he was a three-foot-tall rat,
"Not really, you're probably the least crazy thing I've seen all day."
"How am I the least crazy thing you've seen?"
"Haven't you noticed? The Knights Griffon have been flying around Altdorf the entire morning, look for something."
"Griffons..?" Arthur couldn't help but curse, it seems like the cult of Sigmar seemed very keen on trying to find him and end his heretical existence. Arthur hadn't noticed, but apparently, he had bumped into the man while talking to the insane voice in his head. Oh, how the noble exuded an aura of snobbiness, his own face just saying that he was better than him.
I hate him, can we eat his face off?
Not until he says something really snobby.
Arthur looked up at the man with his pompous large hat, even his mannerisms seem condescending, as he pulled out his hand for Arthur to shake.
"Hello, friend of the Empire!" The man didn't really seem that sure Arthur was a "friend" of the Empire, but nonetheless, Arthur shook his hand to be polite.
"You seem… dirty and smell horrible!" The noble covered his nose after realizing the stench did not come from the horse's around him, but from Arthur, and he suspected it was because he slept in a sewer. Arthur didn't really seem to know all that much about Empire politics, just that they were really complicated, complex beyond belief, and quite toxic, almost sounds as bad as skaven politics. Almost.
Let's eat him! I'm hangry!
What is 'hangry'?
I'm hungry and angry!
"It's not my fault he seems terribly snobby, hideously condescending, and I absolutely hate him!" Arthur soon realized that he said that out loud.
I hope you know you said that out loud.
I HAVE EARS.
Good, thought you were deaf for a second.
"Ahem, excuse me?" The noble stared at the tiny rat that had just insulted him quite severely, with a glint of murderous hate.
"Sorry..?" Arthur slowly turned around and started walking away at first, and then went straight into a full sprint when he got out of the crowd's sight.
Arthur the idiot, Arthur the idiot, Arthur the idiot!
YOU GOT ME ALL FLUSTERED, SO I BLURTED THAT OUT, LEAVE ME ALONE.
Psh, not my fault.
Do you think the guys who captured us will alert him of our presence?
Don't make things worse than they already are.
What are these "Knights Griffon"?
What in the hell do you think they are?
Chickens with people riding them.
No! Griffons with people riding them!
What's the difference?
GRIFFONS ARE HUGE AND ARE QUITE DEADLY.
Still chickens.
God, you can be so insufferable at times.
You're welcome!
After running a fair distance away from the man he had insulted, he collapsed onto the pavement, taking deep breaths as he felt his legs grow numb. A manifestation of Venom sprouted from his shoulder, staring into his eyes.
"Idiot."
"Braindead."
"Stupid."
"You don't have a brain."
"You are my brain."
"I hate you."
"I love eating you."
"Die in a fire."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
Arthur didn't expect such an overreaction so soon.
"Calm down!"
"Don't you know that if you die, I die?"
"No, you never told me."
"Dammit."
"I think we should stop insulting each other."
"Fine, it was fun while it lasted."
After furiously shoving Venom's head back into himself. He then realized how strange of a situation he got himself in, getting captured by various people was never a surprise to him, but being able to overpower someone felt great! If this is what people felt like when they went to war, he loved it!
Calm down there, getting a bit bloodthirsty.
Like you don't love it.
In moderation.
Arthur wandered around for a little bit, doing a casual stride in the middle of the streets. He didn't really mind the looks he received while his walk, arriving at another tavern, which reminded him of not so fond memories.
What is this?
From what I know, this is where the humans go to get unconscious and slur out impolite words.
Arthur opened the door to the tavern, this time with more confidence, and looked inside to see a neat, and cleaned establishment. Of course, it wouldn't be a tavern without a few drunkards, and the occasional bar fight, which Arthur had the pleasure of watching. A bulky man was wrestling with a much smaller man, while at the same time yelling insults at one another.
...Is this normal?
I think so.
Arthur took a seat at the bar counter, most of the inhabitants disregarded him as another magical wonder of the Old World. In the corner of the tavern, another fight erupted, knocking over several tables and chairs, it seemed like the bartender had given up trying to stop them.
Do we need something called "gold" to buy food?
I don't know, I think they use coins.
Can we rob someone?
I guess?
Arthur found that robbing people was harder than he thought, they always seemed to fight back. Arthur quickly exited the tavern in search of a rich looking bigot, and not surprising Arthur, he found a bit too many.
They all look skinny and thin! Where are the chunky ones?
We're not going to eat them, we're just going to rob them!
Arthur heard wings beating around him, as the Knights Griffon flew overhead, the griffons screeching with all their might. He froze, hoping they would not see him.
Do you really think this will work?
Shush.
Arthur found that he was the only one in the entirety of the street, behind him he could see the last remnants of life retreating to the safety of the approaching soldiers coming up his rear.
Hey, do you think they know we're here?
No, that's sooo impossible.
So no?
NO, YOU BUMBLING IDIOT, THEY KNOW WE ARE HERE.
Darn.
The griffons landed onto the street, surrounding Arthur, their claws scraping the pavement, and their beaks snapping threateningly.
"Hello, friends! What do you need friends?"
One of the knights on a griffon lifted up his visor, staring at the tiny rat surrounded by several griffons. Clearing his throat, he spoke in the most threateningly like voice he could make.
"We politely ask you to surrender, and drop any weapons you may or may not have on your being at this time! Please do not resist, and we will make your death a swift one!"
That's awfully generous.
Let's not die yet, I still want to enjoy this world a lot longer!
"You have three seconds to surrender!" The man put down his visor, concealing his face, while the griffon snapped towards the direction of Arthur.
"We're not going without a fight, you overgrown four-legged drumsticks!"
Without hesitation, the Knights Griffon pounced upon Arthur, seemingly tearing him to shreds, all their riders did was shout occasionally.
"Tear the daemon to shreds, leave no flesh on its bones!"
The griffons grew tired as they claws tore apart what looked like flesh to them, but they couldn't tell, nor did they care enough. They retreated from Arthur, proudly observing their handiwork. In the midst of dust and several other debris from the result of several griffons, a giant black tentacle tied itself around one of the necks of the overgrown chickens, dragging it through a couple of buildings, before hucking it at another griffon.
"Come at us, if you dare!"
The griffons were polite and accepted his invitation to dig their claws into him. Arthur quickly reacted to the griffons and ducked underneath them as they flew overhead, crashing into each other and into the ranks of the swordsmen.
Taking advantage of this, he grabbed a tail of a griffon, and slammed it into another, crushing it's plated armor, and several bones.
"You call yourself knights?! I've fought mere toddlers with more strength!"
"Whatever he said!"
A griffon came up behind Arthur, who was swelling with confidence and dug its talons into his back. Arthur's cowardly side let itself show quite powerfully too, because he howled in agony, as the talons dug themselves ever deeper into his flesh, which Venom thought didn't feel too great either.
Oh just stop, it's not that bad.
I feel my flesh converging, and twisting itself in agony, while I am seared with the burning pain that is pain.
The majestic, albeit deadly creature, rose into the air, carrying the agonized Arthur with it. The pain shocked Arthur to the point where he became paralyzed with fear because he was the literal embodiment of the word coward.
Why must you do this to me?
Arthur handed Venom the reins, and unlike Arthur, he wasn't afraid of a mere four legged drumstick, with very sharp talons.
"Alright, I'm getting bored."
Just as swiftly as he gained control, he threw up his arms and grabbed both of the griffon's wings, and tore them right off, with fountains of blood to accompany the separation. Not surprising anyone, the knight was shocked, and even more so the griffon.
And then they started falling towards the ground, along with the now deceased griffon, and the knight wailing in fear.
"I didn't think this far ahead."
"Me neither."
"I think we should land on another drumstick."
"We can't control air."
"Who said we can't?"
"Gravity."
"It'll be fine."
"Is it just me, or is the ground getting awfully close now?"
"I think it is."
"Should we do something..?"
"I don't know, should we?"
"Probably?"
"Ok, fine."
Venom's back suddenly erupted with a parachute, made of the same darkness that covered his body. Fortunately, it wasn't enough to stop their momentum, so they landed on another griffon, absolutely crushing it's riders skull and body, and the griffon's entire skeletal structure. Venom picked both knight and griffon and hurled them at another unfortunate griffon, who was barely able to dodge his brother's dead corpse. As Venom looked around, he saw that only three griffons remained, and an army of swordsmen.
Easier than I thought!
Easy for you to say, my back still hurts.
Well… suck it up.
The last thing they felt was searing hot metal spikes being driven into their backs, and they both met the state that was unconsciousness, which isn't very pleasant. A man wearing a golden mask stood over them, with a staff made of pure gold, his black robes shimmering, and swaying in the breeze. He kneeled down to Arthur.
"A strong specimen, but no match for my might and magic."
The small spikes looked as if they were dipped in gold, some were swelling up into balls, and in one swift hand motion, they settled, becoming frozen as the pavement under them.
"Sleep now, we will take care of you, you marvelous being of science."
The Scourges Of Altdorf
The makeshift bed Arthur slept on was gone, it had retracted to the safe confinement that is his body. He felt a certain tugging at the edges of his mind as if someone that was very frustrated was trying to wake him.
I SAID, WAKE UP!
Arthur slowly, and begrudgingly opened his eyes.
"Go die in a sewer."
"We are in a sewer, you moron."
"Well damn, guess we are gonna die in a sewer."
"Just get up already."
Reluctantly, Arthur slowly got up, very slowly.
"I'M STARVING!"
"Too bad."
At last, he had finally gotten up and made his way to the sewer exit. Not surprisingly, it hadn't changed much, other than the wrecked house in the distance. It brought back some not so good memories.
"I need something to conceal myself."
"Use me."
"You are probably the worst thing I can use to conceal myself."
Before Venom could make a sly remark at Arthur, he dodged behind a small house, eyeing a small massing of townspeople. It was hard to see through the amassing crowd, but Arthur could see a handsome, tall man with a pointed, slanted nose shaking the flurry of hands, all while smiling and complimenting them.
"Who is that? Can we eat him, along with the crowd?" The question had a certain bite to it that shocked Arthur, what didn't shock him is the part when he said if they could eat them. Arthur did think about it, but it seemed just plain out wrong to him, he couldn't bear hurting people, much less innocent people who don't know how to fight.
"No, that's wrong."
"But they look juicy, succulent, and delicious..!"
"We'll eat the snobby man if he threatens us."
"Yes!"
Arthur sat down on the pavement, slumping himself up against the house's walls, trying to figure out how to move around the city without being revealed. His thoughts clicked together in a few seconds, making a plan so idiotic and crazy, that it might just work.
"Let's just go out in broad daylight."
"Something's wrong with you."
Despite Venom's protests, Arthur got up from his position, and turned around the house's corner, walking in the sunshine. Arthur found that he actually had both pants and a shirt on, most likely a "gift" from his stay in the tower he was imprisoned in. The apparel he wore was purple and blue stripes, and it didn't look too bad on him if he wasn't a rat he'd probably be good looking.
"Hello, sir," a boy, who was quite young, but still taller than he was had approached him with a question, "Do you know where I might find a snobby noble?"
"What is a 'noble'?" Arthur soon found that he had gained generous amounts of confidence ever since bonding with his companion, and he quite liked the feeling of being able to speak without dying from terror with every word he spoke.
"Jerks with good-looking clothes and handsome looks, and the occasional snob."
"Oh, then that man over there."
The boy nodded and walked towards the apparently snobby noble, who now started to irritate Arthur, for some odd reason.
"Wait, are you not curious about what I am?" Arthur seemed confused about why the boy had nonchalantly disregarded the fact he was a three-foot-tall rat,
"Not really, you're probably the least crazy thing I've seen all day."
"How am I the least crazy thing you've seen?"
"Haven't you noticed? The Knights Griffon have been flying around Altdorf the entire morning, look for something."
"Griffons..?" Arthur couldn't help but curse, it seems like the cult of Sigmar seemed very keen on trying to find him and end his heretical existence. Arthur hadn't noticed, but apparently, he had bumped into the man while talking to the insane voice in his head. Oh, how the noble exuded an aura of snobbiness, his own face just saying that he was better than him.
I hate him, can we eat his face off?
Not until he says something really snobby.
Arthur looked up at the man with his pompous large hat, even his mannerisms seem condescending, as he pulled out his hand for Arthur to shake.
"Hello, friend of the Empire!" The man didn't really seem that sure Arthur was a "friend" of the Empire, but nonetheless, Arthur shook his hand to be polite.
"You seem… dirty and smell horrible!" The noble covered his nose after realizing the stench did not come from the horse's around him, but from Arthur, and he suspected it was because he slept in a sewer. Arthur didn't really seem to know all that much about Empire politics, just that they were really complicated, complex beyond belief, and quite toxic, almost sounds as bad as skaven politics. Almost.
Let's eat him! I'm hangry!
What is 'hangry'?
I'm hungry and angry!
"It's not my fault he seems terribly snobby, hideously condescending, and I absolutely hate him!" Arthur soon realized that he said that out loud.
I hope you know you said that out loud.
I HAVE EARS.
Good, thought you were deaf for a second.
"Ahem, excuse me?" The noble stared at the tiny rat that had just insulted him quite severely, with a glint of murderous hate.
"Sorry..?" Arthur slowly turned around and started walking away at first, and then went straight into a full sprint when he got out of the crowd's sight.
Arthur the idiot, Arthur the idiot, Arthur the idiot!
YOU GOT ME ALL FLUSTERED, SO I BLURTED THAT OUT, LEAVE ME ALONE.
Psh, not my fault.
Do you think the guys who captured us will alert him of our presence?
Don't make things worse than they already are.
What are these "Knights Griffon"?
What in the hell do you think they are?
Chickens with people riding them.
No! Griffons with people riding them!
What's the difference?
GRIFFONS ARE HUGE AND ARE QUITE DEADLY.
Still chickens.
God, you can be so insufferable at times.
You're welcome!
After running a fair distance away from the man he had insulted, he collapsed onto the pavement, taking deep breaths as he felt his legs grow numb. A manifestation of Venom sprouted from his shoulder, staring into his eyes.
"Idiot."
"Braindead."
"Stupid."
"You don't have a brain."
"You are my brain."
"I hate you."
"I love eating you."
"Die in a fire."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
Arthur didn't expect such an overreaction so soon.
"Calm down!"
"Don't you know that if you die, I die?"
"No, you never told me."
"Dammit."
"I think we should stop insulting each other."
"Fine, it was fun while it lasted."
After furiously shoving Venom's head back into himself. He then realized how strange of a situation he got himself in, getting captured by various people was never a surprise to him, but being able to overpower someone felt great! If this is what people felt like when they went to war, he loved it!
Calm down there, getting a bit bloodthirsty.
Like you don't love it.
In moderation.
Arthur wandered around for a little bit, doing a casual stride in the middle of the streets. He didn't really mind the looks he received while his walk, arriving at another tavern, which reminded him of not so fond memories.
What is this?
From what I know, this is where the humans go to get unconscious and slur out impolite words.
Arthur opened the door to the tavern, this time with more confidence, and looked inside to see a neat, and cleaned establishment. Of course, it wouldn't be a tavern without a few drunkards, and the occasional bar fight, which Arthur had the pleasure of watching. A bulky man was wrestling with a much smaller man, while at the same time yelling insults at one another.
...Is this normal?
I think so.
Arthur took a seat at the bar counter, most of the inhabitants disregarded him as another magical wonder of the Old World. In the corner of the tavern, another fight erupted, knocking over several tables and chairs, it seemed like the bartender had given up trying to stop them.
Do we need something called "gold" to buy food?
I don't know, I think they use coins.
Can we rob someone?
I guess?
Arthur found that robbing people was harder than he thought, they always seemed to fight back. Arthur quickly exited the tavern in search of a rich looking bigot, and not surprising Arthur, he found a bit too many.
They all look skinny and thin! Where are the chunky ones?
We're not going to eat them, we're just going to rob them!
Arthur heard wings beating around him, as the Knights Griffon flew overhead, the griffons screeching with all their might. He froze, hoping they would not see him.
Do you really think this will work?
Shush.
Arthur found that he was the only one in the entirety of the street, behind him he could see the last remnants of life retreating to the safety of the approaching soldiers coming up his rear.
Hey, do you think they know we're here?
No, that's sooo impossible.
So no?
NO, YOU BUMBLING IDIOT, THEY KNOW WE ARE HERE.
Darn.
The griffons landed onto the street, surrounding Arthur, their claws scraping the pavement, and their beaks snapping threateningly.
"Hello, friends! What do you need friends?"
One of the knights on a griffon lifted up his visor, staring at the tiny rat surrounded by several griffons. Clearing his throat, he spoke in the most threateningly like voice he could make.
"We politely ask you to surrender, and drop any weapons you may or may not have on your being at this time! Please do not resist, and we will make your death a swift one!"
That's awfully generous.
Let's not die yet, I still want to enjoy this world a lot longer!
"You have three seconds to surrender!" The man put down his visor, concealing his face, while the griffon snapped towards the direction of Arthur.
"We're not going without a fight, you overgrown four-legged drumsticks!"
Without hesitation, the Knights Griffon pounced upon Arthur, seemingly tearing him to shreds, all their riders did was shout occasionally.
"Tear the daemon to shreds, leave no flesh on its bones!"
The griffons grew tired as they claws tore apart what looked like flesh to them, but they couldn't tell, nor did they care enough. They retreated from Arthur, proudly observing their handiwork. In the midst of dust and several other debris from the result of several griffons, a giant black tentacle tied itself around one of the necks of the overgrown chickens, dragging it through a couple of buildings, before hucking it at another griffon.
"Come at us, if you dare!"
The griffons were polite and accepted his invitation to dig their claws into him. Arthur quickly reacted to the griffons and ducked underneath them as they flew overhead, crashing into each other and into the ranks of the swordsmen.
Taking advantage of this, he grabbed a tail of a griffon, and slammed it into another, crushing it's plated armor, and several bones.
"You call yourself knights?! I've fought mere toddlers with more strength!"
"Whatever he said!"
A griffon came up behind Arthur, who was swelling with confidence and dug its talons into his back. Arthur's cowardly side let itself show quite powerfully too, because he howled in agony, as the talons dug themselves ever deeper into his flesh, which Venom thought didn't feel too great either.
Oh just stop, it's not that bad.
I feel my flesh converging, and twisting itself in agony, while I am seared with the burning pain that is pain.
The majestic, albeit deadly creature, rose into the air, carrying the agonized Arthur with it. The pain shocked Arthur to the point where he became paralyzed with fear because he was the literal embodiment of the word coward.
Why must you do this to me?
Arthur handed Venom the reins, and unlike Arthur, he wasn't afraid of a mere four legged drumstick, with very sharp talons.
"Alright, I'm getting bored."
Just as swiftly as he gained control, he threw up his arms and grabbed both of the griffon's wings, and tore them right off, with fountains of blood to accompany the separation. Not surprising anyone, the knight was shocked, and even more so the griffon.
And then they started falling towards the ground, along with the now deceased griffon, and the knight wailing in fear.
"I didn't think this far ahead."
"Me neither."
"I think we should land on another drumstick."
"We can't control air."
"Who said we can't?"
"Gravity."
"It'll be fine."
"Is it just me, or is the ground getting awfully close now?"
"I think it is."
"Should we do something..?"
"I don't know, should we?"
"Probably?"
"Ok, fine."
Venom's back suddenly erupted with a parachute, made of the same darkness that covered his body. Fortunately, it wasn't enough to stop their momentum, so they landed on another griffon, absolutely crushing it's riders skull and body, and the griffon's entire skeletal structure. Venom picked both knight and griffon and hurled them at another unfortunate griffon, who was barely able to dodge his brother's dead corpse. As Venom looked around, he saw that only three griffons remained, and an army of swordsmen.
Easier than I thought!
Easy for you to say, my back still hurts.
Well… suck it up.
The last thing they felt was searing hot metal spikes being driven into their backs, and they both met the state that was unconsciousness, which isn't very pleasant. A man wearing a golden mask stood over them, with a staff made of pure gold, his black robes shimmering, and swaying in the breeze. He kneeled down to Arthur.
"A strong specimen, but no match for my might and magic."
The small spikes looked as if they were dipped in gold, some were swelling up into balls, and in one swift hand motion, they settled, becoming frozen as the pavement under them.
"Sleep now, we will take care of you, you marvelous being of science."
Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Me? A Warrior?
A barren wasteland spanned out across his view, with dark, twisted creatures flying overhead.
The world was being tortured, it's tears spewing out rivers of lava and magma, the sand blood-red sand being crushed underneath his feet. The Chaos Wastes were inhabitable to the sane people of the world, but it was home to the monsters, and chaos worshippers who were beyond redemption, for the Dark Gods had marked them. A mere vision into what is to come, Arthur surveyed his surroundings, to him, it all felt like a nightmare.
"Where are we?"
Silence.
"Venom?"
No one answered, the only response he had gotten was a roar in the distance, other than that, the wastes crept upon him, implanting the seed of dread into Arthur.
"Turn around, my warrior."
The voice soothed Arthur's nerves, it was so calming, so inviting, how could he refuse? Arthur turned around, to see a man in gold trimmed armor, but the most eye-catching feature was the fact he was glowing incandescently, bathing Arthur in warm, healing light.
"Just who are you?"
The man's face was covered with a knight's helmet, and he wielded two giant hammers, both glowing as incandescent as he was. Arthur's eyes started to water by looking at the man, but he felt that it would be rude to look away.
"'O warrior, you have been chosen for a responsibility far greater than that of mine, I bring you here to present you a choice, one that could decide the fate for both the world and for yourself."
"That seems like a lot of responsibilities…", Arthur closed his eyes, as he did not want to become blind.
"Alas, it is your choice, if you wish to fight among those who scoff, who mock you and berate you, that is your choice," It was obvious the man didn't like what he was going to say next, "Or fight among the ones that you are born to be with, to return to the corruption that made you now, to fight for The Everchosen."
Arthur didn't really know what the hell this man was talking about, this all seemed like an insane fever dream.
"If you ever decide, O' warrior, call upon my name."
"But what is your name?", Arthur clasped his paws over his eyes, the light was still too strong for him to bear.
"My name is-"
Arthur awoke violently, as ice cold water was thrown onto him, making his fur wet and even smellier than before. He looked for the person who had thrown the water at him, so he could scream various insults at them.
"Hello, rat scum!"
He saw a man in front of him, with a cat o' nine tails, with the tips burning nice and hot. Arthur then realized he was chained to the wall, the chains seemingly unbreakable. He quickly assumed he was in a dungeon.
"Say, can't we talk this out?"
The man grunted one single word.
"No."
The man then proceeded to whip Arthur, who had tried to best to hold in his screams, to look "manly". It utterly failed and he screamed like a newborn toddler stubbing his toe.
Can't you do anything?!
No, I'm still recovering from when we were stabbed with GOLDEN HOT SPIKES.
Arthur quickly lost track of time, but at least the man took several breaks, only to come back with the cat o' nine tails burning hotter than ever. Arthur felt his body becoming numb to the pain, he couldn't feel anything really.
"Alright, alright, that's enough of that."
Arthur was ecstatic at hearing those words, but he was still numb from the whipping he received for hours on end. Only to realize the man who said that didn't look at all very friendly, in fact, quite the opposite. Instead of a face, the man wore a golden mask, with several golden spikes poking out of the forehead of the mask, a black, gold trimmed robe, and held a staff made out of pure gold. The strange man inspected every part of Arthur's body, occasionally prodding him with his golden staff.
"You are a skaven, correct?"
"What else do I look like?'
The man nodded and waved the man who whipped Arthur away, probably to go whip some other fellow. Closely inspecting the environment, he saw a small table, with two chairs around it, and the stone walls weren't as dirty as Arthur thought, they were clean despite being a dungeon. If you ignored his blood dripping down to the floor, the dungeon would look like a cellar. The golden masked man pulled up a chair in front of Arthur and sat down in it.
"How long have you been here?"
"I'd say a couple of hours, chained to this damned wall."
The man let out a tiny chuckle, but he also seemed surprised by the way Arthur conceived of his question.
"You're certainly different from the others of your kind."
"How so?" Arthur couldn't help but become curious.
"For one, you aren't trying to rip off your chains and trying to kill me."
"Secondly, I'm guessing you have a sense of humor."
"Sure, I can get pretty funny when I'm chained to a DAMN WALL, oh, and don't forget the whipping I received, that was very rude of you!"
The man raised up his hand and wagged his finger, "No, that wasn't me who ordered that fool to whip you, blame that on Boris."
"Also, did you just say rude?" The man actually seemed surprised that Arthur had even said a word.
"Yes, is it so strange that I'm able to say that word?"
"You also seem to not share that repetition of words the others have." Arthur realized he had been writing into a small notebook, despite his objection of being chained to a wall, he felt like he was having a somewhat normal conversation with a person. A person!
You seem to be… quiet for once.
Keep chatting.
"Can we be civilized here and could you unlock these chains so I can more comfortably answer your questions?"
"The way you ripped the Knights Griffon apart didn't seem very civil to me." Retorted the man with just a hint of contempt.
"Well, that was in self-defense!" A very shaky case, but it was the best Arthur could come up with. The man seemed puzzled with him, astonished that he would even say such a thing. He wrote furiously with his pencil.
"Also! The fact I was kidnapped by your fanatical hunters doesn't help either!"
Arthur babbled, ranted, and started talking about things that weren't even related to his imprisonment, he enjoyed finally being able to talk about his problems, to talk to someone other than the murderous voice in his body, but of course, Arthur didn't say anything about a murderous voice in his head, that'd make him look crazier than he already was. But Arthur liked Venom, but he could get annoying to talk to sometimes.
"...And that's how I ended up here, chained up to a wall, venting out my life story to a man with a golden mask on, scribbling down everything I'm saying."
…We still haven't eaten.
"Speaking about how I'm chained up to a wall, can I get something to eat?"
The man nodded, and put down his pencil, and small notebook onto the table, leaving Arthur alone, again.
"We should leave now."
"Don't feel like it."
"What do you mean you 'Don't feel like it'?"
"Let's stay here a bit longer."
"Can we at least get rid of these chains? They're annoying."
"Sure."
In a swift motion, but in a very unsubtle way, Venom jerked the chains a bit too hard, as he tore chunks of the wall that kept the chains in place.
"Just had to do it that way, didn't you?"
"It's not like I could have used a tentacle to lockpick the chains or anything."
"Die."
Arthur saw that he only tore the chains off the wall, but not gotten them off of his hands, and he was now dragging chunks of solid stone behind him.
"Think of them as flails."
Arthur was a tad bit annoyed, so he sat down in the chair next to the table, patiently waiting for his captor to come back downstairs. When the man came downstairs, he didn't seem to be that surprised. He moved the chair that had been in front of the chains, who were gone now, Arthur wondered how next to the table and sat in the chair. The height difference was absolutely staggering.
"Aren't you curious about the fact I broke my chains?"
"More curious about the fact why you still have them on."
He placed a tray of biscuits on the table, gently sliding it over to Arthur.
What is it? Can we eat it?
They look edible.
Arthur's face merged with Venom creating a sight that the man didn't really appreciate, then he slammed his face into the tray, shoving every single biscuit, and crumb into his mouth. He even managed to eat the tray. Fortunately for the man, Arthur's face went to normal once he was done eating.
"Sorry about eating the… you know, the tray."
Arthur gazed at the table where the tray had been, nervous about what the man would say after his little "outburst".
"So, uh, what's your name? I never really asked."
"I am Balthasar Gelt, or as most call me, Gelt."
"I'm Arthur."
Balthasar didn't just bring biscuits, but also some tea, for both of them to enjoy, as he took a sip of his cup.
"Are you sure your name isn't Musker Spinetaker? Or something ridiculous along those lines?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I'm Arthur, I gave myself that name after all."
Arthur grabbed his cup, but instead of a sip, he chugged it all down, disregarding how hot it was.
Eat the cup.
What? No! It's rude.
Balthasar drank his tea in silence, staring at Arthur, making him feel a bit uncomfortable.
"So, a few minutes ago you said you were captured by witch hunters, and then you were imprisoned into a tower?"
"Uh, yes."
"Then you engaged Victor and Sienna, along with several others?"
"Uh, who?"
Balthasar took his final sip of the cup of tea and cleared his throat.
"They were the ones who had confronted you when you made it down the stairs, or as you said it, fell down them."
"Not my fault, but yes."
The air grew still, Arthur felt a sense of dread creep into his mind.
"Why didn't you escape? You had enough time to escape, and if I'm correct, you could've easily destroyed one of these walls, and dug your way out of here."
Arthur didn't even hesitate.
"Because it's rude to leave abruptly when you have company, duh."
"What is wrong with you!? Any sane skaven would escape if they had your power! But no, you decide to stay here, where there is a high chance that you will be executed!"
"W-well, u-umm…"
Balthasar slammed his hands flat onto the table, forcing Arthur to yelp, and lean back into his chair.
"I've talked plenty with your kind, you understand that, don't you?"
"I've never been friendly to the tainted beings of chaos, but here you are!"
"Striking up a friendly conversation with me as if you were any other citizen in the Grand Allegiance Of Order!"
Balthasar leaned towards Arthur, seemingly breathing onto his face through his solid gold mask.
"Do you understand how special you are? Never have I ever met a skaven who didn't want to kill me as soon as they saw me, never have I ever met a skaven who could feel mercy, empathy, and sympathy!"
Arthur was frightened by Balthasar's sudden hostility, but he found truth in his words, whenever he was about to do something morally wrong, he felt something gnashing at his consciousness, threatening to destroy him from the inside out.
"Don't tell me you didn't think I noticed? When I saw you fight the Knights Griffon, I saw you hold back your power, you could've obliterated them in mere minutes, and the swordsmen would've been just a snack to you."
Balthasar leaned back into his chair, letting out a large sigh.
"For that, Arthur, I am grateful."
Arthur was in disbelief, what Balthasar said was the truth, yet he wanted to deny it, he had a glimmer of hope returning back to the great clans of skavendom.
"But why are you grateful that I am different? I'm a freak compared to my kin!"
"Because, Arthur, you were brainwashed to think you were a FAILURE, but yet you never came at it a different angle, you never thought about it differently, but imagine what you could do if people found out that you weren't like your other kin, but a skaven that could feel remorse in his actions."
The truth seeped into Arthur's mind, and more Balthasar went on, the more he believed him.
"But why are you telling me this? Aren't I going to die soon?"
Balthasar got out of his chair, and went over to Arthur, kneeling down to look him in the eyes, and then he put his hand on his furry shoulder.
"I'm telling you this because… I think you would make quite an interesting apprentice."
Me? A Warrior?
A barren wasteland spanned out across his view, with dark, twisted creatures flying overhead.
The world was being tortured, it's tears spewing out rivers of lava and magma, the sand blood-red sand being crushed underneath his feet. The Chaos Wastes were inhabitable to the sane people of the world, but it was home to the monsters, and chaos worshippers who were beyond redemption, for the Dark Gods had marked them. A mere vision into what is to come, Arthur surveyed his surroundings, to him, it all felt like a nightmare.
"Where are we?"
Silence.
"Venom?"
No one answered, the only response he had gotten was a roar in the distance, other than that, the wastes crept upon him, implanting the seed of dread into Arthur.
"Turn around, my warrior."
The voice soothed Arthur's nerves, it was so calming, so inviting, how could he refuse? Arthur turned around, to see a man in gold trimmed armor, but the most eye-catching feature was the fact he was glowing incandescently, bathing Arthur in warm, healing light.
"Just who are you?"
The man's face was covered with a knight's helmet, and he wielded two giant hammers, both glowing as incandescent as he was. Arthur's eyes started to water by looking at the man, but he felt that it would be rude to look away.
"'O warrior, you have been chosen for a responsibility far greater than that of mine, I bring you here to present you a choice, one that could decide the fate for both the world and for yourself."
"That seems like a lot of responsibilities…", Arthur closed his eyes, as he did not want to become blind.
"Alas, it is your choice, if you wish to fight among those who scoff, who mock you and berate you, that is your choice," It was obvious the man didn't like what he was going to say next, "Or fight among the ones that you are born to be with, to return to the corruption that made you now, to fight for The Everchosen."
Arthur didn't really know what the hell this man was talking about, this all seemed like an insane fever dream.
"If you ever decide, O' warrior, call upon my name."
"But what is your name?", Arthur clasped his paws over his eyes, the light was still too strong for him to bear.
"My name is-"
Arthur awoke violently, as ice cold water was thrown onto him, making his fur wet and even smellier than before. He looked for the person who had thrown the water at him, so he could scream various insults at them.
"Hello, rat scum!"
He saw a man in front of him, with a cat o' nine tails, with the tips burning nice and hot. Arthur then realized he was chained to the wall, the chains seemingly unbreakable. He quickly assumed he was in a dungeon.
"Say, can't we talk this out?"
The man grunted one single word.
"No."
The man then proceeded to whip Arthur, who had tried to best to hold in his screams, to look "manly". It utterly failed and he screamed like a newborn toddler stubbing his toe.
Can't you do anything?!
No, I'm still recovering from when we were stabbed with GOLDEN HOT SPIKES.
Arthur quickly lost track of time, but at least the man took several breaks, only to come back with the cat o' nine tails burning hotter than ever. Arthur felt his body becoming numb to the pain, he couldn't feel anything really.
"Alright, alright, that's enough of that."
Arthur was ecstatic at hearing those words, but he was still numb from the whipping he received for hours on end. Only to realize the man who said that didn't look at all very friendly, in fact, quite the opposite. Instead of a face, the man wore a golden mask, with several golden spikes poking out of the forehead of the mask, a black, gold trimmed robe, and held a staff made out of pure gold. The strange man inspected every part of Arthur's body, occasionally prodding him with his golden staff.
"You are a skaven, correct?"
"What else do I look like?'
The man nodded and waved the man who whipped Arthur away, probably to go whip some other fellow. Closely inspecting the environment, he saw a small table, with two chairs around it, and the stone walls weren't as dirty as Arthur thought, they were clean despite being a dungeon. If you ignored his blood dripping down to the floor, the dungeon would look like a cellar. The golden masked man pulled up a chair in front of Arthur and sat down in it.
"How long have you been here?"
"I'd say a couple of hours, chained to this damned wall."
The man let out a tiny chuckle, but he also seemed surprised by the way Arthur conceived of his question.
"You're certainly different from the others of your kind."
"How so?" Arthur couldn't help but become curious.
"For one, you aren't trying to rip off your chains and trying to kill me."
"Secondly, I'm guessing you have a sense of humor."
"Sure, I can get pretty funny when I'm chained to a DAMN WALL, oh, and don't forget the whipping I received, that was very rude of you!"
The man raised up his hand and wagged his finger, "No, that wasn't me who ordered that fool to whip you, blame that on Boris."
"Also, did you just say rude?" The man actually seemed surprised that Arthur had even said a word.
"Yes, is it so strange that I'm able to say that word?"
"You also seem to not share that repetition of words the others have." Arthur realized he had been writing into a small notebook, despite his objection of being chained to a wall, he felt like he was having a somewhat normal conversation with a person. A person!
You seem to be… quiet for once.
Keep chatting.
"Can we be civilized here and could you unlock these chains so I can more comfortably answer your questions?"
"The way you ripped the Knights Griffon apart didn't seem very civil to me." Retorted the man with just a hint of contempt.
"Well, that was in self-defense!" A very shaky case, but it was the best Arthur could come up with. The man seemed puzzled with him, astonished that he would even say such a thing. He wrote furiously with his pencil.
"Also! The fact I was kidnapped by your fanatical hunters doesn't help either!"
Arthur babbled, ranted, and started talking about things that weren't even related to his imprisonment, he enjoyed finally being able to talk about his problems, to talk to someone other than the murderous voice in his body, but of course, Arthur didn't say anything about a murderous voice in his head, that'd make him look crazier than he already was. But Arthur liked Venom, but he could get annoying to talk to sometimes.
"...And that's how I ended up here, chained up to a wall, venting out my life story to a man with a golden mask on, scribbling down everything I'm saying."
…We still haven't eaten.
"Speaking about how I'm chained up to a wall, can I get something to eat?"
The man nodded, and put down his pencil, and small notebook onto the table, leaving Arthur alone, again.
"We should leave now."
"Don't feel like it."
"What do you mean you 'Don't feel like it'?"
"Let's stay here a bit longer."
"Can we at least get rid of these chains? They're annoying."
"Sure."
In a swift motion, but in a very unsubtle way, Venom jerked the chains a bit too hard, as he tore chunks of the wall that kept the chains in place.
"Just had to do it that way, didn't you?"
"It's not like I could have used a tentacle to lockpick the chains or anything."
"Die."
Arthur saw that he only tore the chains off the wall, but not gotten them off of his hands, and he was now dragging chunks of solid stone behind him.
"Think of them as flails."
Arthur was a tad bit annoyed, so he sat down in the chair next to the table, patiently waiting for his captor to come back downstairs. When the man came downstairs, he didn't seem to be that surprised. He moved the chair that had been in front of the chains, who were gone now, Arthur wondered how next to the table and sat in the chair. The height difference was absolutely staggering.
"Aren't you curious about the fact I broke my chains?"
"More curious about the fact why you still have them on."
He placed a tray of biscuits on the table, gently sliding it over to Arthur.
What is it? Can we eat it?
They look edible.
Arthur's face merged with Venom creating a sight that the man didn't really appreciate, then he slammed his face into the tray, shoving every single biscuit, and crumb into his mouth. He even managed to eat the tray. Fortunately for the man, Arthur's face went to normal once he was done eating.
"Sorry about eating the… you know, the tray."
Arthur gazed at the table where the tray had been, nervous about what the man would say after his little "outburst".
"So, uh, what's your name? I never really asked."
"I am Balthasar Gelt, or as most call me, Gelt."
"I'm Arthur."
Balthasar didn't just bring biscuits, but also some tea, for both of them to enjoy, as he took a sip of his cup.
"Are you sure your name isn't Musker Spinetaker? Or something ridiculous along those lines?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I'm Arthur, I gave myself that name after all."
Arthur grabbed his cup, but instead of a sip, he chugged it all down, disregarding how hot it was.
Eat the cup.
What? No! It's rude.
Balthasar drank his tea in silence, staring at Arthur, making him feel a bit uncomfortable.
"So, a few minutes ago you said you were captured by witch hunters, and then you were imprisoned into a tower?"
"Uh, yes."
"Then you engaged Victor and Sienna, along with several others?"
"Uh, who?"
Balthasar took his final sip of the cup of tea and cleared his throat.
"They were the ones who had confronted you when you made it down the stairs, or as you said it, fell down them."
"Not my fault, but yes."
The air grew still, Arthur felt a sense of dread creep into his mind.
"Why didn't you escape? You had enough time to escape, and if I'm correct, you could've easily destroyed one of these walls, and dug your way out of here."
Arthur didn't even hesitate.
"Because it's rude to leave abruptly when you have company, duh."
"What is wrong with you!? Any sane skaven would escape if they had your power! But no, you decide to stay here, where there is a high chance that you will be executed!"
"W-well, u-umm…"
Balthasar slammed his hands flat onto the table, forcing Arthur to yelp, and lean back into his chair.
"I've talked plenty with your kind, you understand that, don't you?"
"I've never been friendly to the tainted beings of chaos, but here you are!"
"Striking up a friendly conversation with me as if you were any other citizen in the Grand Allegiance Of Order!"
Balthasar leaned towards Arthur, seemingly breathing onto his face through his solid gold mask.
"Do you understand how special you are? Never have I ever met a skaven who didn't want to kill me as soon as they saw me, never have I ever met a skaven who could feel mercy, empathy, and sympathy!"
Arthur was frightened by Balthasar's sudden hostility, but he found truth in his words, whenever he was about to do something morally wrong, he felt something gnashing at his consciousness, threatening to destroy him from the inside out.
"Don't tell me you didn't think I noticed? When I saw you fight the Knights Griffon, I saw you hold back your power, you could've obliterated them in mere minutes, and the swordsmen would've been just a snack to you."
Balthasar leaned back into his chair, letting out a large sigh.
"For that, Arthur, I am grateful."
Arthur was in disbelief, what Balthasar said was the truth, yet he wanted to deny it, he had a glimmer of hope returning back to the great clans of skavendom.
"But why are you grateful that I am different? I'm a freak compared to my kin!"
"Because, Arthur, you were brainwashed to think you were a FAILURE, but yet you never came at it a different angle, you never thought about it differently, but imagine what you could do if people found out that you weren't like your other kin, but a skaven that could feel remorse in his actions."
The truth seeped into Arthur's mind, and more Balthasar went on, the more he believed him.
"But why are you telling me this? Aren't I going to die soon?"
Balthasar got out of his chair, and went over to Arthur, kneeling down to look him in the eyes, and then he put his hand on his furry shoulder.
"I'm telling you this because… I think you would make quite an interesting apprentice."
Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Visions Of The Damned
Arthur stared into Balthasar's cold, calculating eyes.
Did he just say what I thought he said?
I didn't hear anything about food, so no.
Arthur thought to himself and pondered on his answer. Balthasar waited for him to think of an appropriate answer.
"Well? What is your decision?"
Arthur let a smile spread across his face, "What's the worst that can happen?"
"A smart one, I like that. Now come upstairs if you're hungry."
Arthur couldn't even say anything to him before he vanished into thin air. He got up from his chair, and searched for the staircase, which wasn't that hard to find, and walked up to it, then started climbing the staircase. It was harder than it seemed because he had several chunks of stone dragging behind him. He was only halfway up the stairs before the odor of fresh beard, along with a hint of venison rejuvenated him, but he suspected that Venom was the one who helped him. As he made it up the staircase, he found a key hanging on a rack attached to a wall.
Really?
I didn't build this house, or possess the people in it, leave me alone.
Arthur was barely able to get the key in his furry paws, but now his problem was how to use it.
Help me?
You didn't have to ask.
Black tendrils sprouted from Arthur's back, grabbing ahold of the key and inserting it into the cuffs, making a prompt click as they fell to the ground with a thud.
See? I'm helpful.
Most of the time.
Arthur made his way through the hallways, the wallpaper wasn't all that creative, it was just some white dots scattered across it, with bright yellow covered the rest of the paper. The flooring he walked upon was smooth, and warm. The house itself was fairly small, Arthur discovered, as he found the kitchen without as much trouble. He was blinded by the sunlight coming through the large windows, revealing the culinary utensils used for eating, baking, and all manner of kitchen related things. There was Balthasar, sat down at the kitchen table, which was littered with various homemade pastries, along with delicious, savory looking meat.
"Sit down Arthur, if you're going to be my apprentice, you'll have to make yourself presentable, but let's get some food in you first, how does that sound?"
Arthur gulped down his urges to jump on the table and start eating like a rabid hound.
"Don't be afraid, I assume you haven't eaten in quite a long time?" Balthasar urged him to go all out, to eat every single thing on the table.
Arthur didn't even get to answer, as Venom took control of his body, transforming Arthur into a monster once again. Then Venom leaped onto the table, he gulped down entire plates down into Arthur's gullet, he didn't even give him time to breathe in between his food-crazed rampage. When Venom was finishing abusing Arthur's body, he gave the reins back to Arthur, who immediately started choking as he resumed his normal form. Arthur didn't seem very happy as he coughed out shards of ceramic plates, and sometimes huge chunks of some too, along with some blood. In the corner of the kitchen table, Balthasar was quietly and calmly eating with a knife and fork, occasionally sipping tea.
Why can't you be like him?
Too posh for my taste.
What?
I hope Balthasar can fix your brain damage.
Balthasar put down his fork and knife onto a napkin. "Arthur, you'll have to learn how to control that 'thing' from coming out like that."
"I'm guessing you didn't really expect it either, did you?"
"I guess…" Arthur slowly slid off the table, and into a chair next to his new teacher.
"We're gonna have to set some ground rules if you're going to be my apprentice. Especially if I'm gonna go around town, with you at my side, I wouldn't want you murdering an entire crowd just because they roughed you up a bit."
"I mean, he's not that temperamental."
I will kill any who lay their hands on us.
"Ok, I guess you're right about him lusting for blood every once in a while, but he's not that bad." Arthur didn't really know much about Venom's past, nevertheless, he made several assumptions about it, but Venom didn't really know his past either, or he thought.
"You keep saying 'he', who is 'he'?"
Arthur replied in the most casual manner he could. "He speaks to me in my head, tells me occasionally to murder people, and I met him at the tower I was imprisoned in!"
"Seems normal."
"Well, yeah, I guess you could say it- Wait what?" Arthur was shocked at how Balthasar thought that was even normal.
"I've seen some horrible things, things that no man in their right mind should look upon, but I do, for the greater good of my people."
Arthur didn't seem that knowledgeable with the subject of chaos, or any subject really.
"Now we will see how much you know, what is two plus two?" Balthasar seemed confident in Arthur's answer.
"Twenty-two." Balthasar's high hopes and confidence were shattered in an instant.
"We have a lot of work to do…" He made an action most appropriate to the situation, a facepalm. Arthur was sent to his new room that was moderately furnished with everything a man, or rat needs.
The answer was four.
I was off by… um… I don't know how much I was off by.
You were off by eighteen.
I'm going to sleep now.
Arthur let gravity do the rest of the work, crashing on top of his bed, it took only a few seconds for him to succumb to his tiredness.
Arthur was back in the wastes, the lava and magma still burning as bright as they were before. Arthur turned around, expecting the incandescent man to be there, but he found a dwarf in his place, still taller than Arthur.
"And who might you be?" Arthur knew the dwarves hated his kind, for various reasons, all of them good.
"As much as I hate having the world in your hands, raki scum, it is needed." The dwarf obviously didn't like Arthur, and he wasn't afraid to show it.
"I have the world in my hands..?" Arthur scratched at his head, quite confused about what the dwarf was talking about.
The dwarf himself had one of the longest, and largest beards Arthur has seen, it was completely white like snow.
"Even you don't know who are you! You're an idiot!" The dwarf pointed a large two-handed ax at Arthur, which was larger than his body, but he swung it like a feather.
"I know you don't like me very much, but you can at least be friendly?"
The dwarf was absolutely baffled by Arthur's response. "I guess they weren't wrong about you being different from the other raki."
"Why am I here, are you going to kill me? Show me something? What is it?!" Arthur was getting impatient, if the dwarf was going to kill him, he might as well do it.
"I come, raki, to bestow upon you a vision, one that will show you one of the many futures."
"That's cool and all, but I kind of need sleep…" The dwarf waved a hand dismissively at him, mumbling under his giant white beard. Arthur felt the world shift and change, tearing apart the old and adding in the new when it was done, he was horrified by what he saw.
Arthur saw a battlefield about to unravel, both armies clashed, all with their own versions of monsters. Manticores crushed the unfortunate soldiers who got in their way, chaos spawn birthed from the depths of hell slaughtered the frontlines, their pink tendrils crushing heads, and their gaping mouths devouring the unlucky. It was literal hell, Arthur wanted to leave, he didn't want to look upon them, they were too disgusting, too tainted with chaos. He shifted his attention over to a hill, and he was dumbfounded by what he saw.
He saw himself. In his imposter's hand was a greatsword torn from rock, black as coal. The greatsword was literally torn from rock, as Arthur further inspected it, in fact, it barely looked like a greatsword at all. The imposter raised his hand towards the legion of chaos, Arthur quickly changed his view to the armies, and he saw comets falling from the sky, straight into the legions of chaos. Wind storms slaughtered warriors, both ally and enemy, there was nowhere safe from the onslaught of comets, and the aggressive wind blasts knocking back battalions of warriors.
Arthur was in awe, what was a losing battle turned into a slaughter of the chosen, but then he saw a mountain arise from the hordes of chaos, but as he looked closer, he saw it was a three-headed dragon. One head was bright red, with curved forward horns and gnashing teeth, another bright green, vomiting toxic bile, the last one was bright blue, but it was severely different from the others, for it looked avian-like in its appearance. Its body was a dark purple. It's rider bore marks unknown to Arthur, but he knew who he was, he was infamous in all of the worlds. The man was Archaon, The Everchosen Of Chaos. He glanced back at himself, who had transformed, just like he had with Venom. The imposter's voice bellowed across the battlefield.
"Hear me, Darkling! If you truly fight for the Dark Gods, face me, or will you die as your kin have? With a knife in their back?"
Arthur didn't get a chance to hear the Everchosen's response, for he was sucked out of the vision, and back into reality.
Arthur! What the hell are you doing? Stop cutting yourself, you fool!
Arthur was writing on parchment in his own blood with his finger. A knife was in his hand, stained with his blood. When he was done, he held up his scripture to the light coming through the small window in his room. He couldn't read it.
What do you think you're doing Arthur?
"I-I-I don't know! I saw something, or someone, I don't remember what happened!"
What are you babbling on about?
"I-I saw a dwarf in a dream, or m-maybe it was a nightmare, I just don't remember anything e-else!" Arthur looked around his room carefully, finding a nightstand by his bed, a lamp on the desk where he wrote the scripture, and he found himself sitting in a chair. Everything he had done was unknown to him, all he remembers is falling asleep and living a nightmare.
"N-now that I think about it, I think I just had a nightmare…"
Arthur, nightmares don't make you cut your hand and write something in blood.
"I need Balthasar, we need to begin our training!" Arthur's body jerked violently towards the door, nearly tearing it off the hinges. Arthur's mind felt clearer, things that made no sense in his mind clicked together, like a puzzle that frustrated a genius for years. His fur had turned completely white, his claws looked as if they had been manicured, they were perfect and clean. Likewise, for his fur, it was clean, and he smelled of lavender, which he found odd.
You smell… rather unpleasant.
Would you rather I smell like sewer water?
Not in particular.
He ran through the hallways, Arthur was still unsure of the house's layout but he seemed confident in his navigation of it. As soon as he turned a corner, he tripped and went tumbling down some stairs. He landed flat on his back and stared into Balthasar's golden eyes, who was staring straight into his.
"Not a great start to a morning, but I'll take what I can get." Balthasar seemed to completely ignore Arthur's new appearance, but Arthur felt like he kept that in mind, to question him about it later.
"Okie-Dokie, when do we start?" After recovering from his little mishap, he was eager to begin his training.
"Ah, good, you're nice and eager." Balthasar shoved a slab of beef into Arthur's hands, and lead him to the largest library, albeit the only library Arthur has ever seen, fortunately for Balthasar, he finished eating the slab of meat before they arrived at the said library. Books were neatly organized into shelves, large lamps were scattered around the library in a neat arrangement, and Arthur could barely see the rest of the books, probably because they were too far high up for any normal person to see.
"I don't know how to read." Balthasar didn't seem surprised, nor that worried.
"Arthur, what is that in your hand?"
"Just something I've been working on, it doesn't really matter, can we just start?" Arthur was starting to get more anxious the longer Balthasar stared at him.
"Very well, I guess we are all entitled to some secrets." Balthasar could've argued with Arthur for the entire day about it, but instead, he let it rest, after all, there are more important things to be doing than arguing over something unimportant. But Balthasar had a monumental task ahead of him, teaching a skaven how to read.
Never before had Balthasar had such a bright, and apt apprentice. Arthur had learned at an incredible rate, he even bypassed Balthasar in how fast his storage knowledge grew. Arthur's opinions and feeling towards certain events, and in general his feelings towards the society of the various races. One of the things Balthasar found frustrating was the fact that Arthur liked to talk aloud when he read books, with comments such as, "Idiocy!", "Lies!" And the occasional curse that he felt was a bit too far for someone as innocent as him.
Arthur was in his room, the curtains were swaying in the cold embrace of the night, he didn't mind the cold, in fact, he kind of liked it. After a few days of his teacher complaining about him screaming in the middle of the night, he decided it was better to talk to Venom than to argue with inanimate objects.
But why did Grimnir fight against his kin?
Because Arthur, Valaya had sided with the secessionists of the High King because he was performing treacherous acts against dwarf kind.
I can see why that makes sense, but why didn't Grungi do anything to stop it? Why was he neutral?
Ignorance is bliss, as some people say.
Huh, so you have been paying attention to what I've been doing.
Arthur, as he went further on in the book about the dwarven gods, bombarded Venom with questions, and like him, so did Venom. As Arthur finished up the last book in Balthasar's library, he felt that both he and Venom had grown since they first met, but the thing he couldn't believe, that it had been a week since they met, it felt like an eternity ago since that day. But on one lonely, cold night, he was sent another vision, a glimpse not into the future, but the past. Arthur laid his eyes on his surroundings, a thick fog blurred his vision, and he heard several voices in the distance. He crept closer to the sound of the voices, occasionally seeing small shards of wyrdstone impaled into the ground. Arthur saw a crooked, rickety sign that had been torn out of the ground, and seemingly thrown about. It only had one, bright white word, the paint was obviously still dry.
"Mordheim?"
Two figures came bursting through the thick fog, one was dressed in complete green all over their body, but it was also carrying a man, who wore bright red, and a hat two sizes too large for him. Arthur wasn't shocked when they appeared, but what did shock him is the fact they ran straight through him.
What's that noise?
Arthur looked where the figures came from and understood why they were in such a hurry. A doomwheel sped through several buildings that would normally be counted as obstacles, but it didn't really care, it should have crushed Arthur under its immense bulk, but as the figures, it passed through him like he was an apparition, a mere shade.
ARTHUR!
"I'm up, I'm up!" Arthur gracefully slid off his bed, elegantly slamming his face into the floor.
What has been going on with you in the past few days?
Is nightmares a good response?
No, nightmares don't make you get up at night and scribble runes on the walls.
What are you..?
His entire room was covered in runes, skaven, dwarf, chaos, elves, pretty much every single rune of every race was in his room.
"Ok, now I'm getting really creeped out."
Do you recognize any of these? I don't.
"The human rune roughly translates to… Everchosen?"
Everchosen? What does that mean?
"If I were to guess, probably Archaon."
I feel like I heard of him in a book you read.
"I can't remember right now, my brain's getting fuzzy…" Arthur got up, only to fall into his bed and go back to sleep again. He only had a few moments of peace, before Balthasar kicked down the door.
"What in Sigmar's name are you doing? We're supposed to-" Balthasar's sentence trailed off, glancing at each rune scribbled on the walls. Balthasar examined the runic sentences, all Arthur could hear was a whisper coming from him.
"We have to leave." Balthasar didn't let Arthur speak, he merely tossed him out the window.
"W-wait, no!" Arthur, unfortunately, landed head first into the ground, which didn't exactly help out with his headache. Balthasar quickly followed, jumping out the window with a certain grace, and landed without even stumbling.
"My head hurts." Arthur slowly got up from his embarrassing mishap and rubbed his head with his hands.
"It's either that or a bullet to the brain."
"You're going to kill me!?"
"No, Arthur, but someone else will." Balthasar brushed off his robe and started walking, knowing full well that Arthur would follow him, like a puppy.
"What did you see in those runes?" Arthur didn't really like being outside, mostly because he just saw a WANTED poster of himself on the wall. Fortunately for him, it was when his fur was colored brown. He did notice a pretty hefty reward for his capture, and his list of crimes was fairly long. Balthasar dodged his question, which Arthur didn't seem to notice.
"Won't they notice me?"
"No, they're miscreants."
"But I'm the only rat in public."
"Good point, come here." Balthasar untied his robe that was around his neck and tossed it over Arthur.
"Perfect..." Arthur said with a sarcastic tone.
"Don't you be sassy with me now." He even wagged his finger at Arthur.
Arthur simply shrugged it off and continued to walk with Balthasar, still confused on why he threw him out the window of his own house. He properly wrapped the robe around himself to conceal most of his body, save for his feet. "So back to my question, what did you see in those runes?"
"That should not be discussed right now Arthur, especially in public, I'll tell you when we get to the citadel." Arthur trusted Balthasar, mostly because he was the first actual person that didn't mind his origins.
"So, um, why are we going to the citadel?"
"You'll see." Arthur didn't like things to be cryptic, it always made him more frustrated in the end, but then again, that's why he couldn't understand most poetry.
We're being watched.
Where?
I smell them, Arthur, I can't see them.
Ugh, they smell exactly the same as a week ago, do they ever take showers?
"Hey, the little voice inside my head is warning me that we're being watched."
"Don't make a scene, just keep walking Arthur." Arthur just did what he was told, he kept his eyes transfixed on Balthasar's back. What did terrify Arthur is the fact he could hear wings beating in the air, ever so slowly as to not alert them. Unfortunately, it did the opposite, large wings flapping make much more noise if you try to hide it, and it absolutely terrified poor Arthur to the bone.
Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts..!
This is what happens when you read books instead of murdering people.
It's a nice change of pace than being shot in the back.
Like you didn't love it.
Balthasar suddenly stopped, but Arthur couldn't stop in time, which made him bump into Balthasar.
"Why did you stop?"
"Ahhh, Balthasar, so that's where our little pet went, eh?" A one-eyed man stood in front of Balthasar, wearing bright blue shoulder guards, and a hat with a large blue feather in it. Of course, he had the signature mark of most nobles, a slanted, pointed nose that always acted it was better than you. As for his other eye, he was wearing a black patch over it.
"It's been some time since we've met in person, Boris." Despite Balthasar's attempts at hiding Arthur, Arthur was just a bit too big for the robe covering him, and his feet gave him away.
"Explain yourself Balthasar, why have you sheltered a creature that you know is tainted with chaos?" Boris dropped his friendly act and took up a one filled with spite and hate, but not for Balthasar, but for Arthur.
"Not only did I shelter him from you neanderthals, but I also educated him."
Now that set him off.
"Are you insane? Do you know what the rest of the Elector Counts will do if they find out?" Boris gave Balthasar a nudge with his finger.
"You can't understand, Boris, this one… is special, isn't that right, Arthur?"
"Who now?"
"I think he's talking about me, Mr. Boris..?" Arthur came out of Balthasar's shadow and took off his robe.
"What? You're a grey seer?" Boris's anger slowly turned into curiosity.
"N-not exactly, I'm just a normal skaven, I guess you could call me..?"
"Astonishing… what makes skaven this way?"
"It may be a genetic mutation, or perhaps something else, but in all honesty, I do not know." At least Balthasar was honest. After series of repetitive questions, Arthur got bored quickly, wishing he could read a book instead of listening to a one-eyed man rag on about if he can feel something other than the lust for power and fame. Once Boris finished, he clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's take him to the citadel, if you're right Balthasar, which I am confident you are, he will continue being your so-called apprentice."
Boris flashed a smile at Arthur as he turned around, motioning both he and Balthasar follow him.
"I've heard about the Elector Counts, are they as corrupt as everyone says?" Arthur hid behind Balthasar, as bystanders stared in wonder at him, but most of them were horrified by this new creature walking in their "unspoiled" garden.
"Ha! Just the whiff of gold will make them do whatever you want." Balthasar rarely laughed, but whenever he did, it was rich and irradiating pure joy, it always nearly made Arthur jump for joy.
A large, ominous tower overshadowed the three, but fortunately for Arthur, he didn't have to go down memory lane. But instead, they arrived at a huge, dome-like building, with several pillars holding up marvelous marble statues. Everything was intricately made, but Arthur could sense the magical wards to protect the ones inside, he wondered if Balthasar could sense them as well.
"Alright, you buggers, let us in."
At first, Arthur thought Boris was insane for talking to the double doors made of marble, there wasn't even anyone there.
I have a great idea, let's tear this guy in half, and bust down the door.
That's a big fat no.
The marble doors swung open, not making even a single noise, revealing the insides of the building. Arthur was getting tired of being led around like a dog trying to eat its own tail, but he kept following Boris, along with his teacher, the walls were coated with luscious shine, with various stars scattered around the galaxy looking wallpaper. The three yet again met a marble door, this time Boris opened it, instead of some magical creature or something to do it for him. Arthur regretted following Boris.
In the midst of the hell they've stepped into, it was also the moment where Arthur could swear he was becoming deaf, just by listening to two of the elector counts argue about tax rates, all of them were sitting upon thrones, but the largest one was in the middle, void of any presence..
"It should be as it always is, high and demanding!" The man's face was entirely puffed up with extreme anger Arthur had never seen, but he could say likewise for his opponent.
"Tax the rich high, and tax the poor low, you intolerable idiot!" No one really wanted to break the silence, Arthur was fairly certain that some of the electors just gave up trying to defuse the conflict, and instead retired to reading a book or sharpening a blade to cut off a rat's head or two. Boris cleared his throat, ready to announce their presence, but Arthur didn't really want to offend the man wearing nothing but a loincloth, with several symbols meant to drive away chaos literally inscribed into his skin.
"Ahem! Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby announce that Balthasar and his 'apprentice' has graced us with his presence, not that he had any choice in the matter…" An extremely chunky man, who had a tankard in one hand, and a bagel in the other was the first to speak.
"'Oi, who is this so-called apprentice? Gelt would never take one, even if they were to outsmart 'im!" While the man spoke, he shoved both ale and bagels into his gluttonous mouth, it was disgusting to watch.
"Now, this may shock you gentlemen, but we are all civil here, so there should be no problem whatsoever." Balthasar knew there was going to be a problem, but he decided not to dwell on it.
"Now what in the world would make us angry that ye have an apprentice Gelt? If anything we're happy for ya!" Arthur slowly stepped away from the sanctuary that was Balthasar's shadow, and into the light.
"H-hello?" The room instantly fell into silence, the air growing ever more still as Arthur felt that this was a horrible idea.
"Balthasar, we have had the utmost confidence in you, even with your craziest of schemes, but this… this has gone too far." The only person who didn't take offense, or maybe she didn't really care, seemingly just slunk in her chair, waiting for swords to be drawn, and heads to be cut off.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?! You have brought a snake into our peaceful garden Gelt, you must be punished for the highest of treasons!" The man in the loincloth drew an ax from his back and got up from his throne.
"What have you taught him Gelt, much less, how in the name of Sigmar did you even get him to be docile?"
Tear off his skull, crack it open, pour his organs into and have fun with your skull smoothie, oh make sure you grind the organs into a liquid first.
"Can I just say how violent you are to people not trying to kill you?"
"Don't speak to me, you lowly ratspawn!" The man gave Arthur a whack on the head with the flat bottom of the ax.
He touched us.
So? You didn't mean that literally right..?
Does it sound like I joke around Arthur?
No, just, don't kill anyone, just get some help.
If he whacks us again, I will tear out his spine.
"I thought you enforce the law, not break it." Arthur pointed a finger accusingly at the man.
"What?" The man was confused.
"You assaulted me, hence you broke the law."
"You're a rat, you don't have rights!"
"But I didn't hurt you in any way, shape or form, and by your laws, that means you assaulted me with no good reason."
"W-what?"
"You're an elector count, but you don't even know your own laws? How sad." According to human laws, assault is a punishable offense, even to the highest ranked authorities. The guards reluctantly arrested the elector and dragged him into the dungeons, with him cursing out Arthur with every curse he knew, sadly there is only so many curses in one language, so he started repeating himself.
"Now that that's dealt with, my name is Arthur!" The elector counts looked in horror at Arthur, who wore a devilish smile on his face. The elector counts expected a slaughter, but instead, they got something worse, a rat knowledgeable of the Empires laws. Not a single one spoke, the room was eerily silent.
"Well? Does anyone want to speak up?" Arthur was smug, that he admitted, but he felt enormous pride in being able to talk down a very powerful man, even if he was going to be bailed a few hours later. His eyes twitched, ever so often. Then his hands started shaking.
Arthur? What in the world is wrong with you?
I feel weird, like-
Arthur dropped to the floor like a lifeless ragdoll. He awoke again, in the wastes of chaos, the man still ever glowing brightly.
"Can you not?" Arthur made a certain hand gesture to express his anger toward the man, but then he was gone. Darkness enveloped the wastes, leaving only Arthur in the sea of darkness, but then color came back, revealing a cramped, hot, and horrible room. Once again, he saw himself, but the imposter was sitting on a chair, scribbling away with no care in the world. The room looked as if a goblin decorated it, there were paintings about to fall off the walls, a rickety, ruined bed stood in the corner, and the desk the imposter was sitting in front of seemed rotten, and dirtier than a rat. There were also some bookshelves, but only one of them contained one single book and they looked like they were being eaten by termites.
Arthur thought he could get pretty angry, but what happened next was a total overreaction.
"Dammit! Dammit! Get OUT!" The imposter picked up the desk with vigorous strength and tossed it at a bookshelf, pure frenzied anger that Arthur couldn't believe he contained. But he wasn't done, not by a long shot, he punched holes in the walls, destroyed the paintings, and even the rickety bookshelves that didn't deserve it. In the end, he sat down on the ruined bed, clutching his head in his hands. A small head, similar to how Venom appears, sprouted from his shoulder, but the major difference was that it was red, but it still wore the similar streaks of whites for its eyes.
"Face it, Arthur, I'm stuck with you, and you're stuck with me."
"You can't get rid of me, no matter how hard you try."
The imposter ignored the head completely, who just went back to torturing the imposter's mind.
"Maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong, but one way or another I'll find a way to get rid of you, even it means killing myself." The imposter frantically leafed through his one and only book, who seemed to survive his rampage earlier. Arthur didn't know what he hoped to find, but the book was interesting, it had a full chapter about Venom. Something clicked in his head, something was wrong. Where was Venom? Why was he feeling dread? Arthur glanced at a corner in the room and found what was bothering him. A pot of black flowers, which haven't been watered in a long time laid alone in the corner. A single note was embedded in the soil.
"Gone."
The vision was immediately torn apart, and he woke up in the throne room. When Arthur got up, he quietly left the room, no one dared to follow him outside. He found a dark enough alley and hid behind some garbage bags. Then he crumpled up and wept like a broken child.
What is wrong with you lately?
N-nothing…
Is someone being a coward again?
"Oh, s-shut up…" Arthur had never really thought about what he'd do if Venom was… well, gone. Just hearing him talking to him brought comfort enough, he couldn't believe how much he cared for the parasite.
"V-venom?"
What is it, Arthur?
"What happens if… you d-d-die?"
I die, Arthur along with you, it's not that complicated.
"B-but what if you d-die outside of my b-body?"
The same thing Arthur, except I only die, you still live.
"Venom, am I s-simply a p-pawn in your view?" Venom didn't answer, Arthur laid in silence with his murderous friend, tears streaming down Arthur's face. If what he sees is the future, then he would try his hardest to not let that happen, he couldn't let Venom die.
"Arthur..?" Balthasar looked over the garbage, only to see Arthur weeping, like a child that had lost its favorite toy. Balthasar moved the bags to the side, knelt down to face Arthur, and placed his arms around him, giving Arthur the first hug he'd ever received in his short life. Arthur didn't mind, in fact, he cried onto Balthasar's shoulder, looking for any shred of comfort. Crowds of people spectated idly, watching in awe, along with the elector counts, who were in disbelief, but Arthur, nor Balthasar cared, for them, this a moment between them, a moment that only they could understand.
"Arthur, let's go home… I'll even bake a cake for you. Ok, well, I'll try at least." Arthur solemnly nodded, even after the two got up, he still clung to him, afraid to let go of him. The crowd made a path for the two, small whispers were traded among children, and adults alike. The streets were empty, void of any life, void of joy, but maybe there was some, but if there was, Arthur didn't care, nor did he want to care. Arthur didn't even notice that they passed their home, but instead, they just kept walking and walking.
Arthur… if you can hear me, or if you care even a tiny bit, I wanna talk about what you said earlier…
At first, yes, you were just a means to get what I wanted, but the time we spent together, the short moments of us in battle tearing our foes apart, and the occasional laughs we had…
You're not my pawn, but you aren't my friend either Arthur.
No, you're beyond my friend, you've become a part of what makes my identity, and I've become a part of what makes your identity…
I'm just trying to say that… without each other, we are nothing, and I found that heartwarming, don't you think..?
Arthur smiled, despite his tears still flowing through his fur covered cheeks. He hugged Balthasar even tighter, he didn't mind, but he smiled behind that golden mask, Arthur could just feel it. When they arrived at their destination, the house small, inconspicuous, but most importantly, comfortable. The two walked into the house, the inside was void of any furniture other than a couch and a desk with a lamp sitting atop of it, the kitchen itself was connected to the bare living room, it had the bare necessities to whip up some food, but no fancy tools that Arthur found.
"Arthur, if you wish to rest, go to your room, it's to the left." Arthur nodded and made a notion to leave, but then Balthasar put his hand on him. Balthasar turned Arthur around and gave him a kiss, well if you could call it a kiss on his forehead. The two put their arms around each other and embraced one another.
"Alright, Arthur, go to bed, you'll need it." Balthasar shooed away Arthur toward his room and started baking that cake he promised Arthur. Arthur didn't make a sound when he made it to his room and then collapse into unconsciousness on his bed.
Visions Of The Damned
Arthur stared into Balthasar's cold, calculating eyes.
Did he just say what I thought he said?
I didn't hear anything about food, so no.
Arthur thought to himself and pondered on his answer. Balthasar waited for him to think of an appropriate answer.
"Well? What is your decision?"
Arthur let a smile spread across his face, "What's the worst that can happen?"
"A smart one, I like that. Now come upstairs if you're hungry."
Arthur couldn't even say anything to him before he vanished into thin air. He got up from his chair, and searched for the staircase, which wasn't that hard to find, and walked up to it, then started climbing the staircase. It was harder than it seemed because he had several chunks of stone dragging behind him. He was only halfway up the stairs before the odor of fresh beard, along with a hint of venison rejuvenated him, but he suspected that Venom was the one who helped him. As he made it up the staircase, he found a key hanging on a rack attached to a wall.
Really?
I didn't build this house, or possess the people in it, leave me alone.
Arthur was barely able to get the key in his furry paws, but now his problem was how to use it.
Help me?
You didn't have to ask.
Black tendrils sprouted from Arthur's back, grabbing ahold of the key and inserting it into the cuffs, making a prompt click as they fell to the ground with a thud.
See? I'm helpful.
Most of the time.
Arthur made his way through the hallways, the wallpaper wasn't all that creative, it was just some white dots scattered across it, with bright yellow covered the rest of the paper. The flooring he walked upon was smooth, and warm. The house itself was fairly small, Arthur discovered, as he found the kitchen without as much trouble. He was blinded by the sunlight coming through the large windows, revealing the culinary utensils used for eating, baking, and all manner of kitchen related things. There was Balthasar, sat down at the kitchen table, which was littered with various homemade pastries, along with delicious, savory looking meat.
"Sit down Arthur, if you're going to be my apprentice, you'll have to make yourself presentable, but let's get some food in you first, how does that sound?"
Arthur gulped down his urges to jump on the table and start eating like a rabid hound.
"Don't be afraid, I assume you haven't eaten in quite a long time?" Balthasar urged him to go all out, to eat every single thing on the table.
Arthur didn't even get to answer, as Venom took control of his body, transforming Arthur into a monster once again. Then Venom leaped onto the table, he gulped down entire plates down into Arthur's gullet, he didn't even give him time to breathe in between his food-crazed rampage. When Venom was finishing abusing Arthur's body, he gave the reins back to Arthur, who immediately started choking as he resumed his normal form. Arthur didn't seem very happy as he coughed out shards of ceramic plates, and sometimes huge chunks of some too, along with some blood. In the corner of the kitchen table, Balthasar was quietly and calmly eating with a knife and fork, occasionally sipping tea.
Why can't you be like him?
Too posh for my taste.
What?
I hope Balthasar can fix your brain damage.
Balthasar put down his fork and knife onto a napkin. "Arthur, you'll have to learn how to control that 'thing' from coming out like that."
"I'm guessing you didn't really expect it either, did you?"
"I guess…" Arthur slowly slid off the table, and into a chair next to his new teacher.
"We're gonna have to set some ground rules if you're going to be my apprentice. Especially if I'm gonna go around town, with you at my side, I wouldn't want you murdering an entire crowd just because they roughed you up a bit."
"I mean, he's not that temperamental."
I will kill any who lay their hands on us.
"Ok, I guess you're right about him lusting for blood every once in a while, but he's not that bad." Arthur didn't really know much about Venom's past, nevertheless, he made several assumptions about it, but Venom didn't really know his past either, or he thought.
"You keep saying 'he', who is 'he'?"
Arthur replied in the most casual manner he could. "He speaks to me in my head, tells me occasionally to murder people, and I met him at the tower I was imprisoned in!"
"Seems normal."
"Well, yeah, I guess you could say it- Wait what?" Arthur was shocked at how Balthasar thought that was even normal.
"I've seen some horrible things, things that no man in their right mind should look upon, but I do, for the greater good of my people."
Arthur didn't seem that knowledgeable with the subject of chaos, or any subject really.
"Now we will see how much you know, what is two plus two?" Balthasar seemed confident in Arthur's answer.
"Twenty-two." Balthasar's high hopes and confidence were shattered in an instant.
"We have a lot of work to do…" He made an action most appropriate to the situation, a facepalm. Arthur was sent to his new room that was moderately furnished with everything a man, or rat needs.
The answer was four.
I was off by… um… I don't know how much I was off by.
You were off by eighteen.
I'm going to sleep now.
Arthur let gravity do the rest of the work, crashing on top of his bed, it took only a few seconds for him to succumb to his tiredness.
Arthur was back in the wastes, the lava and magma still burning as bright as they were before. Arthur turned around, expecting the incandescent man to be there, but he found a dwarf in his place, still taller than Arthur.
"And who might you be?" Arthur knew the dwarves hated his kind, for various reasons, all of them good.
"As much as I hate having the world in your hands, raki scum, it is needed." The dwarf obviously didn't like Arthur, and he wasn't afraid to show it.
"I have the world in my hands..?" Arthur scratched at his head, quite confused about what the dwarf was talking about.
The dwarf himself had one of the longest, and largest beards Arthur has seen, it was completely white like snow.
"Even you don't know who are you! You're an idiot!" The dwarf pointed a large two-handed ax at Arthur, which was larger than his body, but he swung it like a feather.
"I know you don't like me very much, but you can at least be friendly?"
The dwarf was absolutely baffled by Arthur's response. "I guess they weren't wrong about you being different from the other raki."
"Why am I here, are you going to kill me? Show me something? What is it?!" Arthur was getting impatient, if the dwarf was going to kill him, he might as well do it.
"I come, raki, to bestow upon you a vision, one that will show you one of the many futures."
"That's cool and all, but I kind of need sleep…" The dwarf waved a hand dismissively at him, mumbling under his giant white beard. Arthur felt the world shift and change, tearing apart the old and adding in the new when it was done, he was horrified by what he saw.
Arthur saw a battlefield about to unravel, both armies clashed, all with their own versions of monsters. Manticores crushed the unfortunate soldiers who got in their way, chaos spawn birthed from the depths of hell slaughtered the frontlines, their pink tendrils crushing heads, and their gaping mouths devouring the unlucky. It was literal hell, Arthur wanted to leave, he didn't want to look upon them, they were too disgusting, too tainted with chaos. He shifted his attention over to a hill, and he was dumbfounded by what he saw.
He saw himself. In his imposter's hand was a greatsword torn from rock, black as coal. The greatsword was literally torn from rock, as Arthur further inspected it, in fact, it barely looked like a greatsword at all. The imposter raised his hand towards the legion of chaos, Arthur quickly changed his view to the armies, and he saw comets falling from the sky, straight into the legions of chaos. Wind storms slaughtered warriors, both ally and enemy, there was nowhere safe from the onslaught of comets, and the aggressive wind blasts knocking back battalions of warriors.
Arthur was in awe, what was a losing battle turned into a slaughter of the chosen, but then he saw a mountain arise from the hordes of chaos, but as he looked closer, he saw it was a three-headed dragon. One head was bright red, with curved forward horns and gnashing teeth, another bright green, vomiting toxic bile, the last one was bright blue, but it was severely different from the others, for it looked avian-like in its appearance. Its body was a dark purple. It's rider bore marks unknown to Arthur, but he knew who he was, he was infamous in all of the worlds. The man was Archaon, The Everchosen Of Chaos. He glanced back at himself, who had transformed, just like he had with Venom. The imposter's voice bellowed across the battlefield.
"Hear me, Darkling! If you truly fight for the Dark Gods, face me, or will you die as your kin have? With a knife in their back?"
Arthur didn't get a chance to hear the Everchosen's response, for he was sucked out of the vision, and back into reality.
Arthur! What the hell are you doing? Stop cutting yourself, you fool!
Arthur was writing on parchment in his own blood with his finger. A knife was in his hand, stained with his blood. When he was done, he held up his scripture to the light coming through the small window in his room. He couldn't read it.
What do you think you're doing Arthur?
"I-I-I don't know! I saw something, or someone, I don't remember what happened!"
What are you babbling on about?
"I-I saw a dwarf in a dream, or m-maybe it was a nightmare, I just don't remember anything e-else!" Arthur looked around his room carefully, finding a nightstand by his bed, a lamp on the desk where he wrote the scripture, and he found himself sitting in a chair. Everything he had done was unknown to him, all he remembers is falling asleep and living a nightmare.
"N-now that I think about it, I think I just had a nightmare…"
Arthur, nightmares don't make you cut your hand and write something in blood.
"I need Balthasar, we need to begin our training!" Arthur's body jerked violently towards the door, nearly tearing it off the hinges. Arthur's mind felt clearer, things that made no sense in his mind clicked together, like a puzzle that frustrated a genius for years. His fur had turned completely white, his claws looked as if they had been manicured, they were perfect and clean. Likewise, for his fur, it was clean, and he smelled of lavender, which he found odd.
You smell… rather unpleasant.
Would you rather I smell like sewer water?
Not in particular.
He ran through the hallways, Arthur was still unsure of the house's layout but he seemed confident in his navigation of it. As soon as he turned a corner, he tripped and went tumbling down some stairs. He landed flat on his back and stared into Balthasar's golden eyes, who was staring straight into his.
"Not a great start to a morning, but I'll take what I can get." Balthasar seemed to completely ignore Arthur's new appearance, but Arthur felt like he kept that in mind, to question him about it later.
"Okie-Dokie, when do we start?" After recovering from his little mishap, he was eager to begin his training.
"Ah, good, you're nice and eager." Balthasar shoved a slab of beef into Arthur's hands, and lead him to the largest library, albeit the only library Arthur has ever seen, fortunately for Balthasar, he finished eating the slab of meat before they arrived at the said library. Books were neatly organized into shelves, large lamps were scattered around the library in a neat arrangement, and Arthur could barely see the rest of the books, probably because they were too far high up for any normal person to see.
"I don't know how to read." Balthasar didn't seem surprised, nor that worried.
"Arthur, what is that in your hand?"
"Just something I've been working on, it doesn't really matter, can we just start?" Arthur was starting to get more anxious the longer Balthasar stared at him.
"Very well, I guess we are all entitled to some secrets." Balthasar could've argued with Arthur for the entire day about it, but instead, he let it rest, after all, there are more important things to be doing than arguing over something unimportant. But Balthasar had a monumental task ahead of him, teaching a skaven how to read.
Never before had Balthasar had such a bright, and apt apprentice. Arthur had learned at an incredible rate, he even bypassed Balthasar in how fast his storage knowledge grew. Arthur's opinions and feeling towards certain events, and in general his feelings towards the society of the various races. One of the things Balthasar found frustrating was the fact that Arthur liked to talk aloud when he read books, with comments such as, "Idiocy!", "Lies!" And the occasional curse that he felt was a bit too far for someone as innocent as him.
Arthur was in his room, the curtains were swaying in the cold embrace of the night, he didn't mind the cold, in fact, he kind of liked it. After a few days of his teacher complaining about him screaming in the middle of the night, he decided it was better to talk to Venom than to argue with inanimate objects.
But why did Grimnir fight against his kin?
Because Arthur, Valaya had sided with the secessionists of the High King because he was performing treacherous acts against dwarf kind.
I can see why that makes sense, but why didn't Grungi do anything to stop it? Why was he neutral?
Ignorance is bliss, as some people say.
Huh, so you have been paying attention to what I've been doing.
Arthur, as he went further on in the book about the dwarven gods, bombarded Venom with questions, and like him, so did Venom. As Arthur finished up the last book in Balthasar's library, he felt that both he and Venom had grown since they first met, but the thing he couldn't believe, that it had been a week since they met, it felt like an eternity ago since that day. But on one lonely, cold night, he was sent another vision, a glimpse not into the future, but the past. Arthur laid his eyes on his surroundings, a thick fog blurred his vision, and he heard several voices in the distance. He crept closer to the sound of the voices, occasionally seeing small shards of wyrdstone impaled into the ground. Arthur saw a crooked, rickety sign that had been torn out of the ground, and seemingly thrown about. It only had one, bright white word, the paint was obviously still dry.
"Mordheim?"
Two figures came bursting through the thick fog, one was dressed in complete green all over their body, but it was also carrying a man, who wore bright red, and a hat two sizes too large for him. Arthur wasn't shocked when they appeared, but what did shock him is the fact they ran straight through him.
What's that noise?
Arthur looked where the figures came from and understood why they were in such a hurry. A doomwheel sped through several buildings that would normally be counted as obstacles, but it didn't really care, it should have crushed Arthur under its immense bulk, but as the figures, it passed through him like he was an apparition, a mere shade.
ARTHUR!
"I'm up, I'm up!" Arthur gracefully slid off his bed, elegantly slamming his face into the floor.
What has been going on with you in the past few days?
Is nightmares a good response?
No, nightmares don't make you get up at night and scribble runes on the walls.
What are you..?
His entire room was covered in runes, skaven, dwarf, chaos, elves, pretty much every single rune of every race was in his room.
"Ok, now I'm getting really creeped out."
Do you recognize any of these? I don't.
"The human rune roughly translates to… Everchosen?"
Everchosen? What does that mean?
"If I were to guess, probably Archaon."
I feel like I heard of him in a book you read.
"I can't remember right now, my brain's getting fuzzy…" Arthur got up, only to fall into his bed and go back to sleep again. He only had a few moments of peace, before Balthasar kicked down the door.
"What in Sigmar's name are you doing? We're supposed to-" Balthasar's sentence trailed off, glancing at each rune scribbled on the walls. Balthasar examined the runic sentences, all Arthur could hear was a whisper coming from him.
"We have to leave." Balthasar didn't let Arthur speak, he merely tossed him out the window.
"W-wait, no!" Arthur, unfortunately, landed head first into the ground, which didn't exactly help out with his headache. Balthasar quickly followed, jumping out the window with a certain grace, and landed without even stumbling.
"My head hurts." Arthur slowly got up from his embarrassing mishap and rubbed his head with his hands.
"It's either that or a bullet to the brain."
"You're going to kill me!?"
"No, Arthur, but someone else will." Balthasar brushed off his robe and started walking, knowing full well that Arthur would follow him, like a puppy.
"What did you see in those runes?" Arthur didn't really like being outside, mostly because he just saw a WANTED poster of himself on the wall. Fortunately for him, it was when his fur was colored brown. He did notice a pretty hefty reward for his capture, and his list of crimes was fairly long. Balthasar dodged his question, which Arthur didn't seem to notice.
"Won't they notice me?"
"No, they're miscreants."
"But I'm the only rat in public."
"Good point, come here." Balthasar untied his robe that was around his neck and tossed it over Arthur.
"Perfect..." Arthur said with a sarcastic tone.
"Don't you be sassy with me now." He even wagged his finger at Arthur.
Arthur simply shrugged it off and continued to walk with Balthasar, still confused on why he threw him out the window of his own house. He properly wrapped the robe around himself to conceal most of his body, save for his feet. "So back to my question, what did you see in those runes?"
"That should not be discussed right now Arthur, especially in public, I'll tell you when we get to the citadel." Arthur trusted Balthasar, mostly because he was the first actual person that didn't mind his origins.
"So, um, why are we going to the citadel?"
"You'll see." Arthur didn't like things to be cryptic, it always made him more frustrated in the end, but then again, that's why he couldn't understand most poetry.
We're being watched.
Where?
I smell them, Arthur, I can't see them.
Ugh, they smell exactly the same as a week ago, do they ever take showers?
"Hey, the little voice inside my head is warning me that we're being watched."
"Don't make a scene, just keep walking Arthur." Arthur just did what he was told, he kept his eyes transfixed on Balthasar's back. What did terrify Arthur is the fact he could hear wings beating in the air, ever so slowly as to not alert them. Unfortunately, it did the opposite, large wings flapping make much more noise if you try to hide it, and it absolutely terrified poor Arthur to the bone.
Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts..!
This is what happens when you read books instead of murdering people.
It's a nice change of pace than being shot in the back.
Like you didn't love it.
Balthasar suddenly stopped, but Arthur couldn't stop in time, which made him bump into Balthasar.
"Why did you stop?"
"Ahhh, Balthasar, so that's where our little pet went, eh?" A one-eyed man stood in front of Balthasar, wearing bright blue shoulder guards, and a hat with a large blue feather in it. Of course, he had the signature mark of most nobles, a slanted, pointed nose that always acted it was better than you. As for his other eye, he was wearing a black patch over it.
"It's been some time since we've met in person, Boris." Despite Balthasar's attempts at hiding Arthur, Arthur was just a bit too big for the robe covering him, and his feet gave him away.
"Explain yourself Balthasar, why have you sheltered a creature that you know is tainted with chaos?" Boris dropped his friendly act and took up a one filled with spite and hate, but not for Balthasar, but for Arthur.
"Not only did I shelter him from you neanderthals, but I also educated him."
Now that set him off.
"Are you insane? Do you know what the rest of the Elector Counts will do if they find out?" Boris gave Balthasar a nudge with his finger.
"You can't understand, Boris, this one… is special, isn't that right, Arthur?"
"Who now?"
"I think he's talking about me, Mr. Boris..?" Arthur came out of Balthasar's shadow and took off his robe.
"What? You're a grey seer?" Boris's anger slowly turned into curiosity.
"N-not exactly, I'm just a normal skaven, I guess you could call me..?"
"Astonishing… what makes skaven this way?"
"It may be a genetic mutation, or perhaps something else, but in all honesty, I do not know." At least Balthasar was honest. After series of repetitive questions, Arthur got bored quickly, wishing he could read a book instead of listening to a one-eyed man rag on about if he can feel something other than the lust for power and fame. Once Boris finished, he clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's take him to the citadel, if you're right Balthasar, which I am confident you are, he will continue being your so-called apprentice."
Boris flashed a smile at Arthur as he turned around, motioning both he and Balthasar follow him.
"I've heard about the Elector Counts, are they as corrupt as everyone says?" Arthur hid behind Balthasar, as bystanders stared in wonder at him, but most of them were horrified by this new creature walking in their "unspoiled" garden.
"Ha! Just the whiff of gold will make them do whatever you want." Balthasar rarely laughed, but whenever he did, it was rich and irradiating pure joy, it always nearly made Arthur jump for joy.
A large, ominous tower overshadowed the three, but fortunately for Arthur, he didn't have to go down memory lane. But instead, they arrived at a huge, dome-like building, with several pillars holding up marvelous marble statues. Everything was intricately made, but Arthur could sense the magical wards to protect the ones inside, he wondered if Balthasar could sense them as well.
"Alright, you buggers, let us in."
At first, Arthur thought Boris was insane for talking to the double doors made of marble, there wasn't even anyone there.
I have a great idea, let's tear this guy in half, and bust down the door.
That's a big fat no.
The marble doors swung open, not making even a single noise, revealing the insides of the building. Arthur was getting tired of being led around like a dog trying to eat its own tail, but he kept following Boris, along with his teacher, the walls were coated with luscious shine, with various stars scattered around the galaxy looking wallpaper. The three yet again met a marble door, this time Boris opened it, instead of some magical creature or something to do it for him. Arthur regretted following Boris.
In the midst of the hell they've stepped into, it was also the moment where Arthur could swear he was becoming deaf, just by listening to two of the elector counts argue about tax rates, all of them were sitting upon thrones, but the largest one was in the middle, void of any presence..
"It should be as it always is, high and demanding!" The man's face was entirely puffed up with extreme anger Arthur had never seen, but he could say likewise for his opponent.
"Tax the rich high, and tax the poor low, you intolerable idiot!" No one really wanted to break the silence, Arthur was fairly certain that some of the electors just gave up trying to defuse the conflict, and instead retired to reading a book or sharpening a blade to cut off a rat's head or two. Boris cleared his throat, ready to announce their presence, but Arthur didn't really want to offend the man wearing nothing but a loincloth, with several symbols meant to drive away chaos literally inscribed into his skin.
"Ahem! Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby announce that Balthasar and his 'apprentice' has graced us with his presence, not that he had any choice in the matter…" An extremely chunky man, who had a tankard in one hand, and a bagel in the other was the first to speak.
"'Oi, who is this so-called apprentice? Gelt would never take one, even if they were to outsmart 'im!" While the man spoke, he shoved both ale and bagels into his gluttonous mouth, it was disgusting to watch.
"Now, this may shock you gentlemen, but we are all civil here, so there should be no problem whatsoever." Balthasar knew there was going to be a problem, but he decided not to dwell on it.
"Now what in the world would make us angry that ye have an apprentice Gelt? If anything we're happy for ya!" Arthur slowly stepped away from the sanctuary that was Balthasar's shadow, and into the light.
"H-hello?" The room instantly fell into silence, the air growing ever more still as Arthur felt that this was a horrible idea.
"Balthasar, we have had the utmost confidence in you, even with your craziest of schemes, but this… this has gone too far." The only person who didn't take offense, or maybe she didn't really care, seemingly just slunk in her chair, waiting for swords to be drawn, and heads to be cut off.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?! You have brought a snake into our peaceful garden Gelt, you must be punished for the highest of treasons!" The man in the loincloth drew an ax from his back and got up from his throne.
"What have you taught him Gelt, much less, how in the name of Sigmar did you even get him to be docile?"
Tear off his skull, crack it open, pour his organs into and have fun with your skull smoothie, oh make sure you grind the organs into a liquid first.
"Can I just say how violent you are to people not trying to kill you?"
"Don't speak to me, you lowly ratspawn!" The man gave Arthur a whack on the head with the flat bottom of the ax.
He touched us.
So? You didn't mean that literally right..?
Does it sound like I joke around Arthur?
No, just, don't kill anyone, just get some help.
If he whacks us again, I will tear out his spine.
"I thought you enforce the law, not break it." Arthur pointed a finger accusingly at the man.
"What?" The man was confused.
"You assaulted me, hence you broke the law."
"You're a rat, you don't have rights!"
"But I didn't hurt you in any way, shape or form, and by your laws, that means you assaulted me with no good reason."
"W-what?"
"You're an elector count, but you don't even know your own laws? How sad." According to human laws, assault is a punishable offense, even to the highest ranked authorities. The guards reluctantly arrested the elector and dragged him into the dungeons, with him cursing out Arthur with every curse he knew, sadly there is only so many curses in one language, so he started repeating himself.
"Now that that's dealt with, my name is Arthur!" The elector counts looked in horror at Arthur, who wore a devilish smile on his face. The elector counts expected a slaughter, but instead, they got something worse, a rat knowledgeable of the Empires laws. Not a single one spoke, the room was eerily silent.
"Well? Does anyone want to speak up?" Arthur was smug, that he admitted, but he felt enormous pride in being able to talk down a very powerful man, even if he was going to be bailed a few hours later. His eyes twitched, ever so often. Then his hands started shaking.
Arthur? What in the world is wrong with you?
I feel weird, like-
Arthur dropped to the floor like a lifeless ragdoll. He awoke again, in the wastes of chaos, the man still ever glowing brightly.
"Can you not?" Arthur made a certain hand gesture to express his anger toward the man, but then he was gone. Darkness enveloped the wastes, leaving only Arthur in the sea of darkness, but then color came back, revealing a cramped, hot, and horrible room. Once again, he saw himself, but the imposter was sitting on a chair, scribbling away with no care in the world. The room looked as if a goblin decorated it, there were paintings about to fall off the walls, a rickety, ruined bed stood in the corner, and the desk the imposter was sitting in front of seemed rotten, and dirtier than a rat. There were also some bookshelves, but only one of them contained one single book and they looked like they were being eaten by termites.
Arthur thought he could get pretty angry, but what happened next was a total overreaction.
"Dammit! Dammit! Get OUT!" The imposter picked up the desk with vigorous strength and tossed it at a bookshelf, pure frenzied anger that Arthur couldn't believe he contained. But he wasn't done, not by a long shot, he punched holes in the walls, destroyed the paintings, and even the rickety bookshelves that didn't deserve it. In the end, he sat down on the ruined bed, clutching his head in his hands. A small head, similar to how Venom appears, sprouted from his shoulder, but the major difference was that it was red, but it still wore the similar streaks of whites for its eyes.
"Face it, Arthur, I'm stuck with you, and you're stuck with me."
"You can't get rid of me, no matter how hard you try."
The imposter ignored the head completely, who just went back to torturing the imposter's mind.
"Maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong, but one way or another I'll find a way to get rid of you, even it means killing myself." The imposter frantically leafed through his one and only book, who seemed to survive his rampage earlier. Arthur didn't know what he hoped to find, but the book was interesting, it had a full chapter about Venom. Something clicked in his head, something was wrong. Where was Venom? Why was he feeling dread? Arthur glanced at a corner in the room and found what was bothering him. A pot of black flowers, which haven't been watered in a long time laid alone in the corner. A single note was embedded in the soil.
"Gone."
The vision was immediately torn apart, and he woke up in the throne room. When Arthur got up, he quietly left the room, no one dared to follow him outside. He found a dark enough alley and hid behind some garbage bags. Then he crumpled up and wept like a broken child.
What is wrong with you lately?
N-nothing…
Is someone being a coward again?
"Oh, s-shut up…" Arthur had never really thought about what he'd do if Venom was… well, gone. Just hearing him talking to him brought comfort enough, he couldn't believe how much he cared for the parasite.
"V-venom?"
What is it, Arthur?
"What happens if… you d-d-die?"
I die, Arthur along with you, it's not that complicated.
"B-but what if you d-die outside of my b-body?"
The same thing Arthur, except I only die, you still live.
"Venom, am I s-simply a p-pawn in your view?" Venom didn't answer, Arthur laid in silence with his murderous friend, tears streaming down Arthur's face. If what he sees is the future, then he would try his hardest to not let that happen, he couldn't let Venom die.
"Arthur..?" Balthasar looked over the garbage, only to see Arthur weeping, like a child that had lost its favorite toy. Balthasar moved the bags to the side, knelt down to face Arthur, and placed his arms around him, giving Arthur the first hug he'd ever received in his short life. Arthur didn't mind, in fact, he cried onto Balthasar's shoulder, looking for any shred of comfort. Crowds of people spectated idly, watching in awe, along with the elector counts, who were in disbelief, but Arthur, nor Balthasar cared, for them, this a moment between them, a moment that only they could understand.
"Arthur, let's go home… I'll even bake a cake for you. Ok, well, I'll try at least." Arthur solemnly nodded, even after the two got up, he still clung to him, afraid to let go of him. The crowd made a path for the two, small whispers were traded among children, and adults alike. The streets were empty, void of any life, void of joy, but maybe there was some, but if there was, Arthur didn't care, nor did he want to care. Arthur didn't even notice that they passed their home, but instead, they just kept walking and walking.
Arthur… if you can hear me, or if you care even a tiny bit, I wanna talk about what you said earlier…
At first, yes, you were just a means to get what I wanted, but the time we spent together, the short moments of us in battle tearing our foes apart, and the occasional laughs we had…
You're not my pawn, but you aren't my friend either Arthur.
No, you're beyond my friend, you've become a part of what makes my identity, and I've become a part of what makes your identity…
I'm just trying to say that… without each other, we are nothing, and I found that heartwarming, don't you think..?
Arthur smiled, despite his tears still flowing through his fur covered cheeks. He hugged Balthasar even tighter, he didn't mind, but he smiled behind that golden mask, Arthur could just feel it. When they arrived at their destination, the house small, inconspicuous, but most importantly, comfortable. The two walked into the house, the inside was void of any furniture other than a couch and a desk with a lamp sitting atop of it, the kitchen itself was connected to the bare living room, it had the bare necessities to whip up some food, but no fancy tools that Arthur found.
"Arthur, if you wish to rest, go to your room, it's to the left." Arthur nodded and made a notion to leave, but then Balthasar put his hand on him. Balthasar turned Arthur around and gave him a kiss, well if you could call it a kiss on his forehead. The two put their arms around each other and embraced one another.
"Alright, Arthur, go to bed, you'll need it." Balthasar shooed away Arthur toward his room and started baking that cake he promised Arthur. Arthur didn't make a sound when he made it to his room and then collapse into unconsciousness on his bed.
Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams
The thrums of stormvermin training awoke the large, muscular rat sitting in his throne, his dark red armor void of any shine, and of dirt. His personal guard, a rat in bright red armor, the legendary Queek Headtaker, servant of Gnawdwell of Clan Mors. Gnawdwell let loose a tremendous sigh, letting his eyes drift to his apprentice. Queek merely stared at the large, rotten doors that led into the throne room, with several pillars devoid of any personalization, with a long, dark red carpet leading to his throne, like any normal human castle. Gnawdwell couldn't help but compare Queek to him, they were nothing alike, yet he considered the black furred, genocidal maniac his son, most likely to a fill a void that was formed years ago. Of course, how could he forget that gruesome day? One of the few people that made him care about anything other than his own skin, taken away before he could fully enjoy their company.
"Gnawdwell! Gnawdwell!"
A rat in pitch black, wearing a mask of the same color. The marks on the rats left ear told him everything that he needed to know about him.
"What is it you want, Eshin?" Gnawdwell had dealt with Clan Eshin before, on numerous occasions, luckily he always had Queek by his side at all times.
"Speak quickly, before I decide you are food for the ogres!" Gnawdwell was not known for his patience, but he always tried to restrain his outbursts, his troops always silently thanked him, even if they didn't know it.
"A skaven-fool had gotten himself captured-taken by man-things! The Council Of Thirteen demands you send several battalions of your best-good clanrats, or stormvermin to deal-kill the rat-idiot!" As the rat chattered incessantly about the rat-fool, he passed the parchment to quick, who was just one fur away from chopping off the Eshin's head.
"But why me, why not another smaller clan?" Queek expressed Gnawdwell's frustration by tearing apart one of the many skavenslaves working as his servants into many pieces, with his weapon Dwarf Gouger, a pickaxe made of gromril that could wreak havoc on his foe's armor.
"You are the closest-near to the rat, he hides in Altdorf with the man-thing called Balthasar, you must make haste-scurry, for their man-thing leaders have discovered him-him!"
"Very well, run along Eshin, Queek is getting hungry…" Not wanting to be devoured by the Headtaker, the Eshin promptly left the throne room. Gnawdwell slumped in his ornately decorated throne, the only thing that he bothered to even paint and make it look somewhat bearable to look at.
"Master Warlord, must-must we heed coward's command? He stinks of musk-fear!" Queek made sure to emphasize his point by impaling a skavenslave in the skull with Dwarf Gouger.
"An order from the Council must not be taken lightly, Queek, even I have to listen to them." Queek merely sulked beside Gnawdwell, not wanting to anger his master by speaking back. Gnawdwell could see what was gnawing at his ever loyal companion, so he quickly sent him away to gorge himself on the finest of meats, well, he wouldn't call eating his own kind the finest meat available. Growing tired of his obnoxious looking throne, he quickly settled onto the stone cold floor, and walked over to the end of the room, revealing a wooden door with a golden doorknob. He twisted the doorknob and walked into the small, cramped room, but it exuded an aura of homeliness to him, a sense of belonging, something that he barely felt.
He let out an enormous sigh, taking in the beauty of the room, it had brought back memories of what used to be his life, but not all of the memories were exactly full of joy. The room itself contained a lone bed, sized for a large man, several candles placed upon the nightstand next to it, and a table with a large candle in the middle, presumably the dining table. There were no windows, of course, this was underground, but yet he could feel the warmth of the sun on him, unlike other skaven, he didn't mind the sun, in fact, he loved it more than inhaling the dangerous gasses that flew around the warrens.
But something else caught his beady red eye, a thin photo encased in glass, with the edges being covered in the purest of gold. The picture displayed him, without his ominous armor on, and two others, a small brown ratling, and an elven maid, with bright purple eyes, and blonde hair, and like other elves, she had elongated ears with sharp points at the end of them. He couldn't bear the pain, even after a few months, which to skaven was a couple of years, he still hurt whenever he saw that dreaded picture, always reminding him of the day they died. He picked up the near weightless picture, and stared at it, longingly.
Don't tell me you miss them Gnawdwell, you knew this was going to happen, Orion was never kind to skaven even before the marriage.
"That doesn't make it hurt any less, Carnage." The voice in his head tried to make some points, but Gnawdwell didn't care, why should he? He just wanted his family back, nothing more, if he could, he'd kill his entire clan, even his loyal bodyguard just to see them again, even if it was for a tiny moment.
You are the reason they died Gnawdwell, you lost control, you lost your temper, and in your failure, they died.
"Be quiet, you never loved them, not as I did."
Me? Falling in love? Ha, you're quite a good jokester Gnawdwell! Like all emotions, love makes us weak, it makes us soft, it makes us vulnerable, I did only what was needed to survive.
Gnawdwell felt tears rise to his eyes, wetting his pitch black fur, making a tiny sound as they hit the wooden floorboards that had been rotted away by the passage of time.
Even now you feel guilt, remorse, but why? You knew what would happen if you used me, everything comes with a price, out of all the people in the world, I expect you to know that the best.
"Quiet, please…"
Why don't we go back to that day, Gnawdwell? Why don't we see what your actions had done to help them?
He wiped away the tears from his eyes, but then he found himself in a grassland, trees abundant with life, with the leaves and branches swaying both in the air and in the wind. A small little cottage, covered in green vines, tiny tree saplings, and bright colored flowers. A place that Gnawdwell would've loved to go to, a place where he wanted to go to pay his respects, but he couldn't bring himself to it, always making an excuse why he shouldn't go, but now that he saw it, he was only filled with a sense of regret and dread.
You're not the only one who can access the Winds, Gnawdwell. With just a little stream of magic, you can basically do anything you want, well, except end the world.
"Why?" Despite his persistent thought process of avoiding the cottage, he just ignored them, tossed them aside as he got closer to the small little house.
Why? Is that it? That's the only question you have? Well, I don't need to answer it, you're almost there.
He saw a small brown ratling, and the blonde elven maid, at this he was elated, but upon closer inspection, he saw they were only illusions. Gnawdwell could hear the screaming, the shouting in the house, he knew who was in there, and what was about to happen. He looked away from the illusions, ignoring them as he walked into the house, but deep down, he knew this was all of his fault.
"I won't let you take them! Even if I have to burn down Athel Loren!" Gnawdwell gazed upon himself, wearing the same dark red armor, but he seemed slightly shorter than before.
"The Gods forbid this, Gnawdwell, species should not intermingle, much less elf and skaven!" The man had legs of a bull, curved horns, and he was approximately nine feet tall, overshadowing Gnawdwell's height, who was seven feet tall, a common height for black furred skaven, or more commonly known as Mighty Ones.
"I don't care about the Gods! Much less yours!" The illusion spat on the floor in front of the shimmering Orion.
"You've crossed the line this time, Gnawdwell, and for that, you must pay in blood!" Orion seemingly materialized a spear in his hand and threw it straight into the rat's chest. Even the real Gnawdwell could feel the pain as if it had just happened. He found it weird to stare at his dead body, knowingly that just in a few moments, the tragedy would commence. The elven maid peeked into the cottage, only to see a shimmering Orion over a near dead Gnawdwell, tearing out the spear embedded in his chest.
"You should have listened, Gnawdwell, now your son will live without a father."
Lies. All of them were lies, the same murky red sludge that had covered his body all of those months back were right in front of him, the same thing he always hated with fiery compassion. It was supposed to be a blessing, but instead it became a curse, he never wanted Carnage, but he came all the same.
"And you should have run when you had the chance!" Carnage grabbed a hold of Orion's neck, strangling him into submission, his head nearly broke through the roof, but fortunately like him, he was able to hunch back his full size. Orion desperately clawed at the giant red hands, but it was all in vain, as Carnage threw him around like he was nothing but a ragdoll.
"You will die elf, just like I have killed your kind before, and I won't stop, even if I have been shot, skewered, stabbed, or doused in flames, I will bring Carnage to this world, even if it means slaughtering my own family." Carnage threw down the limpless body of his foe, his fangs agonizingly waiting to eat.
"You can't do this, even if he wants to take me away, I still have to listen to him!" Carnage turned his bulky, muscular head to set his eyes upon his prey.
"Then you shall take his place."
Gnawdwell sat in a corner, watching himself tear apart his wife, devouring her corpse greedily, tossing organs and limbs away as if they meant nothing to him. He saw his son in the far distance, running as far as his tiny legs could take him. Once the illusion was done, the murky red sludge receded back into Gnawdwell, who realized what he had done.
"No! No! No! This can't be happening, you promised me you would handle it!"
"You wanted him gone, you never specified how." This was all an illusion, but why did it felt so real? He wanted to leave, he wanted to stop this, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, he had to see what he did at the end. The illusion of Gnawdwell, instead of grieving, rummaged in a closet, pulling out a musket with a bayonet at the end of the barrel. He tossed it away and continued searching for the item in the closet for a good solid minute when at last he found what he needed in order to repent for his crimes. A small warplock pistol, stronger than most imperial firearms. Skaven runes were etched onto the pistol, but the illusion didn't care, he merely pointed the gun at one of the sides of his head, with his finger twitching on the trigger. Gnawdwell looked away, he knew what was going to happen, he was too much of a coward to do it, his survival instincts wouldn't let him pull the trigger, this feeling he knew all too well.
The illusion tossed the gun into a wall, shattering it into pieces, as he fell onto his knees, and howled cries of agony, pain, but the one cry that was louder than the rest was his guilt, he was supposed to protect his family, not end them. In the end, Gnawdwell walked out of the house with his broken illusion, eyes void of any emotion, except his shame and remorse of course. The illusion wasn't going to leave her lifeless body there, but he knew he couldn't take her back to the clan warrens, so he did what he thought was close enough to a burial. With a snap of his finger, a tree was lit on fire, the fire voraciously eating away at the tree, and spreading throughout the entire grassland. He walked away, meeting one the many skaven tunnels leading back into Clan Mor's headquarters, and with one final glance, he said goodbye to the burning cottage, and delved deep into the tunnel, making sure to leave no trace that he was ever there.
Gnawdwell was hungry for air on the bed, realizing that he had come back to reality, he rushed out of the cramped little room, and dug into a box behind his throne, grabbing a hold of a large bottle, and chugged it all down, spilling all of its contents on his armor.
Stop it! That can make fire!
"Whoop-de-do, like I care." Gnawdwell tossed away the bottle, only to ran face first into Queek.
"Master? You smell-musk weird, have you been stealing-drink man-thing ale?"
"Preposterous, as if I'-" Gnawdwell let out a burp, and started giggling at his little accident.
"It is forbidden to drink-steal ale from man-things! It makes skaven lose focus-kill power in battle, and in planning-coordination!" Queek found Gnawdwell's box of goodies, and promptly tried to dump them away.
"No, wait! I mean, ahem, as your master, I demand you to give me that box!" Queek turned his head and stared into his master's red eyes, which were unfocused, his attention was all over the place, the scent of his breath exuding an odor of ale.
"The Council can screw-send themselves to hell!" Queek grabbed a bottle from the box in his grasp and chugged it all down, just like Gnawdwell had.
"Now we're talking, how about he go down and remind the lads who are the bosses of this warren?"
"Sounds grea-" Queek hiccuped, which sent the two into a flurry of laughter, and placed one of their arms over each other, and walked out of the throne room.
A few hours later, Gnawdwell awoke on a pile of unconscious rat bodies, along with the Headtaker, who had just barely begun to wake up. Reluctantly, Gnawdwell groggily stood up from the mound, but it was hard to get a footing on top dozens of rats.
"What happened last night? Or was it the day? Ugh, I can't remember right now…" Gnawdwell made sure to mind where he placed his footing, he didn't want to lose a foot to a weakling. Once he got to Queek, he grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently, causing his armor to make several clangs.
"Huh? I swear I no drink man-thing ale Grey Seer-lord!" Gnawdwell looked at the Mighty One strangely but proceeded to jump off the mound of bodies, with Queek not far behind.
"What are we-we doing master-kill the man-things, eat rat-fool?"
"I'll think about it."
The two walked down the street if Gnawdwell could even call it a street. The so-called buildings of skaven ingenuity produced horrifying sights that could kill an engineer, buildings were tilted, the sidewalks were shambled together with mud, dirt, stone, whatever was on hand was used. But then there was the buildings plagued by skaven, the buildings they never really bothered to tear down, buildings made by dwarfs, elves, even humans. The two walked in silence to a part of the Clan Mors Headquarters, a place with a certain reputation.
"So-so, we no speak of party-thing?"
"What party?"
Queek didn't understand what he meant, but he went along with it. Gnawdwell let out a sigh at his incompetent bodyguard, but he did have a certain murderous charm. There was one thing that Gnawdwell knew for certain that his kind liked, and that was keeping trophies of their successes, but he thought Queek took it a bit too far. Whenever his loyal companion would chop off a enemies head off, he would impale it on a spike on his back, proudly displaying it to his comrades.
"Hurry up, the Council is getting impatient."
"Council is here-here? Queek will display trophies for all to admire-fear!"
Gnawdwell smiled, not for Queek's interest to show off his trophies, but the fact he could send fear through the Council. Once they had arrived at the headquarters, they didn't receive that much of a warm welcome. Immediately, Gnawdwell wished it wasn't heresy to kill a Grey Seer.
"Fool-fool! You are late, you are always like this, do you not care for what the Horned rat says?" Gnawdwell grunted in frustration, whenever the Grey Seers could, they always played the religion card, it always gained their favor, and might cause the other to be humiliated in public if he declines his offer.
"I have pledged myself to the Horned Rat, I will never break my vow, and I will spread Ruin and Decay in his name." Gnawdwell didn't really care much for spreading Ruin and Decay for the Horned Rat, but again, Grey Seers are the messengers, and they cannot be ignored. Though his fingers did itch on the hilt of his sword.
"We must make plan to kill man-things, bring the rat fool here and execute him promptly, he brings heresy to our race!"
"'O yes, most intelligent and cunning Grey Seer." One of the greatest weapons an underling could use to calm down his superior whenever he goes into a fit of rage, flattery always made skaven bask in the glow of the who said that even if he was being sarcastic. Luckily for him, the Grey Seer took this as a sign of submission and invited the rest of the rats who the council sent to plan out the execution. A rat in a dark hood, completely black eyes entered the room along with a rat who looks like he spent a bit too long near the plague, several of his fingers had fallen off, and one of his eyes was rotted to the point where it looked like mush replaced it. Finally, a rat completely covered in metal, along with a gas tank at the back entered last, probably the most submissive one.
"This is Meek, Death Runner of Clan Eshin, Rawat, Plague Priest of Clan Pestilens, and Ratata, Warlock Engineer of Clan Skryre, these three will aid you in the capture of the rat."
"Thank you, the most generous and intelligent prophet of the Horned Rat."
Gnawdwell looked over at his "allies", who most likely would stab him in the back at the best chance they could.
"I will now leave you four to settle this, the Council demands this to be done with precision! Do not come back if you reek the stench of failure!" With that, the Grey Seer vanished in an explosion of smoke. Gnawdwell looked over at his new companions, who were already trying to kill each other at the moment. If only stares could kill people with enough murderous intent.
"Welp, I'll leave you three alone for a few hours, while you do that, I'll muster up my clanrats and stormvermin, and then I'll fill you in the plan." Gnawdwell didn't care about their answer, nor did he give them enough time to say anything, as he came sprinting out of the headquarters just to get away from the horrible stench of the Plague Priest. Queek, who prevented anyone from going in by standing in front of the door, was barely able to react in time to get out of his warlord's way, as he bursted out the door, several rats casted curious glances seeing the fearsome Headtaker desperately trying to catch his master. Gnawdwell didn't dare stop until he arrived at his throne room, with Queek stumbling near him, gasping for air. Gnawdwell didn't break a single sweat.
"M-master, why the sprinting? I am good-good in combat, not running-sneaking!"
"I apologize..? Anyway, I need you to guard the entrance to the throne room, I must grab something from my personal quarters." Without uttering a single world, Queek obeyed his warlord, as Gnawdwell went back into his own personal hell. Yet someone was waiting for him, it wasn't hard to notice since he was sitting on his throne, with two hammers gently leaning on one side of the throne, he exuded an aura of fascination, but it didn't really affect Gnawdwell, probably because he didn't care. The man was clad in armor, with several brands of Sigmar printed on each plate, the symbol looked like an orange hammer with orange wings sprouting from the sides, a god praised by the men of the Empire, but that was all Gnawdwell knew about him. He didn't take interest in learning about cultures that he was going to make go extinct soon.
"We meet again, Gnawdwell." The man shifted in the throne, trying his best to make it comfortable for himself, despite his armor being covered entirely in armor, he wore the helm of knights.
"What do you want? Do you want my soul, or to destroy my clan? Well? What is it!?" Gnawdwell despised this man, having met him before in different circumstances, and it didn't really end well for Gnawdwell, his underlings say the gods favor him, but he thinks they have a certain level of hatred for him.
"What more can you take from me? You introduced me to Him, and now I lost everything," Gnawdwell spat on the ground in front of the man in absolute anger. "What else do you want from me?"
"You are nothing, but a mere revenant, a spirit that is already dead, but doesn't realize it. If you had the guts to pull the trigger all of your suffering would end, but you didn't, because you knew it was wrong, even if it was the wrong choice." The man rose from the throne, barely any taller than Gnawdwell.
"Believe it or not, you have morals, just like your son."
"Don't you DARE bring him into this!" At this point, Gnawdwell wanted to rip off the man's head, he wanted to kill him, no, he didn't just want to kill him, he wanted the man to feel helpless as he strung his own guts across the floor, to see him in such agony and pain that would bring a smile to his face.
"At any point, that isn't the reason for my visit."
That seemed to calm down his murderous urges, letting his curiosity get the better of him.
"Then why are you here, if it is not to mock me?"
"I've come to deliver news, news that might bring you hope in your ever so sad existence."
Gnawdwell had wanted to interrupt the man by ripping out his throat, but he decided against it.
"I want you to pay attention closely because I will not say this again."
That perked Gnawdwell's ears, even if he was different from his kind, they always wanted to hear something they have never heard of before, even if the information is dangerous.
"Your son lives."
Gnawdwell felt several bells ringing loudly in his head, unable to process the information, as he stumbled towards the door, opening them with several years of pent up rage. As he thought more about it, the louder the bells rang, trying their best to tell him the information was false, that he shouldn't believe the man, but yet he felt what he said was true, for why would someone lie about that? Gnawdwell stumbled, and fell to the ground, showing a rage that Queek has never seen the likes of, much less seen. He could hear voices, screaming, shouting at him, no longer than did he feel anger, but guilt, the guilt of leaving his own flesh and blood to die in the wilderness, the wilderness he made into a wasteland.
"Master!"
Voices, all he could hear was ringing and voices, it was too much for him, he needed to beat the crap out of something, and he needed to do it now. He took a look at the marketplace if you could call it one. Something caught his attention, something that he could take the pleasure of slaughtering in combat. The warbeasts of Moulder had just arrived, and he was itching to kill one.
A rat ogre seemed tempting, but he had fought one bare-handed before, but something exotic caught his eye, one of the greatest creations made by the infamous Clan Moulder, the Hell-Pit Abomination.
"Master?"
"I need to go… release some pent up stress."
Queek didn't question further, for even he could see the rage welling up in his master, a rage that can only be extinguished in the heat of combat.
"Bring the abomination to the arena, I'm thirsting for blood."
'The a-abomination? Are you sure-sure?"
"Don't question me Queek, I am stronger than you know."
Queek reluctantly heeded his master's command and went out to gather the packmasters to aid him in moving the beast. Gnawdwell could smell the blood, the rage from here, he would do anything to keep his mind off of that particular subject, even if it meant death. From the cliff overlooking the market, he could see squadrons of packmasters being led by Queek, clamping their thing catchers around the beast's various limbs, dragging it screaming towards the giant dome building. Out of curiosity, rats started gathering behind the roaring abomination, even stormvermin came, even if they were disobeying orders. Gnawdwell made his way to the arena, a place where criminals, slaves, or warbeasts prove their worth. The horde of rats gathered into the makeshift bleachers, which didn't look at all reliable, after all, they looked rotten and decayed, just like how the ratmen liked it. Of course, the squadrons that were dragging the abomination didn't leave unscathed, several were murdered when one had released the thing catcher on one of its arms, luckily one had accidentally run into the arena, and promptly devoured the small rat, with the gate closing behind it. Gnawdwell walked past the maimed bodies, not really caring for them, as Queek joined the other stormvermin in the bleachers. The stadium itself was comprised of large walls made of steel, with several supports and staircases leading up to the seats on the sides.
One of Queek's most elite stormvermin, a Red Guard, turned to him.
"Who is fighting-die today?"
Queek remained silent, not wanting to indulge even his most trusted troops on the information. Peace before the storm, as people say, as when Gnawdwell walked into the arena, it became silent for a few seconds. Queek may have been not as bright as most other rats, but he knew when it was getting extremely tense, so he screamed out a random war chant repeatedly, which led to another repeating, then another, and then another, until the entire crowd started screaming, "FOR THE HORNED RAT!"
"Fools, all of them fools, mere children waiting to be praised." He'll slaughter them, he'll kill them all, shred them into tiny bits until there is nothing left, but him standing upon the mounds that their bodies made. Then he felt himself tremble, but not in fear of the monster in front of him, nor did he tremble in fear for anything. Could it be guilt, remorse, or something else? Gnawdwell didn't know, nor did he want to, maybe it was the bells in his head deterring his mind from his main goal, but he started to enjoy them, even if they made him ear deaf.
He glanced at the abomination, he could feel it's pain, suffering, it's primitive mind gasping for death, the reason why it did so great in combat, is because it wanted to feel the sweet release of death. Its existence causes it agonizing pain, so what could it do, then fight in a hopeless battle? But yet it all felt wrong, all of the feelings that the abomination made, felt like a masquerade, a mere lure to a trap.
Move it!
Gnawdwell was fast, even for a Mighty One, but the monster was faster, it turned its immense bulk around, reared back its head, and spewed forth rivers of flame from its maw. Gnawdwell could barely dodge the flames, but he had fallen into the trap of the beast, as he ended up impaled to the wall, with its solid steel blade, which replaced its hand.
"Dammit!"
The abominations jaws opened up, the heat was slowly rising, driving Carnage into a panic. The monster only drove the steel blade deeper into Gnawdwell's chest, who was taking this fairly well, for a giant blade being forcefully driven into his body.
Why did we even do this!?
I'll be honest with you, even I don't know.
So you don't know why you decided to fight a creature that breathes fire when our weakness is fire?!
Berate me how you want, but even this won't stop me.
Say that to the beast breathing fire in front of us.
How was I supposed to know these things breathe fire?
You were there when it was made!
Well, unless they added some new features, no Carnage, I didn't know.
The abomination poked Gnawdwell's head, but with no success, he got no response, he was too busy having an inner war with himself to even react to it.
Again, why are we doing this?
I don't know!
But why?
Thought you wanted to bring carnage upon the world, how are you going to do it if you're scared of fire?
Well, I- Shut up!
Exactly, even you can't commit to your goal, you're too afraid of facing something that is your weakness, something that could kill you, so you refuse to take it head-on.
But then why do you fight?
Because I also refuse to take my weakness head-on, for I am too afraid to face it.
You'd rather face a monster, then face… Him?
Guilt and regret are immeasurable, Carnage, sometimes even worse than pain, something you've never felt in your entire existence.
You don't know that…
Then tell me, Carnage! What do you regret, what weighs heavy upon you that makes you want to rip apart the world, that makes you want to tear it into tiny shreds?
The same thing that made you hate the world.
What?
The abomination was growing tired of the limpless ragdoll on its blade, so he did what every sane monster does, throwing the said body away like a pile of trash.
Oh crap, I forgot we were fighting a monster.
Gnawdwell finally returned back to reality, finally acknowledging the burning pain that was the hole in his chest, immediately coughing spurts of blood onto the yellow sand that covered the entire arena floor. He looked up to see the monster slowly moving towards him, gradually, he felt fear seeping into his mind.
This might seem desperate, but I think I need your help.
Alright.
What?
I already said alright, let's get this over with.
I thought you were scared of fire.
It is worse to die fearing something than to overcome it with death.
Gnawdwell felt the same strength he felt on that day, but this time, it was not overpowering, not thirsting for control, it merely wanted to help.
"About damn time."
The abominations steel blade and spiked iron ball erupted in flames, its tongue was wrapped in flames, idly dangling out of its maw, which Gnawdwell knew could end this fight if he took the full brunt of it head-on. As Gnawdwell became covered in the red sludge that painfully reminded of the slaughter he had done, but he did not have time to reminisce, nor did he have the time to feel.
The two beasts circled around each other, waiting for an opportunity to rip each other into shreds, a wrong move could mean either one of their deaths. Carnage, however, was never good at waiting games, growing ever more impatient as Gnawdwell just stared at the abomination. The abomination opened its gaping maw, and readied itself, as it let loose torrents of hot flame toward Gnawdwell, but he was able to react quickly, and tear apart of the ground below him, and use it as a shield against the flames.
KILL IT QUICKER!
Don't you go insane on me now.
As the volley of flames died down, he threw the hunk of earth at the monster's head, stunning it for a couple of seconds, as both of his monstrous hands turned into axes.
What happened to my arms?
Just a little something I cooked up.
Was that a joke I heard, coming from you right now?
Carnage stayed silent, while Gnawdwell threw one of the axes straight into the abominations head, getting stuck in its bony exterior. It only made the beast even more furious. The beast charged towards Gnawdwell, who was able to dodge it easily, except the fact he got whipped in the face with its flaming tail. The abomination only seemed to get faster, stronger, and tougher as Gnawdwell dodged each of its attacks, each time the beast attacked, it only seemed to get more frenzied with each blow it missed.
"Enough!"
Gnawdwell turned around on a dime, narrowly dodging the beasts charge, and hacked away at the beast's bulk, which seemed to repair itself in front of his very eyes. The abomination did the most sensible thing a monster could do if its side was being hacked away by anything really, which is rolling over on its side. Gnawdwell tried to make his escape, but a tiny rat head bit his arm and held on with a ferocious grip. Swiftly, his ax sang through the air as it met his own arm, cutting it off. Finally being able to escape being made a pancake, he rolled out of the abominations attempt of flattening him.
"Alright, I'll be honest with you, how do we kill it?"
Carnage stayed silent, which seemed to infuriate Gnawdwell, as the abomination once again began prepared its infernal breath. The ax stuck in the skull of the beast shifted ever deeper where it struck, essentially making cracks all over the abominations head. While Gnawdwell and his foe were thinking about what to do, he looked over at his amputated arm and found it had regenerated. He needed something heavy, powerful enough to stagger his foe, but is able to negate its regeneration, until something caught his eye, well, to be more specific, his hand. He knew his face had been hit by the beasts flaming tail, but he found that it hadn't healed as fast as his arm.
What if fire can stop the regeneration?
Gnawdwell didn't expect a response, but he was willing to try. The beast, however, seemed to be in pristine condition, or, it looked the same as it had at the beginning of the battle
I'll take that as a yes then!
Gnawdwell, instead of facing the beastie head-on, sprinted towards the gate, and charged through it, ripping apart the walls it had been chained to. The abomination was soon in chase of him, however, as it seemed to close the gap between them soon. He grabbed a torch was embedded in the stone beneath it and ran faster than before, knowingly that the monster behind him could devour him in its flames soon. His body shivered with the torch in his hand, even if Carnage didn't make noise, or say anything, he could feel his fear of it, he couldn't help but connect with his fear, even if his fear was about someone.
Gnawdwell busted down the throne room doors, tore his throne off the stone, tossing it into the abomination's face, and grabbed the box in front of him. The beast recovered from the tossed throne, which made the red ax dig even deeper into its skull, causing the cracks around it to become even wider and deeper.
"Have some of your own medicine, beastie!"
Gnawdwell dug into the box, whipping out a bottle that smelled of ale, popped it open and chugged it all down. Unfortunately, he drank too much and swallowed all of it.
"O-oh damn, give me a second to pop open another."
The monster didn't seem very intent on being burned, crushing the pillars that blocked its way to Gnawdwell, it's rat heads eager to taste his blood. Already feeling the effects of the alcohol, Gnawdwell fumbled with the box as he clumsily pulled out another bottle, popping it open sloppily, and drank just enough for his plan to work. He held up the torch in his hand up to his mouth, with the abomination's head gnashing through the middle of the pillars, with several other smaller heads, but then it opened its maw and unleashed torrents of flame.
Gnawdwell stumbled, trying to dodge the incoming flame, but the ale he drank a few seconds earlier had affected his movement heavily, making him unable to dodge as fast as before.
Fine!
A red tentacle shot forth towards the ceiling, pulling Gnawdwell to safety before the flames left everything under him charred and roasted, and he decided to make the beast pay for ruining his throne, even though he was the one who tossed it at its skull. Gnawdwell shot out the ale that had been stored in his mouth through the torch, flames splashed against the abominations flesh, seeping into the cracks of its skull, literally burning the insides of its mind.
As the flames crackled on its flesh, it laid motionless while its, albeit small brain, was turned into ash, but even then, it still tried to mangle him, even when its entire body was covered in flames. The red tentacle let go of the ceiling, dropping Gnawdwell down, who barely landed on his two feet.
"I may be a bit dizzy, but I can still kick yer-"
With one final blow, the beasts arms wrapped around the pillars in an attempt to land a blow on Gnawdwell, but he was too fast, too quick, even when he drank an entire bottle of ale. He grabbed a hold of the ax made of the red sludge and ripped it out of the abominations head, dragging along the remains of its charred mind, and its tongue, whilst shattering the skull into pieces.
"Not so hard, was it?"
He laughed, as he fell to the ground, gasping for air as the sludge that covered his body receded back into him, leaving an out of breath Gnawdwell on the cold stone.
"Master Gnawdwell!"
"Wait, what..?"
Gnawdwell looked at Queek in confusion, why was he here? Where were his servants? He couldn't understand why his throne room was left empty, and where was Queek when he was fighting?
When he realized what was happening, It dropped like a bag of stones on his head, how could he not have noticed? His own troops, and perhaps even the Grey Seer had seen him fight the abomination as a giant, red monster for no particular reason. But he did feel like he and Carnage did make some leeway in their "friendship."
But he did not have time to celebrate their bonding session, as he looked at Queek, he knew would have to explain sooner or later, but right now he needed the quickest form of transportation to Altdorf.
"Are you sure you want to come with me?"
"Yes, it does not matter-matter to me if I become exiled, I will kill-die for you, Master."
"I'll explain everything when we get far, far away from here."
"But where are we going?"
Gnawdwell grunted, signaling Queek to follow him outside the throne room.
"Where else? Altdorf."
"But how-how?"
The cavern shook, stones and pebbles fell from the ceiling as the thrum of an engine powered by warpstone came into the warrens. A warprail was a rail made of warpstone, accompanied by huge, deformed train cars, able to carry hundreds upon hundreds of cargo.
An entire army could be deployed at a city in less than a few hours, and easily disappear in the same amount of time.
"Perfect. Just perfect."
The Grey Seer stood upon a tall wooden platform, overlooking the horde of confused stormvermin, and clanrats. The arena was in shambles, clues of the fight had still remained, even droplets of red sludge could be found.
"Listen, ratkin! Today we have seen-seen heresy before our very eyes! Gnawdwell, Warlord of Clan Mors has been seen dabbling in heretic magic, once a Mighty One to the Horned Rat, but now a horrible abomination in his eyes!"
The rats didn't really understand what the white skaven was saying, but it quickly riled them up, forgetting their "loyalty" to Gnawdwell in an instant, even the Red Guard shouted challenges to him, even if he wasn't there.
"He has disgraced the Horned Rat, and for that, he must be punished-killed! Seek-find Gnawdwell, kill-kill him and any who get in your way!"
Immediately the horde marched towards the throne room, where the fight had ended, with the intent to tear apart their former Warlord. The Grey Seer couldn't help but smile as he leisurely chased the horde, content with the fact he was condemned one of the main instigators of the Council.
By the time the horde had reached the throne room, both Queek and Gnawdwell were gone, in fact, they weren't even in the Under-City anymore.
"Do we-we have to ride on top of the rail-thing?"
"I want no one to see my face, nor when I have… him helping me."
"Alright-alright, Master…"
"Queek?"
"Yes?"
"Call me Gnawdwell."
Queek's face brightened right before the train shot forth like a bullet, it was barely able to hold onto the warprail as it sped through the Under-City in a matter of seconds, an impressive feat. Such unmatched speed, however, came at a cost. Like most machines made by skaven, it was likely to malfunction, explode, or something totally unexpected would happen.
"I feel like I'm going to fall off-off!"
"Just keep holding onto me."
Queek was uncomfortable as he tightly held onto Gnawdwell, who was covered in the red sludge from before, with both of his hands "glued" onto the roof of the train car they were on.
"Are you-you going to explain why we-we going to Altdorf?"
"Soon, my loyal friend, soon."
Queek didn't really know what to do with his compliment, he had never really been called a friend before, he didn't really know what it meant either.
I'm coming, my son.
Let us hope we get there in time.
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams
The thrums of stormvermin training awoke the large, muscular rat sitting in his throne, his dark red armor void of any shine, and of dirt. His personal guard, a rat in bright red armor, the legendary Queek Headtaker, servant of Gnawdwell of Clan Mors. Gnawdwell let loose a tremendous sigh, letting his eyes drift to his apprentice. Queek merely stared at the large, rotten doors that led into the throne room, with several pillars devoid of any personalization, with a long, dark red carpet leading to his throne, like any normal human castle. Gnawdwell couldn't help but compare Queek to him, they were nothing alike, yet he considered the black furred, genocidal maniac his son, most likely to a fill a void that was formed years ago. Of course, how could he forget that gruesome day? One of the few people that made him care about anything other than his own skin, taken away before he could fully enjoy their company.
"Gnawdwell! Gnawdwell!"
A rat in pitch black, wearing a mask of the same color. The marks on the rats left ear told him everything that he needed to know about him.
"What is it you want, Eshin?" Gnawdwell had dealt with Clan Eshin before, on numerous occasions, luckily he always had Queek by his side at all times.
"Speak quickly, before I decide you are food for the ogres!" Gnawdwell was not known for his patience, but he always tried to restrain his outbursts, his troops always silently thanked him, even if they didn't know it.
"A skaven-fool had gotten himself captured-taken by man-things! The Council Of Thirteen demands you send several battalions of your best-good clanrats, or stormvermin to deal-kill the rat-idiot!" As the rat chattered incessantly about the rat-fool, he passed the parchment to quick, who was just one fur away from chopping off the Eshin's head.
"But why me, why not another smaller clan?" Queek expressed Gnawdwell's frustration by tearing apart one of the many skavenslaves working as his servants into many pieces, with his weapon Dwarf Gouger, a pickaxe made of gromril that could wreak havoc on his foe's armor.
"You are the closest-near to the rat, he hides in Altdorf with the man-thing called Balthasar, you must make haste-scurry, for their man-thing leaders have discovered him-him!"
"Very well, run along Eshin, Queek is getting hungry…" Not wanting to be devoured by the Headtaker, the Eshin promptly left the throne room. Gnawdwell slumped in his ornately decorated throne, the only thing that he bothered to even paint and make it look somewhat bearable to look at.
"Master Warlord, must-must we heed coward's command? He stinks of musk-fear!" Queek made sure to emphasize his point by impaling a skavenslave in the skull with Dwarf Gouger.
"An order from the Council must not be taken lightly, Queek, even I have to listen to them." Queek merely sulked beside Gnawdwell, not wanting to anger his master by speaking back. Gnawdwell could see what was gnawing at his ever loyal companion, so he quickly sent him away to gorge himself on the finest of meats, well, he wouldn't call eating his own kind the finest meat available. Growing tired of his obnoxious looking throne, he quickly settled onto the stone cold floor, and walked over to the end of the room, revealing a wooden door with a golden doorknob. He twisted the doorknob and walked into the small, cramped room, but it exuded an aura of homeliness to him, a sense of belonging, something that he barely felt.
He let out an enormous sigh, taking in the beauty of the room, it had brought back memories of what used to be his life, but not all of the memories were exactly full of joy. The room itself contained a lone bed, sized for a large man, several candles placed upon the nightstand next to it, and a table with a large candle in the middle, presumably the dining table. There were no windows, of course, this was underground, but yet he could feel the warmth of the sun on him, unlike other skaven, he didn't mind the sun, in fact, he loved it more than inhaling the dangerous gasses that flew around the warrens.
But something else caught his beady red eye, a thin photo encased in glass, with the edges being covered in the purest of gold. The picture displayed him, without his ominous armor on, and two others, a small brown ratling, and an elven maid, with bright purple eyes, and blonde hair, and like other elves, she had elongated ears with sharp points at the end of them. He couldn't bear the pain, even after a few months, which to skaven was a couple of years, he still hurt whenever he saw that dreaded picture, always reminding him of the day they died. He picked up the near weightless picture, and stared at it, longingly.
Don't tell me you miss them Gnawdwell, you knew this was going to happen, Orion was never kind to skaven even before the marriage.
"That doesn't make it hurt any less, Carnage." The voice in his head tried to make some points, but Gnawdwell didn't care, why should he? He just wanted his family back, nothing more, if he could, he'd kill his entire clan, even his loyal bodyguard just to see them again, even if it was for a tiny moment.
You are the reason they died Gnawdwell, you lost control, you lost your temper, and in your failure, they died.
"Be quiet, you never loved them, not as I did."
Me? Falling in love? Ha, you're quite a good jokester Gnawdwell! Like all emotions, love makes us weak, it makes us soft, it makes us vulnerable, I did only what was needed to survive.
Gnawdwell felt tears rise to his eyes, wetting his pitch black fur, making a tiny sound as they hit the wooden floorboards that had been rotted away by the passage of time.
Even now you feel guilt, remorse, but why? You knew what would happen if you used me, everything comes with a price, out of all the people in the world, I expect you to know that the best.
"Quiet, please…"
Why don't we go back to that day, Gnawdwell? Why don't we see what your actions had done to help them?
He wiped away the tears from his eyes, but then he found himself in a grassland, trees abundant with life, with the leaves and branches swaying both in the air and in the wind. A small little cottage, covered in green vines, tiny tree saplings, and bright colored flowers. A place that Gnawdwell would've loved to go to, a place where he wanted to go to pay his respects, but he couldn't bring himself to it, always making an excuse why he shouldn't go, but now that he saw it, he was only filled with a sense of regret and dread.
You're not the only one who can access the Winds, Gnawdwell. With just a little stream of magic, you can basically do anything you want, well, except end the world.
"Why?" Despite his persistent thought process of avoiding the cottage, he just ignored them, tossed them aside as he got closer to the small little house.
Why? Is that it? That's the only question you have? Well, I don't need to answer it, you're almost there.
He saw a small brown ratling, and the blonde elven maid, at this he was elated, but upon closer inspection, he saw they were only illusions. Gnawdwell could hear the screaming, the shouting in the house, he knew who was in there, and what was about to happen. He looked away from the illusions, ignoring them as he walked into the house, but deep down, he knew this was all of his fault.
"I won't let you take them! Even if I have to burn down Athel Loren!" Gnawdwell gazed upon himself, wearing the same dark red armor, but he seemed slightly shorter than before.
"The Gods forbid this, Gnawdwell, species should not intermingle, much less elf and skaven!" The man had legs of a bull, curved horns, and he was approximately nine feet tall, overshadowing Gnawdwell's height, who was seven feet tall, a common height for black furred skaven, or more commonly known as Mighty Ones.
"I don't care about the Gods! Much less yours!" The illusion spat on the floor in front of the shimmering Orion.
"You've crossed the line this time, Gnawdwell, and for that, you must pay in blood!" Orion seemingly materialized a spear in his hand and threw it straight into the rat's chest. Even the real Gnawdwell could feel the pain as if it had just happened. He found it weird to stare at his dead body, knowingly that just in a few moments, the tragedy would commence. The elven maid peeked into the cottage, only to see a shimmering Orion over a near dead Gnawdwell, tearing out the spear embedded in his chest.
"You should have listened, Gnawdwell, now your son will live without a father."
Lies. All of them were lies, the same murky red sludge that had covered his body all of those months back were right in front of him, the same thing he always hated with fiery compassion. It was supposed to be a blessing, but instead it became a curse, he never wanted Carnage, but he came all the same.
"And you should have run when you had the chance!" Carnage grabbed a hold of Orion's neck, strangling him into submission, his head nearly broke through the roof, but fortunately like him, he was able to hunch back his full size. Orion desperately clawed at the giant red hands, but it was all in vain, as Carnage threw him around like he was nothing but a ragdoll.
"You will die elf, just like I have killed your kind before, and I won't stop, even if I have been shot, skewered, stabbed, or doused in flames, I will bring Carnage to this world, even if it means slaughtering my own family." Carnage threw down the limpless body of his foe, his fangs agonizingly waiting to eat.
"You can't do this, even if he wants to take me away, I still have to listen to him!" Carnage turned his bulky, muscular head to set his eyes upon his prey.
"Then you shall take his place."
Gnawdwell sat in a corner, watching himself tear apart his wife, devouring her corpse greedily, tossing organs and limbs away as if they meant nothing to him. He saw his son in the far distance, running as far as his tiny legs could take him. Once the illusion was done, the murky red sludge receded back into Gnawdwell, who realized what he had done.
"No! No! No! This can't be happening, you promised me you would handle it!"
"You wanted him gone, you never specified how." This was all an illusion, but why did it felt so real? He wanted to leave, he wanted to stop this, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, he had to see what he did at the end. The illusion of Gnawdwell, instead of grieving, rummaged in a closet, pulling out a musket with a bayonet at the end of the barrel. He tossed it away and continued searching for the item in the closet for a good solid minute when at last he found what he needed in order to repent for his crimes. A small warplock pistol, stronger than most imperial firearms. Skaven runes were etched onto the pistol, but the illusion didn't care, he merely pointed the gun at one of the sides of his head, with his finger twitching on the trigger. Gnawdwell looked away, he knew what was going to happen, he was too much of a coward to do it, his survival instincts wouldn't let him pull the trigger, this feeling he knew all too well.
The illusion tossed the gun into a wall, shattering it into pieces, as he fell onto his knees, and howled cries of agony, pain, but the one cry that was louder than the rest was his guilt, he was supposed to protect his family, not end them. In the end, Gnawdwell walked out of the house with his broken illusion, eyes void of any emotion, except his shame and remorse of course. The illusion wasn't going to leave her lifeless body there, but he knew he couldn't take her back to the clan warrens, so he did what he thought was close enough to a burial. With a snap of his finger, a tree was lit on fire, the fire voraciously eating away at the tree, and spreading throughout the entire grassland. He walked away, meeting one the many skaven tunnels leading back into Clan Mor's headquarters, and with one final glance, he said goodbye to the burning cottage, and delved deep into the tunnel, making sure to leave no trace that he was ever there.
Gnawdwell was hungry for air on the bed, realizing that he had come back to reality, he rushed out of the cramped little room, and dug into a box behind his throne, grabbing a hold of a large bottle, and chugged it all down, spilling all of its contents on his armor.
Stop it! That can make fire!
"Whoop-de-do, like I care." Gnawdwell tossed away the bottle, only to ran face first into Queek.
"Master? You smell-musk weird, have you been stealing-drink man-thing ale?"
"Preposterous, as if I'-" Gnawdwell let out a burp, and started giggling at his little accident.
"It is forbidden to drink-steal ale from man-things! It makes skaven lose focus-kill power in battle, and in planning-coordination!" Queek found Gnawdwell's box of goodies, and promptly tried to dump them away.
"No, wait! I mean, ahem, as your master, I demand you to give me that box!" Queek turned his head and stared into his master's red eyes, which were unfocused, his attention was all over the place, the scent of his breath exuding an odor of ale.
"The Council can screw-send themselves to hell!" Queek grabbed a bottle from the box in his grasp and chugged it all down, just like Gnawdwell had.
"Now we're talking, how about he go down and remind the lads who are the bosses of this warren?"
"Sounds grea-" Queek hiccuped, which sent the two into a flurry of laughter, and placed one of their arms over each other, and walked out of the throne room.
A few hours later, Gnawdwell awoke on a pile of unconscious rat bodies, along with the Headtaker, who had just barely begun to wake up. Reluctantly, Gnawdwell groggily stood up from the mound, but it was hard to get a footing on top dozens of rats.
"What happened last night? Or was it the day? Ugh, I can't remember right now…" Gnawdwell made sure to mind where he placed his footing, he didn't want to lose a foot to a weakling. Once he got to Queek, he grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently, causing his armor to make several clangs.
"Huh? I swear I no drink man-thing ale Grey Seer-lord!" Gnawdwell looked at the Mighty One strangely but proceeded to jump off the mound of bodies, with Queek not far behind.
"What are we-we doing master-kill the man-things, eat rat-fool?"
"I'll think about it."
The two walked down the street if Gnawdwell could even call it a street. The so-called buildings of skaven ingenuity produced horrifying sights that could kill an engineer, buildings were tilted, the sidewalks were shambled together with mud, dirt, stone, whatever was on hand was used. But then there was the buildings plagued by skaven, the buildings they never really bothered to tear down, buildings made by dwarfs, elves, even humans. The two walked in silence to a part of the Clan Mors Headquarters, a place with a certain reputation.
"So-so, we no speak of party-thing?"
"What party?"
Queek didn't understand what he meant, but he went along with it. Gnawdwell let out a sigh at his incompetent bodyguard, but he did have a certain murderous charm. There was one thing that Gnawdwell knew for certain that his kind liked, and that was keeping trophies of their successes, but he thought Queek took it a bit too far. Whenever his loyal companion would chop off a enemies head off, he would impale it on a spike on his back, proudly displaying it to his comrades.
"Hurry up, the Council is getting impatient."
"Council is here-here? Queek will display trophies for all to admire-fear!"
Gnawdwell smiled, not for Queek's interest to show off his trophies, but the fact he could send fear through the Council. Once they had arrived at the headquarters, they didn't receive that much of a warm welcome. Immediately, Gnawdwell wished it wasn't heresy to kill a Grey Seer.
"Fool-fool! You are late, you are always like this, do you not care for what the Horned rat says?" Gnawdwell grunted in frustration, whenever the Grey Seers could, they always played the religion card, it always gained their favor, and might cause the other to be humiliated in public if he declines his offer.
"I have pledged myself to the Horned Rat, I will never break my vow, and I will spread Ruin and Decay in his name." Gnawdwell didn't really care much for spreading Ruin and Decay for the Horned Rat, but again, Grey Seers are the messengers, and they cannot be ignored. Though his fingers did itch on the hilt of his sword.
"We must make plan to kill man-things, bring the rat fool here and execute him promptly, he brings heresy to our race!"
"'O yes, most intelligent and cunning Grey Seer." One of the greatest weapons an underling could use to calm down his superior whenever he goes into a fit of rage, flattery always made skaven bask in the glow of the who said that even if he was being sarcastic. Luckily for him, the Grey Seer took this as a sign of submission and invited the rest of the rats who the council sent to plan out the execution. A rat in a dark hood, completely black eyes entered the room along with a rat who looks like he spent a bit too long near the plague, several of his fingers had fallen off, and one of his eyes was rotted to the point where it looked like mush replaced it. Finally, a rat completely covered in metal, along with a gas tank at the back entered last, probably the most submissive one.
"This is Meek, Death Runner of Clan Eshin, Rawat, Plague Priest of Clan Pestilens, and Ratata, Warlock Engineer of Clan Skryre, these three will aid you in the capture of the rat."
"Thank you, the most generous and intelligent prophet of the Horned Rat."
Gnawdwell looked over at his "allies", who most likely would stab him in the back at the best chance they could.
"I will now leave you four to settle this, the Council demands this to be done with precision! Do not come back if you reek the stench of failure!" With that, the Grey Seer vanished in an explosion of smoke. Gnawdwell looked over at his new companions, who were already trying to kill each other at the moment. If only stares could kill people with enough murderous intent.
"Welp, I'll leave you three alone for a few hours, while you do that, I'll muster up my clanrats and stormvermin, and then I'll fill you in the plan." Gnawdwell didn't care about their answer, nor did he give them enough time to say anything, as he came sprinting out of the headquarters just to get away from the horrible stench of the Plague Priest. Queek, who prevented anyone from going in by standing in front of the door, was barely able to react in time to get out of his warlord's way, as he bursted out the door, several rats casted curious glances seeing the fearsome Headtaker desperately trying to catch his master. Gnawdwell didn't dare stop until he arrived at his throne room, with Queek stumbling near him, gasping for air. Gnawdwell didn't break a single sweat.
"M-master, why the sprinting? I am good-good in combat, not running-sneaking!"
"I apologize..? Anyway, I need you to guard the entrance to the throne room, I must grab something from my personal quarters." Without uttering a single world, Queek obeyed his warlord, as Gnawdwell went back into his own personal hell. Yet someone was waiting for him, it wasn't hard to notice since he was sitting on his throne, with two hammers gently leaning on one side of the throne, he exuded an aura of fascination, but it didn't really affect Gnawdwell, probably because he didn't care. The man was clad in armor, with several brands of Sigmar printed on each plate, the symbol looked like an orange hammer with orange wings sprouting from the sides, a god praised by the men of the Empire, but that was all Gnawdwell knew about him. He didn't take interest in learning about cultures that he was going to make go extinct soon.
"We meet again, Gnawdwell." The man shifted in the throne, trying his best to make it comfortable for himself, despite his armor being covered entirely in armor, he wore the helm of knights.
"What do you want? Do you want my soul, or to destroy my clan? Well? What is it!?" Gnawdwell despised this man, having met him before in different circumstances, and it didn't really end well for Gnawdwell, his underlings say the gods favor him, but he thinks they have a certain level of hatred for him.
"What more can you take from me? You introduced me to Him, and now I lost everything," Gnawdwell spat on the ground in front of the man in absolute anger. "What else do you want from me?"
"You are nothing, but a mere revenant, a spirit that is already dead, but doesn't realize it. If you had the guts to pull the trigger all of your suffering would end, but you didn't, because you knew it was wrong, even if it was the wrong choice." The man rose from the throne, barely any taller than Gnawdwell.
"Believe it or not, you have morals, just like your son."
"Don't you DARE bring him into this!" At this point, Gnawdwell wanted to rip off the man's head, he wanted to kill him, no, he didn't just want to kill him, he wanted the man to feel helpless as he strung his own guts across the floor, to see him in such agony and pain that would bring a smile to his face.
"At any point, that isn't the reason for my visit."
That seemed to calm down his murderous urges, letting his curiosity get the better of him.
"Then why are you here, if it is not to mock me?"
"I've come to deliver news, news that might bring you hope in your ever so sad existence."
Gnawdwell had wanted to interrupt the man by ripping out his throat, but he decided against it.
"I want you to pay attention closely because I will not say this again."
That perked Gnawdwell's ears, even if he was different from his kind, they always wanted to hear something they have never heard of before, even if the information is dangerous.
"Your son lives."
Gnawdwell felt several bells ringing loudly in his head, unable to process the information, as he stumbled towards the door, opening them with several years of pent up rage. As he thought more about it, the louder the bells rang, trying their best to tell him the information was false, that he shouldn't believe the man, but yet he felt what he said was true, for why would someone lie about that? Gnawdwell stumbled, and fell to the ground, showing a rage that Queek has never seen the likes of, much less seen. He could hear voices, screaming, shouting at him, no longer than did he feel anger, but guilt, the guilt of leaving his own flesh and blood to die in the wilderness, the wilderness he made into a wasteland.
"Master!"
Voices, all he could hear was ringing and voices, it was too much for him, he needed to beat the crap out of something, and he needed to do it now. He took a look at the marketplace if you could call it one. Something caught his attention, something that he could take the pleasure of slaughtering in combat. The warbeasts of Moulder had just arrived, and he was itching to kill one.
A rat ogre seemed tempting, but he had fought one bare-handed before, but something exotic caught his eye, one of the greatest creations made by the infamous Clan Moulder, the Hell-Pit Abomination.
"Master?"
"I need to go… release some pent up stress."
Queek didn't question further, for even he could see the rage welling up in his master, a rage that can only be extinguished in the heat of combat.
"Bring the abomination to the arena, I'm thirsting for blood."
'The a-abomination? Are you sure-sure?"
"Don't question me Queek, I am stronger than you know."
Queek reluctantly heeded his master's command and went out to gather the packmasters to aid him in moving the beast. Gnawdwell could smell the blood, the rage from here, he would do anything to keep his mind off of that particular subject, even if it meant death. From the cliff overlooking the market, he could see squadrons of packmasters being led by Queek, clamping their thing catchers around the beast's various limbs, dragging it screaming towards the giant dome building. Out of curiosity, rats started gathering behind the roaring abomination, even stormvermin came, even if they were disobeying orders. Gnawdwell made his way to the arena, a place where criminals, slaves, or warbeasts prove their worth. The horde of rats gathered into the makeshift bleachers, which didn't look at all reliable, after all, they looked rotten and decayed, just like how the ratmen liked it. Of course, the squadrons that were dragging the abomination didn't leave unscathed, several were murdered when one had released the thing catcher on one of its arms, luckily one had accidentally run into the arena, and promptly devoured the small rat, with the gate closing behind it. Gnawdwell walked past the maimed bodies, not really caring for them, as Queek joined the other stormvermin in the bleachers. The stadium itself was comprised of large walls made of steel, with several supports and staircases leading up to the seats on the sides.
One of Queek's most elite stormvermin, a Red Guard, turned to him.
"Who is fighting-die today?"
Queek remained silent, not wanting to indulge even his most trusted troops on the information. Peace before the storm, as people say, as when Gnawdwell walked into the arena, it became silent for a few seconds. Queek may have been not as bright as most other rats, but he knew when it was getting extremely tense, so he screamed out a random war chant repeatedly, which led to another repeating, then another, and then another, until the entire crowd started screaming, "FOR THE HORNED RAT!"
"Fools, all of them fools, mere children waiting to be praised." He'll slaughter them, he'll kill them all, shred them into tiny bits until there is nothing left, but him standing upon the mounds that their bodies made. Then he felt himself tremble, but not in fear of the monster in front of him, nor did he tremble in fear for anything. Could it be guilt, remorse, or something else? Gnawdwell didn't know, nor did he want to, maybe it was the bells in his head deterring his mind from his main goal, but he started to enjoy them, even if they made him ear deaf.
He glanced at the abomination, he could feel it's pain, suffering, it's primitive mind gasping for death, the reason why it did so great in combat, is because it wanted to feel the sweet release of death. Its existence causes it agonizing pain, so what could it do, then fight in a hopeless battle? But yet it all felt wrong, all of the feelings that the abomination made, felt like a masquerade, a mere lure to a trap.
Move it!
Gnawdwell was fast, even for a Mighty One, but the monster was faster, it turned its immense bulk around, reared back its head, and spewed forth rivers of flame from its maw. Gnawdwell could barely dodge the flames, but he had fallen into the trap of the beast, as he ended up impaled to the wall, with its solid steel blade, which replaced its hand.
"Dammit!"
The abominations jaws opened up, the heat was slowly rising, driving Carnage into a panic. The monster only drove the steel blade deeper into Gnawdwell's chest, who was taking this fairly well, for a giant blade being forcefully driven into his body.
Why did we even do this!?
I'll be honest with you, even I don't know.
So you don't know why you decided to fight a creature that breathes fire when our weakness is fire?!
Berate me how you want, but even this won't stop me.
Say that to the beast breathing fire in front of us.
How was I supposed to know these things breathe fire?
You were there when it was made!
Well, unless they added some new features, no Carnage, I didn't know.
The abomination poked Gnawdwell's head, but with no success, he got no response, he was too busy having an inner war with himself to even react to it.
Again, why are we doing this?
I don't know!
But why?
Thought you wanted to bring carnage upon the world, how are you going to do it if you're scared of fire?
Well, I- Shut up!
Exactly, even you can't commit to your goal, you're too afraid of facing something that is your weakness, something that could kill you, so you refuse to take it head-on.
But then why do you fight?
Because I also refuse to take my weakness head-on, for I am too afraid to face it.
You'd rather face a monster, then face… Him?
Guilt and regret are immeasurable, Carnage, sometimes even worse than pain, something you've never felt in your entire existence.
You don't know that…
Then tell me, Carnage! What do you regret, what weighs heavy upon you that makes you want to rip apart the world, that makes you want to tear it into tiny shreds?
The same thing that made you hate the world.
What?
The abomination was growing tired of the limpless ragdoll on its blade, so he did what every sane monster does, throwing the said body away like a pile of trash.
Oh crap, I forgot we were fighting a monster.
Gnawdwell finally returned back to reality, finally acknowledging the burning pain that was the hole in his chest, immediately coughing spurts of blood onto the yellow sand that covered the entire arena floor. He looked up to see the monster slowly moving towards him, gradually, he felt fear seeping into his mind.
This might seem desperate, but I think I need your help.
Alright.
What?
I already said alright, let's get this over with.
I thought you were scared of fire.
It is worse to die fearing something than to overcome it with death.
Gnawdwell felt the same strength he felt on that day, but this time, it was not overpowering, not thirsting for control, it merely wanted to help.
"About damn time."
The abominations steel blade and spiked iron ball erupted in flames, its tongue was wrapped in flames, idly dangling out of its maw, which Gnawdwell knew could end this fight if he took the full brunt of it head-on. As Gnawdwell became covered in the red sludge that painfully reminded of the slaughter he had done, but he did not have time to reminisce, nor did he have the time to feel.
The two beasts circled around each other, waiting for an opportunity to rip each other into shreds, a wrong move could mean either one of their deaths. Carnage, however, was never good at waiting games, growing ever more impatient as Gnawdwell just stared at the abomination. The abomination opened its gaping maw, and readied itself, as it let loose torrents of hot flame toward Gnawdwell, but he was able to react quickly, and tear apart of the ground below him, and use it as a shield against the flames.
KILL IT QUICKER!
Don't you go insane on me now.
As the volley of flames died down, he threw the hunk of earth at the monster's head, stunning it for a couple of seconds, as both of his monstrous hands turned into axes.
What happened to my arms?
Just a little something I cooked up.
Was that a joke I heard, coming from you right now?
Carnage stayed silent, while Gnawdwell threw one of the axes straight into the abominations head, getting stuck in its bony exterior. It only made the beast even more furious. The beast charged towards Gnawdwell, who was able to dodge it easily, except the fact he got whipped in the face with its flaming tail. The abomination only seemed to get faster, stronger, and tougher as Gnawdwell dodged each of its attacks, each time the beast attacked, it only seemed to get more frenzied with each blow it missed.
"Enough!"
Gnawdwell turned around on a dime, narrowly dodging the beasts charge, and hacked away at the beast's bulk, which seemed to repair itself in front of his very eyes. The abomination did the most sensible thing a monster could do if its side was being hacked away by anything really, which is rolling over on its side. Gnawdwell tried to make his escape, but a tiny rat head bit his arm and held on with a ferocious grip. Swiftly, his ax sang through the air as it met his own arm, cutting it off. Finally being able to escape being made a pancake, he rolled out of the abominations attempt of flattening him.
"Alright, I'll be honest with you, how do we kill it?"
Carnage stayed silent, which seemed to infuriate Gnawdwell, as the abomination once again began prepared its infernal breath. The ax stuck in the skull of the beast shifted ever deeper where it struck, essentially making cracks all over the abominations head. While Gnawdwell and his foe were thinking about what to do, he looked over at his amputated arm and found it had regenerated. He needed something heavy, powerful enough to stagger his foe, but is able to negate its regeneration, until something caught his eye, well, to be more specific, his hand. He knew his face had been hit by the beasts flaming tail, but he found that it hadn't healed as fast as his arm.
What if fire can stop the regeneration?
Gnawdwell didn't expect a response, but he was willing to try. The beast, however, seemed to be in pristine condition, or, it looked the same as it had at the beginning of the battle
I'll take that as a yes then!
Gnawdwell, instead of facing the beastie head-on, sprinted towards the gate, and charged through it, ripping apart the walls it had been chained to. The abomination was soon in chase of him, however, as it seemed to close the gap between them soon. He grabbed a torch was embedded in the stone beneath it and ran faster than before, knowingly that the monster behind him could devour him in its flames soon. His body shivered with the torch in his hand, even if Carnage didn't make noise, or say anything, he could feel his fear of it, he couldn't help but connect with his fear, even if his fear was about someone.
Gnawdwell busted down the throne room doors, tore his throne off the stone, tossing it into the abomination's face, and grabbed the box in front of him. The beast recovered from the tossed throne, which made the red ax dig even deeper into its skull, causing the cracks around it to become even wider and deeper.
"Have some of your own medicine, beastie!"
Gnawdwell dug into the box, whipping out a bottle that smelled of ale, popped it open and chugged it all down. Unfortunately, he drank too much and swallowed all of it.
"O-oh damn, give me a second to pop open another."
The monster didn't seem very intent on being burned, crushing the pillars that blocked its way to Gnawdwell, it's rat heads eager to taste his blood. Already feeling the effects of the alcohol, Gnawdwell fumbled with the box as he clumsily pulled out another bottle, popping it open sloppily, and drank just enough for his plan to work. He held up the torch in his hand up to his mouth, with the abomination's head gnashing through the middle of the pillars, with several other smaller heads, but then it opened its maw and unleashed torrents of flame.
Gnawdwell stumbled, trying to dodge the incoming flame, but the ale he drank a few seconds earlier had affected his movement heavily, making him unable to dodge as fast as before.
Fine!
A red tentacle shot forth towards the ceiling, pulling Gnawdwell to safety before the flames left everything under him charred and roasted, and he decided to make the beast pay for ruining his throne, even though he was the one who tossed it at its skull. Gnawdwell shot out the ale that had been stored in his mouth through the torch, flames splashed against the abominations flesh, seeping into the cracks of its skull, literally burning the insides of its mind.
As the flames crackled on its flesh, it laid motionless while its, albeit small brain, was turned into ash, but even then, it still tried to mangle him, even when its entire body was covered in flames. The red tentacle let go of the ceiling, dropping Gnawdwell down, who barely landed on his two feet.
"I may be a bit dizzy, but I can still kick yer-"
With one final blow, the beasts arms wrapped around the pillars in an attempt to land a blow on Gnawdwell, but he was too fast, too quick, even when he drank an entire bottle of ale. He grabbed a hold of the ax made of the red sludge and ripped it out of the abominations head, dragging along the remains of its charred mind, and its tongue, whilst shattering the skull into pieces.
"Not so hard, was it?"
He laughed, as he fell to the ground, gasping for air as the sludge that covered his body receded back into him, leaving an out of breath Gnawdwell on the cold stone.
"Master Gnawdwell!"
"Wait, what..?"
Gnawdwell looked at Queek in confusion, why was he here? Where were his servants? He couldn't understand why his throne room was left empty, and where was Queek when he was fighting?
When he realized what was happening, It dropped like a bag of stones on his head, how could he not have noticed? His own troops, and perhaps even the Grey Seer had seen him fight the abomination as a giant, red monster for no particular reason. But he did feel like he and Carnage did make some leeway in their "friendship."
But he did not have time to celebrate their bonding session, as he looked at Queek, he knew would have to explain sooner or later, but right now he needed the quickest form of transportation to Altdorf.
"Are you sure you want to come with me?"
"Yes, it does not matter-matter to me if I become exiled, I will kill-die for you, Master."
"I'll explain everything when we get far, far away from here."
"But where are we going?"
Gnawdwell grunted, signaling Queek to follow him outside the throne room.
"Where else? Altdorf."
"But how-how?"
The cavern shook, stones and pebbles fell from the ceiling as the thrum of an engine powered by warpstone came into the warrens. A warprail was a rail made of warpstone, accompanied by huge, deformed train cars, able to carry hundreds upon hundreds of cargo.
An entire army could be deployed at a city in less than a few hours, and easily disappear in the same amount of time.
"Perfect. Just perfect."
The Grey Seer stood upon a tall wooden platform, overlooking the horde of confused stormvermin, and clanrats. The arena was in shambles, clues of the fight had still remained, even droplets of red sludge could be found.
"Listen, ratkin! Today we have seen-seen heresy before our very eyes! Gnawdwell, Warlord of Clan Mors has been seen dabbling in heretic magic, once a Mighty One to the Horned Rat, but now a horrible abomination in his eyes!"
The rats didn't really understand what the white skaven was saying, but it quickly riled them up, forgetting their "loyalty" to Gnawdwell in an instant, even the Red Guard shouted challenges to him, even if he wasn't there.
"He has disgraced the Horned Rat, and for that, he must be punished-killed! Seek-find Gnawdwell, kill-kill him and any who get in your way!"
Immediately the horde marched towards the throne room, where the fight had ended, with the intent to tear apart their former Warlord. The Grey Seer couldn't help but smile as he leisurely chased the horde, content with the fact he was condemned one of the main instigators of the Council.
By the time the horde had reached the throne room, both Queek and Gnawdwell were gone, in fact, they weren't even in the Under-City anymore.
"Do we-we have to ride on top of the rail-thing?"
"I want no one to see my face, nor when I have… him helping me."
"Alright-alright, Master…"
"Queek?"
"Yes?"
"Call me Gnawdwell."
Queek's face brightened right before the train shot forth like a bullet, it was barely able to hold onto the warprail as it sped through the Under-City in a matter of seconds, an impressive feat. Such unmatched speed, however, came at a cost. Like most machines made by skaven, it was likely to malfunction, explode, or something totally unexpected would happen.
"I feel like I'm going to fall off-off!"
"Just keep holding onto me."
Queek was uncomfortable as he tightly held onto Gnawdwell, who was covered in the red sludge from before, with both of his hands "glued" onto the roof of the train car they were on.
"Are you-you going to explain why we-we going to Altdorf?"
"Soon, my loyal friend, soon."
Queek didn't really know what to do with his compliment, he had never really been called a friend before, he didn't really know what it meant either.
I'm coming, my son.
Let us hope we get there in time.
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Questions, And More Questions
Gnawdwell awoke to the sound of a timid voice, a voice filled with both fear and curiosity. As much as he wanted to inspect the voice, his body felt like lead, even his eyes felt like a chore just to open. But when he did, he saw a small white rat, rubbing his hands together in anxiousness. Though he couldn't put his finger on it, the rat seemed familiar, almost as if he had met him before.
"What is it?"
The rat yelped in surprise, it looked like he didn't expect that much of a response from him.
"O-oh, I thought…"
"Thought what? That I was dead? It's gonna take a bit more than you to kill me."
Gnawdwell could hear Carnage scoffing in the back of his mind, he could hear his insane companion going on how he almost killed both of them.
"I just came for...answers."
"What kind of answers are you looking for?"
"T-that's the problem, I d-don't really know…"
"Then why are you here?"
Gnawdwell could sense that he was pressuring the small rat, making him even more anxious than before. But then, he saw a flash of alien-like intelligence in his eyes.
"Who are you?"
"Looks like someone put on their big boy pants."
"Just answer the question."
"Fine, I am Gnawdwell, leader of Clan Mors, and the second seat in the Council Of Thirteenth."
"I know that someone as important as you shouldn't be here, at least not without an entire army."
"I had something important to deliver."
"What could've been so important, that you, yourself, had to deliver it?"
Gnawdwell thought to himself on how to maneuver this situation, he wished that the rat returned to his more timid, anxious state.
"I had to deliver a message."
"What does that mean, what is the message?"
"I won't tell you."
"Why?"
"I haven't had my drink yet."
This seemed to confuse the white rat, he stumbled back from the cell in surprise.
"What?'
"Get me a drink, and then I'll talk."
"Deal!" Gnawdwell let out a sigh of relief, at least he'd be wasted when he spilled his guts out onto a table. The white rat hurriedly made his leave, his footsteps echoing throughout the dungeon, becoming quieter as he moved further from Gnawdwell's cell. A red tendril sprouted from his shoulder, forming into a crimson colored head with white streaks for eyes.
"Now, do you want the bad news or the really bad news?"
"How 'bout both?"
"You've torn our bonds apart, fool! It'll take ages for me to fix this!"
"I thought you were great at...uhhh, what's the word?"
"You don't even know the very thing that has kept you alive all these years. My god."
"It's fine, not a big deal."
"Since most of the bonds were destroyed by your little stunt, we won't be able to transform for some time, and I won't have the time to repair your...disgusting body."
"I thought we talked about not insulting my body."
Carnage scoffed, retreating back to resume his work on repairing himself.
"It'll work out. I know it will."
Do you really think he'll really talk if we just make him wasted?
"Not really, but...who'd miss a single bottle?"
I'm thinking we're gonna need more than a bottle.
"Psh, how much can one rat drink?"
Arthur slowed down to a walk, processing what he just said.
"Rats...don't drink ale."
Nor do they stroll around like a giant, red monster.
"Ugh, there's too many things to figure out, let's just focus on getting the bottle."
You're right, we should not try to do everything all at once.
"How nice, we agree on something."
Arthur passed by Victor, who had an expression of confusion and fear. The witch hunter stared at him, while he casually talked to himself.
"What in Sigmar..?"
Don't we need money to buy ale?
"I guess we do."
Why not steal it?
"Because it's wrong."
Who's gonna miss a keg of ale?
"I think the tavern owner would certainly notice an entire keg of ale vanish out of thin air.."
You're no fun.
Arthur laughed, which confused Venom. Before Arthur could literally die from laughter, he heard a voice behind him.
"Oi! Ra-I mean Arthur is it?"
Arthur turned around and gazed up at the huge behemoth before him, the last time Arthur saw Markus, he was covered in bandages and left behind an aura of foul medicine, thankfully, he looked much better now.
"Yes, I am the rat named Arthur."
"Ah, yes, umm…"
Even Venom could sense the tension and how awkward this situation was becoming. Markus coughed, as he had no real experience talking to his enemy.
"How would you like to celebrate with me and my...comrades?"
Aren't they the ones who want to murder you?
Arthur tried his best to beat down Venom's thought, even though it was probably true.
"It'd be rude to say no-"
"Great!"
Arthur was a bit startled by Markus's sudden burst of enthusiasm, as he ran off into another street, shouting at him.
"Come on then!"
How the hell is he so fast? I thought he was nearly dead!
"Don't worry, I'm wondering the exact same thing."
Arthur desperately tried to catch up with Markus, but no matter how hard he turned a corner, or how far he pushed himself, he couldn't catch up with the human. Markus came to a halting stop, walked up some stairs, and opened a door that was built into a large box-like building, with a chimney spewing black smoke at the top. Before Arthur could stop himself, he ran up the stairs like a dog, barging in the heavily crowded tavern.
No wonder why people say to look where you run or, was it walk?
Fortunately for everyone, but Arthur, he rammed himself against a wall.
"Are you okay?"
"Peachy."
"Wot in the bloody name of Sigmar is this lil' psychopath doing here?"
Arthur rose from his little accident, only to see a grinning Victor standing in front of him, and a tankard in both of his hands.
"You fu-" Fortunately for Arthur, Victor was interrupted by his repetitive drinking, hiccuping violently.
"Stop harassing the boy with your drunkenness, and get over here!"
That caught Arthur's attention, as he saw a table with a dwarf, a figure that was completely covered in a green hood and cloak, and the wizard he saw earlier, whose fire died because of the winds of the North.
"Well?" Let's go!"
Arthur yelped as Victor grabbed him by the collar, practically dragging him to the table. As the two got closer to the table, it was filled with joyous laughter, which made Arthur even more anxious. Victor plopped down the white rat onto a chair, as both the dwarf and elf stopped laughing, and gazed intently at him.
"I need -hic- more ale!"
Victor's wasted state didn't exactly help Arthur's sense of discomfort.
"Furry midget!"
"Uh, y-yes?"
"Drink this, it'll make ye feel better!" Victor shoved a tankard full of ale into Arthur's face, with a massive grin. Arthur grabbed a hold of the tankard, and as if instinct took over, chugged it all down.
"I don't…"
I sense discomfort.
Arthur started giggling for no reason, and then Victor joined in on his drunken outburst of laughter. It was like a chain reaction, Markus joined in quickly, and even Bardin started laughing with them, Arthur could swear he heard a few chuckles from the elf as well.
Why are we laughing?
Bewooz we nuud jey!
I see you're not in the right state of mind.
"Heeeeey!"
"What?!"
Victor drained another tankard, quickly grabbing another and chugging it down.
"You wanna see something cool?!"
"SURE!?"
"Why are you two yelling?!"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!"
"WHY ARE WE ALL YELLING?!"
Sienna sat confused, not really sure what to do. Arthur didn't realize it, but soon the table became eerily silent, he took one glance at his shoulder and saw why.
"Stop, this is making my head spin around, you idiot!"
"We're just having fun!"
"You are drunk."
"Yesh."
"Stop."
"Ok…"
Arthur made a motion to put down the tankard in his hand, but he quickly forced Venom to drink it down.
"Blah! What…"
"How do you -hic- feel now?"
The black tendril slumped over, retracting back into Arthur's back.
"HE SLEW THE BEAST WITH ALE!"
"I don't think…"
"HOORAY!"
"CAN YOU ALL STOP SHOUTING?"
"I FEEL LIKE VOMITING!"
Arthur fumbled as he got out of his chair, drunkenly stumbling around the tavern to get to the exit.
"Aw, there goes our friend!
"You made 'im drink so much, umgi, I doubt he'll be able to fight fer days!"
"I think I need to find somewhere secure and private too…"
"Ugh, disgusting!"
"How many tankards have you all drank?"
"I lost count when I reached five."
Arthur sulked to a desolate, private alley, and promptly let loose the contents in his stomach.
The thing you made me drink is conflicting with my thoughts!
Wuz two plus six?
I don't know.
Ah! I smart than you!
At least I can speak full sentences.
Arthur wiped away the remnants of what he ate off of his mouth, as he lazily walked back to the tavern.
"Gods, I feel so...tired."
That is me, trying to suck out this stuff out of your blood.
"Oh...that's nice."
"Chug! Chug! Chug!"
As Arthur looked into the tavern, he saw victor downing an entire keg down into his mouth, with a crowd starting to chant around him. He looked to see the others in a corner, separated from the crowd. Arthur swore he came here for another reason, besides celebrating, but he can't find it.
"Do you know what we came here for?"
Something about a delivering ale to someone.
"Uh, I think I remember now…"
Arthur snatched a lone tankard from a table, and walked out of the tavern, luckily, Victor had distracted everyone in the tavern, so it made stealing it very easy.
I thought you said stealing was wrong?
"It's just a small tankard, who's gonna miss it?"
As Arthur looked up to the sky, he saw that it had changed considerably, it had a darkish-blue tint to it now, which made him assume he had spent several hours in the tavern, but they were enjoyable.
"He sure is taking his sweet time." Gnawdwell shifted his position to make himself more comfortable, but a stone cold floor isn't that comforting in the first place.
"He must've gotten caught up with something." Gnawdwell nodded, as the red tendril rested itself on his shoulder, with its unnerving white streaks that acted like its eyes. The two waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity.
"I hear someone coming." Carnage reacted accordingly, hiding away in Gnawdwell's body, as the echoing footsteps came closer to his cell.
Finally.
The white rat came into his view, standing in front of the cell, with a tankard in his hand.
"So, you finally returned, didn't you?"
"I wasn't gone for that long."
"Anyways, give me that."
Arthur was able to fit the tankard between the bars, passing it on to Gnawdwell.
Not this again.
Oh shut up, you're used to it now.
Gnawdwell didn't care to give Carnage enough time to respond, as he downed it as fast as he had gotten it.
"Now you have to answer our questions!"
"Our?"
"I mean, my questions!"
Gnawdwell sighed, throwing the tankard to Arthur, who barely caught it, and slumped against the back wall of the cell.
"Ask away, a deal was a deal."
Gnawdwell could see the white rat pondering what to ask, but he assumed he was overloaded with questions ever since his encounter with him.
"Who is your wife?"
"Was."
"Uh, let me ask another question."
"No, I'd be going back on my word if you did that."
"A-alright."
Gnawdwell gazed up at the ceiling, as he recollected memories from a time long past.
"It'd be important to say she was a wood elf."
The white rat adopted a surprised, and shocked expression, but he did not interrupt him, at least not yet.
"We met on the battlefield, she was a prisoner, I was just a bystander who just passed by while another skaven clan sieged an elven colony. When I saw her, it was like something clicked in my head, so I did what any reasonable rat in love would do."
"And what was that..?"
"Let's just say, both the colony and the skaven clan don't exist anymore."
Gnawdwell wasn't bragging, nor was he trying to inflate his ego. What he said was true, he really did eradicate both the colony and the skaven clan.
"After that, I helped her escape into the wilderness, where she belonged. Being a skaven exposed to warpstone all of his life, I never understood her love for nature. I stayed with her for a couple of months, built a cottage, and then returned to my duties as a merciless warlord who condoned the deaths of thousands."
The white rat had taken to a more comfortable position, sitting down on the floor while staring intently at Gnawdwell.
"But of course, I returned to the cottage, and found her still living there, if anything, she made improvements on it."
The white rat stared intensely at Gnawdwell, carefully listening to each word he said.
"We talked, and soon I found myself...feeling something for her. I don't know why, but she seemed to feel something for me as well, despite being one of the hated races in both of the worlds. I think you can guess what I'm leading up to."
"Pretty sure I can, but...did you have any...kids..?"
"I-"
Gnawdwell cut himself off, deciding on what he should say, he still had doubts, he needed to be sure it was him. Though he felt disappointed with himself for going back on his word, he felt like he needed to dodge the question.
"Any other questions?"
"Oh, alright, um, what was the message you wanted to deliver?"
"Hey, do you think you can do me a favor?"
"What is it?"
Gnawdwell got up and pointed at the lock on the door.
"It'd be great if you could let me out of here."
"I'll do that later, I still have some questions."
"Well then, shoot away, huntsmaster!"
"I thought Grey Seers were only able to use magic among skaven?"
"Magic? Oh, that is true, but you could say I learned a trick or two from the elves."
"But...the spell you casted, it came from the North, did it not?"
"Power comes at a cost, I gained the ability to use the winds of Dhar not so long ago, but the price costed me some of my sanity."
"Was it...worth it?"
"Only time can tell."
"What about you transforming? Is it like me?"
"Do you have an annoying voice in your head?"
"I rather enjoy his company."
"Then no."
"You don't get along?"
"Not really."
"I'm going to let you out now because I'm starting to get uncomfortable."
"That's probably best."
The white rat's hand become covered in what looked like black ink, shapeshifting into a key, then he inserted the key into the lock, which made a satisfying click as the door swung open.
"Oof, finally, I'm going to need another drink after talking that much."
"There is a tavern ne-"
"LET'S GO!"
Gnawdwell picked up the white rat in a flash, and dashed down the corridor of the dungeon, passing his fellow prisoners, then he quickly ran up some stairs and bursted out through a door that led to the outside, all the while the white rat screamed during his escape.
"What is wrong with you?!"
"Several things. Anyways, where's this tavern?"
"Do you even have money?"
"Damn, you're right, look for someone that appears rich."
"No, if I'm right, they're probably still celebrating."
"Ooooh, a celebration? Is that where you went?"
"I guess. Just follow me."
Hey, we're out.
Hm? Oh, I didn't notice.
How goes the repairs?
Slow.
Nice chat.
Gnawdwell followed the small rat, as he truly realized just how small he was.
"Oh, I forgot to ask, what's your name?"
"It's Arthur!"
Gnawdwell nodded, even though Arthur couldn't exactly see him. Gnawdwell could feel that they were getting close to a tavern, after all, he heard the trademark insults that would start a bar fight.
"I may have drunk an entire keg and several dozens of tankards, but I can still tear out your eyes!"
"That doesn't sound good."
"You're right, it sounds great!"
Gnawdwell rushed inside the tavern, to see a mob gathering in the center, arguing about a stolen tankard.
"Oh no."
"It's the witch hunter!"
"Just because I drink like a hog doesn't mean I stole that one!"
"One-Eye, how are you even conscious?"
"WHO SAID I WAS?!"
"YOU CALL THAT BEING DRUNK?! I'LL SHOW YOU!"
"Wait, please don't make a scene..!"
The crowd, along with Victor, and the others that drank in the corner, stared at Gnawdwell, as he broke into the back of the tavern and start draining kegs straight into his gullet.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Wuz it look like I'm doing? I'm getting drunk!"
Gnawdwell's persistent drinking amazed Victor, as the black rat chugged down his fourth.
"Now the party's getting started!"
"C'mere, you damn-"
And then Gnawdwell slugged the tavernkeeper in the face.
"BAR BRAWWLLL!!"
"This is why we shouldn't have invited the rat."
"You may be right…"
"Waits a minute, that one seems familiar…"
Chairs flew over the heads of Arthur and the others, while chaos erupted among the patrons, slamming people onto tables, some even made makeshift weapons from the legs of the table and chairs they threw across the room.
"Oh, there's Arthur."
The elf pointed at Arthur, with the others staring at Gnawdwell.
"FIGHT! FIGHT! SPLATTER THE BLOOD! CRACK THE SKULLS!"
"Oooh, raki, what did you do?"
Arthur sneaked over to them, dodging the flying furniture and various tankards being thrown by the patrons.
"Well, I kind of let him go…"
"And why would ye do that?"
Gnawdwell slammed a patron's skull onto a table, making a gratifying crack to his ears.
"Annddd, he just killed someone."
"Shoulds we stop hims?"
"I left my weapons."
"Aye."
"Mines too."
"Me four."
"This was supposed to be a celebration, not a damn bar brawl!"
"Didn't bring yours either, huh?"
Markus grumbled, making Arthur assume he did. They conversed, while Gnawdwell threw out someone through a wall, causing splinters and wooden debris to spray everywhere.
"MORE BLOOD! FEED ME PAIN! KILL! KILL!"
They tried to find out a plan to deal with him, but all of them just came up with a single solution. Until Arthur came up with a ridiculous plan.
"Gnawdwell! This isn't skaven society, you can't just kill people because you feel like it!"
"WHAT?! Oh, my bad."
He crushed a man's neck by accident, when he actually meant to crush his skull, fortunately for Arthur, the patrons of the tavern quickly left after he killed a man by throwing him through a wall. Gnawdwell walked over to Arthur, along with the rest of the group.
"Sorry about that, I get a bit...feisty when I drink."
"We can tell! Never seen a ratty kill three men barehanded before, much less drunkies!" Victor spoke in a slurred tone, occasional repeating words.
"Shouldn't we arrest him?"
"He did kill three people…"
"Actually, he could just say it was self-defense since they were also attacking him with chairs and tables."
"Whats about the guy he punched?"
"Ok, he might be arrested for assault."
"I can't be arrested if there are no surviving victims!"
Gnawdwell leaped over the counter and grabbed hold of the tavern keeper's neck.
"The bar fight is over, stop!"
"WHAT?!"
His head peeked out above the counter, meeting the furious glare of the elf. Then his entire world turned upside down, to see nothing but pitch blackness, an empty void left behind by his misdeeds, he couldn't help but regret everything he had done.
"Warlord!"
He opened his eyes, to see Queek covered in blood, and mounds of bodies strewn about, with flames crackling in the background.
"W-what? Where am I?"
"Hm? We here to burn the elf-thing forest, yes-yes?"
"What are you-"
He turned around, to see walls of fire covering trees that penetrated the sky, their beauty being destroyed by the hunger of the flames.
"It can't be, is this..?"
Hm?
He could hear the joyous, maniacal laughter of the ratlings gunning down innocent civilians, Gnawdwell would have once loved the noise of their screams of agony, but now it disgusted him beyond belief.
"We-we do good, yes?"
Queek looked at Gnawdwell, it was like a puppy wanting to be praised.
"This is wrong."
"What-mean?"
Gnawdwell looked around, only to see hordes of clanrats surround a small battalion of wood elves, threatening to devour them, and each other if allowed to. He traversed the woods, intruding deeper and deeper into the great forest, only to come out of the shadows, to see a humongous tree, with it glowing with ancient power.
I remember this, isn't this where we desecrated that holy tree?
He wondered why he did it, why he did such a horrible atrocity, as hordes of skaven ran past him, eager to spread ruin and decay for their false god. Their horrid abominations charged through their smaller brethren, tossing them aside like their lives meant nothing. Horrifying abominations plagued the wildlife around them with their warpstone maces, corrupting all that it touched, with rat ogres destroying any that survived their wrath.
"CORRUPT-CORRUPT FOR WARLORD! SPREAD RUIN FOR GNAWDWELL!"
Their chanting only became louder as they advanced to the sacred tree, with Gnawdwell wallowing in regret and guilt.
"What have I done..?"
Their chanting only made his guilt feel heavier on him, he slowly turned around, walking away with Queek, who stood in silence as the great tree collapsed, accompanied by the laughter of his troops and terrifying abominations.
"Gnawdwell!"
He found himself back in the ruined tavern, but instead, he was sitting in a chair, with a blank expression on his face.
"Hey! Teach me the ways of the drunken master!"
"Is he fine?"
"I know that look, wazzok, he's acting stupid!"
"I don't think so mayflies."
Kerillian waved her hand in front of Gnawdwell's face, who gave no response.
"Heellooo? Anyone home?"
A man with an eyepatch and a hat with a blue feather in embedded in it entered the tavern with a group of men encased in golden armor, with silver lining the edges of their luxurious shoulder guards. The men stood as tall as Gnawdwell, with two of them wielding two golden hammers the glowed with holy light, the rest wielded golden greataxes, whose edges seemed eager to tear him apart.
"He- By Ulric! What happened here?!"
The man looked around the tavern, dumbfounded by the number of bodies thrown about, unsure whether or not they were alive or not. And then he saw the hole in the wall, seeing the dead man outside the hole didn't really help his confusion either.
"Oh, of course, you'd be here!"
Gnawdwell wondered who the man was, while the strange person stared at Arthur, seemingly knowing who he is.
"O-oh, I murdered them!"
"I find that hard to believe, but then again…"
"Wait wot? I thoughts it was-"
Victor tried to point at the giant black-furred rat sitting in the chair, but Markus was able to stop him before-hand. They exchanged words, but Gnawdwell couldn't understand what they were saying, nor did he understand. The elf and bright wizard seemed to understand though, the dwarf as well seemed to be able to see what was going on, but Gnawdwell didn't.
"You do know that if you accept the charges, you'll be arrested?"
"W-well, of c-course, I do…"
The man sighed, he waved his hand as he left the tavern, with the golden, luxuriously decorated knights walking over to Arthur. It was as if he was in a haze, Gnawdwell couldn't understand, why were they arresting him? Why weren't they arresting him, the true culprit? He couldn't understand, no, he can't understand. The five of them just stared at him, he didn't know if they spited him, or were curious about him, but he could care less.
"By Valaya, you could show a bit more joy there, raki, especially when one is taking the fall for ye."
Gnawdwell looked at the dwarf, confused and dazed, wondering what he meant.
"Come on then, hands behind your back."
Arthur offered no resistance, realistically, it was probably better if Gnawdwell had done nothing. But his dignity wouldn't allow it, he couldn't let someone take the blame for him, and he couldn't let the only person he cared about it take the fall either. So, Gnawdwell did the most logical thing he could do, one of the things he was actually good at in the world. Slaughter.
"Wait, what are you-"
Gnawdwell arose from the chair, walking up to the knights arresting the small white rat.
"What in Sigmar? What do you-"
"Die."
Gnawdwell grasped the man's armored head, and crushed it instantly, breaking both helmet and his skull, making a horrid cracking noise. The other golden knight watched in terror, as his comrade dropped to the floor, dead.
"For the Empir-"
Gnawdwell dodged the knight's futile attack, sidestepping behind him, and grabbed his left arm, promptly tossing him through the back wall of the tavern.
"What in Taal did you do that for?!" Markus was brave, but even Gnawdwell could sense he was terrified
"By the Gods…" The elf shook her head disapprovingly but didn't make any attempt to harm the enraged Gnawdwell.
"Methinks...I have somewhere to be! Victor tried to escape the situation but was stopped by Sienna.
"Oh no, you don't! You know what we have to do!" Sienna pointed at Gnawdwell, while at the same time gesturing to slit his neck.
"Unless our weapons pop into existence in front of us, I doubt we could do anything."
More are outside, waiting for us.
Gnawdwell ignored their rambling, and left the confused Arthur among them, as he came outside to the dark, starry sky.
"...Are you sure it was Arthur? I find it hard to believe he could do such a thing, Boris."
Boris, the man with the blue feathered hat lit leaned against a house, whilst talking to the golden masked man.
"I think so-"
Boris fell silent, as Gnawdwell stood on the staircase, staring down at even more golden knights, and several handgunners, accompanied by archers.
"How did he..?" Even Balthasar was uncertain of victory, even with his magical might.
"Please don't tell me you found another like him." Boris wore a face of concern, as Gnawdwell's face adopted a massive, sinister grin.
"Worse."
Gnawdwell's vision blurred as if a crimson fog had placed itself over his eyes, rage flooded his mind, mixing and blending with Carnage's lust for blood. If he was to fight, at least he should enjoy it, right?
"Call them off!"
"What?"
"Dammit, you heard me! Call off the knights!"
Gnawdwell dashed, slamming a knight into the pavement, simunatelously dodging a strike from a greataxe. Arrows flew by him, with pellets from imperial muskets hitting everything around him, expect him.
"What are you doing?! He's just one measly rat!"
Gnawdwell flawlessly dodged each of their blows, while he dealt lethal blows, usually crushing someone's spine or skull. Both arrows and bullets dug into his flesh, but the black furred maniac shrugged them off, his lust for blood and rage demanding him to focus more on dishing out carnage, than groaning about insignificant wounds.
"Let's go ou- Is that a porcupine?"
"Wot? That's not a porcupiney! That a rat!"
"OH, CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP?!"
Gnawdwell gripped onto a dead golden knight's body and threw the corpse at Victor, who ducked because he saw a shiny shilin on the floor.
"Look! I found me some moneys!" Even now, he spoke in a drunken tone.
Gnawdwell was steaming with uncontrolled rage, literally. Another knight came up behind him, only to be pierced by a red tendril, instantly ending his measly life. Slaughtering, and ending pitiful lives was entertaining for Gnawdwell, but even his scarred, muscular body had limits, he could feel himself becoming slower and heavier as he crushed heads and tore men in half with their own weapons. It was like playing a game of Whack-A-Mole, albeit much more disturbing...and a lot messier, cleaving a man in half and seeing his innards get dragged out did bring some sort of twisted joy to him, but he could feel that even his deranged happiness slip away from him.
"Raki, I think it's best if you don't come outside."
"Why? What happened?"
"Victor? Got any more of that?" Markus pointed at the tankard in Victor's hand, which just seemed to come out of nowhere.
"NO!"
Victor hurriedly downed the tankard, throwing it at Markus. Before Markus could make a remark at the witch hunter, Arthur shoved past the dwarf, gazing out at the carnage in front of him.
"What's so ba- BY THE GODS!"
There were bodies scattered about, some were chopped in half, their guts strewn about the street, some men had both their helmets and skulls crushed, but the most disgusting sight Arthur saw was a man stuck to a house, with an ax, while his innards spilled out onto the floor. Even the elf was disgusted by the sight. Even the archers, nor the handgunners had been safe, for they were impaled on their own instruments.
"I-I-I...oh g-god.."
"N-no, please, just let me go! I was just doing my job!"
Gnawdwell hefted a greataxe off the pavement, its edge stained by the blood of his foes.
"Glory in life."
"W-what..?"
The black-furred rat brought down the great weapon upon the knight, tearing open his chest, breaking his ribs, and as Gnawdwell pulled out the ax, dragging out his guts and various organs, as all of his twisted sense of joy left his body, and was replaced by seething, silent anger.
"...Honor in death."
But even then, his rage, and Carnage's bloodlust demanded more, for more bodies to pile up, with them laughing maniacally as he ripped and torn apart his foes.
"It's done."
Gnawdwell threw down the ax, shuffling away from the fallen knight, while both arrow and bullet were stuck into every part of his body.
"You are absolutely not done! You think you're going to be let off scot-free just because you murdered the people that were sent to arrest you?!"
"...Yes."
"W-what?"
Boris was flabbergasted, instantly becoming confused at Gnawdwell's reasoning. Balthasar knew better to not interfere, but it was his duty to apprehend criminals, even if they knew important information. Gnawdwell gave the two an icy, yet fiery stare, which sent tremors of fear down Balthasar's spine. It was something Balthasar had never seen, nor felt before, a rage that went deep into his past, but yet, he felt a tinge of sadness in his animalistic eyes. His blood lust wasn't his own, that he was sure, for he was able to resist it enough to not murder him and Boris.
"Your rage, your bloodlust, it seems...restrained." Balthasar chose his words carefully, Balthasar had met several men like him before, they were unpredictable, but most importantly, violent and deranged.
"Yes."
"Would you like to explain...a bit more?"
"No."
Most men Balthasar encountered like this had always been happy to hear themselves talk, but he seemed different, his rage stemmed from an honest reason, even if he had twisted it around to cause so much devastation. Balthasar just needed to buy time, noticing that Kerillian had picked up one of the many greataxes on the ground, and continued to sneak up behind Gnawdwell.
"I understand you killing our men, but...did you have to do it so..?"
Balthasar looked away from the massacre, wanting to vomit as he saw one too many organs thrown about the street.
"I've learned that chopping, slicing, desecrating, and tearing apart my enemies demoralizes the opposing side."
"By Sigmar...you got that right…" Balthasar coughed, pinching his nose, an attempt to stop himself from smelling the putrid, vile stench that exuded from the various corpses. Kerillian was almost completely behind him, the ax's edge was gleaming in the dark, starry shine of the moon.
"There is a thin line between bravery, and stupidity, elf!"
Gnawdwell dodged the elf's blow, even for a genocidal monster, he had some grace. He elegantly snatched the greataxe away from her, snapping it into two, and then wrapped his arm around her neck, strangling her.
"LET HER GO!"
Gnawdwell didn't expect such emotion, after all, he did slaughter an entire human force. The elf tried to say something, but the fact that she was being strangled by a giant, black rat didn't help her case. He didn't expect such a strong reaction from Arthur, especially since he just saw him massacre an entire legion.
"Don't you dare do anything, wizard."
"Fine, fine."
For once, Gnawdwell could see Arthur's eyes filled with a weird sort of determination.
"Was anything you said to me even true?!"
Gnawdwell stumbled back, still keeping a strong grip on the elf, despite his little fumble.
"Was it all just a lie just so you could escape!?"
The black-furred rat was confused, why would he lie? What reason would he have?
"Answer me!"
Gnawdwell was dumbfounded at Arthur's newfound confidence, his accusation seemed to sting, like an old wound opening up after a few years.
"You weren't there."
"What do you mean?! Enough of your cryptic nonsense!"
Only Arthur seemed to exist in Gnawdwell's eyes, everyone else was blurred out, for he didn't really care for them, though he kept a hold on the elf.
"Not all of it was a lie."
"Then what part of it was a lie?!"
"I never told you how my wife died."
"S-so what..?"
Gnawdwell could hear the little rat's mind scrambling, trying to find another answer, but it all ended up the same, every single answer led to the same outcome.
"I...was the one who killed her."
Questions, And More Questions
Gnawdwell awoke to the sound of a timid voice, a voice filled with both fear and curiosity. As much as he wanted to inspect the voice, his body felt like lead, even his eyes felt like a chore just to open. But when he did, he saw a small white rat, rubbing his hands together in anxiousness. Though he couldn't put his finger on it, the rat seemed familiar, almost as if he had met him before.
"What is it?"
The rat yelped in surprise, it looked like he didn't expect that much of a response from him.
"O-oh, I thought…"
"Thought what? That I was dead? It's gonna take a bit more than you to kill me."
Gnawdwell could hear Carnage scoffing in the back of his mind, he could hear his insane companion going on how he almost killed both of them.
"I just came for...answers."
"What kind of answers are you looking for?"
"T-that's the problem, I d-don't really know…"
"Then why are you here?"
Gnawdwell could sense that he was pressuring the small rat, making him even more anxious than before. But then, he saw a flash of alien-like intelligence in his eyes.
"Who are you?"
"Looks like someone put on their big boy pants."
"Just answer the question."
"Fine, I am Gnawdwell, leader of Clan Mors, and the second seat in the Council Of Thirteenth."
"I know that someone as important as you shouldn't be here, at least not without an entire army."
"I had something important to deliver."
"What could've been so important, that you, yourself, had to deliver it?"
Gnawdwell thought to himself on how to maneuver this situation, he wished that the rat returned to his more timid, anxious state.
"I had to deliver a message."
"What does that mean, what is the message?"
"I won't tell you."
"Why?"
"I haven't had my drink yet."
This seemed to confuse the white rat, he stumbled back from the cell in surprise.
"What?'
"Get me a drink, and then I'll talk."
"Deal!" Gnawdwell let out a sigh of relief, at least he'd be wasted when he spilled his guts out onto a table. The white rat hurriedly made his leave, his footsteps echoing throughout the dungeon, becoming quieter as he moved further from Gnawdwell's cell. A red tendril sprouted from his shoulder, forming into a crimson colored head with white streaks for eyes.
"Now, do you want the bad news or the really bad news?"
"How 'bout both?"
"You've torn our bonds apart, fool! It'll take ages for me to fix this!"
"I thought you were great at...uhhh, what's the word?"
"You don't even know the very thing that has kept you alive all these years. My god."
"It's fine, not a big deal."
"Since most of the bonds were destroyed by your little stunt, we won't be able to transform for some time, and I won't have the time to repair your...disgusting body."
"I thought we talked about not insulting my body."
Carnage scoffed, retreating back to resume his work on repairing himself.
"It'll work out. I know it will."
Do you really think he'll really talk if we just make him wasted?
"Not really, but...who'd miss a single bottle?"
I'm thinking we're gonna need more than a bottle.
"Psh, how much can one rat drink?"
Arthur slowed down to a walk, processing what he just said.
"Rats...don't drink ale."
Nor do they stroll around like a giant, red monster.
"Ugh, there's too many things to figure out, let's just focus on getting the bottle."
You're right, we should not try to do everything all at once.
"How nice, we agree on something."
Arthur passed by Victor, who had an expression of confusion and fear. The witch hunter stared at him, while he casually talked to himself.
"What in Sigmar..?"
Don't we need money to buy ale?
"I guess we do."
Why not steal it?
"Because it's wrong."
Who's gonna miss a keg of ale?
"I think the tavern owner would certainly notice an entire keg of ale vanish out of thin air.."
You're no fun.
Arthur laughed, which confused Venom. Before Arthur could literally die from laughter, he heard a voice behind him.
"Oi! Ra-I mean Arthur is it?"
Arthur turned around and gazed up at the huge behemoth before him, the last time Arthur saw Markus, he was covered in bandages and left behind an aura of foul medicine, thankfully, he looked much better now.
"Yes, I am the rat named Arthur."
"Ah, yes, umm…"
Even Venom could sense the tension and how awkward this situation was becoming. Markus coughed, as he had no real experience talking to his enemy.
"How would you like to celebrate with me and my...comrades?"
Aren't they the ones who want to murder you?
Arthur tried his best to beat down Venom's thought, even though it was probably true.
"It'd be rude to say no-"
"Great!"
Arthur was a bit startled by Markus's sudden burst of enthusiasm, as he ran off into another street, shouting at him.
"Come on then!"
How the hell is he so fast? I thought he was nearly dead!
"Don't worry, I'm wondering the exact same thing."
Arthur desperately tried to catch up with Markus, but no matter how hard he turned a corner, or how far he pushed himself, he couldn't catch up with the human. Markus came to a halting stop, walked up some stairs, and opened a door that was built into a large box-like building, with a chimney spewing black smoke at the top. Before Arthur could stop himself, he ran up the stairs like a dog, barging in the heavily crowded tavern.
No wonder why people say to look where you run or, was it walk?
Fortunately for everyone, but Arthur, he rammed himself against a wall.
"Are you okay?"
"Peachy."
"Wot in the bloody name of Sigmar is this lil' psychopath doing here?"
Arthur rose from his little accident, only to see a grinning Victor standing in front of him, and a tankard in both of his hands.
"You fu-" Fortunately for Arthur, Victor was interrupted by his repetitive drinking, hiccuping violently.
"Stop harassing the boy with your drunkenness, and get over here!"
That caught Arthur's attention, as he saw a table with a dwarf, a figure that was completely covered in a green hood and cloak, and the wizard he saw earlier, whose fire died because of the winds of the North.
"Well?" Let's go!"
Arthur yelped as Victor grabbed him by the collar, practically dragging him to the table. As the two got closer to the table, it was filled with joyous laughter, which made Arthur even more anxious. Victor plopped down the white rat onto a chair, as both the dwarf and elf stopped laughing, and gazed intently at him.
"I need -hic- more ale!"
Victor's wasted state didn't exactly help Arthur's sense of discomfort.
"Furry midget!"
"Uh, y-yes?"
"Drink this, it'll make ye feel better!" Victor shoved a tankard full of ale into Arthur's face, with a massive grin. Arthur grabbed a hold of the tankard, and as if instinct took over, chugged it all down.
"I don't…"
I sense discomfort.
Arthur started giggling for no reason, and then Victor joined in on his drunken outburst of laughter. It was like a chain reaction, Markus joined in quickly, and even Bardin started laughing with them, Arthur could swear he heard a few chuckles from the elf as well.
Why are we laughing?
Bewooz we nuud jey!
I see you're not in the right state of mind.
"Heeeeey!"
"What?!"
Victor drained another tankard, quickly grabbing another and chugging it down.
"You wanna see something cool?!"
"SURE!?"
"Why are you two yelling?!"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!"
"WHY ARE WE ALL YELLING?!"
Sienna sat confused, not really sure what to do. Arthur didn't realize it, but soon the table became eerily silent, he took one glance at his shoulder and saw why.
"Stop, this is making my head spin around, you idiot!"
"We're just having fun!"
"You are drunk."
"Yesh."
"Stop."
"Ok…"
Arthur made a motion to put down the tankard in his hand, but he quickly forced Venom to drink it down.
"Blah! What…"
"How do you -hic- feel now?"
The black tendril slumped over, retracting back into Arthur's back.
"HE SLEW THE BEAST WITH ALE!"
"I don't think…"
"HOORAY!"
"CAN YOU ALL STOP SHOUTING?"
"I FEEL LIKE VOMITING!"
Arthur fumbled as he got out of his chair, drunkenly stumbling around the tavern to get to the exit.
"Aw, there goes our friend!
"You made 'im drink so much, umgi, I doubt he'll be able to fight fer days!"
"I think I need to find somewhere secure and private too…"
"Ugh, disgusting!"
"How many tankards have you all drank?"
"I lost count when I reached five."
Arthur sulked to a desolate, private alley, and promptly let loose the contents in his stomach.
The thing you made me drink is conflicting with my thoughts!
Wuz two plus six?
I don't know.
Ah! I smart than you!
At least I can speak full sentences.
Arthur wiped away the remnants of what he ate off of his mouth, as he lazily walked back to the tavern.
"Gods, I feel so...tired."
That is me, trying to suck out this stuff out of your blood.
"Oh...that's nice."
"Chug! Chug! Chug!"
As Arthur looked into the tavern, he saw victor downing an entire keg down into his mouth, with a crowd starting to chant around him. He looked to see the others in a corner, separated from the crowd. Arthur swore he came here for another reason, besides celebrating, but he can't find it.
"Do you know what we came here for?"
Something about a delivering ale to someone.
"Uh, I think I remember now…"
Arthur snatched a lone tankard from a table, and walked out of the tavern, luckily, Victor had distracted everyone in the tavern, so it made stealing it very easy.
I thought you said stealing was wrong?
"It's just a small tankard, who's gonna miss it?"
As Arthur looked up to the sky, he saw that it had changed considerably, it had a darkish-blue tint to it now, which made him assume he had spent several hours in the tavern, but they were enjoyable.
"He sure is taking his sweet time." Gnawdwell shifted his position to make himself more comfortable, but a stone cold floor isn't that comforting in the first place.
"He must've gotten caught up with something." Gnawdwell nodded, as the red tendril rested itself on his shoulder, with its unnerving white streaks that acted like its eyes. The two waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity.
"I hear someone coming." Carnage reacted accordingly, hiding away in Gnawdwell's body, as the echoing footsteps came closer to his cell.
Finally.
The white rat came into his view, standing in front of the cell, with a tankard in his hand.
"So, you finally returned, didn't you?"
"I wasn't gone for that long."
"Anyways, give me that."
Arthur was able to fit the tankard between the bars, passing it on to Gnawdwell.
Not this again.
Oh shut up, you're used to it now.
Gnawdwell didn't care to give Carnage enough time to respond, as he downed it as fast as he had gotten it.
"Now you have to answer our questions!"
"Our?"
"I mean, my questions!"
Gnawdwell sighed, throwing the tankard to Arthur, who barely caught it, and slumped against the back wall of the cell.
"Ask away, a deal was a deal."
Gnawdwell could see the white rat pondering what to ask, but he assumed he was overloaded with questions ever since his encounter with him.
"Who is your wife?"
"Was."
"Uh, let me ask another question."
"No, I'd be going back on my word if you did that."
"A-alright."
Gnawdwell gazed up at the ceiling, as he recollected memories from a time long past.
"It'd be important to say she was a wood elf."
The white rat adopted a surprised, and shocked expression, but he did not interrupt him, at least not yet.
"We met on the battlefield, she was a prisoner, I was just a bystander who just passed by while another skaven clan sieged an elven colony. When I saw her, it was like something clicked in my head, so I did what any reasonable rat in love would do."
"And what was that..?"
"Let's just say, both the colony and the skaven clan don't exist anymore."
Gnawdwell wasn't bragging, nor was he trying to inflate his ego. What he said was true, he really did eradicate both the colony and the skaven clan.
"After that, I helped her escape into the wilderness, where she belonged. Being a skaven exposed to warpstone all of his life, I never understood her love for nature. I stayed with her for a couple of months, built a cottage, and then returned to my duties as a merciless warlord who condoned the deaths of thousands."
The white rat had taken to a more comfortable position, sitting down on the floor while staring intently at Gnawdwell.
"But of course, I returned to the cottage, and found her still living there, if anything, she made improvements on it."
The white rat stared intensely at Gnawdwell, carefully listening to each word he said.
"We talked, and soon I found myself...feeling something for her. I don't know why, but she seemed to feel something for me as well, despite being one of the hated races in both of the worlds. I think you can guess what I'm leading up to."
"Pretty sure I can, but...did you have any...kids..?"
"I-"
Gnawdwell cut himself off, deciding on what he should say, he still had doubts, he needed to be sure it was him. Though he felt disappointed with himself for going back on his word, he felt like he needed to dodge the question.
"Any other questions?"
"Oh, alright, um, what was the message you wanted to deliver?"
"Hey, do you think you can do me a favor?"
"What is it?"
Gnawdwell got up and pointed at the lock on the door.
"It'd be great if you could let me out of here."
"I'll do that later, I still have some questions."
"Well then, shoot away, huntsmaster!"
"I thought Grey Seers were only able to use magic among skaven?"
"Magic? Oh, that is true, but you could say I learned a trick or two from the elves."
"But...the spell you casted, it came from the North, did it not?"
"Power comes at a cost, I gained the ability to use the winds of Dhar not so long ago, but the price costed me some of my sanity."
"Was it...worth it?"
"Only time can tell."
"What about you transforming? Is it like me?"
"Do you have an annoying voice in your head?"
"I rather enjoy his company."
"Then no."
"You don't get along?"
"Not really."
"I'm going to let you out now because I'm starting to get uncomfortable."
"That's probably best."
The white rat's hand become covered in what looked like black ink, shapeshifting into a key, then he inserted the key into the lock, which made a satisfying click as the door swung open.
"Oof, finally, I'm going to need another drink after talking that much."
"There is a tavern ne-"
"LET'S GO!"
Gnawdwell picked up the white rat in a flash, and dashed down the corridor of the dungeon, passing his fellow prisoners, then he quickly ran up some stairs and bursted out through a door that led to the outside, all the while the white rat screamed during his escape.
"What is wrong with you?!"
"Several things. Anyways, where's this tavern?"
"Do you even have money?"
"Damn, you're right, look for someone that appears rich."
"No, if I'm right, they're probably still celebrating."
"Ooooh, a celebration? Is that where you went?"
"I guess. Just follow me."
Hey, we're out.
Hm? Oh, I didn't notice.
How goes the repairs?
Slow.
Nice chat.
Gnawdwell followed the small rat, as he truly realized just how small he was.
"Oh, I forgot to ask, what's your name?"
"It's Arthur!"
Gnawdwell nodded, even though Arthur couldn't exactly see him. Gnawdwell could feel that they were getting close to a tavern, after all, he heard the trademark insults that would start a bar fight.
"I may have drunk an entire keg and several dozens of tankards, but I can still tear out your eyes!"
"That doesn't sound good."
"You're right, it sounds great!"
Gnawdwell rushed inside the tavern, to see a mob gathering in the center, arguing about a stolen tankard.
"Oh no."
"It's the witch hunter!"
"Just because I drink like a hog doesn't mean I stole that one!"
"One-Eye, how are you even conscious?"
"WHO SAID I WAS?!"
"YOU CALL THAT BEING DRUNK?! I'LL SHOW YOU!"
"Wait, please don't make a scene..!"
The crowd, along with Victor, and the others that drank in the corner, stared at Gnawdwell, as he broke into the back of the tavern and start draining kegs straight into his gullet.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Wuz it look like I'm doing? I'm getting drunk!"
Gnawdwell's persistent drinking amazed Victor, as the black rat chugged down his fourth.
"Now the party's getting started!"
"C'mere, you damn-"
And then Gnawdwell slugged the tavernkeeper in the face.
"BAR BRAWWLLL!!"
"This is why we shouldn't have invited the rat."
"You may be right…"
"Waits a minute, that one seems familiar…"
Chairs flew over the heads of Arthur and the others, while chaos erupted among the patrons, slamming people onto tables, some even made makeshift weapons from the legs of the table and chairs they threw across the room.
"Oh, there's Arthur."
The elf pointed at Arthur, with the others staring at Gnawdwell.
"FIGHT! FIGHT! SPLATTER THE BLOOD! CRACK THE SKULLS!"
"Oooh, raki, what did you do?"
Arthur sneaked over to them, dodging the flying furniture and various tankards being thrown by the patrons.
"Well, I kind of let him go…"
"And why would ye do that?"
Gnawdwell slammed a patron's skull onto a table, making a gratifying crack to his ears.
"Annddd, he just killed someone."
"Shoulds we stop hims?"
"I left my weapons."
"Aye."
"Mines too."
"Me four."
"This was supposed to be a celebration, not a damn bar brawl!"
"Didn't bring yours either, huh?"
Markus grumbled, making Arthur assume he did. They conversed, while Gnawdwell threw out someone through a wall, causing splinters and wooden debris to spray everywhere.
"MORE BLOOD! FEED ME PAIN! KILL! KILL!"
They tried to find out a plan to deal with him, but all of them just came up with a single solution. Until Arthur came up with a ridiculous plan.
"Gnawdwell! This isn't skaven society, you can't just kill people because you feel like it!"
"WHAT?! Oh, my bad."
He crushed a man's neck by accident, when he actually meant to crush his skull, fortunately for Arthur, the patrons of the tavern quickly left after he killed a man by throwing him through a wall. Gnawdwell walked over to Arthur, along with the rest of the group.
"Sorry about that, I get a bit...feisty when I drink."
"We can tell! Never seen a ratty kill three men barehanded before, much less drunkies!" Victor spoke in a slurred tone, occasional repeating words.
"Shouldn't we arrest him?"
"He did kill three people…"
"Actually, he could just say it was self-defense since they were also attacking him with chairs and tables."
"Whats about the guy he punched?"
"Ok, he might be arrested for assault."
"I can't be arrested if there are no surviving victims!"
Gnawdwell leaped over the counter and grabbed hold of the tavern keeper's neck.
"The bar fight is over, stop!"
"WHAT?!"
His head peeked out above the counter, meeting the furious glare of the elf. Then his entire world turned upside down, to see nothing but pitch blackness, an empty void left behind by his misdeeds, he couldn't help but regret everything he had done.
"Warlord!"
He opened his eyes, to see Queek covered in blood, and mounds of bodies strewn about, with flames crackling in the background.
"W-what? Where am I?"
"Hm? We here to burn the elf-thing forest, yes-yes?"
"What are you-"
He turned around, to see walls of fire covering trees that penetrated the sky, their beauty being destroyed by the hunger of the flames.
"It can't be, is this..?"
Hm?
He could hear the joyous, maniacal laughter of the ratlings gunning down innocent civilians, Gnawdwell would have once loved the noise of their screams of agony, but now it disgusted him beyond belief.
"We-we do good, yes?"
Queek looked at Gnawdwell, it was like a puppy wanting to be praised.
"This is wrong."
"What-mean?"
Gnawdwell looked around, only to see hordes of clanrats surround a small battalion of wood elves, threatening to devour them, and each other if allowed to. He traversed the woods, intruding deeper and deeper into the great forest, only to come out of the shadows, to see a humongous tree, with it glowing with ancient power.
I remember this, isn't this where we desecrated that holy tree?
He wondered why he did it, why he did such a horrible atrocity, as hordes of skaven ran past him, eager to spread ruin and decay for their false god. Their horrid abominations charged through their smaller brethren, tossing them aside like their lives meant nothing. Horrifying abominations plagued the wildlife around them with their warpstone maces, corrupting all that it touched, with rat ogres destroying any that survived their wrath.
"CORRUPT-CORRUPT FOR WARLORD! SPREAD RUIN FOR GNAWDWELL!"
Their chanting only became louder as they advanced to the sacred tree, with Gnawdwell wallowing in regret and guilt.
"What have I done..?"
Their chanting only made his guilt feel heavier on him, he slowly turned around, walking away with Queek, who stood in silence as the great tree collapsed, accompanied by the laughter of his troops and terrifying abominations.
"Gnawdwell!"
He found himself back in the ruined tavern, but instead, he was sitting in a chair, with a blank expression on his face.
"Hey! Teach me the ways of the drunken master!"
"Is he fine?"
"I know that look, wazzok, he's acting stupid!"
"I don't think so mayflies."
Kerillian waved her hand in front of Gnawdwell's face, who gave no response.
"Heellooo? Anyone home?"
A man with an eyepatch and a hat with a blue feather in embedded in it entered the tavern with a group of men encased in golden armor, with silver lining the edges of their luxurious shoulder guards. The men stood as tall as Gnawdwell, with two of them wielding two golden hammers the glowed with holy light, the rest wielded golden greataxes, whose edges seemed eager to tear him apart.
"He- By Ulric! What happened here?!"
The man looked around the tavern, dumbfounded by the number of bodies thrown about, unsure whether or not they were alive or not. And then he saw the hole in the wall, seeing the dead man outside the hole didn't really help his confusion either.
"Oh, of course, you'd be here!"
Gnawdwell wondered who the man was, while the strange person stared at Arthur, seemingly knowing who he is.
"O-oh, I murdered them!"
"I find that hard to believe, but then again…"
"Wait wot? I thoughts it was-"
Victor tried to point at the giant black-furred rat sitting in the chair, but Markus was able to stop him before-hand. They exchanged words, but Gnawdwell couldn't understand what they were saying, nor did he understand. The elf and bright wizard seemed to understand though, the dwarf as well seemed to be able to see what was going on, but Gnawdwell didn't.
"You do know that if you accept the charges, you'll be arrested?"
"W-well, of c-course, I do…"
The man sighed, he waved his hand as he left the tavern, with the golden, luxuriously decorated knights walking over to Arthur. It was as if he was in a haze, Gnawdwell couldn't understand, why were they arresting him? Why weren't they arresting him, the true culprit? He couldn't understand, no, he can't understand. The five of them just stared at him, he didn't know if they spited him, or were curious about him, but he could care less.
"By Valaya, you could show a bit more joy there, raki, especially when one is taking the fall for ye."
Gnawdwell looked at the dwarf, confused and dazed, wondering what he meant.
"Come on then, hands behind your back."
Arthur offered no resistance, realistically, it was probably better if Gnawdwell had done nothing. But his dignity wouldn't allow it, he couldn't let someone take the blame for him, and he couldn't let the only person he cared about it take the fall either. So, Gnawdwell did the most logical thing he could do, one of the things he was actually good at in the world. Slaughter.
"Wait, what are you-"
Gnawdwell arose from the chair, walking up to the knights arresting the small white rat.
"What in Sigmar? What do you-"
"Die."
Gnawdwell grasped the man's armored head, and crushed it instantly, breaking both helmet and his skull, making a horrid cracking noise. The other golden knight watched in terror, as his comrade dropped to the floor, dead.
"For the Empir-"
Gnawdwell dodged the knight's futile attack, sidestepping behind him, and grabbed his left arm, promptly tossing him through the back wall of the tavern.
"What in Taal did you do that for?!" Markus was brave, but even Gnawdwell could sense he was terrified
"By the Gods…" The elf shook her head disapprovingly but didn't make any attempt to harm the enraged Gnawdwell.
"Methinks...I have somewhere to be! Victor tried to escape the situation but was stopped by Sienna.
"Oh no, you don't! You know what we have to do!" Sienna pointed at Gnawdwell, while at the same time gesturing to slit his neck.
"Unless our weapons pop into existence in front of us, I doubt we could do anything."
More are outside, waiting for us.
Gnawdwell ignored their rambling, and left the confused Arthur among them, as he came outside to the dark, starry sky.
"...Are you sure it was Arthur? I find it hard to believe he could do such a thing, Boris."
Boris, the man with the blue feathered hat lit leaned against a house, whilst talking to the golden masked man.
"I think so-"
Boris fell silent, as Gnawdwell stood on the staircase, staring down at even more golden knights, and several handgunners, accompanied by archers.
"How did he..?" Even Balthasar was uncertain of victory, even with his magical might.
"Please don't tell me you found another like him." Boris wore a face of concern, as Gnawdwell's face adopted a massive, sinister grin.
"Worse."
Gnawdwell's vision blurred as if a crimson fog had placed itself over his eyes, rage flooded his mind, mixing and blending with Carnage's lust for blood. If he was to fight, at least he should enjoy it, right?
"Call them off!"
"What?"
"Dammit, you heard me! Call off the knights!"
Gnawdwell dashed, slamming a knight into the pavement, simunatelously dodging a strike from a greataxe. Arrows flew by him, with pellets from imperial muskets hitting everything around him, expect him.
"What are you doing?! He's just one measly rat!"
Gnawdwell flawlessly dodged each of their blows, while he dealt lethal blows, usually crushing someone's spine or skull. Both arrows and bullets dug into his flesh, but the black furred maniac shrugged them off, his lust for blood and rage demanding him to focus more on dishing out carnage, than groaning about insignificant wounds.
"Let's go ou- Is that a porcupine?"
"Wot? That's not a porcupiney! That a rat!"
"OH, CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP?!"
Gnawdwell gripped onto a dead golden knight's body and threw the corpse at Victor, who ducked because he saw a shiny shilin on the floor.
"Look! I found me some moneys!" Even now, he spoke in a drunken tone.
Gnawdwell was steaming with uncontrolled rage, literally. Another knight came up behind him, only to be pierced by a red tendril, instantly ending his measly life. Slaughtering, and ending pitiful lives was entertaining for Gnawdwell, but even his scarred, muscular body had limits, he could feel himself becoming slower and heavier as he crushed heads and tore men in half with their own weapons. It was like playing a game of Whack-A-Mole, albeit much more disturbing...and a lot messier, cleaving a man in half and seeing his innards get dragged out did bring some sort of twisted joy to him, but he could feel that even his deranged happiness slip away from him.
"Raki, I think it's best if you don't come outside."
"Why? What happened?"
"Victor? Got any more of that?" Markus pointed at the tankard in Victor's hand, which just seemed to come out of nowhere.
"NO!"
Victor hurriedly downed the tankard, throwing it at Markus. Before Markus could make a remark at the witch hunter, Arthur shoved past the dwarf, gazing out at the carnage in front of him.
"What's so ba- BY THE GODS!"
There were bodies scattered about, some were chopped in half, their guts strewn about the street, some men had both their helmets and skulls crushed, but the most disgusting sight Arthur saw was a man stuck to a house, with an ax, while his innards spilled out onto the floor. Even the elf was disgusted by the sight. Even the archers, nor the handgunners had been safe, for they were impaled on their own instruments.
"I-I-I...oh g-god.."
"N-no, please, just let me go! I was just doing my job!"
Gnawdwell hefted a greataxe off the pavement, its edge stained by the blood of his foes.
"Glory in life."
"W-what..?"
The black-furred rat brought down the great weapon upon the knight, tearing open his chest, breaking his ribs, and as Gnawdwell pulled out the ax, dragging out his guts and various organs, as all of his twisted sense of joy left his body, and was replaced by seething, silent anger.
"...Honor in death."
But even then, his rage, and Carnage's bloodlust demanded more, for more bodies to pile up, with them laughing maniacally as he ripped and torn apart his foes.
"It's done."
Gnawdwell threw down the ax, shuffling away from the fallen knight, while both arrow and bullet were stuck into every part of his body.
"You are absolutely not done! You think you're going to be let off scot-free just because you murdered the people that were sent to arrest you?!"
"...Yes."
"W-what?"
Boris was flabbergasted, instantly becoming confused at Gnawdwell's reasoning. Balthasar knew better to not interfere, but it was his duty to apprehend criminals, even if they knew important information. Gnawdwell gave the two an icy, yet fiery stare, which sent tremors of fear down Balthasar's spine. It was something Balthasar had never seen, nor felt before, a rage that went deep into his past, but yet, he felt a tinge of sadness in his animalistic eyes. His blood lust wasn't his own, that he was sure, for he was able to resist it enough to not murder him and Boris.
"Your rage, your bloodlust, it seems...restrained." Balthasar chose his words carefully, Balthasar had met several men like him before, they were unpredictable, but most importantly, violent and deranged.
"Yes."
"Would you like to explain...a bit more?"
"No."
Most men Balthasar encountered like this had always been happy to hear themselves talk, but he seemed different, his rage stemmed from an honest reason, even if he had twisted it around to cause so much devastation. Balthasar just needed to buy time, noticing that Kerillian had picked up one of the many greataxes on the ground, and continued to sneak up behind Gnawdwell.
"I understand you killing our men, but...did you have to do it so..?"
Balthasar looked away from the massacre, wanting to vomit as he saw one too many organs thrown about the street.
"I've learned that chopping, slicing, desecrating, and tearing apart my enemies demoralizes the opposing side."
"By Sigmar...you got that right…" Balthasar coughed, pinching his nose, an attempt to stop himself from smelling the putrid, vile stench that exuded from the various corpses. Kerillian was almost completely behind him, the ax's edge was gleaming in the dark, starry shine of the moon.
"There is a thin line between bravery, and stupidity, elf!"
Gnawdwell dodged the elf's blow, even for a genocidal monster, he had some grace. He elegantly snatched the greataxe away from her, snapping it into two, and then wrapped his arm around her neck, strangling her.
"LET HER GO!"
Gnawdwell didn't expect such emotion, after all, he did slaughter an entire human force. The elf tried to say something, but the fact that she was being strangled by a giant, black rat didn't help her case. He didn't expect such a strong reaction from Arthur, especially since he just saw him massacre an entire legion.
"Don't you dare do anything, wizard."
"Fine, fine."
For once, Gnawdwell could see Arthur's eyes filled with a weird sort of determination.
"Was anything you said to me even true?!"
Gnawdwell stumbled back, still keeping a strong grip on the elf, despite his little fumble.
"Was it all just a lie just so you could escape!?"
The black-furred rat was confused, why would he lie? What reason would he have?
"Answer me!"
Gnawdwell was dumbfounded at Arthur's newfound confidence, his accusation seemed to sting, like an old wound opening up after a few years.
"You weren't there."
"What do you mean?! Enough of your cryptic nonsense!"
Only Arthur seemed to exist in Gnawdwell's eyes, everyone else was blurred out, for he didn't really care for them, though he kept a hold on the elf.
"Not all of it was a lie."
"Then what part of it was a lie?!"
"I never told you how my wife died."
"S-so what..?"
Gnawdwell could hear the little rat's mind scrambling, trying to find another answer, but it all ended up the same, every single answer led to the same outcome.
"I...was the one who killed her."
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Questions, And More Questions
Gnawdwell awoke to the sound of a timid voice, a voice filled with both fear and curiosity. As much as he wanted to inspect the voice, his body felt like lead, even his eyes felt like a chore just to open. But when he did, he saw a small white rat, rubbing his hands together in anxiousness. Though he couldn't put his finger on it, the rat seemed familiar, almost as if he had met him before.
"What is it?"
The rat yelped in surprise, it looked like he didn't expect that much of a response from him.
"O-oh, I thought…"
"Thought what? That I was dead? It's gonna take a bit more than you to kill me."
Gnawdwell could hear Carnage scoffing in the back of his mind, he could hear his insane companion going on how he almost killed both of them.
"I just came for...answers."
"What kind of answers are you looking for?"
"T-that's the problem, I d-don't really know…"
"Then why are you here?"
Gnawdwell could sense that he was pressuring the small rat, making him even more anxious than before. But then, he saw a flash of alien-like intelligence in his eyes.
"Who are you?"
"Looks like someone put on their big boy pants."
"Just answer the question."
"Fine, I am Gnawdwell, leader of Clan Mors, and the second seat in the Council Of Thirteenth."
"I know that someone as important as you shouldn't be here, at least not without an entire army."
"I had something important to deliver."
"What could've been so important, that you, yourself, had to deliver it?"
Gnawdwell thought to himself on how to maneuver this situation, he wished that the rat returned to his more timid, anxious state.
"I had to deliver a message."
"What does that mean, what is the message?"
"I won't tell you."
"Why?"
"I haven't had my drink yet."
This seemed to confuse the white rat, he stumbled back from the cell in surprise.
"What?'
"Get me a drink, and then I'll talk."
"Deal!" Gnawdwell let out a sigh of relief, at least he'd be wasted when he spilled his guts out onto a table. The white rat hurriedly made his leave, his footsteps echoing throughout the dungeon, becoming quieter as he moved further from Gnawdwell's cell. A red tendril sprouted from his shoulder, forming into a crimson colored head with white streaks for eyes.
"Now, do you want the bad news or the really bad news?"
"How 'bout both?"
"You've torn our bonds apart, fool! It'll take ages for me to fix this!"
"I thought you were great at...uhhh, what's the word?"
"You don't even know the very thing that has kept you alive all these years. My god."
"It's fine, not a big deal."
"Since most of the bonds were destroyed by your little stunt, we won't be able to transform for some time, and I won't have the time to repair your...disgusting body."
"I thought we talked about not insulting my body."
Carnage scoffed, retreating back to resume his work on repairing himself.
"It'll work out. I know it will."
Do you really think he'll really talk if we just make him wasted?
"Not really, but...who'd miss a single bottle?"
I'm thinking we're gonna need more than a bottle.
"Psh, how much can one rat drink?"
Arthur slowed down to a walk, processing what he just said.
"Rats...don't drink ale."
Nor do they stroll around like a giant, red monster.
"Ugh, there's too many things to figure out, let's just focus on getting the bottle."
You're right, we should not try to do everything all at once.
"How nice, we agree on something."
Arthur passed by Victor, who had an expression of confusion and fear. The witch hunter stared at him, while he casually talked to himself.
"What in Sigmar..?"
Don't we need money to buy ale?
"I guess we do."
Why not steal it?
"Because it's wrong."
Who's gonna miss a keg of ale?
"I think the tavern owner would certainly notice an entire keg of ale vanish out of thin air.."
You're no fun.
Arthur laughed, which confused Venom. Before Arthur could literally die from laughter, he heard a voice behind him.
"Oi! Ra-I mean Arthur is it?"
Arthur turned around and gazed up at the huge behemoth before him, the last time Arthur saw Markus, he was covered in bandages and left behind an aura of foul medicine, thankfully, he looked much better now.
"Yes, I am the rat named Arthur."
"Ah, yes, umm…"
Even Venom could sense the tension and how awkward this situation was becoming. Markus coughed, as he had no real experience talking to his enemy.
"How would you like to celebrate with me and my...comrades?"
Aren't they the ones who want to murder you?
Arthur tried his best to beat down Venom's thought, even though it was probably true.
"It'd be rude to say no-"
"Great!"
Arthur was a bit startled by Markus's sudden burst of enthusiasm, as he ran off into another street, shouting at him.
"Come on then!"
How the hell is he so fast? I thought he was nearly dead!
"Don't worry, I'm wondering the exact same thing."
Arthur desperately tried to catch up with Markus, but no matter how hard he turned a corner, or how far he pushed himself, he couldn't catch up with the human. Markus came to a halting stop, walked up some stairs, and opened a door that was built into a large box-like building, with a chimney spewing black smoke at the top. Before Arthur could stop himself, he ran up the stairs like a dog, barging in the heavily crowded tavern.
No wonder why people say to look where you run or, was it walk?
Fortunately for everyone, but Arthur, he rammed himself against a wall.
"Are you okay?"
"Peachy."
"Wot in the bloody name of Sigmar is this lil' psychopath doing here?"
Arthur rose from his little accident, only to see a grinning Victor standing in front of him, and a tankard in both of his hands.
"You fu-" Fortunately for Arthur, Victor was interrupted by his repetitive drinking, hiccuping violently.
"Stop harassing the boy with your drunkenness, and get over here!"
That caught Arthur's attention, as he saw a table with a dwarf, a figure that was completely covered in a green hood and cloak, and the wizard he saw earlier, whose fire died because of the winds of the North.
"Well?" Let's go!"
Arthur yelped as Victor grabbed him by the collar, practically dragging him to the table. As the two got closer to the table, it was filled with joyous laughter, which made Arthur even more anxious. Victor plopped down the white rat onto a chair, as both the dwarf and elf stopped laughing, and gazed intently at him.
"I need -hic- more ale!"
Victor's wasted state didn't exactly help Arthur's sense of discomfort.
"Rat!"
"Uh, y-yes?"
"Drink this, it'll make ye feel better!" Victor shoved a tankard full of ale into Arthur's face, with a massive grin. Arthur grabbed a hold of the tankard, and as if instinct took over, chugged it all down.
"I don't…"
I sense discomfort.
Arthur started giggling for no reason, and then Victor joined in on his drunken outburst of laughter. It was like a chain reaction, Markus joined in quickly, and even Bardin started laughing with them, Arthur could swear he heard a few chuckles from the elf as well.
Why are we laughing?
Bewooz we nuud jey!
I see you're not in the right state of mind.
"Heeeeey!"
"What?!"
Victor drained another tankard, quickly grabbing another and chugging it down.
"You wanna see something cool?!"
"SURE!?"
"Why are you two yelling?!"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!"
"WHY ARE WE ALL YELLING?!"
Sienna sat confused, not really sure what to do. Arthur didn't realize it, but soon the table became eerily silent, he took one glance at his shoulder and saw why.
"Stop, this is making my head spin around, you idiot!"
"We're just having fun!"
"You are drunk."
"Yesh."
"Stop."
"Ok…"
Arthur made a motion to put down the tankard in his hand, but he quickly forced Venom to drink it down.
"Blah! What…"
"How do you -hic- feel now?"
The black tendril slumped over, retracting back into Arthur's back.
"HE SLEW THE BEAST WITH ALE!"
"I don't think…"
"HOORAY!"
"CAN YOU ALL STOP SHOUTING?"
"I FEEL LIKE VOMITING!"
Arthur fumbled as he got out of his chair, drunkenly stumbling around the tavern to get to the exit.
"Aw, there goes our friend!
"You made 'im drink so much, umgi, I doubt he'll be able to fight fer days!"
"I think I need to find somewhere secure and private too…"
"Ugh, disgusting!"
"How many tankards have you all drank?"
"I lost count when I reached five."
Arthur sulked to a desolate, private alley, and promptly let loose the contents in his stomach.
The thing you made me drink is conflicting with my thoughts!
Wuz two plus six?
I don't know.
Ah! I smart than you!
At least I can speak full sentences.
Arthur wiped away the remnants of what he ate off of his mouth, as he lazily walked back to the tavern.
"Gods, I feel so...tired."
That is me, trying to suck out this stuff out of your blood.
"Oh...that's nice."
"Chug! Chug! Chug!"
As Arthur looked into the tavern, he saw victor downing an entire keg down into his mouth, with a crowd starting to chant around him. He looked to see the others in a corner, separated from the crowd. Arthur swore he came here for another reason, besides celebrating, but he can't find it.
"Do you know what we came here for?"
Something about a delivering ale to someone.
"Uh, I think I remember now…"
Arthur snatched a lone tankard from a table, and walked out of the tavern, luckily, Victor had distracted everyone in the tavern, so it made stealing it very easy.
I thought you said stealing was wrong?
"It's just a small tankard, who's gonna miss it?"
As Arthur looked up to the sky, he saw that it had changed considerably, it had a darkish-blue tint to it now, which made him assume he had spent several hours in the tavern, but they were enjoyable.
"He sure is taking his sweet time." Gnawdwell shifted his position to make himself more comfortable, but a stone cold floor isn't that comforting in the first place.
"He must've gotten caught up with something." Gnawdwell nodded, as the red tendril rested itself on his shoulder, with its unnerving white streaks that acted like its eyes. The two waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity.
"I hear someone coming." Carnage reacted accordingly, hiding away in Gnawdwell's body, as the echoing footsteps came closer to his cell.
Finally.
The white rat came into his view, standing in front of the cell, with a tankard in his hand.
"So, you finally returned, didn't you?"
"I wasn't gone for that long."
"Anyways, give me that."
Arthur was able to fit the tankard between the bars, passing it on to Gnawdwell.
Not this again.
Oh shut up, you're used to it now.
Gnawdwell didn't care to give Carnage enough time to respond, as he downed it as fast as he had gotten it.
"Now you have to answer our questions!"
"Our?"
"I mean, my questions!"
Gnawdwell sighed, throwing the tankard to Arthur, who barely caught it, and slumped against the back wall of the cell.
"Ask away, a deal was a deal."
Gnawdwell could see the white rat pondering what to ask, but he assumed he was overloaded with questions ever since his encounter with him.
"Who is your wife?"
"Was."
"Uh, let me ask another question."
"No, I'd be going back on my word if you did that."
"A-alright."
Gnawdwell gazed up at the ceiling, as he recollected memories from a time long past.
"It'd be important to say she was a wood elf."
The white rat adopted a surprised, and shocked expression, but he did not interrupt him, at least not yet.
"We met on the battlefield, she was a prisoner, I was just a bystander who just passed by while another skaven clan sieged an elven colony. When I saw her, it was like something clicked in my head, so I did what any reasonable rat in love would do."
"And what was that..?"
"Let's just say, both the colony and the skaven clan don't exist anymore."
Gnawdwell wasn't bragging, nor was he trying to inflate his ego. What he said was true, he really did eradicate both the colony and the skaven clan.
"After that, I helped her escape into the wilderness, where she belonged. Being a skaven exposed to warpstone all of his life, I never understood her love for nature. I stayed with her for a couple of months, built a cottage, and then returned to my duties as a merciless warlord who condoned the deaths of thousands."
The white rat had taken to a more comfortable position, sitting down on the floor while staring intently at Gnawdwell.
"But of course, I returned to the cottage, and found her still living there, if anything, she made improvements on it."
The white rat stared intensely at Gnawdwell, carefully listening to each word he said.
"We talked, and soon I found myself...feeling something for her. I don't know why, but she seemed to feel something for me as well, despite being one of the hated races in both of the worlds. I think you can guess what I'm leading up to."
"Pretty sure I can, but...did you have any...kids..?"
"I-"
Gnawdwell cut himself off, deciding on what he should say, he still had doubts, he needed to be sure it was him. Though he felt disappointed with himself for going back on his word, he felt like he needed to dodge the question.
"Any other questions?"
"Oh, alright, um, what was the message you wanted to deliver?"
"Hey, do you think you can do me a favor?"
"What is it?"
Gnawdwell got up and pointed at the lock on the door.
"It'd be great if you could let me out of here."
"I'll do that later, I still have some questions."
"Well then, shoot away, huntsmaster!"
"I thought Grey Seers were only able to use magic among skaven?"
"Magic? Oh, that is true, but you could say I learned a trick or two from the elves."
"But...the spell you casted, it came from the North, did it not?"
"Power comes at a cost, I gained the ability to use the winds of Dhar not so long ago, but the price costed me some of my sanity."
"Was it...worth it?"
"Only time can tell."
"What about you transforming? Is it like me?"
"Do you have an annoying voice in your head?"
"I rather enjoy his company."
"Then no."
"You don't get along?"
"Not really."
"I'm going to let you out now because I'm starting to get uncomfortable."
"That's probably best."
The white rat's hand become covered in what looked like black ink, shapeshifting into a key, then he inserted the key into the lock, which made a satisfying click as the door swung open.
"Oof, finally, I'm going to need another drink after talking that much."
"There is a tavern ne-"
"LET'S GO!"
Gnawdwell picked up the white rat in a flash, and dashed down the corridor of the dungeon, passing his fellow prisoners, then he quickly ran up some stairs and bursted out through a door that led to the outside, all the while the white rat screamed during his escape.
"What is wrong with you?!"
"Several things. Anyways, where's this tavern?"
"Do you even have money?"
"Damn, you're right, look for someone that appears rich."
"No, if I'm right, they're probably still celebrating."
"Ooooh, a celebration? Is that where you went?"
"I guess. Just follow me."
Hey, we're out.
Hm? Oh, I didn't notice.
How goes the repairs?
Slow.
Nice chat.
Gnawdwell followed the small rat, as he truly realized just how small he was.
"Oh, I forgot to ask, what's your name?"
"It's Arthur!"
Gnawdwell nodded, even though Arthur couldn't exactly see him. Gnawdwell could feel that they were getting close to a tavern, after all, he heard the trademark insults that would start a bar fight.
"I may have drunk an entire keg and several dozens of tankards, but I can still tear out your eyes!"
"That doesn't sound good."
"You're right, it sounds great!"
Gnawdwell rushed inside the tavern, to see a mob gathering in the center, arguing about a stolen tankard.
"Oh no."
"It's the witch hunter!"
"Just because I drink like a hog doesn't mean I stole that one!"
"One-Eye, how are you even conscious?"
"WHO SAID I WAS?!"
"YOU CALL THAT BEING DRUNK?! I'LL SHOW YOU!"
"Wait, please don't make a scene..!"
The crowd, along with Victor, and the others that drank in the corner, stared at Gnawdwell, as he broke into the back of the tavern and start draining kegs straight into his gullet.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Wuz it look like I'm doing? I'm getting drunk!"
Gnawdwell's persistent drinking amazed Victor, as the black rat chugged down his fourth.
"Now the party's getting started!"
"C'mere, you damn-"
And then Gnawdwell slugged the tavernkeeper in the face.
"BAR BRAWWLLL!"
"This is why we shouldn't have invited the rat."
"You may be right…"
"Waits a minute, that one seems familiar…"
Chairs flew over the heads of Arthur and the others, while chaos erupted among the patrons, slamming people onto tables, some even made makeshift weapons from the legs of the table and chairs they threw across the room.
"Oh, there's Arthur."
The elf pointed at Arthur, with the others staring at Gnawdwell.
"FIGHT! FIGHT! SPLATTER THE BLOOD! CRACK THE SKULLS!"
"Oooh, raki, what did you do?"
Arthur sneaked over to them, dodging the flying furniture and various tankards being thrown by the patrons.
"Well, I kind of let him go…"
"And why would ye do that?"
Gnawdwell slammed a patron's skull onto a table, making a gratifying crack to his ears.
"Annddd, he just killed someone."
"Shoulds we stop hims?"
"I left my weapons."
"Aye."
"Mines too."
"Me four."
"This was supposed to be a celebration, not a damn bar brawl!"
"Didn't bring yours either, huh?"
Markus grumbled, making Arthur assume he did. They conversed, while Gnawdwell threw out someone through a wall, causing splinters and wooden debris to spray everywhere.
"MORE BLOOD! FEED ME PAIN! KILL! KILL!"
They tried to find out a plan to deal with him, but all of them just came up with a single solution. Until Arthur came up with a ridiculous plan.
"Gnawdwell! This isn't skaven society, you can't just kill people because you feel like it!"
"WHAT?! Oh, my bad."
He crushed a man's neck by accident, when he actually meant to crush his skull, fortunately for Arthur, the patrons of the tavern quickly left after he killed a man by throwing him through a wall. Gnawdwell walked over to Arthur, along with the rest of the group.
"Sorry about that, I get a bit...feisty when I drink."
"We can tell! Never seen a ratty kill three men barehanded before, much less drunkies!" Victor spoke in a slurred tone, occasional repeating words.
"Shouldn't we arrest him?"
"He did kill three people…"
"Actually, he could just say it was self-defense since they were also attacking him with chairs and tables."
"Whats about the guy he punched?"
"Ok, he might be arrested for assault."
"I can't be arrested if there are no surviving victims!"
Gnawdwell leaped over the counter and grabbed hold of the tavern keeper's neck.
"The bar fight is over, stop!"
"WHAT?!"
His head peeked out above the counter, meeting the furious glare of the elf. Then his entire world turned upside down, to see nothing but pitch blackness, an empty void left behind by his misdeeds, he couldn't help but regret everything he had done.
"Warlord!"
He opened his eyes, to see Queek covered in blood, and mounds of bodies strewn about, with flames crackling in the background.
"W-what? Where am I?"
"Hm? We here to burn the elf-thing forest, yes-yes?"
"What are you-"
He turned around, to see walls of fire covering trees that penetrated the sky, their beauty being destroyed by the hunger of the flames.
"It can't be, is this..?"
Hm?
He could hear the joyous, maniacal laughter of the ratlings gunning down innocent civilians, Gnawdwell would have once loved the noise of their screams of agony, but now it disgusted him beyond belief.
"We-we do good, yes?"
Queek looked at Gnawdwell, it was like a puppy wanting to be praised.
"This is wrong."
"What-mean?"
Gnawdwell looked around, only to see hordes of clanrats surround a small battalion of wood elves, threatening to devour them, and each other if allowed to. He traversed the woods, intruding deeper and deeper into the great forest, only to come out of the shadows, to see a humongous tree, with it glowing with ancient power.
I remember this, isn't this where we desecrated that holy tree?
He wondered why he did it, why he did such a horrible atrocity, as hordes of skaven ran past him, eager to spread ruin and decay for their false god. Their horrid abominations charged through their smaller brethren, tossing them aside like their lives meant nothing. Horrifying abominations plagued the wildlife around them with their warpstone maces, corrupting all that it touched, with rat ogres destroying any that survived their wrath.
"CORRUPT-CORRUPT FOR WARLORD! SPREAD RUIN FOR GNAWDWELL!"
Their chanting only became louder as they advanced to the sacred tree, with Gnawdwell wallowing in regret and guilt.
"What have I done..?"
Their chanting only made his guilt feel heavier on him, he slowly turned around, walking away with Queek, who stood in silence as the great tree collapsed, accompanied by the laughter of his troops and terrifying abominations.
"Gnawdwell!"
He found himself back in the ruined tavern, but instead, he was sitting in a chair, with a blank expression on his face.
"Hey! Teach me the ways of the drunken master!"
"Is he fine?"
"I know that look, wazzok, he's acting stupid!"
"I don't think so mayflies."
Kerillian waved her hand in front of Gnawdwell's face, who gave no response.
"Heellooo? Anyone home?"
A man with an eyepatch and a hat with a blue feather in embedded in it entered the tavern with a group of men encased in golden armor, with silver lining the edges of their luxurious shoulder guards. The men stood as tall as Gnawdwell, with two of them wielding two golden hammers the glowed with holy light, the rest wielded golden greataxes, whose edges seemed eager to tear him apart.
"He- By Ulric! What happened here?!"
The man looked around the tavern, dumbfounded by the number of bodies thrown about, unsure whether or not they were alive or not. And then he saw the hole in the wall, seeing the dead man outside the hole didn't really help his confusion either.
"Oh, of course, you'd be here!"
Gnawdwell wondered who the man was, while the strange person stared at Arthur, seemingly knowing who he is.
"O-oh, I murdered them!"
"I find that hard to believe, but then again…"
"Wait wot? I thoughts it was-"
Victor tried to point at the giant black-furred rat sitting in the chair, but Markus was able to stop him before-hand. They exchanged words, but Gnawdwell couldn't understand what they were saying, nor did he understand. The elf and bright wizard seemed to understand though, the dwarf as well seemed to be able to see what was going on, but Gnawdwell didn't.
"You do know that if you accept the charges, you'll be arrested?"
"W-well, of c-course, I do…"
The man sighed, he waved his hand as he left the tavern, with the golden, luxuriously decorated knights walking over to Arthur. It was as if he was in a haze, Gnawdwell couldn't understand, why were they arresting him? Why weren't they arresting him, the true culprit? He couldn't understand, no, he can't understand. The five of them just stared at him, he didn't know if they spited him, or were curious about him, but he could care less.
"By Valaya, you could show a bit more joy there, raki, especially when one is taking the fall for ye."
Gnawdwell looked at the dwarf, confused and dazed, wondering what he meant.
"Come on then, hands behind your back."
Arthur offered no resistance, realistically, it was probably better if Gnawdwell had done nothing. But his dignity wouldn't allow it, he couldn't let someone take the blame for him, and he couldn't let the only person he cared about it take the fall either. So, Gnawdwell did the most logical thing he could do, one of the things he was actually good at in the world. Slaughter.
"Wait, what are you-"
Gnawdwell arose from the chair, walking up to the knights arresting the small white rat.
"What in Sigmar? What do you-"
"Die."
Gnawdwell grasped the man's armored head, and crushed it instantly, breaking both helmet and his skull, making a horrid cracking noise. The other golden knight watched in terror, as his comrade dropped to the floor, dead.
"For the Empir-"
Gnawdwell dodged the knight's futile attack, sidestepping behind him, and grabbed his left arm, promptly tossing him through the back wall of the tavern.
"What in Taal did you do that for?!" Markus was brave, but even Gnawdwell could sense he was terrified
"By the Gods…" The elf shook her head disapprovingly but didn't make any attempt to harm the enraged Gnawdwell.
"Methinks...I have somewhere to be! Victor tried to escape the situation but was stopped by Sienna.
"Oh no, you don't! You know what we have to do!" Sienna pointed at Gnawdwell, while at the same time gesturing to slit his neck.
"Unless our weapons pop into existence in front of us, I doubt we could do anything."
More are outside, waiting for us.
Gnawdwell ignored their rambling, and left the confused Arthur among them, as he came outside to the dark, starry sky.
"...Are you sure it was Arthur? I find it hard to believe he could do such a thing, Boris."
Boris, the man with the blue feathered hat lit leaned against a house, whilst talking to the golden masked man.
"I think so-"
Boris fell silent, as Gnawdwell stood on the staircase, staring down at even more golden knights, and several handgunners, accompanied by archers.
"How did he..?" Even Balthasar was uncertain of victory, even with his magical might.
"Please don't tell me you found another like him." Boris wore a face of concern, as Gnawdwell's face adopted a massive, sinister grin.
"Worse."
Gnawdwell's vision blurred as if a crimson fog had placed itself over his eyes, rage flooded his mind, mixing and blending with Carnage's lust for blood. If he was to fight, at least he should enjoy it, right?
"Call them off!"
"What?"
"Dammit, you heard me! Call off the knights!"
Gnawdwell dashed, slamming a knight into the pavement, simunatelously dodging a strike from a greataxe. Arrows flew by him, with pellets from imperial muskets hitting everything around him, expect him.
"What are you doing?! He's just one measly rat!"
Gnawdwell flawlessly dodged each of their blows, while he dealt lethal blows, usually crushing someone's spine or skull. Both arrows and bullets dug into his flesh, but the black furred maniac shrugged them off, his lust for blood and rage demanding him to focus more on dishing out carnage, than groaning about insignificant wounds.
"Let's go ou- Is that a porcupine?"
"Wot? That's not a porcupiney! That a rat!"
"OH, CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP?!"
Gnawdwell gripped onto a dead golden knight's body and threw the corpse at Victor, who ducked because he saw a shiny shilin on the floor.
"Look! I found me some moneys!" Even now, he spoke in a drunken tone.
Gnawdwell was steaming with uncontrolled rage, literally. Another knight came up behind him, only to be pierced by a red tendril, instantly ending his measly life. Slaughtering, and ending pitiful lives was entertaining for Gnawdwell, but even his scarred, muscular body had limits, he could feel himself becoming slower and heavier as he crushed heads and tore men in half with their own weapons. It was like playing a game of Whack-A-Mole, albeit much more disturbing...and a lot messier, cleaving a man in half and seeing his innards get dragged out did bring some sort of twisted joy to him, but he could feel that even his deranged happiness slip away from him.
"Raki, I think it's best if you don't come outside."
"Why? What happened?"
"Victor? Got any more of that?" Markus pointed at the tankard in Victor's hand, which just seemed to come out of nowhere.
"NO!"
Victor hurriedly downed the tankard, throwing it at Markus. Before Markus could make a remark at the witch hunter, Arthur shoved past the dwarf, gazing out at the carnage in front of him.
"What's so ba- BY THE GODS!"
There were bodies scattered about, some were chopped in half, their guts strewn about the street, some men had both their helmets and skulls crushed, but the most disgusting sight Arthur saw was a man stuck to a house, with an ax, while his innards spilled out onto the floor. Even the elf was disgusted by the sight. Even the archers, nor the handgunners had been safe, for they were impaled on their own instruments.
"I-I-I...oh g-god.."
"N-no, please, just let me go! I was just doing my job!"
Gnawdwell hefted a greataxe off the pavement, its edge stained by the blood of his foes.
"Glory in life."
"W-what..?"
The black-furred rat brought down the great weapon upon the knight, tearing open his chest, breaking his ribs, and as Gnawdwell pulled out the ax, dragging out his guts and various organs, as all of his twisted sense of joy left his body, and was replaced by seething, silent anger.
"...Honor in death."
But even then, his rage, and Carnage's bloodlust demanded more, for more bodies to pile up, with them laughing maniacally as he ripped and torn apart his foes.
"It's done."
Gnawdwell threw down the ax, shuffling away from the fallen knight, while both arrow and bullet were stuck into every part of his body.
"You are absolutely not done! You think you're going to be let off scot-free just because you murdered the people that were sent to arrest you?!"
"...Yes."
"W-what?"
Boris was flabbergasted, instantly becoming confused at Gnawdwell's reasoning. Balthasar knew better to not interfere, but it was his duty to apprehend criminals, even if they knew important information. Gnawdwell gave the two an icy, yet fiery stare, which sent tremors of fear down Balthasar's spine. It was something Balthasar had never seen, nor felt before, a rage that went deep into his past, but yet, he felt a tinge of sadness in his animalistic eyes. His blood lust wasn't his own, that he was sure, for he was able to resist it enough to not murder him and Boris.
"Your rage, your bloodlust, it seems...restrained." Balthasar chose his words carefully, Balthasar had met several men like him before, they were unpredictable, but most importantly, violent and deranged.
"Yes."
"Would you like to explain...a bit more?"
"No."
Most men Balthasar encountered like this had always been happy to hear themselves talk, but he seemed different, his rage stemmed from an honest reason, even if he had twisted it around to cause so much devastation. Balthasar just needed to buy time, noticing that Kerillian had picked up one of the many greataxes on the ground, and continued to sneak up behind Gnawdwell.
"I understand you killing our men, but...did you have to do it so..?"
Balthasar looked away from the massacre, wanting to vomit as he saw one too many organs thrown about the street.
"I've learned that chopping, slicing, desecrating, and tearing apart my enemies demoralizes the opposing side."
"By Sigmar...you got that right…" Balthasar coughed, pinching his nose, an attempt to stop himself from smelling the putrid, vile stench that exuded from the various corpses. Kerillian was almost completely behind him, the ax's edge was gleaming in the dark, starry shine of the moon.
"There is a thin line between bravery, and stupidity, elf!"
Gnawdwell dodged the elf's blow, even for a genocidal monster, he had some grace. He elegantly snatched the greataxe away from her, snapping it into two, and then wrapped his arm around her neck, strangling her.
"LET HER GO!"
Gnawdwell didn't expect such emotion, after all, he did slaughter an entire human force. The elf tried to say something, but the fact that she was being strangled by a giant, black rat didn't help her case. He didn't expect such a strong reaction from Arthur, especially since he just saw him massacre an entire legion.
"Don't you dare do anything, wizard."
"Fine, fine."
For once, Gnawdwell could see Arthur's eyes filled with a weird sort of determination.
"Was anything you said to me even true?!"
Gnawdwell stumbled back, still keeping a strong grip on the elf, despite his little fumble.
"Was it all just a lie just so you could escape!?"
The black-furred rat was confused, why would he lie? What reason would he have?
"Answer me!"
Gnawdwell was dumbfounded at Arthur's newfound confidence, his accusation seemed to sting, like an old wound opening up after a few years.
"You weren't there."
"What do you mean?! Enough of your cryptic nonsense!"
Only Arthur seemed to exist in Gnawdwell's eyes, everyone else was blurred out, for he didn't really care for them, though he kept a hold on the elf.
"Not all of it was a lie."
"Then what part of it was a lie?!"
"I never told you how my wife died."
"S-so what..?"
Gnawdwell could hear the little rat's mind scrambling, trying to find another answer, but it all ended up the same, every single answer led to the same outcome.
"I...was the one who killed her."
Questions, And More Questions
Gnawdwell awoke to the sound of a timid voice, a voice filled with both fear and curiosity. As much as he wanted to inspect the voice, his body felt like lead, even his eyes felt like a chore just to open. But when he did, he saw a small white rat, rubbing his hands together in anxiousness. Though he couldn't put his finger on it, the rat seemed familiar, almost as if he had met him before.
"What is it?"
The rat yelped in surprise, it looked like he didn't expect that much of a response from him.
"O-oh, I thought…"
"Thought what? That I was dead? It's gonna take a bit more than you to kill me."
Gnawdwell could hear Carnage scoffing in the back of his mind, he could hear his insane companion going on how he almost killed both of them.
"I just came for...answers."
"What kind of answers are you looking for?"
"T-that's the problem, I d-don't really know…"
"Then why are you here?"
Gnawdwell could sense that he was pressuring the small rat, making him even more anxious than before. But then, he saw a flash of alien-like intelligence in his eyes.
"Who are you?"
"Looks like someone put on their big boy pants."
"Just answer the question."
"Fine, I am Gnawdwell, leader of Clan Mors, and the second seat in the Council Of Thirteenth."
"I know that someone as important as you shouldn't be here, at least not without an entire army."
"I had something important to deliver."
"What could've been so important, that you, yourself, had to deliver it?"
Gnawdwell thought to himself on how to maneuver this situation, he wished that the rat returned to his more timid, anxious state.
"I had to deliver a message."
"What does that mean, what is the message?"
"I won't tell you."
"Why?"
"I haven't had my drink yet."
This seemed to confuse the white rat, he stumbled back from the cell in surprise.
"What?'
"Get me a drink, and then I'll talk."
"Deal!" Gnawdwell let out a sigh of relief, at least he'd be wasted when he spilled his guts out onto a table. The white rat hurriedly made his leave, his footsteps echoing throughout the dungeon, becoming quieter as he moved further from Gnawdwell's cell. A red tendril sprouted from his shoulder, forming into a crimson colored head with white streaks for eyes.
"Now, do you want the bad news or the really bad news?"
"How 'bout both?"
"You've torn our bonds apart, fool! It'll take ages for me to fix this!"
"I thought you were great at...uhhh, what's the word?"
"You don't even know the very thing that has kept you alive all these years. My god."
"It's fine, not a big deal."
"Since most of the bonds were destroyed by your little stunt, we won't be able to transform for some time, and I won't have the time to repair your...disgusting body."
"I thought we talked about not insulting my body."
Carnage scoffed, retreating back to resume his work on repairing himself.
"It'll work out. I know it will."
Do you really think he'll really talk if we just make him wasted?
"Not really, but...who'd miss a single bottle?"
I'm thinking we're gonna need more than a bottle.
"Psh, how much can one rat drink?"
Arthur slowed down to a walk, processing what he just said.
"Rats...don't drink ale."
Nor do they stroll around like a giant, red monster.
"Ugh, there's too many things to figure out, let's just focus on getting the bottle."
You're right, we should not try to do everything all at once.
"How nice, we agree on something."
Arthur passed by Victor, who had an expression of confusion and fear. The witch hunter stared at him, while he casually talked to himself.
"What in Sigmar..?"
Don't we need money to buy ale?
"I guess we do."
Why not steal it?
"Because it's wrong."
Who's gonna miss a keg of ale?
"I think the tavern owner would certainly notice an entire keg of ale vanish out of thin air.."
You're no fun.
Arthur laughed, which confused Venom. Before Arthur could literally die from laughter, he heard a voice behind him.
"Oi! Ra-I mean Arthur is it?"
Arthur turned around and gazed up at the huge behemoth before him, the last time Arthur saw Markus, he was covered in bandages and left behind an aura of foul medicine, thankfully, he looked much better now.
"Yes, I am the rat named Arthur."
"Ah, yes, umm…"
Even Venom could sense the tension and how awkward this situation was becoming. Markus coughed, as he had no real experience talking to his enemy.
"How would you like to celebrate with me and my...comrades?"
Aren't they the ones who want to murder you?
Arthur tried his best to beat down Venom's thought, even though it was probably true.
"It'd be rude to say no-"
"Great!"
Arthur was a bit startled by Markus's sudden burst of enthusiasm, as he ran off into another street, shouting at him.
"Come on then!"
How the hell is he so fast? I thought he was nearly dead!
"Don't worry, I'm wondering the exact same thing."
Arthur desperately tried to catch up with Markus, but no matter how hard he turned a corner, or how far he pushed himself, he couldn't catch up with the human. Markus came to a halting stop, walked up some stairs, and opened a door that was built into a large box-like building, with a chimney spewing black smoke at the top. Before Arthur could stop himself, he ran up the stairs like a dog, barging in the heavily crowded tavern.
No wonder why people say to look where you run or, was it walk?
Fortunately for everyone, but Arthur, he rammed himself against a wall.
"Are you okay?"
"Peachy."
"Wot in the bloody name of Sigmar is this lil' psychopath doing here?"
Arthur rose from his little accident, only to see a grinning Victor standing in front of him, and a tankard in both of his hands.
"You fu-" Fortunately for Arthur, Victor was interrupted by his repetitive drinking, hiccuping violently.
"Stop harassing the boy with your drunkenness, and get over here!"
That caught Arthur's attention, as he saw a table with a dwarf, a figure that was completely covered in a green hood and cloak, and the wizard he saw earlier, whose fire died because of the winds of the North.
"Well?" Let's go!"
Arthur yelped as Victor grabbed him by the collar, practically dragging him to the table. As the two got closer to the table, it was filled with joyous laughter, which made Arthur even more anxious. Victor plopped down the white rat onto a chair, as both the dwarf and elf stopped laughing, and gazed intently at him.
"I need -hic- more ale!"
Victor's wasted state didn't exactly help Arthur's sense of discomfort.
"Rat!"
"Uh, y-yes?"
"Drink this, it'll make ye feel better!" Victor shoved a tankard full of ale into Arthur's face, with a massive grin. Arthur grabbed a hold of the tankard, and as if instinct took over, chugged it all down.
"I don't…"
I sense discomfort.
Arthur started giggling for no reason, and then Victor joined in on his drunken outburst of laughter. It was like a chain reaction, Markus joined in quickly, and even Bardin started laughing with them, Arthur could swear he heard a few chuckles from the elf as well.
Why are we laughing?
Bewooz we nuud jey!
I see you're not in the right state of mind.
"Heeeeey!"
"What?!"
Victor drained another tankard, quickly grabbing another and chugging it down.
"You wanna see something cool?!"
"SURE!?"
"Why are you two yelling?!"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!"
"WHY ARE WE ALL YELLING?!"
Sienna sat confused, not really sure what to do. Arthur didn't realize it, but soon the table became eerily silent, he took one glance at his shoulder and saw why.
"Stop, this is making my head spin around, you idiot!"
"We're just having fun!"
"You are drunk."
"Yesh."
"Stop."
"Ok…"
Arthur made a motion to put down the tankard in his hand, but he quickly forced Venom to drink it down.
"Blah! What…"
"How do you -hic- feel now?"
The black tendril slumped over, retracting back into Arthur's back.
"HE SLEW THE BEAST WITH ALE!"
"I don't think…"
"HOORAY!"
"CAN YOU ALL STOP SHOUTING?"
"I FEEL LIKE VOMITING!"
Arthur fumbled as he got out of his chair, drunkenly stumbling around the tavern to get to the exit.
"Aw, there goes our friend!
"You made 'im drink so much, umgi, I doubt he'll be able to fight fer days!"
"I think I need to find somewhere secure and private too…"
"Ugh, disgusting!"
"How many tankards have you all drank?"
"I lost count when I reached five."
Arthur sulked to a desolate, private alley, and promptly let loose the contents in his stomach.
The thing you made me drink is conflicting with my thoughts!
Wuz two plus six?
I don't know.
Ah! I smart than you!
At least I can speak full sentences.
Arthur wiped away the remnants of what he ate off of his mouth, as he lazily walked back to the tavern.
"Gods, I feel so...tired."
That is me, trying to suck out this stuff out of your blood.
"Oh...that's nice."
"Chug! Chug! Chug!"
As Arthur looked into the tavern, he saw victor downing an entire keg down into his mouth, with a crowd starting to chant around him. He looked to see the others in a corner, separated from the crowd. Arthur swore he came here for another reason, besides celebrating, but he can't find it.
"Do you know what we came here for?"
Something about a delivering ale to someone.
"Uh, I think I remember now…"
Arthur snatched a lone tankard from a table, and walked out of the tavern, luckily, Victor had distracted everyone in the tavern, so it made stealing it very easy.
I thought you said stealing was wrong?
"It's just a small tankard, who's gonna miss it?"
As Arthur looked up to the sky, he saw that it had changed considerably, it had a darkish-blue tint to it now, which made him assume he had spent several hours in the tavern, but they were enjoyable.
"He sure is taking his sweet time." Gnawdwell shifted his position to make himself more comfortable, but a stone cold floor isn't that comforting in the first place.
"He must've gotten caught up with something." Gnawdwell nodded, as the red tendril rested itself on his shoulder, with its unnerving white streaks that acted like its eyes. The two waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity.
"I hear someone coming." Carnage reacted accordingly, hiding away in Gnawdwell's body, as the echoing footsteps came closer to his cell.
Finally.
The white rat came into his view, standing in front of the cell, with a tankard in his hand.
"So, you finally returned, didn't you?"
"I wasn't gone for that long."
"Anyways, give me that."
Arthur was able to fit the tankard between the bars, passing it on to Gnawdwell.
Not this again.
Oh shut up, you're used to it now.
Gnawdwell didn't care to give Carnage enough time to respond, as he downed it as fast as he had gotten it.
"Now you have to answer our questions!"
"Our?"
"I mean, my questions!"
Gnawdwell sighed, throwing the tankard to Arthur, who barely caught it, and slumped against the back wall of the cell.
"Ask away, a deal was a deal."
Gnawdwell could see the white rat pondering what to ask, but he assumed he was overloaded with questions ever since his encounter with him.
"Who is your wife?"
"Was."
"Uh, let me ask another question."
"No, I'd be going back on my word if you did that."
"A-alright."
Gnawdwell gazed up at the ceiling, as he recollected memories from a time long past.
"It'd be important to say she was a wood elf."
The white rat adopted a surprised, and shocked expression, but he did not interrupt him, at least not yet.
"We met on the battlefield, she was a prisoner, I was just a bystander who just passed by while another skaven clan sieged an elven colony. When I saw her, it was like something clicked in my head, so I did what any reasonable rat in love would do."
"And what was that..?"
"Let's just say, both the colony and the skaven clan don't exist anymore."
Gnawdwell wasn't bragging, nor was he trying to inflate his ego. What he said was true, he really did eradicate both the colony and the skaven clan.
"After that, I helped her escape into the wilderness, where she belonged. Being a skaven exposed to warpstone all of his life, I never understood her love for nature. I stayed with her for a couple of months, built a cottage, and then returned to my duties as a merciless warlord who condoned the deaths of thousands."
The white rat had taken to a more comfortable position, sitting down on the floor while staring intently at Gnawdwell.
"But of course, I returned to the cottage, and found her still living there, if anything, she made improvements on it."
The white rat stared intensely at Gnawdwell, carefully listening to each word he said.
"We talked, and soon I found myself...feeling something for her. I don't know why, but she seemed to feel something for me as well, despite being one of the hated races in both of the worlds. I think you can guess what I'm leading up to."
"Pretty sure I can, but...did you have any...kids..?"
"I-"
Gnawdwell cut himself off, deciding on what he should say, he still had doubts, he needed to be sure it was him. Though he felt disappointed with himself for going back on his word, he felt like he needed to dodge the question.
"Any other questions?"
"Oh, alright, um, what was the message you wanted to deliver?"
"Hey, do you think you can do me a favor?"
"What is it?"
Gnawdwell got up and pointed at the lock on the door.
"It'd be great if you could let me out of here."
"I'll do that later, I still have some questions."
"Well then, shoot away, huntsmaster!"
"I thought Grey Seers were only able to use magic among skaven?"
"Magic? Oh, that is true, but you could say I learned a trick or two from the elves."
"But...the spell you casted, it came from the North, did it not?"
"Power comes at a cost, I gained the ability to use the winds of Dhar not so long ago, but the price costed me some of my sanity."
"Was it...worth it?"
"Only time can tell."
"What about you transforming? Is it like me?"
"Do you have an annoying voice in your head?"
"I rather enjoy his company."
"Then no."
"You don't get along?"
"Not really."
"I'm going to let you out now because I'm starting to get uncomfortable."
"That's probably best."
The white rat's hand become covered in what looked like black ink, shapeshifting into a key, then he inserted the key into the lock, which made a satisfying click as the door swung open.
"Oof, finally, I'm going to need another drink after talking that much."
"There is a tavern ne-"
"LET'S GO!"
Gnawdwell picked up the white rat in a flash, and dashed down the corridor of the dungeon, passing his fellow prisoners, then he quickly ran up some stairs and bursted out through a door that led to the outside, all the while the white rat screamed during his escape.
"What is wrong with you?!"
"Several things. Anyways, where's this tavern?"
"Do you even have money?"
"Damn, you're right, look for someone that appears rich."
"No, if I'm right, they're probably still celebrating."
"Ooooh, a celebration? Is that where you went?"
"I guess. Just follow me."
Hey, we're out.
Hm? Oh, I didn't notice.
How goes the repairs?
Slow.
Nice chat.
Gnawdwell followed the small rat, as he truly realized just how small he was.
"Oh, I forgot to ask, what's your name?"
"It's Arthur!"
Gnawdwell nodded, even though Arthur couldn't exactly see him. Gnawdwell could feel that they were getting close to a tavern, after all, he heard the trademark insults that would start a bar fight.
"I may have drunk an entire keg and several dozens of tankards, but I can still tear out your eyes!"
"That doesn't sound good."
"You're right, it sounds great!"
Gnawdwell rushed inside the tavern, to see a mob gathering in the center, arguing about a stolen tankard.
"Oh no."
"It's the witch hunter!"
"Just because I drink like a hog doesn't mean I stole that one!"
"One-Eye, how are you even conscious?"
"WHO SAID I WAS?!"
"YOU CALL THAT BEING DRUNK?! I'LL SHOW YOU!"
"Wait, please don't make a scene..!"
The crowd, along with Victor, and the others that drank in the corner, stared at Gnawdwell, as he broke into the back of the tavern and start draining kegs straight into his gullet.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Wuz it look like I'm doing? I'm getting drunk!"
Gnawdwell's persistent drinking amazed Victor, as the black rat chugged down his fourth.
"Now the party's getting started!"
"C'mere, you damn-"
And then Gnawdwell slugged the tavernkeeper in the face.
"BAR BRAWWLLL!"
"This is why we shouldn't have invited the rat."
"You may be right…"
"Waits a minute, that one seems familiar…"
Chairs flew over the heads of Arthur and the others, while chaos erupted among the patrons, slamming people onto tables, some even made makeshift weapons from the legs of the table and chairs they threw across the room.
"Oh, there's Arthur."
The elf pointed at Arthur, with the others staring at Gnawdwell.
"FIGHT! FIGHT! SPLATTER THE BLOOD! CRACK THE SKULLS!"
"Oooh, raki, what did you do?"
Arthur sneaked over to them, dodging the flying furniture and various tankards being thrown by the patrons.
"Well, I kind of let him go…"
"And why would ye do that?"
Gnawdwell slammed a patron's skull onto a table, making a gratifying crack to his ears.
"Annddd, he just killed someone."
"Shoulds we stop hims?"
"I left my weapons."
"Aye."
"Mines too."
"Me four."
"This was supposed to be a celebration, not a damn bar brawl!"
"Didn't bring yours either, huh?"
Markus grumbled, making Arthur assume he did. They conversed, while Gnawdwell threw out someone through a wall, causing splinters and wooden debris to spray everywhere.
"MORE BLOOD! FEED ME PAIN! KILL! KILL!"
They tried to find out a plan to deal with him, but all of them just came up with a single solution. Until Arthur came up with a ridiculous plan.
"Gnawdwell! This isn't skaven society, you can't just kill people because you feel like it!"
"WHAT?! Oh, my bad."
He crushed a man's neck by accident, when he actually meant to crush his skull, fortunately for Arthur, the patrons of the tavern quickly left after he killed a man by throwing him through a wall. Gnawdwell walked over to Arthur, along with the rest of the group.
"Sorry about that, I get a bit...feisty when I drink."
"We can tell! Never seen a ratty kill three men barehanded before, much less drunkies!" Victor spoke in a slurred tone, occasional repeating words.
"Shouldn't we arrest him?"
"He did kill three people…"
"Actually, he could just say it was self-defense since they were also attacking him with chairs and tables."
"Whats about the guy he punched?"
"Ok, he might be arrested for assault."
"I can't be arrested if there are no surviving victims!"
Gnawdwell leaped over the counter and grabbed hold of the tavern keeper's neck.
"The bar fight is over, stop!"
"WHAT?!"
His head peeked out above the counter, meeting the furious glare of the elf. Then his entire world turned upside down, to see nothing but pitch blackness, an empty void left behind by his misdeeds, he couldn't help but regret everything he had done.
"Warlord!"
He opened his eyes, to see Queek covered in blood, and mounds of bodies strewn about, with flames crackling in the background.
"W-what? Where am I?"
"Hm? We here to burn the elf-thing forest, yes-yes?"
"What are you-"
He turned around, to see walls of fire covering trees that penetrated the sky, their beauty being destroyed by the hunger of the flames.
"It can't be, is this..?"
Hm?
He could hear the joyous, maniacal laughter of the ratlings gunning down innocent civilians, Gnawdwell would have once loved the noise of their screams of agony, but now it disgusted him beyond belief.
"We-we do good, yes?"
Queek looked at Gnawdwell, it was like a puppy wanting to be praised.
"This is wrong."
"What-mean?"
Gnawdwell looked around, only to see hordes of clanrats surround a small battalion of wood elves, threatening to devour them, and each other if allowed to. He traversed the woods, intruding deeper and deeper into the great forest, only to come out of the shadows, to see a humongous tree, with it glowing with ancient power.
I remember this, isn't this where we desecrated that holy tree?
He wondered why he did it, why he did such a horrible atrocity, as hordes of skaven ran past him, eager to spread ruin and decay for their false god. Their horrid abominations charged through their smaller brethren, tossing them aside like their lives meant nothing. Horrifying abominations plagued the wildlife around them with their warpstone maces, corrupting all that it touched, with rat ogres destroying any that survived their wrath.
"CORRUPT-CORRUPT FOR WARLORD! SPREAD RUIN FOR GNAWDWELL!"
Their chanting only became louder as they advanced to the sacred tree, with Gnawdwell wallowing in regret and guilt.
"What have I done..?"
Their chanting only made his guilt feel heavier on him, he slowly turned around, walking away with Queek, who stood in silence as the great tree collapsed, accompanied by the laughter of his troops and terrifying abominations.
"Gnawdwell!"
He found himself back in the ruined tavern, but instead, he was sitting in a chair, with a blank expression on his face.
"Hey! Teach me the ways of the drunken master!"
"Is he fine?"
"I know that look, wazzok, he's acting stupid!"
"I don't think so mayflies."
Kerillian waved her hand in front of Gnawdwell's face, who gave no response.
"Heellooo? Anyone home?"
A man with an eyepatch and a hat with a blue feather in embedded in it entered the tavern with a group of men encased in golden armor, with silver lining the edges of their luxurious shoulder guards. The men stood as tall as Gnawdwell, with two of them wielding two golden hammers the glowed with holy light, the rest wielded golden greataxes, whose edges seemed eager to tear him apart.
"He- By Ulric! What happened here?!"
The man looked around the tavern, dumbfounded by the number of bodies thrown about, unsure whether or not they were alive or not. And then he saw the hole in the wall, seeing the dead man outside the hole didn't really help his confusion either.
"Oh, of course, you'd be here!"
Gnawdwell wondered who the man was, while the strange person stared at Arthur, seemingly knowing who he is.
"O-oh, I murdered them!"
"I find that hard to believe, but then again…"
"Wait wot? I thoughts it was-"
Victor tried to point at the giant black-furred rat sitting in the chair, but Markus was able to stop him before-hand. They exchanged words, but Gnawdwell couldn't understand what they were saying, nor did he understand. The elf and bright wizard seemed to understand though, the dwarf as well seemed to be able to see what was going on, but Gnawdwell didn't.
"You do know that if you accept the charges, you'll be arrested?"
"W-well, of c-course, I do…"
The man sighed, he waved his hand as he left the tavern, with the golden, luxuriously decorated knights walking over to Arthur. It was as if he was in a haze, Gnawdwell couldn't understand, why were they arresting him? Why weren't they arresting him, the true culprit? He couldn't understand, no, he can't understand. The five of them just stared at him, he didn't know if they spited him, or were curious about him, but he could care less.
"By Valaya, you could show a bit more joy there, raki, especially when one is taking the fall for ye."
Gnawdwell looked at the dwarf, confused and dazed, wondering what he meant.
"Come on then, hands behind your back."
Arthur offered no resistance, realistically, it was probably better if Gnawdwell had done nothing. But his dignity wouldn't allow it, he couldn't let someone take the blame for him, and he couldn't let the only person he cared about it take the fall either. So, Gnawdwell did the most logical thing he could do, one of the things he was actually good at in the world. Slaughter.
"Wait, what are you-"
Gnawdwell arose from the chair, walking up to the knights arresting the small white rat.
"What in Sigmar? What do you-"
"Die."
Gnawdwell grasped the man's armored head, and crushed it instantly, breaking both helmet and his skull, making a horrid cracking noise. The other golden knight watched in terror, as his comrade dropped to the floor, dead.
"For the Empir-"
Gnawdwell dodged the knight's futile attack, sidestepping behind him, and grabbed his left arm, promptly tossing him through the back wall of the tavern.
"What in Taal did you do that for?!" Markus was brave, but even Gnawdwell could sense he was terrified
"By the Gods…" The elf shook her head disapprovingly but didn't make any attempt to harm the enraged Gnawdwell.
"Methinks...I have somewhere to be! Victor tried to escape the situation but was stopped by Sienna.
"Oh no, you don't! You know what we have to do!" Sienna pointed at Gnawdwell, while at the same time gesturing to slit his neck.
"Unless our weapons pop into existence in front of us, I doubt we could do anything."
More are outside, waiting for us.
Gnawdwell ignored their rambling, and left the confused Arthur among them, as he came outside to the dark, starry sky.
"...Are you sure it was Arthur? I find it hard to believe he could do such a thing, Boris."
Boris, the man with the blue feathered hat lit leaned against a house, whilst talking to the golden masked man.
"I think so-"
Boris fell silent, as Gnawdwell stood on the staircase, staring down at even more golden knights, and several handgunners, accompanied by archers.
"How did he..?" Even Balthasar was uncertain of victory, even with his magical might.
"Please don't tell me you found another like him." Boris wore a face of concern, as Gnawdwell's face adopted a massive, sinister grin.
"Worse."
Gnawdwell's vision blurred as if a crimson fog had placed itself over his eyes, rage flooded his mind, mixing and blending with Carnage's lust for blood. If he was to fight, at least he should enjoy it, right?
"Call them off!"
"What?"
"Dammit, you heard me! Call off the knights!"
Gnawdwell dashed, slamming a knight into the pavement, simunatelously dodging a strike from a greataxe. Arrows flew by him, with pellets from imperial muskets hitting everything around him, expect him.
"What are you doing?! He's just one measly rat!"
Gnawdwell flawlessly dodged each of their blows, while he dealt lethal blows, usually crushing someone's spine or skull. Both arrows and bullets dug into his flesh, but the black furred maniac shrugged them off, his lust for blood and rage demanding him to focus more on dishing out carnage, than groaning about insignificant wounds.
"Let's go ou- Is that a porcupine?"
"Wot? That's not a porcupiney! That a rat!"
"OH, CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP?!"
Gnawdwell gripped onto a dead golden knight's body and threw the corpse at Victor, who ducked because he saw a shiny shilin on the floor.
"Look! I found me some moneys!" Even now, he spoke in a drunken tone.
Gnawdwell was steaming with uncontrolled rage, literally. Another knight came up behind him, only to be pierced by a red tendril, instantly ending his measly life. Slaughtering, and ending pitiful lives was entertaining for Gnawdwell, but even his scarred, muscular body had limits, he could feel himself becoming slower and heavier as he crushed heads and tore men in half with their own weapons. It was like playing a game of Whack-A-Mole, albeit much more disturbing...and a lot messier, cleaving a man in half and seeing his innards get dragged out did bring some sort of twisted joy to him, but he could feel that even his deranged happiness slip away from him.
"Raki, I think it's best if you don't come outside."
"Why? What happened?"
"Victor? Got any more of that?" Markus pointed at the tankard in Victor's hand, which just seemed to come out of nowhere.
"NO!"
Victor hurriedly downed the tankard, throwing it at Markus. Before Markus could make a remark at the witch hunter, Arthur shoved past the dwarf, gazing out at the carnage in front of him.
"What's so ba- BY THE GODS!"
There were bodies scattered about, some were chopped in half, their guts strewn about the street, some men had both their helmets and skulls crushed, but the most disgusting sight Arthur saw was a man stuck to a house, with an ax, while his innards spilled out onto the floor. Even the elf was disgusted by the sight. Even the archers, nor the handgunners had been safe, for they were impaled on their own instruments.
"I-I-I...oh g-god.."
"N-no, please, just let me go! I was just doing my job!"
Gnawdwell hefted a greataxe off the pavement, its edge stained by the blood of his foes.
"Glory in life."
"W-what..?"
The black-furred rat brought down the great weapon upon the knight, tearing open his chest, breaking his ribs, and as Gnawdwell pulled out the ax, dragging out his guts and various organs, as all of his twisted sense of joy left his body, and was replaced by seething, silent anger.
"...Honor in death."
But even then, his rage, and Carnage's bloodlust demanded more, for more bodies to pile up, with them laughing maniacally as he ripped and torn apart his foes.
"It's done."
Gnawdwell threw down the ax, shuffling away from the fallen knight, while both arrow and bullet were stuck into every part of his body.
"You are absolutely not done! You think you're going to be let off scot-free just because you murdered the people that were sent to arrest you?!"
"...Yes."
"W-what?"
Boris was flabbergasted, instantly becoming confused at Gnawdwell's reasoning. Balthasar knew better to not interfere, but it was his duty to apprehend criminals, even if they knew important information. Gnawdwell gave the two an icy, yet fiery stare, which sent tremors of fear down Balthasar's spine. It was something Balthasar had never seen, nor felt before, a rage that went deep into his past, but yet, he felt a tinge of sadness in his animalistic eyes. His blood lust wasn't his own, that he was sure, for he was able to resist it enough to not murder him and Boris.
"Your rage, your bloodlust, it seems...restrained." Balthasar chose his words carefully, Balthasar had met several men like him before, they were unpredictable, but most importantly, violent and deranged.
"Yes."
"Would you like to explain...a bit more?"
"No."
Most men Balthasar encountered like this had always been happy to hear themselves talk, but he seemed different, his rage stemmed from an honest reason, even if he had twisted it around to cause so much devastation. Balthasar just needed to buy time, noticing that Kerillian had picked up one of the many greataxes on the ground, and continued to sneak up behind Gnawdwell.
"I understand you killing our men, but...did you have to do it so..?"
Balthasar looked away from the massacre, wanting to vomit as he saw one too many organs thrown about the street.
"I've learned that chopping, slicing, desecrating, and tearing apart my enemies demoralizes the opposing side."
"By Sigmar...you got that right…" Balthasar coughed, pinching his nose, an attempt to stop himself from smelling the putrid, vile stench that exuded from the various corpses. Kerillian was almost completely behind him, the ax's edge was gleaming in the dark, starry shine of the moon.
"There is a thin line between bravery, and stupidity, elf!"
Gnawdwell dodged the elf's blow, even for a genocidal monster, he had some grace. He elegantly snatched the greataxe away from her, snapping it into two, and then wrapped his arm around her neck, strangling her.
"LET HER GO!"
Gnawdwell didn't expect such emotion, after all, he did slaughter an entire human force. The elf tried to say something, but the fact that she was being strangled by a giant, black rat didn't help her case. He didn't expect such a strong reaction from Arthur, especially since he just saw him massacre an entire legion.
"Don't you dare do anything, wizard."
"Fine, fine."
For once, Gnawdwell could see Arthur's eyes filled with a weird sort of determination.
"Was anything you said to me even true?!"
Gnawdwell stumbled back, still keeping a strong grip on the elf, despite his little fumble.
"Was it all just a lie just so you could escape!?"
The black-furred rat was confused, why would he lie? What reason would he have?
"Answer me!"
Gnawdwell was dumbfounded at Arthur's newfound confidence, his accusation seemed to sting, like an old wound opening up after a few years.
"You weren't there."
"What do you mean?! Enough of your cryptic nonsense!"
Only Arthur seemed to exist in Gnawdwell's eyes, everyone else was blurred out, for he didn't really care for them, though he kept a hold on the elf.
"Not all of it was a lie."
"Then what part of it was a lie?!"
"I never told you how my wife died."
"S-so what..?"
Gnawdwell could hear the little rat's mind scrambling, trying to find another answer, but it all ended up the same, every single answer led to the same outcome.
"I...was the one who killed her."
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Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
The Truth Cometh
The air was stained with the corruption of chaos tainted all around it, with entire cities being devoured by the verminous horde that traversed the landscape.
What is the next target?
Gnawdwell took out a map and laid it out onto a table.
"From the looks of it, the Empire."
Ooooh, taking on entire countries now? Spicy!
Gnawdwell slumped back into his throne, with the map falling off the table instantly, the giant mobile headquarters shaken as the monstrous bonebreaker trudged through battalions of clanrats. Believe it or not, the bonebreaker carried the headquarters on its back, acting like transport for Gnawdwell. Clan Mors rarely let loose massive hordes of vermin and abominations onto the surface, but this time it was needed.
"No, we're not attacking the entirety of the Empire, just a single city."
A bit boring, but fine. What's the city?
Gnawdwell looked back at the table to point at the soon to be destroyed city on the map, but then realized it flew out a window that he left open.
"Huh. Anyway, I believe it's Mordheim."
Didn't you say the place was already exterminated?
"Hell if I know, the Council demands I mine warpstone, and destroy the city afterward."
Feel like you're missing something…doesn't seem like you to listen to weaklings.
"...I got overruled by the Council." Gnawdwell gritted his fangs in annoyance, he never really liked admitting that someone else overpowered him in any way, much less someone weaker than him. Carnage became silent, as Gnawdwell slumbered off, with the occasional grunt of the bonebreaker struggling to carry the headquarters to keep him company while he slept.
"W-what?"
Arthur was shocked, how could someone kill their own..? No, he couldn't believe it, but yet, it seemed so true. Kerillian was overloaded with information, so much so she actually stopped struggling to process what the black rat had said, Victor, on the other hand, remained passed out on the pavement. Bardin's face was indescribable, Markus wore an expression both confusion and surprise. Despite the golden mask covering his face, Arthur was sure Balthasar was just as surprised as he was.
"Nothing will change the fact that I killed her, and nothing in this world can replace her."
Gnawdwell loosened her grip on Kerillian, letting her be able to speak, but he still kept her hostage, just in case.
"I would LOVE, to have a minute to process what this vile vermin just spouted out of his horribly disfigured fangs, while he is bleeding all over me, with several arrows and bullets stuck into nearly every single part of his body."
"Is that a compliment?"
Gnawdwell sneered at Kerillian, who seemed to be repulsed by him.
"Not in the slightest, now get your mange covered, flea infested, and dirty furry head out of my face!"
Gnawdwell grunted indifferently, but Arthur could tell he was getting annoyed by Kerillian's constant insults, and her condescending tone.
"Glorified pest!"
"Take a look at my body, foolish elf."
"What about it?! It's scarred, bruised, and beaten to hell!"
"Most of these scars came from your kind."
"What did you just say?"
Gnawdwell smiled eerily, staring into her eyes with a twisted, corrupted sense of joy.
"None have encountered my kind and lived to tell the tale."
"That is true, but I always come back after every death."
"But what happened to your wife?!" Arthur was getting tired of the two just exchanging insults, and he had wanted to stop Gnawdwell from going into another murderous rampage.
"Did you know I despise elves? Specifically the wooden ones."
"But why? Did they have something to do with..?"
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK, ARTHUR?! I LOSE ONE OF THE MOST PRECIOUS THINGS TO ME BECAUSE OF SOME IGNORANT HORNED ELF THAT THINKS THAT HIS GOD HAS POWER OVER WHAT I DO!"
For once, Kerillian shrank, not wanting to say anything.
"O-oh, o-ok…" Gnawdwell's appearance terrified Arthur, just looking at his bruised, gashed, and sliced apart body made him want to run away. Arthur wasn't just terrified of him, he was worried for the psychotic rat.
Now, I kind of feel bad.
Arthur stared at Gnawdwell, his eyes ablaze with a fiery rage, and lust for blood. What could he do? What can he do to defuse the situation? Surely there'd be more forces inbound to arrest him, but that'll take time, and time was something Arthur didn't have. Arthur took a deep breath, and exhaled, which calmed him down, if ever so little.
"I...can't possibly imagine what it is like losing someone like that...but why did you...kill her?"
Arthur expected him to explode into either animalistic rage or agonizing mourning, but Gnawdwell kept stable, for the time being. The black rat could snap at any moment, Arthur could almost feel Gnawdwell's paranoid, savage, and sadistic mind in his.
"You may not know him, but I have a feeling this elf does."
Kerillian's head perked up, curious as to who Gnawdwell was talking about. Balthasar and Markus were able to get a passed out Victor to relative safety while the three spoke.
"He is the Leader of the Hunt, the grand protector of Athel Loren himself!"
"No...It can't be..!"
He sneered once again at Kerillian, sending shivers of terror and anticipation down her spine, as he uttered out his name.
"Who else could it be?! It's Orion, of course!" His smug sneer just grew in size, spanning across his face as Gnawdwell took a glance at Kerillian's face, becoming contorted in disbelief. Markus and Balthasar were carrying Victor at the time, but as the black rat uttered out the legendary protector's name, he froze, slowly turning around to face Gnawdwell. The psychotic rat noticed Kerillian about to speak up, along with Balthasar, so he quickly cut them off before they could speak.
"Everything was so damn PERFECT! But no, he couldn't leave well enough alone."
"W-what do you mean..?" Arthur had to be cautious about how he said his words, and he also had to be careful about what he said.
"The damn horned fool thought he could take away my beloved, just because his 'god' demanded him too!"
"You dare try to defame him, you fil-"
"Careful, elf, your life hangs in the balance!" His hand became shrouded in red sludge, transforming it into a long, murky red blade, and lightly placed it by Kerillian's neck..
"H-hey! Don't hurt her!"
"She'll be fine...as long as she keeps her mouth shut." The blade contracted to nothing, assimilating back into Gnawdwell. Orders were being shouted, the clanking of armor echoed across the air, which infuriated Gnawdwell.
"Till we meet again, Arthur!" He grinned, as Gnawdwell shoved Kerillian away from him, and dug into his flesh with his claws, promptly tearing out a small bulbous flask.
"Wait, wha-"
"Bye-bye!" Gnawdwell threw the flask at the ground, with it immediately shattering into a blackish, green gaseous cloud of chemicals. As they turned the corner, the soldiers were bombarded with the hazardous chemicals of the fog. Arthur ran through the fog, desperately searching for Gnawdwell, while at the same time trying to deal with his eyes repulsing in pain, and his throat becoming drier than a desert, not that he'd ever been to one.
We can't lose him!
Arthur croaked, trying to say something, but ultimately failed to do so. Arthur frantically wailed around in the fog, occasionally bumping into someone on accident.
Arthur! Forget about Gnawdwell, worry about this gas cloud, It's slowly killing us!
Despite the thickness of the cloud, Arthur could see that some soldiers had just clawed out their eyes to get rid of the immense pain. Arthur had started to feel it too, it was like his skin was crawling behind his eyes while being burned alive by the fires of hell. Arthur tried to agree with Venom, but all that came out was a low groan. Fortunately for the others, they had been able to escape the cloud of hazardous toxins, but yet, Arthurs sensed something was amiss...
Arthur, there!
Venom tugged at Arthur's mind, showing him the path to the elf. He waded through the fog of toxins, as he saw a small shadow in the distance moving around, and then it continued to lay itself down on the ground. Arthur ran to the moving shadow, trying to help it up with his normal strength. Arthur let out several grunts, signaling Venom to help him, even though Arthur didn't expect him to understand what he meant, but Venom was able to decipher what he wanted to say. Probably because he could read his mind.
"Ghrk."
Arthur became enveloped in the familiar ink liquid that he became used to in the past few days and snatched up the shadow, promptly rushing out of the fog along with the person still in his inky black arms.
"Arthur!"
"We got the elf woman!"
In Arthur's hands was Kerillian, who seemed to be unconscious for the time being. He laid her down on the street, as he stumbled, almost falling down.
"Hey, are you ok..."
Markus's voice trailed off, as the inky blackness retracted back into Arthur, and then he fell down to the ground. He could feel his mind becoming scrambled, he couldn't tell what was real or what was fantasy. Before Venom and he could know it, they both were knocked out cold, alongside Kerillian.
"I can't understand."
Gnawdwell wandered the sewers of Altdorf, unsure of what to do, while the chittering of vermin accompanied him wherever he went. The murky, vile, and disgusting water flowed down towards its destination, as Gnawdwell slumped against a wall covered in moss, and several other nasty things.
"Why? Why did I let it happen?"
Seemed to go better than the last time you lost control.
"THAT'S NOT THE POINT, CARNAGE!"
His beady red eyes surveyed the sewer, his paranoia started to get the better of him, sometimes he swore he saw another skaven in the sewers.
What's so wrong with it? We killed a bunch of humans.
"I want to help them, Carnage. I don't want to slaughter them as easily as you would cattle!"
Gnawdwell's frustration steamed off him, as he pulled out several arrows out of his back, along with digging several pellets out of his flesh.
For god's sake Gnawdwell, why do you want to help them?! Is it because of your son? What if he isn't even here?
"No, he must be here, he must!"
But yet he had a doubt in the back of the mind, and Carnage could sense it, what if he wasn't here? Gnawdwell was unsure, he felt like his mind could shatter at any moment, or worse, he'd snap and go on a spree of mass murder.
But why do you really want to find him? Do you think that just by finding him and protecting him will cause your sin to just vanish? No, Gnawdwell, that isn't how life works.
"It's the only way I can forgive myself for what I did."
Whatever makes you sleep better at night.
Just like that, Carnage resumed his original duty, which was to heal the bonds broken by the psychotic rat. Gnawdwell just assumed he was just paranoid, but as he spent more time inspecting his surroundings, he swore he could see skaven, watching, and waiting to put a blade into his back.
Someone forgot to put up sewer watch.
"Dammit! Those fools!
Gnawdwell scrambled, as sprays of warpstone bullets ricocheted off the walls, as a stormfiend armed with two gatlings turned the corner, letting loose it's barrage.
It's best if we scurry on out of here.
Gnawdwell couldn't agree more, unfortunately, he hadn't expected the second stormfiend. Luckily, he was barely able to stop before the green flames could engulf his entire body.
Now I'm getting worried.
"You weren't before?!"
Gnawdwell dived into the horrible, vile water, with the volleys of bullets coming to a screeching halt.
"The ogre-ogre jammed it!"
"What-what are you waiting for? Fix-repair!"
Gnawdwell could hear the screaming skaven, insulting each other instead of repairing the stormfiends weaponry. He couldn't help but smile, he could always count on their hatred for one another to help him escape.
Dive deeper!
"Hm? Oh sh-"
The second one, however, chased after Gnawdwell, letting loose torrents of green and black warpfire with its projectors. Even the water seemed to be burned by the flames, covering the surface of the water entirely.
Are we swimming in oil?
Hell if I know.
Gnawdwell dived deeper and deeper, until he hit rock bottom, literally. Unfortunately, he could hear several clicks, and a gun winding up in the background.
"Fixed-fixed!"
Can this day get any worse..?
His question was answered by several hundreds of warpstone bullets penetrating the surface of the water, each one seemingly getting more accurate, one even snipped off one of his whiskers. Suddenly, the water purged out of the sewer, with Gnawdwell being sucked away along with it.
What's going on?!
Even underwater, Gnawdwell laughed as he got launched out of the sewer, along with several bags of trash and bones. He landed in the murky, green sewer water, as the moon cast its shine upon him. As he got up from being thrown out the sewer, he saw the man who had emptied most of the sewer, who stared at him in complete, and utter shock.
"Hey, bud, you should probably run if you want to live."
The man didn't answer, as he was too busy running off in the other direction, away from Gnawdwell. Gnawdwell knew that being covered in...mysterious, vile, and stinky liquid wasn't a great way to escape, but he had to be grateful that he even escaped in the first place.
We don't have much time before they come for us.
"How do we get back into Altdorf? If we can't transform, that also means we can't scale the wall."
Can't you just ask the gatekeeper nicely?
"I'm probably the most wanted criminal in the city right now, so I doubt I'll be let in."
Gnawdwell sighed, he had wanted to help but ended up slaughtering dozens of people instead. The psycho rarely let any of his emotions run wild, but when he saw Arthur being arrested, it was like a floodgate opened up in his mind and all of the emotion that was locked away and suppressed just...attacked his mind. He had never felt such rage, such bloodlust, but he also felt the need to...protect. But why did he want to protect Arthur? He only knew him for a day or two, and most of the talking was done behind a jail cell, which Gnawdwell was in.
"Before we even get into Altdorf, we'll have to deal with these stormfiends first."
We can't just bust down a wall, and go into a frenzy like a psycho now. Especially since we can't transform.
"Speaking of that, how's it going?"
I'd be done if you'd stop talking to me.
"But you were the one...nevermind."
Gnawdwell ignored the fact that Carnage was the one who started the conservation and instead focused on how'd he deal with the stormfiends.
"How fast can you regenerate the bonds?"
This is unlike your head being shot off, Gnawdwell, this requires precision and extreme focus.
"But..?"
I could do it in less than two or three minutes, at the expense of you feeling immeasurable pain, and possible psychological attacks.
"Great! Let's do it!" Gnawdwell ran out of the murky sewer water, and sat down beside the gigantic wall, closing his eyes in anticipation.
Did you not hear what I just said? You'll-
"For once Carnage, do what I ask without questioning it!"
Gnawdwell heard Carnage grumble, but whatever he said was blotted out by immense pain he felt all around his body, his skin felt like it was on hot coals, his eyes burned and itched, as if hundreds of ant crawled upon them, while also biting them at the same time in unison. He felt what it was like to have your innards eaten out from the inside, while each organ screamed out in agonizing pain. But that wasn't the worst part, Gnawdwell could handle the pain, even if it was complete torture for his body, but it was his mind that was unprepared. Nightmares or dreams flashed across his mind, each one threatening to break his mind, even memories he once considered comforting seemed to send him into a spiral of guilt, he could feel every single sinful deed he had committed lay upon his shoulders, almost as if he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders.
The black rat furiously scribbled on parchment, the tip of his feather pen glistening in the sunlight that came in by the window, giving the room a warm hue of gold. He wore his dark red armor, with the symbol of Clan Mors on the front and back of the chest plate, while his shoulder guards had spikes planted onto the top, in order to amplify his intimidating presence. Despite his appearance, he bore a small, genuine smile on his face, an incredibly rare action for a skaven. The happiness he felt was like pure bliss to him, so unknown, yet so alluring. He was...happy.
"Good morning!" His beloved popped in beside him, ignoring his spiky armor, and wearing a huge grin on her face.
"Good morning." Even though he didn't always say it, or express it, he was always happy to have her as company, even just seeing her made him become filled with joy.
"What are you doing this time? Planning another raid?"
Gnawdwell laughed joyously, amazed at how much she became used to him over the past few months. She often made jokes about his profession, though every joke she said did hold some sort of grain of truth, Gnawdwell admitted. He looked up from the parchment, staring into her eyes, with pupils colored golden.
"This isn't real."
Gnawdwell awoke screaming, clutching his head in both pain and fear.
Looks like someone had a nasty nightmare.
He was back to reality, and reality had a nasty surprise for him. How had he not gone crazy without her? Or maybe he had, and he just refused to accept the fact he snapped a long time ago. Whatever the case, he got up, feeling even worse than before.
"How long was I out?"
A few minutes, you also kept mumbling about 'Sabrina', or whatever her name was.
He felt his heart being stabbed by a figurative knife as Carnage said her name, why did he have to say it so casually?
"That doesn't matter, let's just scale the wall."
Carnage stayed silent, for he might be insane, but he feared Gnawdwell's insanity even more. It was unbearable, to gaze upon the red sludge that covered his body as if just looking at it made his mind open up old scars, memories that he regretted daily.
Gnawdwell!
Unfortunately, Gnawdwell didn't have time to lament on old memories. A stormfiend appeared out of thin air, with green warp lightning clinging onto the edges of its armor.
"They even brought a grey seer!"
Instead of gatlings, or warpfire projectors, it was completely clad in bulletproof armor, with giant, drill-like gauntlets replacing its fists. Gnawdwell was sluggish, much too sluggish to dodge the stormfiend from bashing him in the chest, the drill sawing through both bone and flesh, tearing through the red sludge like paper. His jaws frothed with rage, as the stormfiend prepared to bash him with its other gauntlet, he grabbed a hold of its head, which was small compared to the rest of its body, and tore it off, with the spine and all still attached.
Another one inbound!
He heard the revs of the gatlings charging up, along with the tainted smell of warpfire. He could hear snickering, but before he could figure out where it came from, another stormfiend came up from behind him and smashed his head with the same gauntlets as the last one. As he recovered from the blow, another stormfiend charged towards him, crashing into him, and sending him through the walls of Altdorf.
"At least...we're...in…"
He slowly rose, not before getting shot with dozens of green bullets, the stormfiend sprayed everywhere, not caring for any accidental casualties.
Ok, are you going to be mad if I tell you something else?
"God-...DAMMIT, WHAT IS IT NOW?!"
There are a lot more in the sewers, and I mean a whole lot more.
Luckily, the giant, gaping hole in his chest had regenerated, the bullets penetrated through his body, posing a nuisance as they knocked him back, little by little. The red sludge convulsed, and then shot forth the warpstone bullets back at the stormfiend, piercing through its unarmored head and body. It quickly fell down to the ground afterward, not without causing anarchy before it died. Gnawdell attempted to calm himself down, but he could feel his thirst for blood, and his eternal rage coming to the surface, threatening to take him over. Three more stormfiends followed him through the hole in the wall, along with never-ending hordes of stormvermin and clanrats.
I thought they'd attack much later?
"This is just a force meant to kill me, they're not meant to attack the city itself."
I'm curious as to what their forces look like when they lay siege to a city.
Gnawdwell could hear his smug tone even with the shouts of orders being sent forth across the ravenous horde of both vermin and mechanical beasts. Both vile vermin and monstrosities surrounded him, leaving him with no chance to escape.
"Not again…"
"Dammit! Where could he have gone?!" Arthur paced around his humble room, desperately trying to figure out where Gnawdwell had gone, but it proved to be extremely difficult.
From what we saw, and what he's said, I doubt he's even sane anymore.
Arthur sighed, slumping onto his bed as the door to his room slowly creaked open.
"Who is it?"
He would've preferred to keep grumbling about not knowing where the psychopath murderer was, but he thought it'd be best to take a break from constantly thinking about where Gnawdwell was.
"You owe us an explanation Arthur, and we better get one."
"Us?"
Arthur sat upright, as one by one Balthasar and the others entered, each with a look of mild contempt towards him. Though Sienna wasn't there, Arthur assumed she had more important things to do. They were all staring at him so...intently, it made him feel small and nervous, it was like their stares made him seem smaller than he really was.
"I don't appreciate being knocked unconscious by mangy vermin, and I don't have a lot of patience right now either!"
Arthur yelled, unsure of what to say, or what to do.
"Uhmmm…"
"Just tell us, Arthur."
"Ok, I guess I met up with him in the dungeon, and kind of...talked to him?"
"Oh gods, you spoke to him?"
"W-well, he didn't seem that bad...he did...have...a...wife…" Arthur's voice trailed off, as he suddenly realized how ridiculous it was for a giant rat to have a wife, who was an elf.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you."
"He...had…"
"Just say it!" Markus became anxious, while Bardin remained a stone face, lacking any emotion.
"He told me that...he had a wife." Kerillian sighed and turned to Balthasar.
"He's gone insane, I say we put him down."
"But, what if it is the truth?"
"You can't really expect anyone to marry a murderous, deceptive, and psychopathic murderer, who is also a giant rat!"
"Pretty sure ye just described the entirety of the vile vermin's race!"
"HERESY!"
The five argued, never letting one get any headway through their argument before being cut off by another. It was so discordant, so...confusing to try and follow one argument after another. Arthur tried to stop the infighting, but his timid, small voice couldn't penetrate the thunderous wails of Victor screaming, 'HERESY!', at the top of his lungs.
Must they argue so loud? It feels like someone is ringing a giant bell in my head!
"COULD YOU ALL SHUT THE HELL UP?!"
The room became silent, as Arthur's head convulsed and merged with Venom, making some of them look away as his face returned back to normal.
"...Sorry…"
"Hmph." Kerillian, lifted her gaze off of Arthur, as if in disgust.
"HER-"
"Say it one more time, and I might literally kill you with nothing but my bare hands," Balthasar emphasized his threat by cracking his knuckles, which made Victor sweat as he stayed silent.
"Are we not going to talk about how he just became one of the daemons that we dedicated our lives to killing?"
Daemon? I like that title.
"We'll worry about that later, right now we need the rat to keep explaining!"
"As much as I want to gut him, I will save it for later."
"Do you all really want to kill me that badly?"
"Yes." Without hesitation, all four answered his question, with Balthasar seemingly sweating from the inside of his golden mask.
"Jeez…"
"Arthur, just continue before there's another argument starts happening."
Arthur solemnly nodded, finally getting to talk more about his favorite mentally unstable psycho.
"Anyway, he had a wife, and...he said they were happy…"
"Raki scum! You believed him, didn't ye?" Bardin was close to punching a hole in the wall out of pure anger, luckily though, Markus was able to calm him down.
"How couldn't I..? He seemed so...genuine, he seemed so...lost, without any real sense of purpose, almost like he thought himself of a revenant who walked upon the land."
"You were able to assume all of that, just by taking a glance at him?"
"What do you think? He literally asked for ale, and in return, he gave me information."
Though they refused to show it, they were fairly impressed by him, not many people, much less a rat could tell who someone was at a glance.
"Is that why you accepted Markus's invitation?" Victor was going to say something else, something very insensitive at that, but Arthur was able to respond to him before he could say it.
"Not really, I actually, um...kind of forgot about it for a while."
"Meaning, he was too drunk with Victor to even do the deal!"
Bardin couldn't help but chuckle, while Victor remained confused about what Markus was talking about.
"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought the two were best friends!"
"I drank with vermin..?"
"You drank so much One-Eye, I bet you thought he was a hairy midget!"
The three laughed at Victor, who seemed to be confused, while Balthasar tried to process the fact that Arthur got drunk.
"Ahem, I need all of you to wait outside, and while you're at it, alert the city guards to be on the lookout. Make sure they keep the sewers sealed shut, and inspect them every single minute."
None of them offered any resistance, as they made a mockery out of Victor, who still was confused even as they left the room.
"Arthur, you still remember the gas he employed to escape, correct?"
"Of course I do, but why are you asking me this?"
"I find it hard to believe that everyone in the gas didn't die, despite being both in contact with it, and inhaling copious amounts of it, it's almost like…"
"...It wasn't even meant to kill anyone." Arthur had heard the infamous stories about the various gases of his race, some so potent that it ate away at both armor and flesh, ensuring a slow, painful death, while some caused near-instant death, barely enough time to realize you've even inhaled the dangerous toxins in the first place.
"But it still killed people!"
"Arthur, if he wanted to ensure every person's death in that street, he would've used something more potent, not something as weak as that."
"Then...why? If he is a Lord Of Decay then it must be easy to acquire toxic gas, correct? So why go to the trouble of getting something less potent, less...dangerous?"
"That I cannot say, all that matters is that more people lived than died."
That's twice he could've killed us.
Twice?
Nevermind.
Arthur was confused, but most importantly he was surprised. He saw Gnawdwell in combat, even if it was just a few seconds, but he could tell that he was not the one to hold back, much less spare any who get in his way. If Gnawdwell really wanted to kill everyone, he would've used something more toxic, more...skaveny.
"I also noticed the restraint when you and your inky friend fought him."
"His name is Venom."
You tell him! Literally!
"Ahem, when you and Venom fought him, he showed some sort of...restraint." Once again, Balthasar implied something Arthur didn't want to accept, but it, unfortunately, was the truth.
"I get it, I could have died twice, but what about it?"
"It's not about that, Arthur! It's about the fact why he didn't."
Arthur still didn't understand, maybe Gnawdwell just forgot to kill him, and maybe he used the wrong flask of gas, surely that must be it.
"Boris also told me about how you were going to be arrested..." Balthasar expected an explanation from Arthur while giving him a steely, cold stare that even the white rat could feel through his golden mask.
"Well, bonehead over there murdered three people for no reason whatsoever! He screamed something murder, slaughter, maiming, and burning people alive or something!"
"But why'd you protect him?"
"Because he has something important for us, Balthasar!"
"And what is that?"
"...A message."
"A message? Is that it? Do you know it?"
"Yes, yes, and no. We were too busy talking about his life instead of what he came here for."
"Alright...What happened before he started killing the soldiers?"
"He was about to kill someone else, but then he stopped when he saw Kerillian, and walked to a chair, and sat down for a few minutes, with dead vacant eyes, like he was reliving a nightmare. After that, when I was being arrested, he jolted forward to the golden knights, and slaughtered them as easily someone would cut paper."
"Not only did he spare you twice, but he even helped you escape arrest, something I doubt he would do to someone he hadn't met before."
"What are you implying?"
"I'm assuming, but if my plan works, then it has to be true."
Arthur stared at his golden masked teacher in confusion, along with Venom who was starting to become hungry at the thought of murder.
"HEY! BALALALA SOMETHING, WE HAVE AN INFESTATION OF VERMIN THAT PENETRATED THE WALL! THOUGH THEY SEEM TO BE ATTACKING SOMETHING!"
"Perfect timing."
"W-what did he say?"
Ohoho, this is gonna be good…
Down!
Gnawdwell ducked, as torrents of green flame, and globes filled with gas flew over his head, whilst warpstone bullets bounced off his red, sludge-like hide.
"They're persistent, that's for sure..!"
He clutched his right arm, which was covered in green, toxic flames, eating away at both himself and Carnage. Just as he expected, it didn't regenerate like the last time he was singed with fire.
As much as I like a good challenge, I dare say we might actually die here.
"We can't die, not yet at least..!"
His right arm morphed into an ax, which boomeranged through the never-ending ranks of both clanrats and stormvermin that acted as meat shields for the towering stormfiends, though sometimes, Gnawdwell didn't have to even attack, as the stormfiends didn't know the difference between friend and foe. He took shelter behind a broken down house, with the top half destroyed because of the constant bombardments of the insane stormfiends, who laughed maniacally as they continued to force Gnawdwell into an ever smaller corner.
If we don't do anything, we'll be burned, gassed, and shot up to death, Gnawdwell!
"Well...glory in life, honor in death."
Carnage scoffed at him, though he didn't want to die, he treated it like it was a last resort if everything went wrong. He blindly tossed another ax over his makeshift cover, tearing through the verminous ranks, and slicing through a stormfiends skull.
"Heeeyy, I got one."
Pure luck.
"Well, screw you."
Once again, he could nearly feel the hot sensation of the warpfire almost covering his body, and then continue to pass him, he gulped down his fears, as he bided his time, waiting for the slightest opportunity to spread carnage.
"Where-where is tank of warpfire-fire and box of warpstone bullets-bullets..? Stormfiends almost out-out..!"
Gnawdwell could hear the whispers of the vermin, urging the others to fetch the surplus ammunition they had supposedly brought along with them, perhaps he could use this to his advantage. He could feel his rage swelling, his bloodlust churning, both threatening to finally make him lose the last shreds of sanity he had. Just as he planned on charging the swarms of vermin, he felt something enter the insides of his head.
"No-no, not again!"
He ripped the arrow out of his head, only for it to explode in his muscular, large red claws, literally disintegrating his right hand.
Looks like the elf has more tricks than we expected, for one so far away from Athel Loren.
Gnawdwell gritted his massive fangs in frustration, as he turned his head to view the unexpected intrusion in his little battle.
"Stop! Don't attack him, stick to the plan!"
"But the plan is insane, umgi, even for raki scum like you!" Bardin let loose howls of war, smacking his hammer upon his golden gilded shield, transforming it into some sort of gong.
"As much as I hate to agree, he's right!" Markus shouted back, wielding his goofishly large greatsword.
Kerillian stayed silent, even as the two idiots charged towards Gnawdwell, while at the same time dodging the various projectiles that came into their way. Arthur, on the other hand, ran past the two with supernatural speed, dashing by Gnawdwell and towards the swelling, starving horde of vermin.
"W-what? What are you doing? Get back here!"
Gnawdwell panicked, for once in his miserable life, even as the stunted dwarf and foolish human lunged at his enormous bulk, he grabbed the dwarf by the beard, winded up his arm, and threw him at the elf like a cannon would shoot a cannonball. The greatsword harmlessly gutted through his chest like butter, while he quickly snatched up the human by his neck, practically strangling him while he dropped his greatsword.
"I don't have time for this, so BEGONE!"
Gnawdwell slammed the human down onto the smooth, solid stone below him, he felt a tinge of satisfaction, since he could hear the sounds of a bone or two breaking. From the corner of his eye, he could see Victor in the distance, looking through the scope of a Hochland Long Rifle, one of the most treasured black powder weapons in the world.
"Bloody witch hunters, and their fancy-"
The sound of the rifle going off shook earth itself, its bullet penetrating, and promptly killing two stormfiends.
"Well, I'll hand it to him, he's a great shot."
"Over here, lumberfoot!"
Gnawdwell grunted, turning to the elf, only to be hit by three arrows, with vials of brown liquid strapped to them.
"Goddammit."
He went up into bright, orange flames, with acrid smelling smoke, and indescribable heat exuding off him.
"'Eyyy! Ye got 'im!"
"W-what?!"
Kerillian frowned, as Gnawdwell waded through the smoke as if nothing happened at all. Sure, his red hide was torn apart, flayed, burned and torn apart, but he could care less. Strips of red sludge hanged off his charred body, even with Carnage hastily repairing the damages, the fire proved to be a problem.
"Let-let them fight, let's just take a break-break, yes-yes..?"
"Oh for god's sake, I have to deal with you as well?!"
A large, red tentacle sprouted from Gnawdwell's back, dodging and weaving through the hordes of vermin, and plunging itself into the head of a stormfiend, equipped with ratlings. Gnawdwell rarely used this particular feature of Carnage, since he never always approved of it, he always thought you should slaughter your enemies up close and personal. He felt the stormfiends two minds, even as he overpowered each one, and turn them against their creators. The stormfiend jolted, as the red tentacle sulked out of its head, letting loose roars of defiance, and gunning down its own comrades, even several stormfiends couldn't handle the large, armor piercing raw warpstone being thrown at them.
"Much-much better."
Once again, he could feel the urges of slaughter, the temptation of giving in to his bottled-up rage, oh it was so tempting, but alas, he decided against it.
"Huh? OH, BY SIGMAR!"
The rabid stormfiend quickly gunned down everything in sight, but soon it laid its sights down upon Arthur, letting loose hails of warpstone bullets around him, fortunately for Arthur, his own stunted growth helped him dodge the bullets. Gnawdwell cursed under his breath, insulting himself for his own incompetence, forgetting such an important detail. He turned away from the elf, which was difficult hence she kept spouting out some...quite potent insults and taunts at him. Soon, the stormfiend was brought down by the heavily armored stormfiends that bore doomflayer gauntlets, tearing it apart limb from limb, while tearing through its flesh and bone, all the while giggling like children.
"...I-I don't like this plan a-anymore…"
The great, large red beast turned to make his way to Arthur, most likely to protect him from his own stupidity.
"I'm...not done yet..!" The human desperately grasped onto Gnawdwell's leg, hoping to stop him from advancing towards the small, vulnerable rat.
΅There is a fine line between bravery...and stupidity." Gnawdwell lightly kicked Markus in the head with his other leg, which seemed enough to stun him for a few seconds.
"...Stick to the plan, everything's fine, everything's fine, EVERYTHING'S NOT FINE!¨
In total, five stormfiends chased after Arthur, their drills eager to dig themselves into his flesh. Gnawdwell suppressed the urge to slaughter everyone and him, though he did find it as a solution to all of his problems. The sight of the big red beast wading through the hordes of vermin wasn't that great of a bravery-inducing sight, as Gnawdwell was able to hear a smoke bomb going off, and a rat making their prompt escape.
And there goes the grey seer.
"How sad, I rarely get to fight magic users." Both halberd and sword couldn't penetrate his thick red hide, as he stomped past through the vermin, though sometimes he did accidentally kill one just by walking into them.
Are you sure he's your son? He seems to be a coward.
Arthur screamed in a language Gnawdwell couldn't understand, because he spoke the language of a coward! He hurriedly made his way to Arthur, but he was too fast, too quick even for him. The stormfiends chasing him also provided a good reason to overexert himself and run like a bat out of hell.
"Lumberfoots! Are you alright?" Kerillian poked Markus in the face, trying to get a response from the fool.
"What do you bloody think? I think I broke some bones, and he kicked me in my moneymaker!" Markus wore a pained frown, as he felt more agonizing pain as he moved around, attempting to get up.
"Bah! You fool! Bardin, how about you?" Kerillian looked over to the dwarf, making sure only his health was alright, but not his pride.
"He grabbed my precious beard! I swear if I ever find that damn rat, or red beast, or whatever it is, I'll skin it and eat it!" Bardin emphasized this by biting on the edges of his shield in absolute rage.
"How in the world do you do that? If I remember correctly, you didn't even get to hit him." Victor walked down from the roof of the house and started helping up Markus.
"What about ye? You shot those metal monsters instead of him!" Bardin furiously pointed his hammer at him.
"The plan was to let Arthur be chased by them, but noooo, you just had to prove your manliness." Victor grinned smugly, which only made Markus and Bardin ever more frustrated with him.
"I agree with One-Eye on this one, besides, it's not like the small rat has tricks up his sleeves." Kerillian shrugged, as she could hear the agonizing pains of the vermin being slaughtered by the black furred psycho, though she wouldn't admit it, she was a bit terrified of the red beast. The gang resumed to kill off any stragglers left behind by Gnawdwell's rampage, all the while Balthasar walked alongside them, in complete silence.
"Oh Sigmar, why did we agree to this?"
Hell if I know, but I do know if we look back, we'll be torn, mangled, maimed, and ripped apart limb from limb.
"Great! Just what I needed...another one of your encouraging pep talks!"
You're welcome.
Arthur dodged around the corner, narrowly avoiding the stormfiend's frenzied drills from digging into his flesh with rampant, twisted joy. Arthur would've wanted a more tactical, clever plan instead of him just running headfirst into danger, but he trusted Balthasar and his wisdom.
So, about this plan...when does it finally work?
"Dammit Venom! I have no time to deal with your sarcasm right now!"
Arthur tried his best to always turn around a corner, for the stormfiends were fast, but they couldn't exactly turn on a dime because of their heavy, bright red armor nearly covering their entire bodies, even their heads looked almost completely made out of twisted, dark metals. Even then, Arthur could feel the metal monstrosities gaining on him, oh so eager to feast on his thin, fragile body, yet he could also feel the familiar presence of a certain psychopath, who demanded blood, and slaughter in his vicinity at all times. Arthur wondered if Gnawdwell ever got tired of it, maybe he sometimes got bored of the constant need to murder everyone he meets.
Bloodthirsty, and ravenous. Even I can feel something is wrong with him, specifically in the head.
The white rat scoffed, offended by Venom assuming such a thing for Gnawdwell, but he did feel it may be true...just a little though.
"Hey! Over here you bumbling metal beasts!"
Even Arthur turned around, just in time to see a manhole cover speed past the other stormfiends and dig itself into the back of the stormfiend in front of him. The stormfiend heaved, swayed, struggling to accept its fate, and with its last breath, it attempted to attack Arthur, but ultimately tore apart its own face apart in its last resort. It fell forward, its heavyweight cracking the pavement below it, and revealed a small, wrinkled, and small skaven with no fur, seemingly stitched onto the back of the stormfiend, with its head being obnoxiously large, compared to its limbs. The white rat felt disgusting, revolted by the sight, it seemed so wrong, so...criminal. This wasn't supposed to exist, this is only something that appears in nightmares, not reality!
As he took an even closer look at the dead stormfiend, he could see the workings of a vile ratman, with stitches covering failed attempts to insert more metal plating underneath its muscle and skin. A pair of tanks rested beside the small, wrinkled dead skaven, with various tubes connecting them to the main body of the stormfiend, always pumping the needed warpstone for the monstrous beasts weapons, and to refill their energy in combat. It was a horrifying sight, he could feel the world close off around him as he took in each, excruciatingly painful detail of the stormfiend, wondering who, or why someone would make such a horrible abomination.
What is he doing?! He's just standing still!
Hasn't he ever seen one of your kinds creations?
Gnawdwell growled in frustration, as he grabbed hold of a stormfiends arm, and used its own doom flayer gauntlet to tear apart its own flesh, revealing its horribly disfigured organs, blending together both skaven and metal.
What do you think, Carnage?!
Both his rage and bloodthirst grew even more difficult to maintain, it was like two battering rams bashing down a gate, whenever one retracted to hit again, the other hit within that time frame, making an infinite loop until the gate finally fell. His attention was divided between the three stormfiends, and Arthur, who stood still like a statue made of stone. Two of the three stormfiends stood between him and Arthur, while the other continued to make its way to the white rat.
Before we even do anything, keep in mind that-
Of course, Gnawdwell didn't care for his opinion, nor did he think it was important. He moved his enormous bulk, rapidly closing the gap between him and the two metal beasts, but instead of killing them, he passed by them, even if they were able to literally saw off his arm, and several chunks of red sludge off of his body.
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASIER TO KILL THEM.
Gnawdwell would give him credit, he was right, but he never liked to think rationally. He slinked up behind the stormfiend that had the intention of killing Arthur, and before the small, wrinkled, weak skaven could signal the stormfiends imminent death, Gnawdwell punched off the disgusting things head right off, surprisingly clean, for a move so brutal.
Behind us, quickly!
Gnawdwell panicked, though he didn't panic for his life was in danger, but because another was because of him. He knew he couldn't save himself and Arthur at the same time, but perhaps he could save...him. He snatched up Arthur, enveloping him in the red sludge, making a hardened red shell around them. Fortunately, the warpfire just arrived in time, covering the shell in flames that only the sun could best, for once, he felt pain. He could feel, the searing hot green fire engulf him, but he could feel pain, not like he did before, but it was as if his body had suddenly jump-started, after so long, and he could finally feel real pain, to know that your very life was in danger, but yet he couldn't care less, after all, he had done his duty.
The gang of comrades turned around the corner, just in time to see the red shell melting underneath the glaring, hot green fire, seemingly melting it into a puddle. The fire burned so bright, they had to squint just to see what was happening, but it appeared as if Balthasar already knew what was happening.
"Something doesn't smell good, umgi…"
"What in Sigmar? Oh for...don't tell me this is part of your plan, Gelt!"
"Looks like we killed two birds with just one measly stone, eh?"
"This seems dirty as if we betrayed the white skaven…"
Balthasar turned around, displaying his mask in front of the group, which unnerved all of them, save Kerillian.
"The plan was made purely for the purpose of removing any doubt in my mind, to make sure what I thought was one hundred percent certain."
"Oh, for...so all of this was because you wanted to test out a theory, was it?!" She nearly put an arrow into Balthasar, fortunately, she was able to restrain that particular urge for the time being. Though she didn't understand it, he exploded into a fury of laughter, she could practically see the joy behind his golden mask.
"Can't you see? Why would a skaven sacrifice everything, and I mean everything to come here? To betray their clan, to slaughter an entire battalion of his own troops, just to stay here?"
"What...are you saying..?"
"These underlings bear the markings, and insignias of Clan Mors and Gnawdwell is the very warlord of that clan!"
"So why are they..?"
"Because he betrayed them just to get into Altdorf! This leaves no doubt in my mind, I believe he is-" He was cut off, of course, most people would stop talking and adhere to their wounds, especially if they were shot by a highly toxic warpstone bullet.
"Wazzok!"
Both Kerillian and Victor hurriedly searched for the sniper, looking for the trademark green, smokey trail left behind by the jezzail, but alas, they found nothing. The verminous sniper had made his shot and had gotten away with it too. Markus was able to catch Balthasar before he could hit the pavement, clutching him in his arms, as he bled profusely in his arms.
"H-he's…"
"Shhh, save your breath, you're going to need your strength if you want to survive this, Gelt!"
"N-no, you don't...understand…"
Kerillian crouched down, curious about Balthasar's response.
"What do you mean, lumberfoot?"
"Kerillian, the man can barely speak, so let's just-" Balthasar groaned, furiously grabbing ahold of Markus's shirt collar.
"Idiot! What I'm trying to say is that they're related..!"
"What?"
"Oh, by Sigmar, you are-"
"Who's related? I'm confused." Markus rudely cut him off, wondering what Balthasar meant as he steamed with anger and fury.
"I swear, once I get this bullet out of me, you'll be dead..."
"First of all, how are you even talking?"
"I-I'm not an idiot..! But I also didn't expect to be shot by a bullet the size of my hand either!"
He tore off his shirt, revealing light armor that had been meant to stop shots from either a bow or a pistol, not an armor piercing rifle like the jezzail.
"I'll be honest, it hurts like hell, and I need to get it out of me before I contract the side effects."
"That sounds easy!"
"WAIT NO!" Before Balthasar could stop the insane witch hunter, Victor dug his gloved hand into his chest, and ripped out the bullet, all the while Balthasar was screaming in pure agony.
"BY THE GODS!" Balthasar squirmed in Markus's arms, and then fell quiet for a moment, and then for another moment…
"Great, it looks like he passed out! Good job, One-Eye!"
"Finally, a compliment from the elf!"
Kerillian clutched her face in her hands, looking away from the triumphant Victor standing over Balthasar's unconscious body, with Bardin cheering him on for his quick thinking, while Markus kept thinking about what Balthasar meant with what he said. Markus laid down Balthasar on the pavement, switching his attention to the red shell that was being turned to a puddle of red liquid.
"Wait a minute..."
"Hm? What is it umgi?" Bardin stroked his beard in dwai pride.
"What's on your mind, mayfly?" Kerillian was able to pull herself out of her hands enough to look at Markus, almost condescendingly.
"He said they were related, but I don't really know who, or what he was talking about…"
"Are you all blubbering buffoons? Are you actually kidding me, Markus?"
"What is it?"
"What other people are here, besides us, who in the past few days did he make the most contact with?! For god's sake, he was talking about Arthur!" They never saw her this spiteful towards them before, but then again, they were always drunk whenever she was.
"If that's true, who's he related to, wutelgi?"
"What if its Gnawdwell?"
"ARE YOU ACTUALLY MISSING-" Before Kerillian could wrap her hands around Markus's neck to strangle him with all of her strength and rage, she thought upon his theory. She placed her head on her hand, looking as if she was in deep thought.
"...It could be…"
He felt purpose, he remembered just how joyous having purpose is, but then again, the searing hot flames of warpfire didn't feel all that great, but right now he only had one thing on his mind. Protect. He would do anything to protect him, to protect Arthur, no matter the cost, even if he had to kill the gods themselves just to ensure he could live. Gathering his will, once again he blindly tugged at the Winds of Magic, causing discordant waves to ripple through each one of the winds. A useful spell, especially when one of your greatest weaknesses are fire, Chillwind was always able to negate his opponent's advantage, even if he did have to spill some of his own blood to do so. He uttered the foul language of Dhar, sending forth the frozen and icy winds to halt the stormfiends flood of warpfire, it had become so cold, the fire seemingly froze in mid-air.
"Gnawdwell! Let me out, I can help!" The black rat grunted as he trudged through the red, slimy puddle that once made him hate himself, and despise his very existence, but now it was his best chance to redeem himself, and he'd do anything in order to wipe away the misdeeds he had done in the past.
"...I'm sorry..."
"For what?!"
A transparent wall of red sludge separated Gnawdwell and Arthur, his innocent blue eyes stared into his, psychotic, paranoid, red beady eyes. The white rat could see the painful, cumbersome guilt in his eyes, the agony and sorrow he felt for his misdeeds. Yet...besides all of that, he felt something deeper, a deed so large, so terrible, even he tried his best to hide it. He felt hesitation from Gnawdwell, which made him nervous, and even anxious. What in the world did Gnawdwell fear? Could he even feel fear? Whatever it was, if it made Gnawdwell terrified, it'd probably make Arthur die of fear.
"Gnawdwell..?"
"...I'm...proud of you."
He can't tell him, he couldn't bear to see his reaction, but most importantly of all...he didn't want Arthur to hate him forever, but he knew that the more he refused to tell him, the more it'd tear him apart when he told him. He looked away from Arthur and slinked out of the remnants of the red shell, leaving Arthur with a confused expression, trying to process what he just said to him. As he waded through the red sludge, he was met with the explosive force of the Northern winds, practically making the entire street covered in thin sheets of ice, and mounds of snow scattered nearly everywhere. A desolate, frozen wasteland, even the stormfiend struggled to get its warpfire projectors to work in the immense cold, with the frost attacking the edges of its armor, and tiny pieces of glass shards tore into its flesh, opening old stitches and wounds. The metallic monster saw Gnawdwell come forth out of the red shell, letting loose roars of battle as it charged towards the mentally unstable rat, who took a stance as the stormfiend stomped its way towards him.
"There!"
He didn't bother to turn around to find out whose voice it was, as the stormfiend swung its warpfire projectors as makeshift clubs, which were easy enough to dodge for someone like Gnawdwell. With the remnants of his strength, he once again tore apart his body and ripped out a globe, which insides bubbled, and frothed with unstable and explosive capabilities.
"Gnawdwell!"
He swung his head towards the red shell, to see Arthur crawling out of the protective red shell, with a worried expression on his face.
"You fool."
As the stormfiend winded up its next swing, Gnawdwell dragged his claws on the surface of the globe, causing several cracks to appear, with sparks seeping out of them. Then he leaped up into the air, narrowly dodging the stormfiends attack, then it tore open its helmet to let loose another barrage of terrifying roars, but yet, that was what led it to its downfall. Gnawdwell landed onto the chest of the stormfiend with a loud thud, staggering the metal beast, as he shoved down the unstable, and explosive globe down into its gullet.
"My death will come, but not today!"
"What in the? By Grimnir! Everyone get down!"
Bardin hefted up his shield, to cover himself from the explosion, Arthur was able to use Venom as a shield against the incoming explosion, unfortunately for the others, the best they could do is hold up their arms in retaliation against the oncoming explosion. The stormfiend coughed, and choked on the globe, as it blew up into chunks of stitched flesh, the force of the explosion knocked down everyone in the vicinity, even Bardin couldn't stand up against the tremendous shockwave.
"What in Taal..?"
"I knew the psycho would commit suicide, but I didn't expect this!"
"He's not dead you fools! At least, not yet…"
Venom receded back into Arthur, letting him fully grasp the sight of the explosion. Everything was charred, with crimson blood splattered everywhere, with the stormfiends guts and various spliced organs around the street, and at the middle of it all stood Gnawdwell.
"Gnawdwell! Are you...okay..?"
Red tentacles wrapped around the black rat, retracting back into him.
"Yeah...Arthur...just...peachy…"
He slowly turned around, revealing that half of his face was gone, displaying the insides of his head, his entire body was charred, and nearly every single fur strand on him was burnt to ash. He was also missing his right arm, but Arthur didn't really pay any attention to that as he was already captivated by the already disgusting sight in front of him.
"O-oh god, you're so…"
"S-save it...I-I think...I need...a d-doctor…"
They couldn't help but stare in amazement, as Gnawdwell was able to walk over to Arthur, with barely a limp, and put his burnt, charred hand onto the white rat's shoulder.
"I...can...explain...s-soon…"
And then he passed out, with Arthur barely being able to both catch him and hold him up. Arthur could see his skin and fur already being repaired by his strange friend, he looked over to the others, who wore expressions of shock on their faces, even Kerillian was stunned by what she saw. Though, their expressions also seem to show that they were impressed by Gnawdwell, even if it was blended in with the fear of him as well.
"You better explain soon, Gnawdwell...I'm worried what they'll do to you…"
Arthur clutched onto Gnawdwell, as battalions of swordsmen and marksmen finally came and answered the call of battle, only to find that the fight was already over, leaving some to be heavily disappointed until they saw the excess of corpses carelessly thrown about the place, after that, they grew more complacent, and joyful that they did not participate. Arthur gripped onto the psychotic rat as if his life depended on it, though
The Truth Cometh
The air was stained with the corruption of chaos tainted all around it, with entire cities being devoured by the verminous horde that traversed the landscape.
What is the next target?
Gnawdwell took out a map and laid it out onto a table.
"From the looks of it, the Empire."
Ooooh, taking on entire countries now? Spicy!
Gnawdwell slumped back into his throne, with the map falling off the table instantly, the giant mobile headquarters shaken as the monstrous bonebreaker trudged through battalions of clanrats. Believe it or not, the bonebreaker carried the headquarters on its back, acting like transport for Gnawdwell. Clan Mors rarely let loose massive hordes of vermin and abominations onto the surface, but this time it was needed.
"No, we're not attacking the entirety of the Empire, just a single city."
A bit boring, but fine. What's the city?
Gnawdwell looked back at the table to point at the soon to be destroyed city on the map, but then realized it flew out a window that he left open.
"Huh. Anyway, I believe it's Mordheim."
Didn't you say the place was already exterminated?
"Hell if I know, the Council demands I mine warpstone, and destroy the city afterward."
Feel like you're missing something…doesn't seem like you to listen to weaklings.
"...I got overruled by the Council." Gnawdwell gritted his fangs in annoyance, he never really liked admitting that someone else overpowered him in any way, much less someone weaker than him. Carnage became silent, as Gnawdwell slumbered off, with the occasional grunt of the bonebreaker struggling to carry the headquarters to keep him company while he slept.
"W-what?"
Arthur was shocked, how could someone kill their own..? No, he couldn't believe it, but yet, it seemed so true. Kerillian was overloaded with information, so much so she actually stopped struggling to process what the black rat had said, Victor, on the other hand, remained passed out on the pavement. Bardin's face was indescribable, Markus wore an expression both confusion and surprise. Despite the golden mask covering his face, Arthur was sure Balthasar was just as surprised as he was.
"Nothing will change the fact that I killed her, and nothing in this world can replace her."
Gnawdwell loosened her grip on Kerillian, letting her be able to speak, but he still kept her hostage, just in case.
"I would LOVE, to have a minute to process what this vile vermin just spouted out of his horribly disfigured fangs, while he is bleeding all over me, with several arrows and bullets stuck into nearly every single part of his body."
"Is that a compliment?"
Gnawdwell sneered at Kerillian, who seemed to be repulsed by him.
"Not in the slightest, now get your mange covered, flea infested, and dirty furry head out of my face!"
Gnawdwell grunted indifferently, but Arthur could tell he was getting annoyed by Kerillian's constant insults, and her condescending tone.
"Glorified pest!"
"Take a look at my body, foolish elf."
"What about it?! It's scarred, bruised, and beaten to hell!"
"Most of these scars came from your kind."
"What did you just say?"
Gnawdwell smiled eerily, staring into her eyes with a twisted, corrupted sense of joy.
"None have encountered my kind and lived to tell the tale."
"That is true, but I always come back after every death."
"But what happened to your wife?!" Arthur was getting tired of the two just exchanging insults, and he had wanted to stop Gnawdwell from going into another murderous rampage.
"Did you know I despise elves? Specifically the wooden ones."
"But why? Did they have something to do with..?"
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK, ARTHUR?! I LOSE ONE OF THE MOST PRECIOUS THINGS TO ME BECAUSE OF SOME IGNORANT HORNED ELF THAT THINKS THAT HIS GOD HAS POWER OVER WHAT I DO!"
For once, Kerillian shrank, not wanting to say anything.
"O-oh, o-ok…" Gnawdwell's appearance terrified Arthur, just looking at his bruised, gashed, and sliced apart body made him want to run away. Arthur wasn't just terrified of him, he was worried for the psychotic rat.
Now, I kind of feel bad.
Arthur stared at Gnawdwell, his eyes ablaze with a fiery rage, and lust for blood. What could he do? What can he do to defuse the situation? Surely there'd be more forces inbound to arrest him, but that'll take time, and time was something Arthur didn't have. Arthur took a deep breath, and exhaled, which calmed him down, if ever so little.
"I...can't possibly imagine what it is like losing someone like that...but why did you...kill her?"
Arthur expected him to explode into either animalistic rage or agonizing mourning, but Gnawdwell kept stable, for the time being. The black rat could snap at any moment, Arthur could almost feel Gnawdwell's paranoid, savage, and sadistic mind in his.
"You may not know him, but I have a feeling this elf does."
Kerillian's head perked up, curious as to who Gnawdwell was talking about. Balthasar and Markus were able to get a passed out Victor to relative safety while the three spoke.
"He is the Leader of the Hunt, the grand protector of Athel Loren himself!"
"No...It can't be..!"
He sneered once again at Kerillian, sending shivers of terror and anticipation down her spine, as he uttered out his name.
"Who else could it be?! It's Orion, of course!" His smug sneer just grew in size, spanning across his face as Gnawdwell took a glance at Kerillian's face, becoming contorted in disbelief. Markus and Balthasar were carrying Victor at the time, but as the black rat uttered out the legendary protector's name, he froze, slowly turning around to face Gnawdwell. The psychotic rat noticed Kerillian about to speak up, along with Balthasar, so he quickly cut them off before they could speak.
"Everything was so damn PERFECT! But no, he couldn't leave well enough alone."
"W-what do you mean..?" Arthur had to be cautious about how he said his words, and he also had to be careful about what he said.
"The damn horned fool thought he could take away my beloved, just because his 'god' demanded him too!"
"You dare try to defame him, you fil-"
"Careful, elf, your life hangs in the balance!" His hand became shrouded in red sludge, transforming it into a long, murky red blade, and lightly placed it by Kerillian's neck..
"H-hey! Don't hurt her!"
"She'll be fine...as long as she keeps her mouth shut." The blade contracted to nothing, assimilating back into Gnawdwell. Orders were being shouted, the clanking of armor echoed across the air, which infuriated Gnawdwell.
"Till we meet again, Arthur!" He grinned, as Gnawdwell shoved Kerillian away from him, and dug into his flesh with his claws, promptly tearing out a small bulbous flask.
"Wait, wha-"
"Bye-bye!" Gnawdwell threw the flask at the ground, with it immediately shattering into a blackish, green gaseous cloud of chemicals. As they turned the corner, the soldiers were bombarded with the hazardous chemicals of the fog. Arthur ran through the fog, desperately searching for Gnawdwell, while at the same time trying to deal with his eyes repulsing in pain, and his throat becoming drier than a desert, not that he'd ever been to one.
We can't lose him!
Arthur croaked, trying to say something, but ultimately failed to do so. Arthur frantically wailed around in the fog, occasionally bumping into someone on accident.
Arthur! Forget about Gnawdwell, worry about this gas cloud, It's slowly killing us!
Despite the thickness of the cloud, Arthur could see that some soldiers had just clawed out their eyes to get rid of the immense pain. Arthur had started to feel it too, it was like his skin was crawling behind his eyes while being burned alive by the fires of hell. Arthur tried to agree with Venom, but all that came out was a low groan. Fortunately for the others, they had been able to escape the cloud of hazardous toxins, but yet, Arthurs sensed something was amiss...
Arthur, there!
Venom tugged at Arthur's mind, showing him the path to the elf. He waded through the fog of toxins, as he saw a small shadow in the distance moving around, and then it continued to lay itself down on the ground. Arthur ran to the moving shadow, trying to help it up with his normal strength. Arthur let out several grunts, signaling Venom to help him, even though Arthur didn't expect him to understand what he meant, but Venom was able to decipher what he wanted to say. Probably because he could read his mind.
"Ghrk."
Arthur became enveloped in the familiar ink liquid that he became used to in the past few days and snatched up the shadow, promptly rushing out of the fog along with the person still in his inky black arms.
"Arthur!"
"We got the elf woman!"
In Arthur's hands was Kerillian, who seemed to be unconscious for the time being. He laid her down on the street, as he stumbled, almost falling down.
"Hey, are you ok..."
Markus's voice trailed off, as the inky blackness retracted back into Arthur, and then he fell down to the ground. He could feel his mind becoming scrambled, he couldn't tell what was real or what was fantasy. Before Venom and he could know it, they both were knocked out cold, alongside Kerillian.
"I can't understand."
Gnawdwell wandered the sewers of Altdorf, unsure of what to do, while the chittering of vermin accompanied him wherever he went. The murky, vile, and disgusting water flowed down towards its destination, as Gnawdwell slumped against a wall covered in moss, and several other nasty things.
"Why? Why did I let it happen?"
Seemed to go better than the last time you lost control.
"THAT'S NOT THE POINT, CARNAGE!"
His beady red eyes surveyed the sewer, his paranoia started to get the better of him, sometimes he swore he saw another skaven in the sewers.
What's so wrong with it? We killed a bunch of humans.
"I want to help them, Carnage. I don't want to slaughter them as easily as you would cattle!"
Gnawdwell's frustration steamed off him, as he pulled out several arrows out of his back, along with digging several pellets out of his flesh.
For god's sake Gnawdwell, why do you want to help them?! Is it because of your son? What if he isn't even here?
"No, he must be here, he must!"
But yet he had a doubt in the back of the mind, and Carnage could sense it, what if he wasn't here? Gnawdwell was unsure, he felt like his mind could shatter at any moment, or worse, he'd snap and go on a spree of mass murder.
But why do you really want to find him? Do you think that just by finding him and protecting him will cause your sin to just vanish? No, Gnawdwell, that isn't how life works.
"It's the only way I can forgive myself for what I did."
Whatever makes you sleep better at night.
Just like that, Carnage resumed his original duty, which was to heal the bonds broken by the psychotic rat. Gnawdwell just assumed he was just paranoid, but as he spent more time inspecting his surroundings, he swore he could see skaven, watching, and waiting to put a blade into his back.
Someone forgot to put up sewer watch.
"Dammit! Those fools!
Gnawdwell scrambled, as sprays of warpstone bullets ricocheted off the walls, as a stormfiend armed with two gatlings turned the corner, letting loose it's barrage.
It's best if we scurry on out of here.
Gnawdwell couldn't agree more, unfortunately, he hadn't expected the second stormfiend. Luckily, he was barely able to stop before the green flames could engulf his entire body.
Now I'm getting worried.
"You weren't before?!"
Gnawdwell dived into the horrible, vile water, with the volleys of bullets coming to a screeching halt.
"The ogre-ogre jammed it!"
"What-what are you waiting for? Fix-repair!"
Gnawdwell could hear the screaming skaven, insulting each other instead of repairing the stormfiends weaponry. He couldn't help but smile, he could always count on their hatred for one another to help him escape.
Dive deeper!
"Hm? Oh sh-"
The second one, however, chased after Gnawdwell, letting loose torrents of green and black warpfire with its projectors. Even the water seemed to be burned by the flames, covering the surface of the water entirely.
Are we swimming in oil?
Hell if I know.
Gnawdwell dived deeper and deeper, until he hit rock bottom, literally. Unfortunately, he could hear several clicks, and a gun winding up in the background.
"Fixed-fixed!"
Can this day get any worse..?
His question was answered by several hundreds of warpstone bullets penetrating the surface of the water, each one seemingly getting more accurate, one even snipped off one of his whiskers. Suddenly, the water purged out of the sewer, with Gnawdwell being sucked away along with it.
What's going on?!
Even underwater, Gnawdwell laughed as he got launched out of the sewer, along with several bags of trash and bones. He landed in the murky, green sewer water, as the moon cast its shine upon him. As he got up from being thrown out the sewer, he saw the man who had emptied most of the sewer, who stared at him in complete, and utter shock.
"Hey, bud, you should probably run if you want to live."
The man didn't answer, as he was too busy running off in the other direction, away from Gnawdwell. Gnawdwell knew that being covered in...mysterious, vile, and stinky liquid wasn't a great way to escape, but he had to be grateful that he even escaped in the first place.
We don't have much time before they come for us.
"How do we get back into Altdorf? If we can't transform, that also means we can't scale the wall."
Can't you just ask the gatekeeper nicely?
"I'm probably the most wanted criminal in the city right now, so I doubt I'll be let in."
Gnawdwell sighed, he had wanted to help but ended up slaughtering dozens of people instead. The psycho rarely let any of his emotions run wild, but when he saw Arthur being arrested, it was like a floodgate opened up in his mind and all of the emotion that was locked away and suppressed just...attacked his mind. He had never felt such rage, such bloodlust, but he also felt the need to...protect. But why did he want to protect Arthur? He only knew him for a day or two, and most of the talking was done behind a jail cell, which Gnawdwell was in.
"Before we even get into Altdorf, we'll have to deal with these stormfiends first."
We can't just bust down a wall, and go into a frenzy like a psycho now. Especially since we can't transform.
"Speaking of that, how's it going?"
I'd be done if you'd stop talking to me.
"But you were the one...nevermind."
Gnawdwell ignored the fact that Carnage was the one who started the conservation and instead focused on how'd he deal with the stormfiends.
"How fast can you regenerate the bonds?"
This is unlike your head being shot off, Gnawdwell, this requires precision and extreme focus.
"But..?"
I could do it in less than two or three minutes, at the expense of you feeling immeasurable pain, and possible psychological attacks.
"Great! Let's do it!" Gnawdwell ran out of the murky sewer water, and sat down beside the gigantic wall, closing his eyes in anticipation.
Did you not hear what I just said? You'll-
"For once Carnage, do what I ask without questioning it!"
Gnawdwell heard Carnage grumble, but whatever he said was blotted out by immense pain he felt all around his body, his skin felt like it was on hot coals, his eyes burned and itched, as if hundreds of ant crawled upon them, while also biting them at the same time in unison. He felt what it was like to have your innards eaten out from the inside, while each organ screamed out in agonizing pain. But that wasn't the worst part, Gnawdwell could handle the pain, even if it was complete torture for his body, but it was his mind that was unprepared. Nightmares or dreams flashed across his mind, each one threatening to break his mind, even memories he once considered comforting seemed to send him into a spiral of guilt, he could feel every single sinful deed he had committed lay upon his shoulders, almost as if he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders.
The black rat furiously scribbled on parchment, the tip of his feather pen glistening in the sunlight that came in by the window, giving the room a warm hue of gold. He wore his dark red armor, with the symbol of Clan Mors on the front and back of the chest plate, while his shoulder guards had spikes planted onto the top, in order to amplify his intimidating presence. Despite his appearance, he bore a small, genuine smile on his face, an incredibly rare action for a skaven. The happiness he felt was like pure bliss to him, so unknown, yet so alluring. He was...happy.
"Good morning!" His beloved popped in beside him, ignoring his spiky armor, and wearing a huge grin on her face.
"Good morning." Even though he didn't always say it, or express it, he was always happy to have her as company, even just seeing her made him become filled with joy.
"What are you doing this time? Planning another raid?"
Gnawdwell laughed joyously, amazed at how much she became used to him over the past few months. She often made jokes about his profession, though every joke she said did hold some sort of grain of truth, Gnawdwell admitted. He looked up from the parchment, staring into her eyes, with pupils colored golden.
"This isn't real."
Gnawdwell awoke screaming, clutching his head in both pain and fear.
Looks like someone had a nasty nightmare.
He was back to reality, and reality had a nasty surprise for him. How had he not gone crazy without her? Or maybe he had, and he just refused to accept the fact he snapped a long time ago. Whatever the case, he got up, feeling even worse than before.
"How long was I out?"
A few minutes, you also kept mumbling about 'Sabrina', or whatever her name was.
He felt his heart being stabbed by a figurative knife as Carnage said her name, why did he have to say it so casually?
"That doesn't matter, let's just scale the wall."
Carnage stayed silent, for he might be insane, but he feared Gnawdwell's insanity even more. It was unbearable, to gaze upon the red sludge that covered his body as if just looking at it made his mind open up old scars, memories that he regretted daily.
Gnawdwell!
Unfortunately, Gnawdwell didn't have time to lament on old memories. A stormfiend appeared out of thin air, with green warp lightning clinging onto the edges of its armor.
"They even brought a grey seer!"
Instead of gatlings, or warpfire projectors, it was completely clad in bulletproof armor, with giant, drill-like gauntlets replacing its fists. Gnawdwell was sluggish, much too sluggish to dodge the stormfiend from bashing him in the chest, the drill sawing through both bone and flesh, tearing through the red sludge like paper. His jaws frothed with rage, as the stormfiend prepared to bash him with its other gauntlet, he grabbed a hold of its head, which was small compared to the rest of its body, and tore it off, with the spine and all still attached.
Another one inbound!
He heard the revs of the gatlings charging up, along with the tainted smell of warpfire. He could hear snickering, but before he could figure out where it came from, another stormfiend came up from behind him and smashed his head with the same gauntlets as the last one. As he recovered from the blow, another stormfiend charged towards him, crashing into him, and sending him through the walls of Altdorf.
"At least...we're...in…"
He slowly rose, not before getting shot with dozens of green bullets, the stormfiend sprayed everywhere, not caring for any accidental casualties.
Ok, are you going to be mad if I tell you something else?
"God-...DAMMIT, WHAT IS IT NOW?!"
There are a lot more in the sewers, and I mean a whole lot more.
Luckily, the giant, gaping hole in his chest had regenerated, the bullets penetrated through his body, posing a nuisance as they knocked him back, little by little. The red sludge convulsed, and then shot forth the warpstone bullets back at the stormfiend, piercing through its unarmored head and body. It quickly fell down to the ground afterward, not without causing anarchy before it died. Gnawdell attempted to calm himself down, but he could feel his thirst for blood, and his eternal rage coming to the surface, threatening to take him over. Three more stormfiends followed him through the hole in the wall, along with never-ending hordes of stormvermin and clanrats.
I thought they'd attack much later?
"This is just a force meant to kill me, they're not meant to attack the city itself."
I'm curious as to what their forces look like when they lay siege to a city.
Gnawdwell could hear his smug tone even with the shouts of orders being sent forth across the ravenous horde of both vermin and mechanical beasts. Both vile vermin and monstrosities surrounded him, leaving him with no chance to escape.
"Not again…"
"Dammit! Where could he have gone?!" Arthur paced around his humble room, desperately trying to figure out where Gnawdwell had gone, but it proved to be extremely difficult.
From what we saw, and what he's said, I doubt he's even sane anymore.
Arthur sighed, slumping onto his bed as the door to his room slowly creaked open.
"Who is it?"
He would've preferred to keep grumbling about not knowing where the psychopath murderer was, but he thought it'd be best to take a break from constantly thinking about where Gnawdwell was.
"You owe us an explanation Arthur, and we better get one."
"Us?"
Arthur sat upright, as one by one Balthasar and the others entered, each with a look of mild contempt towards him. Though Sienna wasn't there, Arthur assumed she had more important things to do. They were all staring at him so...intently, it made him feel small and nervous, it was like their stares made him seem smaller than he really was.
"I don't appreciate being knocked unconscious by mangy vermin, and I don't have a lot of patience right now either!"
Arthur yelled, unsure of what to say, or what to do.
"Uhmmm…"
"Just tell us, Arthur."
"Ok, I guess I met up with him in the dungeon, and kind of...talked to him?"
"Oh gods, you spoke to him?"
"W-well, he didn't seem that bad...he did...have...a...wife…" Arthur's voice trailed off, as he suddenly realized how ridiculous it was for a giant rat to have a wife, who was an elf.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you."
"He...had…"
"Just say it!" Markus became anxious, while Bardin remained a stone face, lacking any emotion.
"He told me that...he had a wife." Kerillian sighed and turned to Balthasar.
"He's gone insane, I say we put him down."
"But, what if it is the truth?"
"You can't really expect anyone to marry a murderous, deceptive, and psychopathic murderer, who is also a giant rat!"
"Pretty sure ye just described the entirety of the vile vermin's race!"
"HERESY!"
The five argued, never letting one get any headway through their argument before being cut off by another. It was so discordant, so...confusing to try and follow one argument after another. Arthur tried to stop the infighting, but his timid, small voice couldn't penetrate the thunderous wails of Victor screaming, 'HERESY!', at the top of his lungs.
Must they argue so loud? It feels like someone is ringing a giant bell in my head!
"COULD YOU ALL SHUT THE HELL UP?!"
The room became silent, as Arthur's head convulsed and merged with Venom, making some of them look away as his face returned back to normal.
"...Sorry…"
"Hmph." Kerillian, lifted her gaze off of Arthur, as if in disgust.
"HER-"
"Say it one more time, and I might literally kill you with nothing but my bare hands," Balthasar emphasized his threat by cracking his knuckles, which made Victor sweat as he stayed silent.
"Are we not going to talk about how he just became one of the daemons that we dedicated our lives to killing?"
Daemon? I like that title.
"We'll worry about that later, right now we need the rat to keep explaining!"
"As much as I want to gut him, I will save it for later."
"Do you all really want to kill me that badly?"
"Yes." Without hesitation, all four answered his question, with Balthasar seemingly sweating from the inside of his golden mask.
"Jeez…"
"Arthur, just continue before there's another argument starts happening."
Arthur solemnly nodded, finally getting to talk more about his favorite mentally unstable psycho.
"Anyway, he had a wife, and...he said they were happy…"
"Raki scum! You believed him, didn't ye?" Bardin was close to punching a hole in the wall out of pure anger, luckily though, Markus was able to calm him down.
"How couldn't I..? He seemed so...genuine, he seemed so...lost, without any real sense of purpose, almost like he thought himself of a revenant who walked upon the land."
"You were able to assume all of that, just by taking a glance at him?"
"What do you think? He literally asked for ale, and in return, he gave me information."
Though they refused to show it, they were fairly impressed by him, not many people, much less a rat could tell who someone was at a glance.
"Is that why you accepted Markus's invitation?" Victor was going to say something else, something very insensitive at that, but Arthur was able to respond to him before he could say it.
"Not really, I actually, um...kind of forgot about it for a while."
"Meaning, he was too drunk with Victor to even do the deal!"
Bardin couldn't help but chuckle, while Victor remained confused about what Markus was talking about.
"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought the two were best friends!"
"I drank with vermin..?"
"You drank so much One-Eye, I bet you thought he was a hairy midget!"
The three laughed at Victor, who seemed to be confused, while Balthasar tried to process the fact that Arthur got drunk.
"Ahem, I need all of you to wait outside, and while you're at it, alert the city guards to be on the lookout. Make sure they keep the sewers sealed shut, and inspect them every single minute."
None of them offered any resistance, as they made a mockery out of Victor, who still was confused even as they left the room.
"Arthur, you still remember the gas he employed to escape, correct?"
"Of course I do, but why are you asking me this?"
"I find it hard to believe that everyone in the gas didn't die, despite being both in contact with it, and inhaling copious amounts of it, it's almost like…"
"...It wasn't even meant to kill anyone." Arthur had heard the infamous stories about the various gases of his race, some so potent that it ate away at both armor and flesh, ensuring a slow, painful death, while some caused near-instant death, barely enough time to realize you've even inhaled the dangerous toxins in the first place.
"But it still killed people!"
"Arthur, if he wanted to ensure every person's death in that street, he would've used something more potent, not something as weak as that."
"Then...why? If he is a Lord Of Decay then it must be easy to acquire toxic gas, correct? So why go to the trouble of getting something less potent, less...dangerous?"
"That I cannot say, all that matters is that more people lived than died."
That's twice he could've killed us.
Twice?
Nevermind.
Arthur was confused, but most importantly he was surprised. He saw Gnawdwell in combat, even if it was just a few seconds, but he could tell that he was not the one to hold back, much less spare any who get in his way. If Gnawdwell really wanted to kill everyone, he would've used something more toxic, more...skaveny.
"I also noticed the restraint when you and your inky friend fought him."
"His name is Venom."
You tell him! Literally!
"Ahem, when you and Venom fought him, he showed some sort of...restraint." Once again, Balthasar implied something Arthur didn't want to accept, but it, unfortunately, was the truth.
"I get it, I could have died twice, but what about it?"
"It's not about that, Arthur! It's about the fact why he didn't."
Arthur still didn't understand, maybe Gnawdwell just forgot to kill him, and maybe he used the wrong flask of gas, surely that must be it.
"Boris also told me about how you were going to be arrested..." Balthasar expected an explanation from Arthur while giving him a steely, cold stare that even the white rat could feel through his golden mask.
"Well, bonehead over there murdered three people for no reason whatsoever! He screamed something murder, slaughter, maiming, and burning people alive or something!"
"But why'd you protect him?"
"Because he has something important for us, Balthasar!"
"And what is that?"
"...A message."
"A message? Is that it? Do you know it?"
"Yes, yes, and no. We were too busy talking about his life instead of what he came here for."
"Alright...What happened before he started killing the soldiers?"
"He was about to kill someone else, but then he stopped when he saw Kerillian, and walked to a chair, and sat down for a few minutes, with dead vacant eyes, like he was reliving a nightmare. After that, when I was being arrested, he jolted forward to the golden knights, and slaughtered them as easily someone would cut paper."
"Not only did he spare you twice, but he even helped you escape arrest, something I doubt he would do to someone he hadn't met before."
"What are you implying?"
"I'm assuming, but if my plan works, then it has to be true."
Arthur stared at his golden masked teacher in confusion, along with Venom who was starting to become hungry at the thought of murder.
"HEY! BALALALA SOMETHING, WE HAVE AN INFESTATION OF VERMIN THAT PENETRATED THE WALL! THOUGH THEY SEEM TO BE ATTACKING SOMETHING!"
"Perfect timing."
"W-what did he say?"
Ohoho, this is gonna be good…
Down!
Gnawdwell ducked, as torrents of green flame, and globes filled with gas flew over his head, whilst warpstone bullets bounced off his red, sludge-like hide.
"They're persistent, that's for sure..!"
He clutched his right arm, which was covered in green, toxic flames, eating away at both himself and Carnage. Just as he expected, it didn't regenerate like the last time he was singed with fire.
As much as I like a good challenge, I dare say we might actually die here.
"We can't die, not yet at least..!"
His right arm morphed into an ax, which boomeranged through the never-ending ranks of both clanrats and stormvermin that acted as meat shields for the towering stormfiends, though sometimes, Gnawdwell didn't have to even attack, as the stormfiends didn't know the difference between friend and foe. He took shelter behind a broken down house, with the top half destroyed because of the constant bombardments of the insane stormfiends, who laughed maniacally as they continued to force Gnawdwell into an ever smaller corner.
If we don't do anything, we'll be burned, gassed, and shot up to death, Gnawdwell!
"Well...glory in life, honor in death."
Carnage scoffed at him, though he didn't want to die, he treated it like it was a last resort if everything went wrong. He blindly tossed another ax over his makeshift cover, tearing through the verminous ranks, and slicing through a stormfiends skull.
"Heeeyy, I got one."
Pure luck.
"Well, screw you."
Once again, he could nearly feel the hot sensation of the warpfire almost covering his body, and then continue to pass him, he gulped down his fears, as he bided his time, waiting for the slightest opportunity to spread carnage.
"Where-where is tank of warpfire-fire and box of warpstone bullets-bullets..? Stormfiends almost out-out..!"
Gnawdwell could hear the whispers of the vermin, urging the others to fetch the surplus ammunition they had supposedly brought along with them, perhaps he could use this to his advantage. He could feel his rage swelling, his bloodlust churning, both threatening to finally make him lose the last shreds of sanity he had. Just as he planned on charging the swarms of vermin, he felt something enter the insides of his head.
"No-no, not again!"
He ripped the arrow out of his head, only for it to explode in his muscular, large red claws, literally disintegrating his right hand.
Looks like the elf has more tricks than we expected, for one so far away from Athel Loren.
Gnawdwell gritted his massive fangs in frustration, as he turned his head to view the unexpected intrusion in his little battle.
"Stop! Don't attack him, stick to the plan!"
"But the plan is insane, umgi, even for raki scum like you!" Bardin let loose howls of war, smacking his hammer upon his golden gilded shield, transforming it into some sort of gong.
"As much as I hate to agree, he's right!" Markus shouted back, wielding his goofishly large greatsword.
Kerillian stayed silent, even as the two idiots charged towards Gnawdwell, while at the same time dodging the various projectiles that came into their way. Arthur, on the other hand, ran past the two with supernatural speed, dashing by Gnawdwell and towards the swelling, starving horde of vermin.
"W-what? What are you doing? Get back here!"
Gnawdwell panicked, for once in his miserable life, even as the stunted dwarf and foolish human lunged at his enormous bulk, he grabbed the dwarf by the beard, winded up his arm, and threw him at the elf like a cannon would shoot a cannonball. The greatsword harmlessly gutted through his chest like butter, while he quickly snatched up the human by his neck, practically strangling him while he dropped his greatsword.
"I don't have time for this, so BEGONE!"
Gnawdwell slammed the human down onto the smooth, solid stone below him, he felt a tinge of satisfaction, since he could hear the sounds of a bone or two breaking. From the corner of his eye, he could see Victor in the distance, looking through the scope of a Hochland Long Rifle, one of the most treasured black powder weapons in the world.
"Bloody witch hunters, and their fancy-"
The sound of the rifle going off shook earth itself, its bullet penetrating, and promptly killing two stormfiends.
"Well, I'll hand it to him, he's a great shot."
"Over here, lumberfoot!"
Gnawdwell grunted, turning to the elf, only to be hit by three arrows, with vials of brown liquid strapped to them.
"Goddammit."
He went up into bright, orange flames, with acrid smelling smoke, and indescribable heat exuding off him.
"'Eyyy! Ye got 'im!"
"W-what?!"
Kerillian frowned, as Gnawdwell waded through the smoke as if nothing happened at all. Sure, his red hide was torn apart, flayed, burned and torn apart, but he could care less. Strips of red sludge hanged off his charred body, even with Carnage hastily repairing the damages, the fire proved to be a problem.
"Let-let them fight, let's just take a break-break, yes-yes..?"
"Oh for god's sake, I have to deal with you as well?!"
A large, red tentacle sprouted from Gnawdwell's back, dodging and weaving through the hordes of vermin, and plunging itself into the head of a stormfiend, equipped with ratlings. Gnawdwell rarely used this particular feature of Carnage, since he never always approved of it, he always thought you should slaughter your enemies up close and personal. He felt the stormfiends two minds, even as he overpowered each one, and turn them against their creators. The stormfiend jolted, as the red tentacle sulked out of its head, letting loose roars of defiance, and gunning down its own comrades, even several stormfiends couldn't handle the large, armor piercing raw warpstone being thrown at them.
"Much-much better."
Once again, he could feel the urges of slaughter, the temptation of giving in to his bottled-up rage, oh it was so tempting, but alas, he decided against it.
"Huh? OH, BY SIGMAR!"
The rabid stormfiend quickly gunned down everything in sight, but soon it laid its sights down upon Arthur, letting loose hails of warpstone bullets around him, fortunately for Arthur, his own stunted growth helped him dodge the bullets. Gnawdwell cursed under his breath, insulting himself for his own incompetence, forgetting such an important detail. He turned away from the elf, which was difficult hence she kept spouting out some...quite potent insults and taunts at him. Soon, the stormfiend was brought down by the heavily armored stormfiends that bore doomflayer gauntlets, tearing it apart limb from limb, while tearing through its flesh and bone, all the while giggling like children.
"...I-I don't like this plan a-anymore…"
The great, large red beast turned to make his way to Arthur, most likely to protect him from his own stupidity.
"I'm...not done yet..!" The human desperately grasped onto Gnawdwell's leg, hoping to stop him from advancing towards the small, vulnerable rat.
΅There is a fine line between bravery...and stupidity." Gnawdwell lightly kicked Markus in the head with his other leg, which seemed enough to stun him for a few seconds.
"...Stick to the plan, everything's fine, everything's fine, EVERYTHING'S NOT FINE!¨
In total, five stormfiends chased after Arthur, their drills eager to dig themselves into his flesh. Gnawdwell suppressed the urge to slaughter everyone and him, though he did find it as a solution to all of his problems. The sight of the big red beast wading through the hordes of vermin wasn't that great of a bravery-inducing sight, as Gnawdwell was able to hear a smoke bomb going off, and a rat making their prompt escape.
And there goes the grey seer.
"How sad, I rarely get to fight magic users." Both halberd and sword couldn't penetrate his thick red hide, as he stomped past through the vermin, though sometimes he did accidentally kill one just by walking into them.
Are you sure he's your son? He seems to be a coward.
Arthur screamed in a language Gnawdwell couldn't understand, because he spoke the language of a coward! He hurriedly made his way to Arthur, but he was too fast, too quick even for him. The stormfiends chasing him also provided a good reason to overexert himself and run like a bat out of hell.
"Lumberfoots! Are you alright?" Kerillian poked Markus in the face, trying to get a response from the fool.
"What do you bloody think? I think I broke some bones, and he kicked me in my moneymaker!" Markus wore a pained frown, as he felt more agonizing pain as he moved around, attempting to get up.
"Bah! You fool! Bardin, how about you?" Kerillian looked over to the dwarf, making sure only his health was alright, but not his pride.
"He grabbed my precious beard! I swear if I ever find that damn rat, or red beast, or whatever it is, I'll skin it and eat it!" Bardin emphasized this by biting on the edges of his shield in absolute rage.
"How in the world do you do that? If I remember correctly, you didn't even get to hit him." Victor walked down from the roof of the house and started helping up Markus.
"What about ye? You shot those metal monsters instead of him!" Bardin furiously pointed his hammer at him.
"The plan was to let Arthur be chased by them, but noooo, you just had to prove your manliness." Victor grinned smugly, which only made Markus and Bardin ever more frustrated with him.
"I agree with One-Eye on this one, besides, it's not like the small rat has tricks up his sleeves." Kerillian shrugged, as she could hear the agonizing pains of the vermin being slaughtered by the black furred psycho, though she wouldn't admit it, she was a bit terrified of the red beast. The gang resumed to kill off any stragglers left behind by Gnawdwell's rampage, all the while Balthasar walked alongside them, in complete silence.
"Oh Sigmar, why did we agree to this?"
Hell if I know, but I do know if we look back, we'll be torn, mangled, maimed, and ripped apart limb from limb.
"Great! Just what I needed...another one of your encouraging pep talks!"
You're welcome.
Arthur dodged around the corner, narrowly avoiding the stormfiend's frenzied drills from digging into his flesh with rampant, twisted joy. Arthur would've wanted a more tactical, clever plan instead of him just running headfirst into danger, but he trusted Balthasar and his wisdom.
So, about this plan...when does it finally work?
"Dammit Venom! I have no time to deal with your sarcasm right now!"
Arthur tried his best to always turn around a corner, for the stormfiends were fast, but they couldn't exactly turn on a dime because of their heavy, bright red armor nearly covering their entire bodies, even their heads looked almost completely made out of twisted, dark metals. Even then, Arthur could feel the metal monstrosities gaining on him, oh so eager to feast on his thin, fragile body, yet he could also feel the familiar presence of a certain psychopath, who demanded blood, and slaughter in his vicinity at all times. Arthur wondered if Gnawdwell ever got tired of it, maybe he sometimes got bored of the constant need to murder everyone he meets.
Bloodthirsty, and ravenous. Even I can feel something is wrong with him, specifically in the head.
The white rat scoffed, offended by Venom assuming such a thing for Gnawdwell, but he did feel it may be true...just a little though.
"Hey! Over here you bumbling metal beasts!"
Even Arthur turned around, just in time to see a manhole cover speed past the other stormfiends and dig itself into the back of the stormfiend in front of him. The stormfiend heaved, swayed, struggling to accept its fate, and with its last breath, it attempted to attack Arthur, but ultimately tore apart its own face apart in its last resort. It fell forward, its heavyweight cracking the pavement below it, and revealed a small, wrinkled, and small skaven with no fur, seemingly stitched onto the back of the stormfiend, with its head being obnoxiously large, compared to its limbs. The white rat felt disgusting, revolted by the sight, it seemed so wrong, so...criminal. This wasn't supposed to exist, this is only something that appears in nightmares, not reality!
As he took an even closer look at the dead stormfiend, he could see the workings of a vile ratman, with stitches covering failed attempts to insert more metal plating underneath its muscle and skin. A pair of tanks rested beside the small, wrinkled dead skaven, with various tubes connecting them to the main body of the stormfiend, always pumping the needed warpstone for the monstrous beasts weapons, and to refill their energy in combat. It was a horrifying sight, he could feel the world close off around him as he took in each, excruciatingly painful detail of the stormfiend, wondering who, or why someone would make such a horrible abomination.
What is he doing?! He's just standing still!
Hasn't he ever seen one of your kinds creations?
Gnawdwell growled in frustration, as he grabbed hold of a stormfiends arm, and used its own doom flayer gauntlet to tear apart its own flesh, revealing its horribly disfigured organs, blending together both skaven and metal.
What do you think, Carnage?!
Both his rage and bloodthirst grew even more difficult to maintain, it was like two battering rams bashing down a gate, whenever one retracted to hit again, the other hit within that time frame, making an infinite loop until the gate finally fell. His attention was divided between the three stormfiends, and Arthur, who stood still like a statue made of stone. Two of the three stormfiends stood between him and Arthur, while the other continued to make its way to the white rat.
Before we even do anything, keep in mind that-
Of course, Gnawdwell didn't care for his opinion, nor did he think it was important. He moved his enormous bulk, rapidly closing the gap between him and the two metal beasts, but instead of killing them, he passed by them, even if they were able to literally saw off his arm, and several chunks of red sludge off of his body.
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASIER TO KILL THEM.
Gnawdwell would give him credit, he was right, but he never liked to think rationally. He slinked up behind the stormfiend that had the intention of killing Arthur, and before the small, wrinkled, weak skaven could signal the stormfiends imminent death, Gnawdwell punched off the disgusting things head right off, surprisingly clean, for a move so brutal.
Behind us, quickly!
Gnawdwell panicked, though he didn't panic for his life was in danger, but because another was because of him. He knew he couldn't save himself and Arthur at the same time, but perhaps he could save...him. He snatched up Arthur, enveloping him in the red sludge, making a hardened red shell around them. Fortunately, the warpfire just arrived in time, covering the shell in flames that only the sun could best, for once, he felt pain. He could feel, the searing hot green fire engulf him, but he could feel pain, not like he did before, but it was as if his body had suddenly jump-started, after so long, and he could finally feel real pain, to know that your very life was in danger, but yet he couldn't care less, after all, he had done his duty.
The gang of comrades turned around the corner, just in time to see the red shell melting underneath the glaring, hot green fire, seemingly melting it into a puddle. The fire burned so bright, they had to squint just to see what was happening, but it appeared as if Balthasar already knew what was happening.
"Something doesn't smell good, umgi…"
"What in Sigmar? Oh for...don't tell me this is part of your plan, Gelt!"
"Looks like we killed two birds with just one measly stone, eh?"
"This seems dirty as if we betrayed the white skaven…"
Balthasar turned around, displaying his mask in front of the group, which unnerved all of them, save Kerillian.
"The plan was made purely for the purpose of removing any doubt in my mind, to make sure what I thought was one hundred percent certain."
"Oh, for...so all of this was because you wanted to test out a theory, was it?!" She nearly put an arrow into Balthasar, fortunately, she was able to restrain that particular urge for the time being. Though she didn't understand it, he exploded into a fury of laughter, she could practically see the joy behind his golden mask.
"Can't you see? Why would a skaven sacrifice everything, and I mean everything to come here? To betray their clan, to slaughter an entire battalion of his own troops, just to stay here?"
"What...are you saying..?"
"These underlings bear the markings, and insignias of Clan Mors and Gnawdwell is the very warlord of that clan!"
"So why are they..?"
"Because he betrayed them just to get into Altdorf! This leaves no doubt in my mind, I believe he is-" He was cut off, of course, most people would stop talking and adhere to their wounds, especially if they were shot by a highly toxic warpstone bullet.
"Wazzok!"
Both Kerillian and Victor hurriedly searched for the sniper, looking for the trademark green, smokey trail left behind by the jezzail, but alas, they found nothing. The verminous sniper had made his shot and had gotten away with it too. Markus was able to catch Balthasar before he could hit the pavement, clutching him in his arms, as he bled profusely in his arms.
"H-he's…"
"Shhh, save your breath, you're going to need your strength if you want to survive this, Gelt!"
"N-no, you don't...understand…"
Kerillian crouched down, curious about Balthasar's response.
"What do you mean, lumberfoot?"
"Kerillian, the man can barely speak, so let's just-" Balthasar groaned, furiously grabbing ahold of Markus's shirt collar.
"Idiot! What I'm trying to say is that they're related..!"
"What?"
"Oh, by Sigmar, you are-"
"Who's related? I'm confused." Markus rudely cut him off, wondering what Balthasar meant as he steamed with anger and fury.
"I swear, once I get this bullet out of me, you'll be dead..."
"First of all, how are you even talking?"
"I-I'm not an idiot..! But I also didn't expect to be shot by a bullet the size of my hand either!"
He tore off his shirt, revealing light armor that had been meant to stop shots from either a bow or a pistol, not an armor piercing rifle like the jezzail.
"I'll be honest, it hurts like hell, and I need to get it out of me before I contract the side effects."
"That sounds easy!"
"WAIT NO!" Before Balthasar could stop the insane witch hunter, Victor dug his gloved hand into his chest, and ripped out the bullet, all the while Balthasar was screaming in pure agony.
"BY THE GODS!" Balthasar squirmed in Markus's arms, and then fell quiet for a moment, and then for another moment…
"Great, it looks like he passed out! Good job, One-Eye!"
"Finally, a compliment from the elf!"
Kerillian clutched her face in her hands, looking away from the triumphant Victor standing over Balthasar's unconscious body, with Bardin cheering him on for his quick thinking, while Markus kept thinking about what Balthasar meant with what he said. Markus laid down Balthasar on the pavement, switching his attention to the red shell that was being turned to a puddle of red liquid.
"Wait a minute..."
"Hm? What is it umgi?" Bardin stroked his beard in dwai pride.
"What's on your mind, mayfly?" Kerillian was able to pull herself out of her hands enough to look at Markus, almost condescendingly.
"He said they were related, but I don't really know who, or what he was talking about…"
"Are you all blubbering buffoons? Are you actually kidding me, Markus?"
"What is it?"
"What other people are here, besides us, who in the past few days did he make the most contact with?! For god's sake, he was talking about Arthur!" They never saw her this spiteful towards them before, but then again, they were always drunk whenever she was.
"If that's true, who's he related to, wutelgi?"
"What if its Gnawdwell?"
"ARE YOU ACTUALLY MISSING-" Before Kerillian could wrap her hands around Markus's neck to strangle him with all of her strength and rage, she thought upon his theory. She placed her head on her hand, looking as if she was in deep thought.
"...It could be…"
He felt purpose, he remembered just how joyous having purpose is, but then again, the searing hot flames of warpfire didn't feel all that great, but right now he only had one thing on his mind. Protect. He would do anything to protect him, to protect Arthur, no matter the cost, even if he had to kill the gods themselves just to ensure he could live. Gathering his will, once again he blindly tugged at the Winds of Magic, causing discordant waves to ripple through each one of the winds. A useful spell, especially when one of your greatest weaknesses are fire, Chillwind was always able to negate his opponent's advantage, even if he did have to spill some of his own blood to do so. He uttered the foul language of Dhar, sending forth the frozen and icy winds to halt the stormfiends flood of warpfire, it had become so cold, the fire seemingly froze in mid-air.
"Gnawdwell! Let me out, I can help!" The black rat grunted as he trudged through the red, slimy puddle that once made him hate himself, and despise his very existence, but now it was his best chance to redeem himself, and he'd do anything in order to wipe away the misdeeds he had done in the past.
"...I'm sorry..."
"For what?!"
A transparent wall of red sludge separated Gnawdwell and Arthur, his innocent blue eyes stared into his, psychotic, paranoid, red beady eyes. The white rat could see the painful, cumbersome guilt in his eyes, the agony and sorrow he felt for his misdeeds. Yet...besides all of that, he felt something deeper, a deed so large, so terrible, even he tried his best to hide it. He felt hesitation from Gnawdwell, which made him nervous, and even anxious. What in the world did Gnawdwell fear? Could he even feel fear? Whatever it was, if it made Gnawdwell terrified, it'd probably make Arthur die of fear.
"Gnawdwell..?"
"...I'm...proud of you."
He can't tell him, he couldn't bear to see his reaction, but most importantly of all...he didn't want Arthur to hate him forever, but he knew that the more he refused to tell him, the more it'd tear him apart when he told him. He looked away from Arthur and slinked out of the remnants of the red shell, leaving Arthur with a confused expression, trying to process what he just said to him. As he waded through the red sludge, he was met with the explosive force of the Northern winds, practically making the entire street covered in thin sheets of ice, and mounds of snow scattered nearly everywhere. A desolate, frozen wasteland, even the stormfiend struggled to get its warpfire projectors to work in the immense cold, with the frost attacking the edges of its armor, and tiny pieces of glass shards tore into its flesh, opening old stitches and wounds. The metallic monster saw Gnawdwell come forth out of the red shell, letting loose roars of battle as it charged towards the mentally unstable rat, who took a stance as the stormfiend stomped its way towards him.
"There!"
He didn't bother to turn around to find out whose voice it was, as the stormfiend swung its warpfire projectors as makeshift clubs, which were easy enough to dodge for someone like Gnawdwell. With the remnants of his strength, he once again tore apart his body and ripped out a globe, which insides bubbled, and frothed with unstable and explosive capabilities.
"Gnawdwell!"
He swung his head towards the red shell, to see Arthur crawling out of the protective red shell, with a worried expression on his face.
"You fool."
As the stormfiend winded up its next swing, Gnawdwell dragged his claws on the surface of the globe, causing several cracks to appear, with sparks seeping out of them. Then he leaped up into the air, narrowly dodging the stormfiends attack, then it tore open its helmet to let loose another barrage of terrifying roars, but yet, that was what led it to its downfall. Gnawdwell landed onto the chest of the stormfiend with a loud thud, staggering the metal beast, as he shoved down the unstable, and explosive globe down into its gullet.
"My death will come, but not today!"
"What in the? By Grimnir! Everyone get down!"
Bardin hefted up his shield, to cover himself from the explosion, Arthur was able to use Venom as a shield against the incoming explosion, unfortunately for the others, the best they could do is hold up their arms in retaliation against the oncoming explosion. The stormfiend coughed, and choked on the globe, as it blew up into chunks of stitched flesh, the force of the explosion knocked down everyone in the vicinity, even Bardin couldn't stand up against the tremendous shockwave.
"What in Taal..?"
"I knew the psycho would commit suicide, but I didn't expect this!"
"He's not dead you fools! At least, not yet…"
Venom receded back into Arthur, letting him fully grasp the sight of the explosion. Everything was charred, with crimson blood splattered everywhere, with the stormfiends guts and various spliced organs around the street, and at the middle of it all stood Gnawdwell.
"Gnawdwell! Are you...okay..?"
Red tentacles wrapped around the black rat, retracting back into him.
"Yeah...Arthur...just...peachy…"
He slowly turned around, revealing that half of his face was gone, displaying the insides of his head, his entire body was charred, and nearly every single fur strand on him was burnt to ash. He was also missing his right arm, but Arthur didn't really pay any attention to that as he was already captivated by the already disgusting sight in front of him.
"O-oh god, you're so…"
"S-save it...I-I think...I need...a d-doctor…"
They couldn't help but stare in amazement, as Gnawdwell was able to walk over to Arthur, with barely a limp, and put his burnt, charred hand onto the white rat's shoulder.
"I...can...explain...s-soon…"
And then he passed out, with Arthur barely being able to both catch him and hold him up. Arthur could see his skin and fur already being repaired by his strange friend, he looked over to the others, who wore expressions of shock on their faces, even Kerillian was stunned by what she saw. Though, their expressions also seem to show that they were impressed by Gnawdwell, even if it was blended in with the fear of him as well.
"You better explain soon, Gnawdwell...I'm worried what they'll do to you…"
Arthur clutched onto Gnawdwell, as battalions of swordsmen and marksmen finally came and answered the call of battle, only to find that the fight was already over, leaving some to be heavily disappointed until they saw the excess of corpses carelessly thrown about the place, after that, they grew more complacent, and joyful that they did not participate. Arthur gripped onto the psychotic rat as if his life depended on it, though
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Emotions, Emotions
"Do you think he'll be fine?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Thanks for the pep talk, One-Eye…"
The idiotic witch hunter once again took the supposed insult as a compliment and stood triumphantly over...something.
"Oh, he'll be fine. He ONLY had half of his entire face blown off, and several other appendages burnt to bits!" Markus nearly spat everywhere, trying to be sarcastic was hard, for one so drunk.
"Aye, I fear I'll have nightmares in me sleep, umgi. Well, down the hatch!" Before Bardin could put himself into a coma because of his own stupidity, Kerillian stopped the dwarf by snatching away his tankard.
"We're in a hospital, you idiot!"
"It is? I thought it was the local tavern! Then what in Sigmar was I drinking?"
"By the gods…"
"Can we go to the actual tavern? I'm getting mighty thirsty!"
"We came here to get answers from the vermin, do you even listen to a word I say?"
Bardin burped and stroked his beard in dwarfish pride.
"No, not really." Bardin continued stroking his beard, trying to find the exit out of the horrid hospital.
"Ha, you're so drunk, you don't even know where you're going!"
"...We'll stay until the rat wakes up, I doubt Arthur will say much until he's awakened anyway."
"Oh? Where did this sudden burst of intelligence come from?"
"I just realized I ate some things I wasn't supposed to even touch."
Kerillian looked over her motley group of fools, Markus and Bardin tried their hardest to get to the exit, but only found themselves trying to get out through the chimney. Victor merely sat down on a bench, alongside the other citizens in the hospital, who were all murmuring about the two drunken idiots nearly getting themselves stuck in the chimney.
"Uh, Miss? Are they with you?" Kerillian turned her head around to face the strange voice, wearing the most embarrassed expression she could muster.
"Absolutely not…"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I don't know how to sing!" Gnawdwell smiled at the tiny brown rat that stood at his feet, who was admiring him with an intense glare. The two stood in a grassland, but that was all it contained, grass, and nothing else. Not even a single flower lived in the entirety of the land, though it was just a figment of Gnawdwell's imagination.
"You don't!"
"Who slaughtered thousands, condemned masses to mass genocide, and nearly brought down an entire empire down to its knees?!
"We're getting off topic." Despite the rat's appearance, he was one of the many Gods that inhabited the world, but even for a god, venturing into anyone's mind is a difficult thing to do, much less if that particular mind is not exactly thinking coherently.
"Bah! You're just a child."
"For my sake, Gnawdwell, just focus for once in your miserable, meaningless life!"
"Oh shut up, as if you know anything." Gnawdwell waved his hand dismissively above the small rat, making the ratling frustrated with the psychotic black rat.
"This 'form' is the best I could muster in your mind, your psyche is so shattered, It was either looking like this or a daemon from the Realms of Chaos!"
"It's not that bad." Gnawdwell shrugged, which only infuriated the small god even more.
"I'M A RAT, THE SIZE OF A DAMN PEBBLE."
"Psh, aren't you a god or something?"
"Just...say this to Arthur, would you?"
"Say it to him yourself."
"That's not how this works."
"What the hell do I have to say to him anyway? He's…"
"Not your son? Is that what you're trying to say? Cause I feel like even you are disagreeing with yourself."
"I…"
"Oooh, looks like I caught the mighty Gnawdwell off guard, hmm? How interesting."
"...I-I'm...scared." The small rat sighed, his expression softened to one of sympathy.
"I know you are Gnawdwell. If I was in your situation, I would be too. The agony of wondering what will happen once you tell him is worse than truly telling him that you're his father." The form of the rat shimmered, morphing into a form of man that wielded dual, golden hammers, wearing a heavy set of armor, and a knight's visor.
"You have to accept the consequences, Gnawdwell. You sacrificed everything to get here, when you had her, you left yourself an escape."
"W-what..? I...don't…"
"You always knew if everything didn't work out, you could always just return to Clan Mors. You didn't have to keep going back to the horrid tunnels of Skavendom for her safety, but because you wanted an escape, just in case everything went horribly wrong."
Gnawdwell looked down, ashamed of himself, the painful regret had started to pile up on him, acting as if he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders.
"But now, you have nowhere else to go, your own son, who doesn't even know that you're his father, he cares for you. That's reason enough to tell him, Gnawdwell."
"You slippery...the message was just to set me off, wasn't it?"
Despite the visor blocking most of the man's face, Gnawdwell could see the forming of a smile through the small opening of the helmet.
"Whoopsies, you found out. Anyways, looks like you have something to do, isn't that right?"
"I guess I do."
"Arthur, calm down. He'll be fine, I mean, we did break his neck like a day ago, and he came out relatively fine." Venom rested on Arthur's shoulder, with a frown on the tendril used to mimic his face and voice.
"B-but what if he's not?! You saw him Gnawdwell, and we can most likely assume that fire affects him like it does to us!" Arthur sat in a chair beside Gnawdwell, who lay in a bed, covered by a white sheet, with several drugs and chemicals placed upon a table next to the said bed.
"This is just speculation, Arthur. You could see that he is vastly different from us, at least in terms of abilities and power."
"I'm just worried…"
"I don't understand you, Arthur, why is he so important to you? He literally tried to kill us when we first met!"
"B-but, he saved our lives, a-and...I feel like I've known him longer than I lead myself to b-believe…" Arthur sulked, he hung his head low with a blank expression on his face, ashamed of himself for arguing with Venom.
"Well…if he's that important to you, then I guess he's important to me too."
He swung his head above Venom's and poked him in the eye.
"OW, WHAT THE HELL?!"
"That's for being too sappy."
"Why you..! I oughta eat your guts!"
Before Arthur knew it, the door was kicked down by Victor, with Venom panicking to return back into the white rat's body.
"I SMELL...heresy."
"No, you're smelling hospital drugs, and the smell of rotting flesh."
"Did you really have to kick down the door..?"
"YES."
"No." Only Victor and Kerillian came into the room, Markus and Bardin were still trying to attempt an escape, but this time they were planning on how they were to escape the hospital, though they weren't getting much progress done.
"So...how's Balthasar?"
"UHHHHH, he's fine."
"This numbskull over here nearly killed the wizard."
"Shhh, he doesn't need to know that…"
Arthur scratched his head in confusion but dropped the matter.
"We were wondering if you have anything...you'd like to tell us."
OH FIDDLESTICKS, RUN, AND HIDE!
"U-uh, n-not not really...why?"
Arthur wasn't a great liar, and he didn't really know how to hide anything confidential. Kerillian sighed, as she sat down in another chair beside Arthur, their size difference is astonishing.
"If you tell me what I want to know, I'll tell you something you want to know."
"Information...for information?
"Wha- Yes." Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat if Venom had his way, he'd probably charge through a wall and get the hell out of here.
"W-well, it depends on what you want me to tell you."
"Can you tell us if he's a heretic?"
I think...he's actually a brainlet.
"Ignore him. What I want to know is, well, his life."
"O-oh…ok."
Arthur was only able to tell her some spotty details about his life but left out about the fact he could use the Winds of Dhar, as he could see she was an elf, and dark magic users never really got along with them, if what he read in his books were to be taken truthfully. And the fact that his wife was a wood elf. She let out a heavy sigh, almost as if she didn't believe his crazy story.
"As much as I hate to admit it, I believe you."
"You do?"
"As much as I like to intrude in on people's personal lives, I'd like to know why he went onto a rant about why he killed his wife."
He does speak the truth, Arthur.
"I don't know why he...snapped in the tavern, or why he talked about such a thing…"
"Arthur...did he say anything to you during the little battle we had?" Victor played around with the vials on the table, next to Gnawdwell, though his presence didn't seem to disturb him.
"He said something strange to me before he went all dramatic...I think it was 'I'm proud', or something like that."
"Why would he-"
"For god's sake, where's Victor?!"
"Oh no."
Victor immediately tried to use his trenchcoat as camouflage, but it ultimately failed, probably because it was black, and the walls around him were light brown. Balthasar stomped into the room, redressed in his once shiny robe, now it was full of dust and dried blood.
"Don't you know it's bad to wear dirty clothes when injured?"
"Oh, now you care for my health?! Where was that when you tore out the bullet by shoving your entire fist into my gut!?" Arthur rarely saw Balthasar angry, but when he did, he usually just looked something to hide under, even though his anger was never directed at him.
"By the gods…what idiots!"
"Are you purposefully...nevermind…"
Kerillian gave him an intense glare, probably because she could already assume what he was going to say.
Perfect. Stuck in a room who are renowned in killing your kind. Just. Peachy.
"KILL-SLAUGHTER FOR THE HORNED ONE!" All around him were versions of himself, surrounding him, each one more twisted than the last.
"DIE FOR YOUR SINS!"
Their voices overlapped one another, they all screamed and chanted, though everything they said practically meant the same.
"YOU COULDN'T PROTECT HER, SO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN PROTECT HIM?!"
\He yawned, letting their incessant chatter get noisier, which didn't seem to irritate him one bit. He merely laid himself on the ground, in the position you would do to make a snow angel.
"Oh, just shut up. I've been beaten worse with a branch than your incoherent rambling, all you do is whine and whine! For once, in your pathetic, miserable lives, JUST SHUT UP!"
The voices receded, the clones of Gnawdwell seemingly turned into dust in the pitch blackness that was his mind. It was like he was floating in a void, nothing lived in this part of his mind, except the overwhelming guilt and regret that had built up over the years. Drifting was Gnawdwell's strong suit, never staying in one place always numbed the pain, but this time...something was different. He couldn't run away from his problems anymore, not this time, anyway. All his life, he allowed himself an escape, just in case anything went wrong. But yet, as soon as he received the news his son was alive, he went ahead and journeyed to Altdorf, while betraying his clan. Did he care? No, of course not. He could care less about what they thought of him...unless it was Arthur.
"Ugh, to think I once found solace in this horrid, depressing place!"
He floated around, and occasionally drifted by memories, the number of horrible experiences heavily outnumbered his good ones by a sizable margin. Without thinking, he grasped a memory and looked into it, like a man would with a window.
"Over here, over here!"
"For god's sake, not this one."
The memory disintegrated in his hands, leaving a sullen look on his face. Why was he here? To be honest, he had no idea. Where was he? He didn't care. Could he leave? Probably. Did he want to? He didn't know. The more he argued with himself, the more he found himself confused. His mind was playing tricks on him, it probably enjoyed toying around him as much as he enjoyed killing. Gnawdwell continued drifting in the darkness until he finally came to a decision.
"No time to run, no time to hide. After all, life is fleeting...so why not enjoy it?"
He snapped upright in the hospital bed, which made Victor nearly jump straight through the ceiling. Dazed, confused, but most importantly, high off of hospital drugs. He looked over the room, casually ignoring Balthasar and Victor, who, if possible, probably would have their jaws touching the floor in shock. But it was Arthur and Kerillian who piqued his curiosity.
"Ah, looks like my son has the same taste in women as I do!" He slurred out that obvious rude comment, at the same time he felt energetic and full of pure joy, even if it was a manufactured chemical. Even with her face covered by the hood, Gnawdwell could see the elf's face turn cherry red once he finished his statement, while Arthur sat confused, and worried for Gnawdwell's sanity.
"Shut yer trap, rat!"
"Oh come on, he's not that bad looking for a rat either!"
"I-I-I'm c-confused…" Arthur shoved his face into his bright pink hands in complete, and utter embarrassment.
"He's high on hospital drugs! Wait a minute…" Balthasar pointed accusingly at Gnawdwell, who seemed to laugh at his attempt of accusation.
"Aren't you also drugged right now?"
"Oof, I can feel the effects of 'em kicking in…"
Without losing a beat, Balthasar suddenly passed out on Victor, sleeping peacefully.
"I GOT STUCK IN THE CHIMNEY!"
"WAZZOK! I'LL GET YE OUT!"
"I-I-I-I-I-I-I-"
Kerillian did her best to hid her face, as it was brighter than a ripe tomato! Victor looked around the room, completely confused on what was going on, while Gnawdwell's insane laughter echoed across the hospital, and then, what they would assume was a death scream that came from Markus, was actually Bardin nearly breaking his back just to get him unstuck. The other patients in the waiting room and in the rest of the hospital weren't too pleased with them, as both nurses and doctors ran around like headless chickens to get security to detain the two idiots.
...What in the world did we just experience in the last ten seconds?
"I-I d-don't…know..!"
Before Arthur could fully comprehend what was happening, there was shouting outside of the room, presumably Markus and Bardin being justifiably arrested for causing a massive disturbance in the morbid hospital.
"For the love of..! Victor! Let's go and try to persuade them to not lock up those two idiots!" She sprung up from her seat and dashed out of the room, leaving Victor in the dust.
"W-wait! Where do I leave Balthasar?!"
"JUST PUT HIM DOWN SOMEWHERE!"
Victor immediately dropped Balthasar onto the wooden flooring, taking absolutely no care for his well-being, ran off, and hoped he'd be able to catch up with the agile, and speedy wood elf. As Victor left the room, a large, inky tendril sprouted from Arthur's back and slammed the door shut with impressive force. The white rat let out a cumbersome sigh, glad that the chaos has moved away from his immediate vicinity. He looked over to Gnawdwell, who stared at Arthur with eyes of stone, as they didn't really show any...emotion. Arthur got up from his comfortable, and warm seat, and walked over to the bed, and plopped himself down on the right side of the black rat, his eyes still looking as dead as when Arthur was sitting in the chair.
"Are you...okay..?" Arthur gazed into his eyes, despite their particular appearance, there was something raging on behind them like a storm was gathering.
"I guess fate has a cruel sense of humor, huh?" Gnawdwell broke the unspoken staring contest that was happening between, looking away from Arthur, but it looked like it was in absolute...fear.
"What do you mean? Arthur twiddled his fingers in nervousness, not really sure what to say. Venom stayed silent, but that didn't mean he wasn't eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Even now, you still care about...me. Despite what I've done." Arthur genuinely laughed, which confused Gnawdwell, who actually spoke seriously for once.
"You may not have made the best first impression, but...you did save our life...but, I have a question if you don't mind."
"Shoot."
"Why did you save our life?"
"Why wouldn't I save someone?"
"I find that hard to believe, especially after seeing you go into one of your...rampages."
"Ok, let me rephrase it then."
"Ok..?"
"Why wouldn't I save my son?"
"...W-what?"
Wait, hold up.
"W-wait, what did you just say?"
"I'm not going to say it again, sonny."
Arthur couldn't speak, it was like someone just came up to him and shoved sandpaper into his mouth, leaving it dry and hoarse. He was...well, stunned is not exactly the word that could describe what he felt, but it was close. His entire world was turned upside, this...psychopath was his father? Sure, it was "great" that he was his father, but...he just had so many questions.
"Are you...okay..?" Arthur swore he said it in a mocking tone, probably making light of the huge news that completely took him for a loop. How could he be joking at a time like this? Did he really think this was something that he could just throw around, even though he could've just told him when they first met? Just as he was about to absolutely ravage Gnawdwell with dozens of questions, he felt something...he hadn't felt for quite a long time. Instead of sitting there, and interrogating the black rat, who was now his father, he slumped onto the bed, laying beside Gnawdwell.
"I…"
"Shhh, you're probably tired after everything that's been going on. Sleep now...you're safe with me."
It was strange for him, never before had he been coddled by a bloodthirsty, psychopathic rat, but then again, this was probably the first time in the entire history of the world that a skaven cared for its young. Despite everything he saw, despite everything he knew what Gnawdwell is, and what he's not, he found a rough gentleness in his voice, like a cumbersome cannon trying to silence it's thunderous, earthshaking shot. Arthur was lulled to sleep beside him, as he felt Gnawdwell's arms wrap around him, with his various scars making themselves obvious despite the fur surrounding them. He felt...safe. A strange, warm feeling grew inside of him, making Arthur more comfortable while he fell asleep, with Gnawdwell falling asleep soon afterward, but yet he still clung onto the white rat, as if he was desperate...
That's it? We're just going...to sleep?
Sure…
"Could've turned out worse, if I do say so myself!" Victor twirled a curved knife between his fingers, with Bardin and Markus wearing sullen expressions on their faces, the wood elf though...now she was steaming with a vicious fury.
"Hope he's alright…"
"Bah! It was just a mere tap on the head! As if it'll kill him…"
Kerillian heaved out a sigh, as Victor continued to dangerously twirl the knife in his hand, getting ever closer to cutting off one of his fingers.
"Could you bloody stop that, One-Eye?! You're going to lose something!"
"I'll be fine, but it is nice to know you care, elf!"
She then proceeded to slug him on the back of his head, giving him a major headache.
"By Sigmar...for a woman, you sure as hell can hit as hard as a man..!"
The four walked over to the room that served as Gnawdwell's resting place, and slowly opened the door, with Kerillian in front.
"Now, Arthur, we can continue...where...we left...off…"
She took a long, hard, and good look at the bed, just to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. The two were nestled together, seemingly embracing each other as they both lightly snored, they looked...somewhat adorable.
"Looks like Balthasar was right…"
"Right about what, wutelgi?"
"Shhh…" Kerillian gestured them to be silent, as she opened the door further, with them sneaking into the room quietly.
"What's so important that we all have to-"
Markus was probably the least surprised, which wasn't that much of an accomplishment, as he nearly screamed when he saw it, proclaiming that it was heresy to look upon this. Victor and Bardin on the other hand silently became confused, but that didn't mean they were less shocked than Markus, that just meant they had more self-control.
"If they weren't skaven, then I'd probably say this is heartwarming…"
"Disgusting…"
"Shut up..! You're making too much noise..!"
"Shut yer trap! There's something you ain't telling us, Kerillian!" Markus pointed at Kerillian accusingly, with Gnawdwell in the background making a low growling sound, through his bared fangs.
"Keep your voice down..!"
"Not until you tell us what you're hiding!" While Arthur slept soundly, Gnawdwell's growling ever grew louder as Markus and Kerillian argued, seemingly not amused by their incessant chattering.
"It's what you failed to understand, you blubbering buffoon!"
"And what was that?!"
"That they're father and son, you idiotic mongrel!" The growling stopped, as all eyes laid upon Markus and Kerillian, with Victor standing behind her, in absolute terror.
"K-Kerillian…"
"What is it, Victor?!"
"I think...we woke him up."
"OH, FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?! DO I HAVE TO MURDER THIS ENTIRE HOSPITAL?! DO I HAVE TO TEAR OUT YOUR INSIDES, AND EAT THEM LIKE A RABID HOUND?!"
"N-no, sir…" Gnawdwell's size was impressive, standing even taller than Victor, it didn't exactly help that his entire body was covered in scars, giving him more of an intimidating appearance.
"GOOD, NOW LET ME TAKE A BLOODY NAP! GOD, YOU IDIOTIC HUMANS, WITH YOUR INCESSANT CHATTERING, YOUR PITIFUL WHINING!"
"B-but…"
"SAY ONE MORE WORD, AND I WILL KILL EVERYONE IN THIS DAMNED CITY!"
Every single one of them was terrified, who wouldn't be? They all stayed silent and slowly walked out of the room, completely shocked, and terrified of what Gnawdwell could do if he ever became enraged like that. As they left, Gnawdwell returned to his nap, except he gave Markus an intense glare as he left, making him feel like he was about to get killed.
"Mmmm…"
Arthur merely flipped over on the bed, shifting his position, and continued to slumber soundly.
"I'm going to need a change of pants…"
"I have to say, wazzok...even for a dwai, I was terrified of that raki scum!" The four walked out of the hospital, with several patients in the waiting room letting out relieved sighs, as their tormentors finally left their immediate area.
"E-erm…I-I..."
"...Taal, please help us…"
"Oi! What happened? It looks like you saw a chaos spawn!" The fire mage ambushed them, turning around a corner and walking into the group of four, following them to the nearest tavern.
"N-no...I think it was far worse than a chaos spawn…"
They were able to get Sienna up to speed on everything that's been going on, and in return, she'd explain where she was when they desperately needed her.
"Oh, where I was? I was in the Grand Archives, learning another set of fire spells!"
"You have to be kidding me…"
All of them let out a large sigh, leaving Sienna confused on why they were so furious with her. Soon, the group made their way to a local tavern, wanting to drink away their emotions...and discuss several of the events that occurred. The tavern was like any other tavern, with drunkards laid out on the floor, with some sleeping in the chairs of the bar, as the bright, shiny light of the sun penetrated through the various windows of the tavern.
"So," She took a loud sip from her tankard, which seemed to offend Kerillian. "The two vermin are...family?"
"Appears that way, wazzok." Bardin politely sipped from his tankard, unlike Sienna.
"To think we barely got away with our lives…" She hid her face from them, covering it with her green hood, terrified of what she saw.
"Hey, it could have been worse! The vermin could've tried to kill us, but I know we can handle 'im!" A blatant lie, how could they stand up against...whatever that was? But yet, she felt that Gnawdwell wasn't their true enemy, seeing them together...well, it brought a tiny glimpse of hope, that maybe, just maybe...skaven could...change. Perhaps...skaven aren't as horrid as she thought, or maybe Arthur is the only good one out of the writhing masses of vermin, she didn't really know if Gnawdwell was truly good, but he came here with good intentions, even if the outcome wasn't was what he was expecting.
"Thinking about that too, elf?" The fire wizard, dwarf, and reiklander were too busy drinking to notice Victor and Kerillian, quietly talking to each other.
"You could say that."
"Wanna know what I think?" Victor leaned on the table, facing Kerillian, while he held a tankard in his hand.
"Go ahead, One-Eye…"
"It might sound weird coming from me, perhaps make me even sound like a heretic, but...despite being a witch hunter, I like to remind myself that I'm a human. Yes, the creatures I kill are tainted with foul chaos, yes they want to kill me and dismember me, yes they want to bring ruin and decay to this very world we walk on, but I also have to remember who I am. Personally, I think everyone has a little voice in their head telling them what they're doing wrong...sometimes, we just need to listen to it, you know? And that same little voice is telling me it's wrong to make those two our enemy, that it's wrong that we should even think about killing them, and I don't know about you, but I think I'll listen to it." He nervously smiled, with Kerillian returning the gesture by awkwardly smiling back.
"Perhaps you're right, for once Victor…"
"You've finally done it. You've finally overcome your fear, but are you strong enough for him to handle the truth in the truth?"
"He's a smart boy, he'll figure it out soon enough...I just have to make sure I'm ready for when that time comes." He walked around in a grassy plane, with flowers seemingly growing and dying at a rapid rate, except this time...there was no one there to pester him.
"I feel…"
"Liberated."
He laughed, he found himself actually enjoying the sights in front of him, it was so long ago when he shattered his mind and threw away the keys to repair it. But now, he's...happy. Is this what it feels like finally reuniting someone after so long?
"There are some things that I just can't understand in the world."
"And what are those?"
"One of them is the love that parents give to their young, it just seems...off-worldly."
"To think, I might be the first skaven to feel love...now that's off-worldly."
"True, it feels nice being here, after so many of your nightmares haunted you, discouraging you to ever come back." Gnawdwell sat down on the soft, radiant grass, with the sun shining off the dancing blades of green. Behind him was a small cottage, once burnt to ash, now brought back to life in his mind. So many memories, but so little time to reminiscence, especially now that he has a special someone to take care of.
"You could say someone brought the world back together for me, making me remember just how precious life is."
Yet, something still obscured his vision, and he was completely oblivious to it. The creeping darkness stalked around his mind, waiting patiently...for the right time to strike.
Gnawdwell awoke in the bed, wearing a much too small hospital gown, they certainly weren't expecting such a huge and ripped psychopathic rat to be here. He looked over to his side, glancing at the still sleeping Arthur.
"Huh."
He started to slowly slide out of the bed, just so he wouldn't wake Arthur up from his beauty sleep. Unfortunately, this strategy caused him to fall out the bed and hit the wooden flooring with a semi-loud thud, the fact he could've waked Arthur up hurt more than his severe arm pain.
"Mmmm…"
Gnawdwell sighed in relief, proceeding to get up from his unfortunate accident. Thankfully, there was some form of clothing on the chair Arthur had been sitting on, clothes that he hoped were his right size, for once. Gnawdwell tore off his gown in rapid succession and took his sweet time dressing up, the clothes weren't too fancy, they were what you'd expect a normal peasant to wear. A grey shirt, and black pants, though he would have preferred to wear his dark red, terrifying armor, he guessed this was the best they could do, especially what he did yesterday.
"Oh...did we sleep through the entire day..?"
Gnawdwell finished pulling up his pants and glanced over to Arthur.
"We sure did, I guess we both were tired from everything that's been happening."
Ahhh, if only this wasn't extremely awkward.
"Uhh...a-about yesterday…"
"We'll talk about it later, right now I'm starving, and you probably are too."
Arthur would've retorted his accusation, but then his stomach grumbles echoed in the room, it was like someone was banging a drum in a mountain.
"Looks like I was right. Well? Come on then!"
"W-wait! We're not supposed to go outside!"
Too late, for Gnawdwell had already kicked down the door, revealing himself to the rest of the patients in the hallway.
"W- You know what, I don't care anymore. First that stupid reiklander, and now..."
The man's voice trailed off as he left the hospital, though Gnawdwell was confused about what he meant by that "stupid reiklander".
"Uh, sorry about the door."
After making his excuse, he ran through the halls, with Arthur in fast pursuit. Coincidentally, Gnawdwell ran past a sign with the words, "DO NOT RUN IN THE HALLS" printed on it, though he didn't take it seriously, because he kept running until he came flying out the exit. Course, the patients in the hallway were severely confused as one giant black rat ran past them, while a small, white rat ducked below them.
"Gnawdwell! What the hell?!"
"What? After spending a few years in warpstone filled tunnels, I need some fresh air! Not any more of that acrid smell."
"We've could have just...nevermind."
Gnawdwell inspected his son, though he found it hard to believe he was his son. He was so...short. So small, even for a skaven, he felt tiny!
"Where are we even going to eat? We don't have money!" Arthur nearly shouted at him, which was to be expected after his little stunt.
"Who said we were going to a restaurant? We're going to eat the good old fashioned way!"
"Oh? So we're going to eat each other?" Gnawdwell recognized the pride in his voice, probably accusing of cannibalism, the worst thing was, he wasn't wrong.
"No, that's later… but for now, we're going hunting!"
"I- Well, it's not that bad of an idea."
"See? I can have good ideas."
"Sure…"
The two walked alongside each other, ignoring the occasional glance they got from the curious people of Altdorf. At best, Gnawdwell's social skills included torture, threats, insults, and various other unpleasant things, so they couldn't really make any small talk as they walked the streets of the huge metropolis. Yet, Arthur was just brimming with questions, and Gnawdwell was more than happy to answer most of them.
"So, how was it being a warlord? Did you...enjoy it?"
"Enjoy is a strong word, I think time-consuming sums it up though. It was merely something for me to do, something to take my minds off things. Did I enjoy the killing? Probably."
"Oh, god..."
"I remember in the very early days of Clan Mors, I actually strived to be powerful, to have my name be feared across the land. I guess I did achieve that to some respect, though I regret it now."
"When did you start to care? I mean, about something other than power and to survive?"
"It was when I...met her. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what forced me to change, but I feel like she was part of it. Perhaps she was the cause itself."
"Did...you…"
Before Arthur could finish speaking, Gnawdwell cut him off.
"Yes. I wouldn't change it for the world."
That put a small smile on Arthur's face, it was heartwarming that he wanted to know more, though ignorance was always a blessing.
All this talk makes me want to kill something.
Soon.
"What about you?"
"I actually think I lived a somewhat decent life, I mean, I always got by."
"That sounds...boring."
"Oh, well I'm sorry for having a normal life that doesn't include killing entire armies, and leading a clan!"
"Alright, alright, you made your point."
"Your life sounds like pure fantasy, Gnawdwell. It really does, sometimes I wonder if you're just so insane, you think this up! But then I remember what you've done these past few days, and I can't help but believe you!"
"What can I say? I've led a pretty interesting life."
"Interesting doesn't even describe it."
While they were talking, Gnawdwell had been oblivious to the fact they were being followed by five people, who looked oh so familiar, as one of them tried to engulf him in flames the last time he saw them. How could he forget kicking that reiklander in the face? Or punting that dwarf across the street? Oh, that gave him a good, hard laugh.
"Why are you laughing? Your laugh is...horribly insane."
"It's just that I remembered punting that dwarf across the street, and it brought tears of joy to my eyes!"
"Bardin..?"
Arthur twisted his head around to see Bardin, who was being held back by Victor, as he screamed out several...insults that were far too rude for him to even think about. He also made several rude gestures, which caused Arthur to look away.
"I'LL SHOW THAT RAKI! LET'S SEE WHO GETS PUNTED FIRST!"
They stopped, to let the others catch up to them, with Bardin still fuming with dwarf rage.
"I'M GOING TO-"
"Wait, shhh, you hear that?"
Before Bardin could understand what the hell Gnawdwell was talking about, he slugged him right in the face, causing him to stumble backward.
"Ohoho, I'll show ye!"
"W-wait, please, let's not…"
"Just let it happen, it's better for all of us."
"Alright, let's go you, bloody stunted human!"
"Oh, now you've done it! Bloody cannibal!"
"I thought you were just a midget when I first saw you, you look nothing like a dwarf!"
"By Grimnir, I'll shove this metal shield so far up yer ar-"
"Language, lumberfoot."
"Ha! You metal worker!"
"At least I had a bloody respectable job, unlike yer war-like career!"
"I'll kill your entire FAMILY!"
"I ain't got no family, you bloody nitwit!"
"I'm running out of things to say, you dwarf-thing!"
"Aye, so am I, you...you...bah! I don't know anymore!"
"Do you wanna drink some ale?"
"Now yer talkin'!"
Everyone was confused on how they became so friendly to each other in just a matter of seconds, despite what they've said just a minute earlier.
"I think I'm going to like you, dwarf."
"Don't know raki, I might need a few more drinks!"
"I feel like we've noticed history happen in front of our eyes. Well, one eye in my case."
"Sometimes...I think yer all bloody stupid."
"Oh, stop it, they're just...having fun..?"
Bardin and Gnawdwell exchanged several punches with each other, with each punch only growing more violent and stronger.
"I worry for my sanity."
"I think it's best if I go, this might be a bit too...exotic for me."
"Gnawdwell always seems to make these situations confusing."
"RAAAAGH!"
For some odd reason, they stopped exchanging punches, Arthur had no idea as to why, until he saw Bardin stuck in a wall, he may have survived purely because of the shield on his back. Gnawdwell had punched Bardin so hard, he actually got him stuck in a wall.
"Yea, that's my cue to leave!"
Sienna quickly made her escape, running off into the distance away from the chaos.
"Anyway, we wanted to talk to you about...well, him."
She pointed towards Gnawdwell, who pushed past Markus and Victor, advancing further away from Arthur.
"O-oh, well, we're actually going hunting...so you could come with us and...a-ask questions while we walk…"
"Really? Perfect! It's been much too long since I've hunted, anyhow."
Excited, Arthur spun around, running off after Gnawdwell, while the other rushed after him, nearly stumbling onto each other in the process.
"Sir, are you sure that you wish to go outside of the walls? It is not particularly safe…"
"Well, it ain't safe inside the walls either, you fool! Now let me go outside to the wild!"
The guardsmen blocking Gnawdwell's way proceeded to step away from him in unison, letting him able to move outside the walls, though they looked at him with pitiful expressions, probably assuming he'll die out there.
They don't know who they're dealing with.
That is true.
He ran, feeling the wind blow into his fur like a gentle wave, he took a deep breath, relishing the pure, natural air that'd he been deprived of for so long. Not soon after he ran out the gates, Arthur and the ragtag team of heroes came rushing up behind him, completely out of breath.
"Come on then, the forest isn't that far!"
"We'll be up with you in a moment!"
Immediately after hearing her response, he dashed off into the distance towards the huge, gloomy forest that penetrated the sky in front of them, with trees as thick as boulders.
"What is it you wanted to ask me, Kerillian?"
She took off her hood, revealing her face to Arthur, who immediately became in awe at her...beauty.
"Who is Gnawdwell?" She made a gesture for the three men to be quiet, who seemed to at least humor her for now.
"Oof, you're gonna have to be more specific. I'm still trying to process it all..."
"There is one thing I want to clear up...are you two, ahem...related..?"
She tried to be gentle about it, as she most likely was correct, and felt that the subject was a bit sensitive at the moment for the white rat.
"I-I...guess. I mean, I-I always felt weird around him, like I've met him before...so I guess him just revealing it to me explains it all."
"Do you trust him, Arthur? Just forget that he's your father for a second, and tell me...do you honestly trust him?"
She knelt down to face Arthur, who was nervous, and extremely uncomfortable, as his entire face lightened up like a Christmas tree.
Focus! No time for crushes.
"H-hey! Shut up!"
Kerillian blinked twice, becoming confused, and a slight offended by Arthur's response.
"U-uh, I mean...I guess I do trust him, I mean...what reason would he have to lie? He might be a skaven but...his actions tell me he certainly doesn't think like one."
With that, Kerillian stood up, though still hurt by the fact he told her to shut up, it was nice to know where he stood with his "father".
"Weird, ain't it? Why couldn't he just tell you when he met you? Feels like it would have saved a lot of trouble…"
"I mean, they certainly don't look alike, so maybe he needed proof that you were his actual son and not just random vermin who acted politely."
"Wazzoks, we have to catch up with the psycho! I've lost sight of him!"
Bardin looked worse than he had earlier, probably because he was punched straight into a wall.
"Well, it's nice to have that cleared up, but don't think you're off the hook yet, mayfly! I still have a lot more questions!"
"Ah! Come with me, a-"
Bardin threw a chunk of rock at Arthur, hitting him straight in the noggin. Though Arthur didn't really know why, it seemed better to not question him about it, as the dwarf wasn't in the mood to talk. The group merely walked, taking in the view of the lush landscape around them, with each tiny blade of grass harmoniously dancing in the wind, as if joyous music was being played, and they were dancing to it. The trees stood like great, natural pillars, pridefully displaying their leaves, which probably would count as an entire forest on their own.
"Hm, though I must admit, I like the innards of a city more than I do the wild...but I guess the forest does have some good qualities." Kerillian sighed, scoffing at his opinion. She preferred the forest much more than the foul smelling, and man-made cities, they had sewers for some odd reason!
He dashed down the slope of dirt, barren of any grass beside the occasional pebble embedded in the weak soil. Before he could reach the end of the slope, he leaped off the ground and landed with particular grace. Despite his silence, the forest managed to be loud and noisy, of course, only he could hear the voices which he assumed was in his head. Yet, they sounded unlike his usual visitors, they sounded more...human, and less threatening, as if conversing. Looking down, he realized he was at a cliff's edge, looking down below was a narrow road surrounded by cliffs.
"We sure did make a hell of a haul, didn't we?"
"Ha! Barely any bruises as well, the city of the damned? More like the city of cowards!"
Mordheim. A sensitive subject for Gnawdwell, as was nearly everything else in this past, but that particular subject struck a chord in his mind, leaving behind a void that must be filled. Despite the rather long drop, and how high above them he was, he could hear them as clear as day. With his red, beady eyes, he spied the caravan, which had at least a dozen people walking beside it, while two horses dragged the rather large cart towards their destination. Of course, there was the only handling the animals, and then there was what Gnawdwell would assume was their leader, as he had a bright red feather in his helmet, unlike the others in his company. But what caught Gnawdwell's eye was the symbols emblazoned on the breastplates of the men, bearing the mark of Reikland. A darkened golden cross, with a skull nested in the center surrounded by strange looking plants, all the while behind those two features was a dark red circle finishing the decoration. Despite the bright, intense love for their country, Reiklanders didn't mind being hired as extra muscle once in a while or go on the occasional dangerous trip to the city of the damned.
"I'm just surprised we even got out of there!"
"Oh, you know how it is! Damn peasants sure love to drum up drama, don't they?"
Fools, they were all fools. The Damned City would have been one of Gnawdwell's greatest accomplishments back then, but now, just hearing the name sent forth the memories that haunted him for years. It was foolish for people to just wander in the city, searching for power and wealth. Greed was always one of the main motivations for the races in the world, even the arrogant elves fall subject to the dastardly sin every once in a while. Oh, how Gnawdwell wanted to rip out their spines, one by one, to feel their skulls be crushed by his hands, to feel their helplessness as he held their lives in his very hands. But alas, he reluctantly decided not to, as he didn't want to tarnish his relationship with Arthur, as he just now got into his good graces.
From his perch, he could see the contents of the cart, which was filled with both chests and bags, and Gnawdwell had a fairly good assumption that the goods they were carrying, weren't exactly legal among any sane person.
"Gnawdwell! What are you doing here?"
The caravan underneath Gnawdwell paused, becoming completely silent. Even the horses were forced to be silent, remaining vigilant for any noise that could mean danger. Gnawdwell turned around, facing Arthur, as the others leaked in one by one, with Bardin being the last one.
"Be quiet. We have visitors."
Barely a whisper, but loud enough for both the elf and Arthur to hear, and relayed the message to their less perceptive comrades. Still, the caravan remained silent, staying stiller than a statue, if that was even possible.
...Just do it already, we've lost the element of surprise.
"Oh, screw it all to hell!"
Before the company of reiklanders could even investigate the area where the strange noise came from, Gnawdwell leaped off of the cliff edge, which more than shocked the onlookers.
"What in the…"
He felt the red sludge enshroud his body once again, transforming him into the inner beast he was. The people of Reikland are hearty and brave people, but there is a limit to one's bravery. Gnawdwell assumed the ones that were terrified of him were most likely recruits, a mere soldier in training. Even the ones that were actually trained to handle monsters and other men like them were enthralled by him, even if they didn't show it, he knew they were hopelessly afraid of him.
"By Sigmar…"
By the time he hit the ground, he had fully transformed, letting loose Carnage. The ground trembled and cracked underneath his immense weight and force, shaking the earth beneath him, causing the reiklanders to stumble and fall as the ground continued shaking, although less powerful than before.
"Don't you know...it's illegal to sell warpstone?"
"Gnawdwell! Oh dammit!"
"Is he insane?!"
"I thought we figured that out a long time ago?"
The four looked over the edge of the cliff, watching as the reiklanders prepared for battle, arming themselves with weaponry, and outfitting themselves out with heavy armor.
"If we don't stop him, he'll undoubtedly kill them all!"
"Do we have to save them..?"
"Of course! Don't be like that, elf."
"How in blazes do we even get down there without bloody dying?!"
"Well...u-um, I do know a way."
Really? Using me as a mere form of transportation?
You always loved picking fights.
Perhaps, or perhaps not.
The human mercenaries encircled him, though he didn't mind that much, as they would need every single advantage to even think of defeating him.
"Go back to the blasted hell you came from, daemon!"
"Why does everyone keep assuming I'm a daemon?!"
Swift as can a human be, the reiklander charged him and swung his sword. Unfortunately for him, Gnawdwell parried his blow with his claws, and as the human slowly recovered, he snatched him up with one hand, raising him up towards the sky.
"Now, now, let's not- What the hell?"
The black rat tossed aside the reiklander, aimlessly throwing him at another in pure luck, as he tried his best to figure out what that black shadow coming towards him was.
"Oh for fu-"
Before he could finish what he was about to say, Arthur crashed into him, forcefully planting him into the ground, all the while the others hanged onto the black ink that covered the white rat for their dear life.
"...Unexpected…"
"We're full of surprises."
"Never...never again!"
They leaped off of Arthur, trying their absolute hardest to not vomit everywhere, though Kerillian seemed to handle it fairly well.
"I-it...wasn't that bad."
Markus had attempted to speak, but all he could do was focus on his nausea and intense dizziness. The reiklanders, beside Markus, could barely speak, much less do anything besides gawk.
"Alright, could you be a dearie and GET THE HELL OFF OF ME?"
"Not unless you promise to not kill them."
He grunted, reluctantly agreeing with Arthur's request, even though he could've just shoved him off of his red bulk. Thankfully, Arthur did actually get off of him, which released the pressure off of his broken ribs.
"Hm? Oh, hello fellow reiklanders!"
"W-what? You're a reiklander? Then why the hell are you with these...people?"
"Long story."
After a short pause, and a moment of silence, they started greeting Markus as someone would to someone who they hadn't seen in years. It was like they completely forgot about their little battle a few minutes ago, and decided to greet their newfound comrade.
"What the hell?"
"Adorable."
"Yes, until they stab ye in the back."
Luckily for Markus, that was not one of their plans. The dwarf, elf, and witch hunter all proceeded to come to Markus, though he was completely surrounded by cheering, and perhaps drunken humans. As they left both Arthur and Gnawdwell alone, the two of them transformed once again, back to their normal appearances. A short, small white rat, and a hulking brute of a black rat.
"It's best that we leave."
"H-huh..? Why?"
"They know what we are, and them not seeing us will save your friends a lot of trouble explaining."
"O-ok…"
It pained him, it truly did to see his own son scared of him. It was more painful than even fire melting his skin, and he couldn't understand why, perhaps because it was how much he cared for him, or something along those lines.
"Arthur…"
Gnawdwell picked up the tiny white rat and tossed him on his back.
"This is what people call a 'piggyback ride', right?"
Arthur became flustered, unsure of what to say to him.
"Ha...you don't have to answer, I just want to...show you something…"
As Gnawdwell walked off the narrow path, Kerillian took a glance at them, and while everyone else was distracted with their celebration, she slinked away, following the two in complete silence, and more skillfully than most wood elves. The woodlands were peaceful, maybe they were beautiful as well, but if they were, Gnawdwell didn't notice. Walking through the woods always brought back memories of unpleasantness, nightmares that no one should ever bear notice to. Not even god's themselves could look upon what he had done.
"Where are we even going..?"
Arthur's voice broke him out of his pitiful wallowing, yet he ignored his question, continuing to walk instead of talking, completely oblivious of the fact he was being followed. Gnawdwell felt the eyes of someone watching him, or maybe it was something? He didn't know and disregarded it as another symptom of his paranoia. Together they walked, through colorful, wild bushes, and trees that rose higher than any giant. No longer were they entrapped in the hazardous cliff walls, standing a narrow road, just begging for a landslide to happen. The scenery blended together for Gnawdwell, but for Arthur, it was like he was experiencing the world for the first time, but before he could truly appreciate the natural sights, the two came out of the dense, yet marvelous forest, onto another cliff's edge, looking over copious amounts of trees, a large river, and Altdorf in the distance, all the while the sun was setting in the sky.
"I…"
Arthur was speechless, the sight...was absolutely beautiful. How the trees swayed in the gentle breeze of the wind, how the river shined with radiance and grace, while the sunlight produced a magnificent, yet tiny rainbow over the river. The sunset is what closed the deal for the white rat, the orange, warm hue of the sun showered both the forest and the river, making them seem almost happy.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The huge rat put down Arthur on the cliff's edge, with his legs dangling off, and then continuing to sit beside him. Arthur was entranced by the marvelous, beautiful sight, ignoring the uncomfortable presence of the murderer next to him.
"I used to come here often, oh so long ago. Unfortunately, those days are...gone."
The white rat stayed silent, though he tore his eyes away from the scenery, to Gnawdwell, who stared off into the distance blankly. He felt sorry for him, even if what he did wasn't always...right, he still thought Gnawdwell didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve to be miserable.
"This was one of many beautiful sights she showed me, but...this one has a special place in my heart."
"Why..?"
He closed his eyes, but still, the image was burned into his mind, leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
"It all started here, the place where the greatest time of my life started."
He breathed in and out, letting himself to at least try to appreciate his surroundings, yet it seemed difficult, nearly impossible for him to do so.
"You know, I promised her something, a promise I broke."
"W-what was the promise?"
"...Perhaps now is not the best time to discuss that."
"All right, then, keep your secrets."
Arthur became unsettled, scared of Gnawdwell quietly brooding, he found him more terrifying when he was silent, then he was when he spoke. The two stayed silent, as they viewed the forest below them, most likely inhabited by dozens of wildlife.
"Arthur, I...know I haven't given the best first impression, but...I hope you can still accept me as your father."
He couldn't even bear to look at his son, out of shame, or was it guilt? He didn't know, he couldn't know. Arthur scooted closer to Gnawdwell, despite their differences in size, they looked almost...peaceful.
"It's just, everything's moving so fast...I can barely think about anything that's been happening…"
The black rat stayed silent, listening to his son talk was somewhat satisfying, as if he had done something right for once.
"You didn't exactly help the situation either by appearing so suddenly and then I've met so many wonderfu- well, let's just say they're good people, probably..."
Arthur seemingly continued talking to Gnawdwell, or something. Though it didn't look like it, Gnawdwell listened to each and every word he spoke carefully, almost as if his life depended on it.
"First I met Balthasar, who seems nice and chill, then I met Markus who appears hot-headed, and somewhat incompetent, but he seems like a good guy!"
Perhaps it was because of Gnawdwell's bottomless rage, or maybe it was his parental, but he already disliked these so-called 'friends'.
"After that, I met Bardin, a dwarf whose probably just as stupid as Markus, I do have to give him some credit, he sure is brave. Then...there's...Kerillian..."
The black rat's fur became rustled at the name of the wood elf, but he had enough self-control to not take out his anger on his son. He absolutely hated the wood elf for personal reasons, though the dwarf worried him, as he knows that they had a fiery hatred for any kind of rats.
"I feel like I'm forgetting someone else, but I can't quite remember who it was...anyway, you're probably worried about Queek, right?"
Something clicked in his brain, Gnawdwell totally forgot about his incompetent bodyguard! Though he didn't do his job well, it was nice to have him around for 'moral' support.
"From what I remember, he's locked in one of the rooms in the tower, hopefully, they remembered to feed him."
Arthur sighed, looking up to his silent guardian, who still remained still as stone ever since they sat down.
"Are you going to...say anything..? Like...at all?"
"...They seem to be intent on killing you."
"Uhhh...how?"
"I've been thinking Arthur, about what you've been saying, and I finally remember those damned names you've been spouting out of your mouth."
"Oh, are they famous-ish?"
"Among the Empire yes, among Skavendom? They're notorious."
"Could you, uh...elaborate?"
"They've murdered thousands of us, decimated even the biggest and mutated of our monsters, hell, they even blew one of my headquarters into smithereens at one point!"
"Oh, wow...did you do anything...to stop them..?"
"...I couldn't care less, to be honest, they could've blown up Skavenblight and I still wouldn't care."
The two kept silent after the sudden revelation, though Arthur seemed interested in learning how skaven society differed from how the Empire functioned, though Arthur barely had a grasp on even that subject.
"That's...surprising to say the least, I guess..?"
Gnawdwell remained his vow of silence, the only noise he made was his sometimes ragged breathing, which concerned Arthur to an extent.
"Gnawdwell..?"
"I'm...sorry, it's just…so overwhelming."
The black-furred rat hid his face, shielding it from Arthur's eyes with his arms, though it left the white rat confused.
"W-what is..?"
"The fact that I'm here, sitting right next to you. Something I thought would never be...p-possible."
The Mighty's voice trembled as if he was on the verge of...crying. Arthur couldn't help but stare at his father with a surprised expression, amazed that one so ruthless could even shed a single tear.
"I...I…"
Gnawdwell choked on his words, not being able to speak anymore as he crumbled into a little ball, sobbing like the emotional wreck he was.
This is our chance, kill him!
Ignoring Venom's sudden appearance, and suggestion, Arthur slid over to his scarred, both physically and emotionally, father, and climbed up on top of him, then finally laid himself down on the black-furs back, finally wrapping his arms around him.
"There, there. It's okay, we all can't be murderous psycho-killing machines…"
The two huddled together in a pile, with them holding each other in a tight embrace. Arthur could barely breathe as Gnawdwell squeezed him to death. The black-fur cried on the small rat's shoulders, pouring out years and years of pent up anger and despair as he shed each tear.
Emotions, Emotions
"Do you think he'll be fine?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Thanks for the pep talk, One-Eye…"
The idiotic witch hunter once again took the supposed insult as a compliment and stood triumphantly over...something.
"Oh, he'll be fine. He ONLY had half of his entire face blown off, and several other appendages burnt to bits!" Markus nearly spat everywhere, trying to be sarcastic was hard, for one so drunk.
"Aye, I fear I'll have nightmares in me sleep, umgi. Well, down the hatch!" Before Bardin could put himself into a coma because of his own stupidity, Kerillian stopped the dwarf by snatching away his tankard.
"We're in a hospital, you idiot!"
"It is? I thought it was the local tavern! Then what in Sigmar was I drinking?"
"By the gods…"
"Can we go to the actual tavern? I'm getting mighty thirsty!"
"We came here to get answers from the vermin, do you even listen to a word I say?"
Bardin burped and stroked his beard in dwarfish pride.
"No, not really." Bardin continued stroking his beard, trying to find the exit out of the horrid hospital.
"Ha, you're so drunk, you don't even know where you're going!"
"...We'll stay until the rat wakes up, I doubt Arthur will say much until he's awakened anyway."
"Oh? Where did this sudden burst of intelligence come from?"
"I just realized I ate some things I wasn't supposed to even touch."
Kerillian looked over her motley group of fools, Markus and Bardin tried their hardest to get to the exit, but only found themselves trying to get out through the chimney. Victor merely sat down on a bench, alongside the other citizens in the hospital, who were all murmuring about the two drunken idiots nearly getting themselves stuck in the chimney.
"Uh, Miss? Are they with you?" Kerillian turned her head around to face the strange voice, wearing the most embarrassed expression she could muster.
"Absolutely not…"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I don't know how to sing!" Gnawdwell smiled at the tiny brown rat that stood at his feet, who was admiring him with an intense glare. The two stood in a grassland, but that was all it contained, grass, and nothing else. Not even a single flower lived in the entirety of the land, though it was just a figment of Gnawdwell's imagination.
"You don't!"
"Who slaughtered thousands, condemned masses to mass genocide, and nearly brought down an entire empire down to its knees?!
"We're getting off topic." Despite the rat's appearance, he was one of the many Gods that inhabited the world, but even for a god, venturing into anyone's mind is a difficult thing to do, much less if that particular mind is not exactly thinking coherently.
"Bah! You're just a child."
"For my sake, Gnawdwell, just focus for once in your miserable, meaningless life!"
"Oh shut up, as if you know anything." Gnawdwell waved his hand dismissively above the small rat, making the ratling frustrated with the psychotic black rat.
"This 'form' is the best I could muster in your mind, your psyche is so shattered, It was either looking like this or a daemon from the Realms of Chaos!"
"It's not that bad." Gnawdwell shrugged, which only infuriated the small god even more.
"I'M A RAT, THE SIZE OF A DAMN PEBBLE."
"Psh, aren't you a god or something?"
"Just...say this to Arthur, would you?"
"Say it to him yourself."
"That's not how this works."
"What the hell do I have to say to him anyway? He's…"
"Not your son? Is that what you're trying to say? Cause I feel like even you are disagreeing with yourself."
"I…"
"Oooh, looks like I caught the mighty Gnawdwell off guard, hmm? How interesting."
"...I-I'm...scared." The small rat sighed, his expression softened to one of sympathy.
"I know you are Gnawdwell. If I was in your situation, I would be too. The agony of wondering what will happen once you tell him is worse than truly telling him that you're his father." The form of the rat shimmered, morphing into a form of man that wielded dual, golden hammers, wearing a heavy set of armor, and a knight's visor.
"You have to accept the consequences, Gnawdwell. You sacrificed everything to get here, when you had her, you left yourself an escape."
"W-what..? I...don't…"
"You always knew if everything didn't work out, you could always just return to Clan Mors. You didn't have to keep going back to the horrid tunnels of Skavendom for her safety, but because you wanted an escape, just in case everything went horribly wrong."
Gnawdwell looked down, ashamed of himself, the painful regret had started to pile up on him, acting as if he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders.
"But now, you have nowhere else to go, your own son, who doesn't even know that you're his father, he cares for you. That's reason enough to tell him, Gnawdwell."
"You slippery...the message was just to set me off, wasn't it?"
Despite the visor blocking most of the man's face, Gnawdwell could see the forming of a smile through the small opening of the helmet.
"Whoopsies, you found out. Anyways, looks like you have something to do, isn't that right?"
"I guess I do."
"Arthur, calm down. He'll be fine, I mean, we did break his neck like a day ago, and he came out relatively fine." Venom rested on Arthur's shoulder, with a frown on the tendril used to mimic his face and voice.
"B-but what if he's not?! You saw him Gnawdwell, and we can most likely assume that fire affects him like it does to us!" Arthur sat in a chair beside Gnawdwell, who lay in a bed, covered by a white sheet, with several drugs and chemicals placed upon a table next to the said bed.
"This is just speculation, Arthur. You could see that he is vastly different from us, at least in terms of abilities and power."
"I'm just worried…"
"I don't understand you, Arthur, why is he so important to you? He literally tried to kill us when we first met!"
"B-but, he saved our lives, a-and...I feel like I've known him longer than I lead myself to b-believe…" Arthur sulked, he hung his head low with a blank expression on his face, ashamed of himself for arguing with Venom.
"Well…if he's that important to you, then I guess he's important to me too."
He swung his head above Venom's and poked him in the eye.
"OW, WHAT THE HELL?!"
"That's for being too sappy."
"Why you..! I oughta eat your guts!"
Before Arthur knew it, the door was kicked down by Victor, with Venom panicking to return back into the white rat's body.
"I SMELL...heresy."
"No, you're smelling hospital drugs, and the smell of rotting flesh."
"Did you really have to kick down the door..?"
"YES."
"No." Only Victor and Kerillian came into the room, Markus and Bardin were still trying to attempt an escape, but this time they were planning on how they were to escape the hospital, though they weren't getting much progress done.
"So...how's Balthasar?"
"UHHHHH, he's fine."
"This numbskull over here nearly killed the wizard."
"Shhh, he doesn't need to know that…"
Arthur scratched his head in confusion but dropped the matter.
"We were wondering if you have anything...you'd like to tell us."
OH FIDDLESTICKS, RUN, AND HIDE!
"U-uh, n-not not really...why?"
Arthur wasn't a great liar, and he didn't really know how to hide anything confidential. Kerillian sighed, as she sat down in another chair beside Arthur, their size difference is astonishing.
"If you tell me what I want to know, I'll tell you something you want to know."
"Information...for information?
"Wha- Yes." Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat if Venom had his way, he'd probably charge through a wall and get the hell out of here.
"W-well, it depends on what you want me to tell you."
"Can you tell us if he's a heretic?"
I think...he's actually a brainlet.
"Ignore him. What I want to know is, well, his life."
"O-oh…ok."
Arthur was only able to tell her some spotty details about his life but left out about the fact he could use the Winds of Dhar, as he could see she was an elf, and dark magic users never really got along with them, if what he read in his books were to be taken truthfully. And the fact that his wife was a wood elf. She let out a heavy sigh, almost as if she didn't believe his crazy story.
"As much as I hate to admit it, I believe you."
"You do?"
"As much as I like to intrude in on people's personal lives, I'd like to know why he went onto a rant about why he killed his wife."
He does speak the truth, Arthur.
"I don't know why he...snapped in the tavern, or why he talked about such a thing…"
"Arthur...did he say anything to you during the little battle we had?" Victor played around with the vials on the table, next to Gnawdwell, though his presence didn't seem to disturb him.
"He said something strange to me before he went all dramatic...I think it was 'I'm proud', or something like that."
"Why would he-"
"For god's sake, where's Victor?!"
"Oh no."
Victor immediately tried to use his trenchcoat as camouflage, but it ultimately failed, probably because it was black, and the walls around him were light brown. Balthasar stomped into the room, redressed in his once shiny robe, now it was full of dust and dried blood.
"Don't you know it's bad to wear dirty clothes when injured?"
"Oh, now you care for my health?! Where was that when you tore out the bullet by shoving your entire fist into my gut!?" Arthur rarely saw Balthasar angry, but when he did, he usually just looked something to hide under, even though his anger was never directed at him.
"By the gods…what idiots!"
"Are you purposefully...nevermind…"
Kerillian gave him an intense glare, probably because she could already assume what he was going to say.
Perfect. Stuck in a room who are renowned in killing your kind. Just. Peachy.
"KILL-SLAUGHTER FOR THE HORNED ONE!" All around him were versions of himself, surrounding him, each one more twisted than the last.
"DIE FOR YOUR SINS!"
Their voices overlapped one another, they all screamed and chanted, though everything they said practically meant the same.
"YOU COULDN'T PROTECT HER, SO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN PROTECT HIM?!"
\He yawned, letting their incessant chatter get noisier, which didn't seem to irritate him one bit. He merely laid himself on the ground, in the position you would do to make a snow angel.
"Oh, just shut up. I've been beaten worse with a branch than your incoherent rambling, all you do is whine and whine! For once, in your pathetic, miserable lives, JUST SHUT UP!"
The voices receded, the clones of Gnawdwell seemingly turned into dust in the pitch blackness that was his mind. It was like he was floating in a void, nothing lived in this part of his mind, except the overwhelming guilt and regret that had built up over the years. Drifting was Gnawdwell's strong suit, never staying in one place always numbed the pain, but this time...something was different. He couldn't run away from his problems anymore, not this time, anyway. All his life, he allowed himself an escape, just in case anything went wrong. But yet, as soon as he received the news his son was alive, he went ahead and journeyed to Altdorf, while betraying his clan. Did he care? No, of course not. He could care less about what they thought of him...unless it was Arthur.
"Ugh, to think I once found solace in this horrid, depressing place!"
He floated around, and occasionally drifted by memories, the number of horrible experiences heavily outnumbered his good ones by a sizable margin. Without thinking, he grasped a memory and looked into it, like a man would with a window.
"Over here, over here!"
"For god's sake, not this one."
The memory disintegrated in his hands, leaving a sullen look on his face. Why was he here? To be honest, he had no idea. Where was he? He didn't care. Could he leave? Probably. Did he want to? He didn't know. The more he argued with himself, the more he found himself confused. His mind was playing tricks on him, it probably enjoyed toying around him as much as he enjoyed killing. Gnawdwell continued drifting in the darkness until he finally came to a decision.
"No time to run, no time to hide. After all, life is fleeting...so why not enjoy it?"
He snapped upright in the hospital bed, which made Victor nearly jump straight through the ceiling. Dazed, confused, but most importantly, high off of hospital drugs. He looked over the room, casually ignoring Balthasar and Victor, who, if possible, probably would have their jaws touching the floor in shock. But it was Arthur and Kerillian who piqued his curiosity.
"Ah, looks like my son has the same taste in women as I do!" He slurred out that obvious rude comment, at the same time he felt energetic and full of pure joy, even if it was a manufactured chemical. Even with her face covered by the hood, Gnawdwell could see the elf's face turn cherry red once he finished his statement, while Arthur sat confused, and worried for Gnawdwell's sanity.
"Shut yer trap, rat!"
"Oh come on, he's not that bad looking for a rat either!"
"I-I-I'm c-confused…" Arthur shoved his face into his bright pink hands in complete, and utter embarrassment.
"He's high on hospital drugs! Wait a minute…" Balthasar pointed accusingly at Gnawdwell, who seemed to laugh at his attempt of accusation.
"Aren't you also drugged right now?"
"Oof, I can feel the effects of 'em kicking in…"
Without losing a beat, Balthasar suddenly passed out on Victor, sleeping peacefully.
"I GOT STUCK IN THE CHIMNEY!"
"WAZZOK! I'LL GET YE OUT!"
"I-I-I-I-I-I-I-"
Kerillian did her best to hid her face, as it was brighter than a ripe tomato! Victor looked around the room, completely confused on what was going on, while Gnawdwell's insane laughter echoed across the hospital, and then, what they would assume was a death scream that came from Markus, was actually Bardin nearly breaking his back just to get him unstuck. The other patients in the waiting room and in the rest of the hospital weren't too pleased with them, as both nurses and doctors ran around like headless chickens to get security to detain the two idiots.
...What in the world did we just experience in the last ten seconds?
"I-I d-don't…know..!"
Before Arthur could fully comprehend what was happening, there was shouting outside of the room, presumably Markus and Bardin being justifiably arrested for causing a massive disturbance in the morbid hospital.
"For the love of..! Victor! Let's go and try to persuade them to not lock up those two idiots!" She sprung up from her seat and dashed out of the room, leaving Victor in the dust.
"W-wait! Where do I leave Balthasar?!"
"JUST PUT HIM DOWN SOMEWHERE!"
Victor immediately dropped Balthasar onto the wooden flooring, taking absolutely no care for his well-being, ran off, and hoped he'd be able to catch up with the agile, and speedy wood elf. As Victor left the room, a large, inky tendril sprouted from Arthur's back and slammed the door shut with impressive force. The white rat let out a cumbersome sigh, glad that the chaos has moved away from his immediate vicinity. He looked over to Gnawdwell, who stared at Arthur with eyes of stone, as they didn't really show any...emotion. Arthur got up from his comfortable, and warm seat, and walked over to the bed, and plopped himself down on the right side of the black rat, his eyes still looking as dead as when Arthur was sitting in the chair.
"Are you...okay..?" Arthur gazed into his eyes, despite their particular appearance, there was something raging on behind them like a storm was gathering.
"I guess fate has a cruel sense of humor, huh?" Gnawdwell broke the unspoken staring contest that was happening between, looking away from Arthur, but it looked like it was in absolute...fear.
"What do you mean? Arthur twiddled his fingers in nervousness, not really sure what to say. Venom stayed silent, but that didn't mean he wasn't eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Even now, you still care about...me. Despite what I've done." Arthur genuinely laughed, which confused Gnawdwell, who actually spoke seriously for once.
"You may not have made the best first impression, but...you did save our life...but, I have a question if you don't mind."
"Shoot."
"Why did you save our life?"
"Why wouldn't I save someone?"
"I find that hard to believe, especially after seeing you go into one of your...rampages."
"Ok, let me rephrase it then."
"Ok..?"
"Why wouldn't I save my son?"
"...W-what?"
Wait, hold up.
"W-wait, what did you just say?"
"I'm not going to say it again, sonny."
Arthur couldn't speak, it was like someone just came up to him and shoved sandpaper into his mouth, leaving it dry and hoarse. He was...well, stunned is not exactly the word that could describe what he felt, but it was close. His entire world was turned upside, this...psychopath was his father? Sure, it was "great" that he was his father, but...he just had so many questions.
"Are you...okay..?" Arthur swore he said it in a mocking tone, probably making light of the huge news that completely took him for a loop. How could he be joking at a time like this? Did he really think this was something that he could just throw around, even though he could've just told him when they first met? Just as he was about to absolutely ravage Gnawdwell with dozens of questions, he felt something...he hadn't felt for quite a long time. Instead of sitting there, and interrogating the black rat, who was now his father, he slumped onto the bed, laying beside Gnawdwell.
"I…"
"Shhh, you're probably tired after everything that's been going on. Sleep now...you're safe with me."
It was strange for him, never before had he been coddled by a bloodthirsty, psychopathic rat, but then again, this was probably the first time in the entire history of the world that a skaven cared for its young. Despite everything he saw, despite everything he knew what Gnawdwell is, and what he's not, he found a rough gentleness in his voice, like a cumbersome cannon trying to silence it's thunderous, earthshaking shot. Arthur was lulled to sleep beside him, as he felt Gnawdwell's arms wrap around him, with his various scars making themselves obvious despite the fur surrounding them. He felt...safe. A strange, warm feeling grew inside of him, making Arthur more comfortable while he fell asleep, with Gnawdwell falling asleep soon afterward, but yet he still clung onto the white rat, as if he was desperate...
That's it? We're just going...to sleep?
Sure…
"Could've turned out worse, if I do say so myself!" Victor twirled a curved knife between his fingers, with Bardin and Markus wearing sullen expressions on their faces, the wood elf though...now she was steaming with a vicious fury.
"Hope he's alright…"
"Bah! It was just a mere tap on the head! As if it'll kill him…"
Kerillian heaved out a sigh, as Victor continued to dangerously twirl the knife in his hand, getting ever closer to cutting off one of his fingers.
"Could you bloody stop that, One-Eye?! You're going to lose something!"
"I'll be fine, but it is nice to know you care, elf!"
She then proceeded to slug him on the back of his head, giving him a major headache.
"By Sigmar...for a woman, you sure as hell can hit as hard as a man..!"
The four walked over to the room that served as Gnawdwell's resting place, and slowly opened the door, with Kerillian in front.
"Now, Arthur, we can continue...where...we left...off…"
She took a long, hard, and good look at the bed, just to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. The two were nestled together, seemingly embracing each other as they both lightly snored, they looked...somewhat adorable.
"Looks like Balthasar was right…"
"Right about what, wutelgi?"
"Shhh…" Kerillian gestured them to be silent, as she opened the door further, with them sneaking into the room quietly.
"What's so important that we all have to-"
Markus was probably the least surprised, which wasn't that much of an accomplishment, as he nearly screamed when he saw it, proclaiming that it was heresy to look upon this. Victor and Bardin on the other hand silently became confused, but that didn't mean they were less shocked than Markus, that just meant they had more self-control.
"If they weren't skaven, then I'd probably say this is heartwarming…"
"Disgusting…"
"Shut up..! You're making too much noise..!"
"Shut yer trap! There's something you ain't telling us, Kerillian!" Markus pointed at Kerillian accusingly, with Gnawdwell in the background making a low growling sound, through his bared fangs.
"Keep your voice down..!"
"Not until you tell us what you're hiding!" While Arthur slept soundly, Gnawdwell's growling ever grew louder as Markus and Kerillian argued, seemingly not amused by their incessant chattering.
"It's what you failed to understand, you blubbering buffoon!"
"And what was that?!"
"That they're father and son, you idiotic mongrel!" The growling stopped, as all eyes laid upon Markus and Kerillian, with Victor standing behind her, in absolute terror.
"K-Kerillian…"
"What is it, Victor?!"
"I think...we woke him up."
"OH, FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?! DO I HAVE TO MURDER THIS ENTIRE HOSPITAL?! DO I HAVE TO TEAR OUT YOUR INSIDES, AND EAT THEM LIKE A RABID HOUND?!"
"N-no, sir…" Gnawdwell's size was impressive, standing even taller than Victor, it didn't exactly help that his entire body was covered in scars, giving him more of an intimidating appearance.
"GOOD, NOW LET ME TAKE A BLOODY NAP! GOD, YOU IDIOTIC HUMANS, WITH YOUR INCESSANT CHATTERING, YOUR PITIFUL WHINING!"
"B-but…"
"SAY ONE MORE WORD, AND I WILL KILL EVERYONE IN THIS DAMNED CITY!"
Every single one of them was terrified, who wouldn't be? They all stayed silent and slowly walked out of the room, completely shocked, and terrified of what Gnawdwell could do if he ever became enraged like that. As they left, Gnawdwell returned to his nap, except he gave Markus an intense glare as he left, making him feel like he was about to get killed.
"Mmmm…"
Arthur merely flipped over on the bed, shifting his position, and continued to slumber soundly.
"I'm going to need a change of pants…"
"I have to say, wazzok...even for a dwai, I was terrified of that raki scum!" The four walked out of the hospital, with several patients in the waiting room letting out relieved sighs, as their tormentors finally left their immediate area.
"E-erm…I-I..."
"...Taal, please help us…"
"Oi! What happened? It looks like you saw a chaos spawn!" The fire mage ambushed them, turning around a corner and walking into the group of four, following them to the nearest tavern.
"N-no...I think it was far worse than a chaos spawn…"
They were able to get Sienna up to speed on everything that's been going on, and in return, she'd explain where she was when they desperately needed her.
"Oh, where I was? I was in the Grand Archives, learning another set of fire spells!"
"You have to be kidding me…"
All of them let out a large sigh, leaving Sienna confused on why they were so furious with her. Soon, the group made their way to a local tavern, wanting to drink away their emotions...and discuss several of the events that occurred. The tavern was like any other tavern, with drunkards laid out on the floor, with some sleeping in the chairs of the bar, as the bright, shiny light of the sun penetrated through the various windows of the tavern.
"So," She took a loud sip from her tankard, which seemed to offend Kerillian. "The two vermin are...family?"
"Appears that way, wazzok." Bardin politely sipped from his tankard, unlike Sienna.
"To think we barely got away with our lives…" She hid her face from them, covering it with her green hood, terrified of what she saw.
"Hey, it could have been worse! The vermin could've tried to kill us, but I know we can handle 'im!" A blatant lie, how could they stand up against...whatever that was? But yet, she felt that Gnawdwell wasn't their true enemy, seeing them together...well, it brought a tiny glimpse of hope, that maybe, just maybe...skaven could...change. Perhaps...skaven aren't as horrid as she thought, or maybe Arthur is the only good one out of the writhing masses of vermin, she didn't really know if Gnawdwell was truly good, but he came here with good intentions, even if the outcome wasn't was what he was expecting.
"Thinking about that too, elf?" The fire wizard, dwarf, and reiklander were too busy drinking to notice Victor and Kerillian, quietly talking to each other.
"You could say that."
"Wanna know what I think?" Victor leaned on the table, facing Kerillian, while he held a tankard in his hand.
"Go ahead, One-Eye…"
"It might sound weird coming from me, perhaps make me even sound like a heretic, but...despite being a witch hunter, I like to remind myself that I'm a human. Yes, the creatures I kill are tainted with foul chaos, yes they want to kill me and dismember me, yes they want to bring ruin and decay to this very world we walk on, but I also have to remember who I am. Personally, I think everyone has a little voice in their head telling them what they're doing wrong...sometimes, we just need to listen to it, you know? And that same little voice is telling me it's wrong to make those two our enemy, that it's wrong that we should even think about killing them, and I don't know about you, but I think I'll listen to it." He nervously smiled, with Kerillian returning the gesture by awkwardly smiling back.
"Perhaps you're right, for once Victor…"
"You've finally done it. You've finally overcome your fear, but are you strong enough for him to handle the truth in the truth?"
"He's a smart boy, he'll figure it out soon enough...I just have to make sure I'm ready for when that time comes." He walked around in a grassy plane, with flowers seemingly growing and dying at a rapid rate, except this time...there was no one there to pester him.
"I feel…"
"Liberated."
He laughed, he found himself actually enjoying the sights in front of him, it was so long ago when he shattered his mind and threw away the keys to repair it. But now, he's...happy. Is this what it feels like finally reuniting someone after so long?
"There are some things that I just can't understand in the world."
"And what are those?"
"One of them is the love that parents give to their young, it just seems...off-worldly."
"To think, I might be the first skaven to feel love...now that's off-worldly."
"True, it feels nice being here, after so many of your nightmares haunted you, discouraging you to ever come back." Gnawdwell sat down on the soft, radiant grass, with the sun shining off the dancing blades of green. Behind him was a small cottage, once burnt to ash, now brought back to life in his mind. So many memories, but so little time to reminiscence, especially now that he has a special someone to take care of.
"You could say someone brought the world back together for me, making me remember just how precious life is."
Yet, something still obscured his vision, and he was completely oblivious to it. The creeping darkness stalked around his mind, waiting patiently...for the right time to strike.
Gnawdwell awoke in the bed, wearing a much too small hospital gown, they certainly weren't expecting such a huge and ripped psychopathic rat to be here. He looked over to his side, glancing at the still sleeping Arthur.
"Huh."
He started to slowly slide out of the bed, just so he wouldn't wake Arthur up from his beauty sleep. Unfortunately, this strategy caused him to fall out the bed and hit the wooden flooring with a semi-loud thud, the fact he could've waked Arthur up hurt more than his severe arm pain.
"Mmmm…"
Gnawdwell sighed in relief, proceeding to get up from his unfortunate accident. Thankfully, there was some form of clothing on the chair Arthur had been sitting on, clothes that he hoped were his right size, for once. Gnawdwell tore off his gown in rapid succession and took his sweet time dressing up, the clothes weren't too fancy, they were what you'd expect a normal peasant to wear. A grey shirt, and black pants, though he would have preferred to wear his dark red, terrifying armor, he guessed this was the best they could do, especially what he did yesterday.
"Oh...did we sleep through the entire day..?"
Gnawdwell finished pulling up his pants and glanced over to Arthur.
"We sure did, I guess we both were tired from everything that's been happening."
Ahhh, if only this wasn't extremely awkward.
"Uhh...a-about yesterday…"
"We'll talk about it later, right now I'm starving, and you probably are too."
Arthur would've retorted his accusation, but then his stomach grumbles echoed in the room, it was like someone was banging a drum in a mountain.
"Looks like I was right. Well? Come on then!"
"W-wait! We're not supposed to go outside!"
Too late, for Gnawdwell had already kicked down the door, revealing himself to the rest of the patients in the hallway.
"W- You know what, I don't care anymore. First that stupid reiklander, and now..."
The man's voice trailed off as he left the hospital, though Gnawdwell was confused about what he meant by that "stupid reiklander".
"Uh, sorry about the door."
After making his excuse, he ran through the halls, with Arthur in fast pursuit. Coincidentally, Gnawdwell ran past a sign with the words, "DO NOT RUN IN THE HALLS" printed on it, though he didn't take it seriously, because he kept running until he came flying out the exit. Course, the patients in the hallway were severely confused as one giant black rat ran past them, while a small, white rat ducked below them.
"Gnawdwell! What the hell?!"
"What? After spending a few years in warpstone filled tunnels, I need some fresh air! Not any more of that acrid smell."
"We've could have just...nevermind."
Gnawdwell inspected his son, though he found it hard to believe he was his son. He was so...short. So small, even for a skaven, he felt tiny!
"Where are we even going to eat? We don't have money!" Arthur nearly shouted at him, which was to be expected after his little stunt.
"Who said we were going to a restaurant? We're going to eat the good old fashioned way!"
"Oh? So we're going to eat each other?" Gnawdwell recognized the pride in his voice, probably accusing of cannibalism, the worst thing was, he wasn't wrong.
"No, that's later… but for now, we're going hunting!"
"I- Well, it's not that bad of an idea."
"See? I can have good ideas."
"Sure…"
The two walked alongside each other, ignoring the occasional glance they got from the curious people of Altdorf. At best, Gnawdwell's social skills included torture, threats, insults, and various other unpleasant things, so they couldn't really make any small talk as they walked the streets of the huge metropolis. Yet, Arthur was just brimming with questions, and Gnawdwell was more than happy to answer most of them.
"So, how was it being a warlord? Did you...enjoy it?"
"Enjoy is a strong word, I think time-consuming sums it up though. It was merely something for me to do, something to take my minds off things. Did I enjoy the killing? Probably."
"Oh, god..."
"I remember in the very early days of Clan Mors, I actually strived to be powerful, to have my name be feared across the land. I guess I did achieve that to some respect, though I regret it now."
"When did you start to care? I mean, about something other than power and to survive?"
"It was when I...met her. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what forced me to change, but I feel like she was part of it. Perhaps she was the cause itself."
"Did...you…"
Before Arthur could finish speaking, Gnawdwell cut him off.
"Yes. I wouldn't change it for the world."
That put a small smile on Arthur's face, it was heartwarming that he wanted to know more, though ignorance was always a blessing.
All this talk makes me want to kill something.
Soon.
"What about you?"
"I actually think I lived a somewhat decent life, I mean, I always got by."
"That sounds...boring."
"Oh, well I'm sorry for having a normal life that doesn't include killing entire armies, and leading a clan!"
"Alright, alright, you made your point."
"Your life sounds like pure fantasy, Gnawdwell. It really does, sometimes I wonder if you're just so insane, you think this up! But then I remember what you've done these past few days, and I can't help but believe you!"
"What can I say? I've led a pretty interesting life."
"Interesting doesn't even describe it."
While they were talking, Gnawdwell had been oblivious to the fact they were being followed by five people, who looked oh so familiar, as one of them tried to engulf him in flames the last time he saw them. How could he forget kicking that reiklander in the face? Or punting that dwarf across the street? Oh, that gave him a good, hard laugh.
"Why are you laughing? Your laugh is...horribly insane."
"It's just that I remembered punting that dwarf across the street, and it brought tears of joy to my eyes!"
"Bardin..?"
Arthur twisted his head around to see Bardin, who was being held back by Victor, as he screamed out several...insults that were far too rude for him to even think about. He also made several rude gestures, which caused Arthur to look away.
"I'LL SHOW THAT RAKI! LET'S SEE WHO GETS PUNTED FIRST!"
They stopped, to let the others catch up to them, with Bardin still fuming with dwarf rage.
"I'M GOING TO-"
"Wait, shhh, you hear that?"
Before Bardin could understand what the hell Gnawdwell was talking about, he slugged him right in the face, causing him to stumble backward.
"Ohoho, I'll show ye!"
"W-wait, please, let's not…"
"Just let it happen, it's better for all of us."
"Alright, let's go you, bloody stunted human!"
"Oh, now you've done it! Bloody cannibal!"
"I thought you were just a midget when I first saw you, you look nothing like a dwarf!"
"By Grimnir, I'll shove this metal shield so far up yer ar-"
"Language, lumberfoot."
"Ha! You metal worker!"
"At least I had a bloody respectable job, unlike yer war-like career!"
"I'll kill your entire FAMILY!"
"I ain't got no family, you bloody nitwit!"
"I'm running out of things to say, you dwarf-thing!"
"Aye, so am I, you...you...bah! I don't know anymore!"
"Do you wanna drink some ale?"
"Now yer talkin'!"
Everyone was confused on how they became so friendly to each other in just a matter of seconds, despite what they've said just a minute earlier.
"I think I'm going to like you, dwarf."
"Don't know raki, I might need a few more drinks!"
"I feel like we've noticed history happen in front of our eyes. Well, one eye in my case."
"Sometimes...I think yer all bloody stupid."
"Oh, stop it, they're just...having fun..?"
Bardin and Gnawdwell exchanged several punches with each other, with each punch only growing more violent and stronger.
"I worry for my sanity."
"I think it's best if I go, this might be a bit too...exotic for me."
"Gnawdwell always seems to make these situations confusing."
"RAAAAGH!"
For some odd reason, they stopped exchanging punches, Arthur had no idea as to why, until he saw Bardin stuck in a wall, he may have survived purely because of the shield on his back. Gnawdwell had punched Bardin so hard, he actually got him stuck in a wall.
"Yea, that's my cue to leave!"
Sienna quickly made her escape, running off into the distance away from the chaos.
"Anyway, we wanted to talk to you about...well, him."
She pointed towards Gnawdwell, who pushed past Markus and Victor, advancing further away from Arthur.
"O-oh, well, we're actually going hunting...so you could come with us and...a-ask questions while we walk…"
"Really? Perfect! It's been much too long since I've hunted, anyhow."
Excited, Arthur spun around, running off after Gnawdwell, while the other rushed after him, nearly stumbling onto each other in the process.
"Sir, are you sure that you wish to go outside of the walls? It is not particularly safe…"
"Well, it ain't safe inside the walls either, you fool! Now let me go outside to the wild!"
The guardsmen blocking Gnawdwell's way proceeded to step away from him in unison, letting him able to move outside the walls, though they looked at him with pitiful expressions, probably assuming he'll die out there.
They don't know who they're dealing with.
That is true.
He ran, feeling the wind blow into his fur like a gentle wave, he took a deep breath, relishing the pure, natural air that'd he been deprived of for so long. Not soon after he ran out the gates, Arthur and the ragtag team of heroes came rushing up behind him, completely out of breath.
"Come on then, the forest isn't that far!"
"We'll be up with you in a moment!"
Immediately after hearing her response, he dashed off into the distance towards the huge, gloomy forest that penetrated the sky in front of them, with trees as thick as boulders.
"What is it you wanted to ask me, Kerillian?"
She took off her hood, revealing her face to Arthur, who immediately became in awe at her...beauty.
"Who is Gnawdwell?" She made a gesture for the three men to be quiet, who seemed to at least humor her for now.
"Oof, you're gonna have to be more specific. I'm still trying to process it all..."
"There is one thing I want to clear up...are you two, ahem...related..?"
She tried to be gentle about it, as she most likely was correct, and felt that the subject was a bit sensitive at the moment for the white rat.
"I-I...guess. I mean, I-I always felt weird around him, like I've met him before...so I guess him just revealing it to me explains it all."
"Do you trust him, Arthur? Just forget that he's your father for a second, and tell me...do you honestly trust him?"
She knelt down to face Arthur, who was nervous, and extremely uncomfortable, as his entire face lightened up like a Christmas tree.
Focus! No time for crushes.
"H-hey! Shut up!"
Kerillian blinked twice, becoming confused, and a slight offended by Arthur's response.
"U-uh, I mean...I guess I do trust him, I mean...what reason would he have to lie? He might be a skaven but...his actions tell me he certainly doesn't think like one."
With that, Kerillian stood up, though still hurt by the fact he told her to shut up, it was nice to know where he stood with his "father".
"Weird, ain't it? Why couldn't he just tell you when he met you? Feels like it would have saved a lot of trouble…"
"I mean, they certainly don't look alike, so maybe he needed proof that you were his actual son and not just random vermin who acted politely."
"Wazzoks, we have to catch up with the psycho! I've lost sight of him!"
Bardin looked worse than he had earlier, probably because he was punched straight into a wall.
"Well, it's nice to have that cleared up, but don't think you're off the hook yet, mayfly! I still have a lot more questions!"
"Ah! Come with me, a-"
Bardin threw a chunk of rock at Arthur, hitting him straight in the noggin. Though Arthur didn't really know why, it seemed better to not question him about it, as the dwarf wasn't in the mood to talk. The group merely walked, taking in the view of the lush landscape around them, with each tiny blade of grass harmoniously dancing in the wind, as if joyous music was being played, and they were dancing to it. The trees stood like great, natural pillars, pridefully displaying their leaves, which probably would count as an entire forest on their own.
"Hm, though I must admit, I like the innards of a city more than I do the wild...but I guess the forest does have some good qualities." Kerillian sighed, scoffing at his opinion. She preferred the forest much more than the foul smelling, and man-made cities, they had sewers for some odd reason!
He dashed down the slope of dirt, barren of any grass beside the occasional pebble embedded in the weak soil. Before he could reach the end of the slope, he leaped off the ground and landed with particular grace. Despite his silence, the forest managed to be loud and noisy, of course, only he could hear the voices which he assumed was in his head. Yet, they sounded unlike his usual visitors, they sounded more...human, and less threatening, as if conversing. Looking down, he realized he was at a cliff's edge, looking down below was a narrow road surrounded by cliffs.
"We sure did make a hell of a haul, didn't we?"
"Ha! Barely any bruises as well, the city of the damned? More like the city of cowards!"
Mordheim. A sensitive subject for Gnawdwell, as was nearly everything else in this past, but that particular subject struck a chord in his mind, leaving behind a void that must be filled. Despite the rather long drop, and how high above them he was, he could hear them as clear as day. With his red, beady eyes, he spied the caravan, which had at least a dozen people walking beside it, while two horses dragged the rather large cart towards their destination. Of course, there was the only handling the animals, and then there was what Gnawdwell would assume was their leader, as he had a bright red feather in his helmet, unlike the others in his company. But what caught Gnawdwell's eye was the symbols emblazoned on the breastplates of the men, bearing the mark of Reikland. A darkened golden cross, with a skull nested in the center surrounded by strange looking plants, all the while behind those two features was a dark red circle finishing the decoration. Despite the bright, intense love for their country, Reiklanders didn't mind being hired as extra muscle once in a while or go on the occasional dangerous trip to the city of the damned.
"I'm just surprised we even got out of there!"
"Oh, you know how it is! Damn peasants sure love to drum up drama, don't they?"
Fools, they were all fools. The Damned City would have been one of Gnawdwell's greatest accomplishments back then, but now, just hearing the name sent forth the memories that haunted him for years. It was foolish for people to just wander in the city, searching for power and wealth. Greed was always one of the main motivations for the races in the world, even the arrogant elves fall subject to the dastardly sin every once in a while. Oh, how Gnawdwell wanted to rip out their spines, one by one, to feel their skulls be crushed by his hands, to feel their helplessness as he held their lives in his very hands. But alas, he reluctantly decided not to, as he didn't want to tarnish his relationship with Arthur, as he just now got into his good graces.
From his perch, he could see the contents of the cart, which was filled with both chests and bags, and Gnawdwell had a fairly good assumption that the goods they were carrying, weren't exactly legal among any sane person.
"Gnawdwell! What are you doing here?"
The caravan underneath Gnawdwell paused, becoming completely silent. Even the horses were forced to be silent, remaining vigilant for any noise that could mean danger. Gnawdwell turned around, facing Arthur, as the others leaked in one by one, with Bardin being the last one.
"Be quiet. We have visitors."
Barely a whisper, but loud enough for both the elf and Arthur to hear, and relayed the message to their less perceptive comrades. Still, the caravan remained silent, staying stiller than a statue, if that was even possible.
...Just do it already, we've lost the element of surprise.
"Oh, screw it all to hell!"
Before the company of reiklanders could even investigate the area where the strange noise came from, Gnawdwell leaped off of the cliff edge, which more than shocked the onlookers.
"What in the…"
He felt the red sludge enshroud his body once again, transforming him into the inner beast he was. The people of Reikland are hearty and brave people, but there is a limit to one's bravery. Gnawdwell assumed the ones that were terrified of him were most likely recruits, a mere soldier in training. Even the ones that were actually trained to handle monsters and other men like them were enthralled by him, even if they didn't show it, he knew they were hopelessly afraid of him.
"By Sigmar…"
By the time he hit the ground, he had fully transformed, letting loose Carnage. The ground trembled and cracked underneath his immense weight and force, shaking the earth beneath him, causing the reiklanders to stumble and fall as the ground continued shaking, although less powerful than before.
"Don't you know...it's illegal to sell warpstone?"
"Gnawdwell! Oh dammit!"
"Is he insane?!"
"I thought we figured that out a long time ago?"
The four looked over the edge of the cliff, watching as the reiklanders prepared for battle, arming themselves with weaponry, and outfitting themselves out with heavy armor.
"If we don't stop him, he'll undoubtedly kill them all!"
"Do we have to save them..?"
"Of course! Don't be like that, elf."
"How in blazes do we even get down there without bloody dying?!"
"Well...u-um, I do know a way."
Really? Using me as a mere form of transportation?
You always loved picking fights.
Perhaps, or perhaps not.
The human mercenaries encircled him, though he didn't mind that much, as they would need every single advantage to even think of defeating him.
"Go back to the blasted hell you came from, daemon!"
"Why does everyone keep assuming I'm a daemon?!"
Swift as can a human be, the reiklander charged him and swung his sword. Unfortunately for him, Gnawdwell parried his blow with his claws, and as the human slowly recovered, he snatched him up with one hand, raising him up towards the sky.
"Now, now, let's not- What the hell?"
The black rat tossed aside the reiklander, aimlessly throwing him at another in pure luck, as he tried his best to figure out what that black shadow coming towards him was.
"Oh for fu-"
Before he could finish what he was about to say, Arthur crashed into him, forcefully planting him into the ground, all the while the others hanged onto the black ink that covered the white rat for their dear life.
"...Unexpected…"
"We're full of surprises."
"Never...never again!"
They leaped off of Arthur, trying their absolute hardest to not vomit everywhere, though Kerillian seemed to handle it fairly well.
"I-it...wasn't that bad."
Markus had attempted to speak, but all he could do was focus on his nausea and intense dizziness. The reiklanders, beside Markus, could barely speak, much less do anything besides gawk.
"Alright, could you be a dearie and GET THE HELL OFF OF ME?"
"Not unless you promise to not kill them."
He grunted, reluctantly agreeing with Arthur's request, even though he could've just shoved him off of his red bulk. Thankfully, Arthur did actually get off of him, which released the pressure off of his broken ribs.
"Hm? Oh, hello fellow reiklanders!"
"W-what? You're a reiklander? Then why the hell are you with these...people?"
"Long story."
After a short pause, and a moment of silence, they started greeting Markus as someone would to someone who they hadn't seen in years. It was like they completely forgot about their little battle a few minutes ago, and decided to greet their newfound comrade.
"What the hell?"
"Adorable."
"Yes, until they stab ye in the back."
Luckily for Markus, that was not one of their plans. The dwarf, elf, and witch hunter all proceeded to come to Markus, though he was completely surrounded by cheering, and perhaps drunken humans. As they left both Arthur and Gnawdwell alone, the two of them transformed once again, back to their normal appearances. A short, small white rat, and a hulking brute of a black rat.
"It's best that we leave."
"H-huh..? Why?"
"They know what we are, and them not seeing us will save your friends a lot of trouble explaining."
"O-ok…"
It pained him, it truly did to see his own son scared of him. It was more painful than even fire melting his skin, and he couldn't understand why, perhaps because it was how much he cared for him, or something along those lines.
"Arthur…"
Gnawdwell picked up the tiny white rat and tossed him on his back.
"This is what people call a 'piggyback ride', right?"
Arthur became flustered, unsure of what to say to him.
"Ha...you don't have to answer, I just want to...show you something…"
As Gnawdwell walked off the narrow path, Kerillian took a glance at them, and while everyone else was distracted with their celebration, she slinked away, following the two in complete silence, and more skillfully than most wood elves. The woodlands were peaceful, maybe they were beautiful as well, but if they were, Gnawdwell didn't notice. Walking through the woods always brought back memories of unpleasantness, nightmares that no one should ever bear notice to. Not even god's themselves could look upon what he had done.
"Where are we even going..?"
Arthur's voice broke him out of his pitiful wallowing, yet he ignored his question, continuing to walk instead of talking, completely oblivious of the fact he was being followed. Gnawdwell felt the eyes of someone watching him, or maybe it was something? He didn't know and disregarded it as another symptom of his paranoia. Together they walked, through colorful, wild bushes, and trees that rose higher than any giant. No longer were they entrapped in the hazardous cliff walls, standing a narrow road, just begging for a landslide to happen. The scenery blended together for Gnawdwell, but for Arthur, it was like he was experiencing the world for the first time, but before he could truly appreciate the natural sights, the two came out of the dense, yet marvelous forest, onto another cliff's edge, looking over copious amounts of trees, a large river, and Altdorf in the distance, all the while the sun was setting in the sky.
"I…"
Arthur was speechless, the sight...was absolutely beautiful. How the trees swayed in the gentle breeze of the wind, how the river shined with radiance and grace, while the sunlight produced a magnificent, yet tiny rainbow over the river. The sunset is what closed the deal for the white rat, the orange, warm hue of the sun showered both the forest and the river, making them seem almost happy.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The huge rat put down Arthur on the cliff's edge, with his legs dangling off, and then continuing to sit beside him. Arthur was entranced by the marvelous, beautiful sight, ignoring the uncomfortable presence of the murderer next to him.
"I used to come here often, oh so long ago. Unfortunately, those days are...gone."
The white rat stayed silent, though he tore his eyes away from the scenery, to Gnawdwell, who stared off into the distance blankly. He felt sorry for him, even if what he did wasn't always...right, he still thought Gnawdwell didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve to be miserable.
"This was one of many beautiful sights she showed me, but...this one has a special place in my heart."
"Why..?"
He closed his eyes, but still, the image was burned into his mind, leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
"It all started here, the place where the greatest time of my life started."
He breathed in and out, letting himself to at least try to appreciate his surroundings, yet it seemed difficult, nearly impossible for him to do so.
"You know, I promised her something, a promise I broke."
"W-what was the promise?"
"...Perhaps now is not the best time to discuss that."
"All right, then, keep your secrets."
Arthur became unsettled, scared of Gnawdwell quietly brooding, he found him more terrifying when he was silent, then he was when he spoke. The two stayed silent, as they viewed the forest below them, most likely inhabited by dozens of wildlife.
"Arthur, I...know I haven't given the best first impression, but...I hope you can still accept me as your father."
He couldn't even bear to look at his son, out of shame, or was it guilt? He didn't know, he couldn't know. Arthur scooted closer to Gnawdwell, despite their differences in size, they looked almost...peaceful.
"It's just, everything's moving so fast...I can barely think about anything that's been happening…"
The black rat stayed silent, listening to his son talk was somewhat satisfying, as if he had done something right for once.
"You didn't exactly help the situation either by appearing so suddenly and then I've met so many wonderfu- well, let's just say they're good people, probably..."
Arthur seemingly continued talking to Gnawdwell, or something. Though it didn't look like it, Gnawdwell listened to each and every word he spoke carefully, almost as if his life depended on it.
"First I met Balthasar, who seems nice and chill, then I met Markus who appears hot-headed, and somewhat incompetent, but he seems like a good guy!"
Perhaps it was because of Gnawdwell's bottomless rage, or maybe it was his parental, but he already disliked these so-called 'friends'.
"After that, I met Bardin, a dwarf whose probably just as stupid as Markus, I do have to give him some credit, he sure is brave. Then...there's...Kerillian..."
The black rat's fur became rustled at the name of the wood elf, but he had enough self-control to not take out his anger on his son. He absolutely hated the wood elf for personal reasons, though the dwarf worried him, as he knows that they had a fiery hatred for any kind of rats.
"I feel like I'm forgetting someone else, but I can't quite remember who it was...anyway, you're probably worried about Queek, right?"
Something clicked in his brain, Gnawdwell totally forgot about his incompetent bodyguard! Though he didn't do his job well, it was nice to have him around for 'moral' support.
"From what I remember, he's locked in one of the rooms in the tower, hopefully, they remembered to feed him."
Arthur sighed, looking up to his silent guardian, who still remained still as stone ever since they sat down.
"Are you going to...say anything..? Like...at all?"
"...They seem to be intent on killing you."
"Uhhh...how?"
"I've been thinking Arthur, about what you've been saying, and I finally remember those damned names you've been spouting out of your mouth."
"Oh, are they famous-ish?"
"Among the Empire yes, among Skavendom? They're notorious."
"Could you, uh...elaborate?"
"They've murdered thousands of us, decimated even the biggest and mutated of our monsters, hell, they even blew one of my headquarters into smithereens at one point!"
"Oh, wow...did you do anything...to stop them..?"
"...I couldn't care less, to be honest, they could've blown up Skavenblight and I still wouldn't care."
The two kept silent after the sudden revelation, though Arthur seemed interested in learning how skaven society differed from how the Empire functioned, though Arthur barely had a grasp on even that subject.
"That's...surprising to say the least, I guess..?"
Gnawdwell remained his vow of silence, the only noise he made was his sometimes ragged breathing, which concerned Arthur to an extent.
"Gnawdwell..?"
"I'm...sorry, it's just…so overwhelming."
The black-furred rat hid his face, shielding it from Arthur's eyes with his arms, though it left the white rat confused.
"W-what is..?"
"The fact that I'm here, sitting right next to you. Something I thought would never be...p-possible."
The Mighty's voice trembled as if he was on the verge of...crying. Arthur couldn't help but stare at his father with a surprised expression, amazed that one so ruthless could even shed a single tear.
"I...I…"
Gnawdwell choked on his words, not being able to speak anymore as he crumbled into a little ball, sobbing like the emotional wreck he was.
This is our chance, kill him!
Ignoring Venom's sudden appearance, and suggestion, Arthur slid over to his scarred, both physically and emotionally, father, and climbed up on top of him, then finally laid himself down on the black-furs back, finally wrapping his arms around him.
"There, there. It's okay, we all can't be murderous psycho-killing machines…"
The two huddled together in a pile, with them holding each other in a tight embrace. Arthur could barely breathe as Gnawdwell squeezed him to death. The black-fur cried on the small rat's shoulders, pouring out years and years of pent up anger and despair as he shed each tear.
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Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Are You Braindead?
"Incorrect-wrong! Fix-repair tank!"
Several apprentice engineers scrambled to gather their instruments to repair the leaking tank, which contained volatile warpfire inside. One engineer-rat was smart enough to take cover, while the others attempted to prevent the cursed device from exploding, unfortunately, they weren't successful. An explosion of green flames and ash erupted in the room, killing the apprentice engineers in an instant, even the one who took cover.
"Fools!"
The insane engineer berated his dead apprentices, with his insults only seeming to become more vile and disturbing. When he heard nothing else come from the room, he quickly left, not wanting to be blamed for their deaths, after all, his pride was more important than their lives. The warlock engineer hurriedly went back to hi nest-burrow, though it acted more like his personal laboratory than anything. He mumbled to himself as shouts were thrown across the cave-warrens alerting other rats of the demises of the apprentice engineers, though he could care less as he unraveled a massive blueprint over a table.
"Close-near."
The engineer-rat spent hours and hours scribbling on the blueprint, attempting to find a way to make his magnificent device work, but yet it was near impossible, maybe even incomprehensible! The engineer would've spent another year working on the blueprint if it weren't for the sudden knock at the opening of his lab. Begrudgingly, the engineer moved his rather heavy bulk, though most of it was a hard metal suit that encased his soft, supple flesh, and lumbered towards the door rather awkwardly. He made sure to scare the living hell out of the rat who dared disturb him in his spare time.
"I-Ik- AH!"
The engineer snapped his jaws, stopping inches away from the clanrats face, his metal fangs looking particularly sharp. The poor clanrat stumbled backward, falling on his bosom.
"What-need do you want? Speak before I end-kill you, fool!'
"L-lord M-Morskittar w-wishes to see you-you..."
The engineer wasn't particularly happy, as evident by the fact he burned the clanrat alive with his portable warpfire thrower that was inserted into his metallic arm. Screams of agony came from the clanrat, though the engineer paid no heed for its pleas of help, for he could only wonder why Morskittar wished to see him, especially since his lord had been busy with...scheming.
"...Where-find is Morskittar, cla-"
The warlock looked down, only to see the clanrats charred body as the green flames continued to devour his corpse.
"...I don't-not need your assistance anyway! I can find-search for him by myself, yes-yes!"
The insane scholar wandered the caverns, his unstable state thinking up of new ways to torture, and slaughter his foes, no matter how experimental they were.
"Mend-meld ratling on-attach to abomination! Make-use monster good…"
It was rather odd to see the engineer out of his lab, much less wandering aimlessly in the tunnel-warrens, but none dared to question him, lest they are burned alive like the last one who disturbed him. Fortunately, the warlock was able to find a fool that looked fairly high ranked among the groups of clanrats, so he promptly asked for directions. By walking over to said rat, and strangling him with his metallic five-pronged claw that replaced one of his hands, where the warpfire thrower was conveniently placed in the palm of the claw, with some warpfire trickling out of the barrel, burning the terrified rat's fur.
"Where-find Morskittar, skavenslave?"
The rat didn't seem too pleased about being insulted, but he gave the insane engineer what he wanted, which prompted him to let go of the "skavenslave" and continue on his merry way to Morskittar's chambers. It was all just another day in Skavenblight.
"A-alright, come on…"
Arthur clutched Gnawdwell's back, gripping his black furs in an attempt to get him off the ground. Not surprisingly, he failed miserably. The black fur continued his mental breakdown, crying like there was no tomorrow.
"Come on...we have to get to the others. You already had well enough time to cry it out."
Arthur attempted several more times to lift Gnawdwell off the ground, though all of them were in vain, in the end, Arthur gave up his futile crusade, deciding to sit by the Warlord until his "little" session to himself ended. While the humongous rat continued sobbing on the cold ground, Arthur felt a form of...pity for him, it seemed so out of character for a psychopath like Gnawdwell to just seemingly burst out crying. Even after seeing everything Gnawdwell was and is capable of, and everything he read about his kind, his behavior vastly differed from the regular ol' plague-riddled rats. He exhibited emotions other than hate, and...hate, it was obvious he was his father, even if he had mood swings that could rival the unpredictability of life itself.
"Gnawdwell, come on...let's go...please..?"
"Alright, fine. Let's go."
"W-what?"
"I said, let's go!"
The black rat rose from up from the ground, picking up the fleeing Arthur, trying to make an attempt at escaping his grasp.
"Come to papa!"
"NOT LIKE THIS!"
What the hell am I witnessing?
Gnawdwell snatched up Arthur in one fell swoop, hanging him over his back while they both once again ran through the forest like a couple of barbarians.
"O-oh god, I feel like vomiting..!"
"Don't you dare vomit on me, this fur has been perfectly trashed for at least a few hundred years."
"W-wait, that makes no s-sense…"
The wood elf had trouble catching up with the psychopath, despite his large bulk, he was an expert at hiding in even plain sight. Most of the time, she had to rely on Arthur to find the damned black rat. Probably because he was screaming the entire time he was on Gnawdwell's back.
"This is the strangest family I've ever met in my life..."
"OOOOOOOOOOOO, I'm a dwarven lad with a hearty belly that thirsts for ale!"
"Ergh, you may not be a dwarf, but you sure as hell drink like o-"
Arthur projectile vomited off of Gnawdwell's back, hitting several bushes and trees as he continued to dash through the forest. Though he was oblivious to this, he accidentally vomited on the pursuing Kerillian, who was all the much too happy to voice her displeasure.
"By the saints of the fu-"
"LANGUAGE!"
The wood elf turned to where she heard the rat's voice and promptly shouted her response back. What she said doesn't bear repeating.
"What…"
"Oh don't worry about it, you just accidentally caught a spy."
"I-I did..? Y-yay!"
Arthur flailed around on Gnawdwell's back, recovering from his sudden need to regurgitate what he ate a few hours earlier. Gnawdwell seemed unfazed by his son's instant projectile vomit a few minutes earlier.
"C-can we stop..?"
"You said we had to go, so we're going!"
Arthur was too mentally exhausted to argue with his father, much less even make a rebuttal to his stupid reasoning.
You two are the physical embodiment of stupidity.
You...don't think...I know that already..?
"What in the nine realms of heresy are those three idiots doing?"
Victor paced around in the huge, narrow ravine, while the mercenaries they had met promptly left, not wanting to be accused of heresy for carrying their "goods".
"Why are you asking me? I've not a clue where they went!"
Markus placed himself down on a mediocre sized rock, using it as a chair to rest his sore legs, whilst placing his scabbard next to him on the ground. Bardin, on the other hand, seemed to be agitated by something, as the stouty dwarf stared deep into the forest that laid upon the sides of the ravine, barely outside of the massive gorge. At that moment, Bardin noticed something moving in the shrubbery, the trees seemingly cowering from...something.
"Oh, for Grimnir's and my sake…"
"Hmm? What is it, Bardin?"
Markus didn't understand the dwarf's plight, though what Bardin shouted next was a good indicator as to what he was worried about.
"Hide, wazzocks! We've got ourselves some vermin stalking the forests!"
"Bardin, you know I don't know what the hell those words mean!"
Victor wasn't as dimwitted as Markus was, being able to understand what the dwarf was saying.
"It means to prepare yourself, Kruber! We're not alone."
"Well, what in the blazes is it?"
"Ask the dwarf, he's the one who probably saw the bloody thing!"
The ground shook, as whatever abomination hid in the deep forest approached nearer, with guttural roars occasionally making it out of the trees.
"Yo, wassup, Gna-"
"FOR SIGMAR'S SAKE, SHOOT THE BLOODY THING TO BITS!"
"W-wait...WHAT?!"
"Goddammit, here we go again."
Victor took no time checking if what he was shooting at was friend or foe, he just kept firing each pistol that he took off his bandolier, in a seemingly never-ending onslaught of gunpowder and bullets.
"Oh god, make it end!"
Gnawdwell stood idly, using his claws as toothpicks to get rid of some unwanted flesh in his fangs, though Victor's firing was starting to become an annoyance, as the witch hunter had been starting to get more accurate with his shots.
"Stop shooting, for Taal's sake!"
"Is it dead?!"
Gnawdwell gently, and cautiously put down Arthur, who now smelt of gunpowder, and for some reason, blood. The white rat was seemingly traumatized, though Gnawdwell couldn't find out why.
"Wha- Oh, it's you."
"Really? That's all you have to say?"
The various holes in Gnawdwell didn't make for a great conversation starter, nor did they help Arthur's already shattered sanity.
"...You're all damn idiots."
"I'm not the one who got stuck in a damn chimney!"
"WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT?"
"I mean, a couple of tankards and…"
Arthur trembled, curling up into a ball while ash and the leftover sparks of Victor's pistol dotted his fur, it didn't help either that he was covered in Gnawdwell's blood from the shooting.
So, um...are you alright?
Oh, yes, I'm just CHIPPER.
Sure doesn't sound like it.
You know, sometimes...I wish I just had a dad, that didn't care for me.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, THAT'S MY ALE!"
I think I agree with you.
"Get yer grubby paws off of that bottle! I've been saving that ever since I left my damn hold, you filthy vermin!"
You've been awfully quiet these past few hours...or has it been days?
I think at least a day.
That's not what I wanted answered.
Alright, fine. So what if I've been quiet? I'm trying to process the fact that psycho over there holds another...me inside of him.
So?
It...feels so weird. It doesn't help that he's your damn father either.
Lucky us.
Bardin and Gnawdwell continued arguing for what seemed like an eternity, with Victor and Markus not even bothering with the absurd conflict, as both sides were determined to drink that good ol' bottle of ale.
"COULD YOU TWO STOP YOUR ARGUING FOR ONE DAMN SECOND?! I CAN HEAR YOUR WHINING AND COMPLAINING FROM HALFWAY ACROSS THE WORLD!"
That made the two shut up, though they stilled look at each other with glares of contempt, with a hint of murder added in.
"By the Pale Queen, you two are the friendliest, yet the stupidest dwarf and rat I've met!"
"He was trying to drink my bloody ale, wutelgi!"
"Jokes on you, I already drank it!"
Kerillian and Bardin looked over to Gnawdwell, who was eating the entirety of the bottle, not just drinking the ale.
"...We're going back to Altdorf."
"OH, THANK SIGMAR."
"For once, elf, we are in agreement."
"I...Please."
Gnawdwell grumbled to himself, though he reluctantly agreed with them.
"What in the blazes happened to the other rat?"
"Erm, nothing! Absolutely nothing happened."
Gnawdwell licked his lips, as another bottle of ale was magically gone from Bardin's backpack.
"The damn witch hunter shot me nearly a dozen or so times, I ain't got proof, as it's already gone."
"Well, why the hell would you shoot him? He's a rat, sure, but goddammit, he can't die! Shooting him is just a waste of ammo!"
"Well...shut up! It was an accident!"
"Can we just forget it, and return back to the umgi city?"
"Oh gods, you know its bad when the dwarf says 'forget it'."
Bardin was already stomping off to Altdorf, not waiting for anyone else to join him. Though his stunty stature didn't help with his speed.
"Let's just...ok, black fur, you pick up Arthur and follow us, but I'll keep my damn eye on you if you do anything shady."
"Glublubburg."
"...What?"
"Forget it, he drank Bugman's."
Despite being almost knockout wasted, Gnawdwell was barely able to manage to pick up Arthur, while the others started to group up, once again traveling back to Altdorf after seeing enough mayhem and chaos.
Life is...just...not good right now.
I hate everything and everyone.
I want Balthasar.
At least he- Wait, he did hurt us, but that was purely just to knock us out.
What are you talking about?
What I'm trying to say, at least he didn't try to kill us when he first met us!
"OOOOOOOOO, Glubgublgugbagh."
"Amazing, a new dwarven language."
"Watch yer tongue, elf!"
...I want a hug.
We all want hugs.
"So, elf, where the hell did you wander off to, eh?"
Bardin walked alongside Victor and Markus, preferring to stay closer together than aimlessly wandering through the forest, though Kerillian followed behind them, right next to Gnawdwell's drunken state.
"I...er, was just scouting out the forest for any vermin, that's all."
The three turned around, catching a whiff of something...unpleasant.
"Blegh! It smells like you've found some, though I wonder if they were the same ones we're seeing right now…"
She scoffed, though she did move away from them ever so slightly. Arthur was able to maneuver Gnawdwell's giant, furry body, being able to comfortably sit on his shoulders like a bird perching on a branch.
"Victor's right, you do smell very...not nice. And that's coming from a rat that slept in the sewers of Altdorf!"
Arthur made finger guns with his hands, pointing them at Kerillian as he said that. The gesture didn't exactly comfort her.
"Ah, yes, you have slept in the sewers, haven't you?"
"I mean-"
"Bluhguhgubglbu."
Arthur lightly smacked Gnawdwell on the head, making him produce even more drunken noises, which the others found worrying.
"Ahem, as I was saying. Sleeping in sewers isn't exactly something I'd consider luxurious, but it does beat sleeping in the dark, dank streets."
"But what about your dignity? Your pride?"
"Victor, no offense, but not everyone can be an elite crack team of five, taking down skaven strongholds and breaking up verminous plans left and right."
"Ahaha, our reputation precedes us, grimgi!"
"You know about our heroic deeds, Arthur?"
Gnawdwell burped at the mention of 'heroic deeds', almost as if he disagreed with the notion.
"Not until a few minutes ago."
"What do you mean, rat?"
Arthur shook his body, trying his best to make himself comfortable on the Warlord's back.
"Gnawdwell...talked to me."
"Oho, I'm surprised you don't have a knife in yer back, vermin."
Arthur thought Bardin joked, though the dwarf seemed very sincere.
"The black one speaks? How surprising! Hopefully, he doesn't kill us all in the process."
"No...I doubt he'll kill you all."
The four shot a sharp glare at Arthur, completely disagreeing with him in every way possible.
"We totally believe that, Arthur…"
"The only time I trust a raki to do something, it's to die!"
Bardin emphasized his statement by swinging his ax haphazardly, with no sense of precaution.
"I'll have to agree with the dwarf on this one. No offense, Arthur."
Arthur did take offense at Markus's agreement with Bardin, though he wasn't surprised.
"...What do we do at Altdorf?"
"We? There is no 'we', rat. The only reason we came out here was so you wouldn't kill yourself like the idiot you are."
Arthur was a bit taken aback by Victor's sudden aggression towards him, as the witch hunter had only made tiny remarks at him until now.
"Since when did you remember you're supposed to purge chaos taint, Victor?"
Victor didn't give Kerillian the pleasure of a response, preferring to stay silent than be berated for the entire walk back to the human city.
"Glubugb, ghubhugb?"
I feel like his brain is permanently damaged at this point.
Trust me, You aren't the first.
Arthur petted Gnawdwell's head like an owner would to his precious dog, with Gnawdwell still blurting out drunken nonsense every few minutes.
"There, there...you'll get over it soon."
Ha! Yea right!
Skavenblight. A horrid Under-City containing some of the vilest and ruthless ratmen in the entirety of the Under-Empire, though all of them shared their madness and insanity, there was one warlock engineer that surpassed the normal limits of insanity, his madness was unrivaled, one who was so far gone he only longs to complete his one dream: The construction of the first atomic bomb.
...I'm lost.
The warlock engineer appeared to have gotten himself lost in the arrays of tunnels, despite having traversed the caverns millions of times in his life. The warlock meandered around the tunnels, trying his best to look like he knew what he was doing whenever other underlings walked by, just to prove his vast superiority. Despite his constant misgivings, the engineer had been fortunate, in that Morskittar's chambers was nearby, and was able to find them somewhat easily. As the engineer opened the doors that were far too large to open by a normal rat, he could already sense the displeasure and disgust from his master, who didn't seem very keen on him being late.
"What-what? That isn't possible! I SAID SO!"
The engineer reluctantly waddled into the room, seeing his master covered in the same metal frame that covered his own body. Morskittar, noticing his right-hand suddenly appearing out of nowhere, decided to take action.
"Ikit Claw-Claw, you fool! Where have you been-staying?"
"O' glorious Morskittar, me-me foolish intellect managed to get me-me lost in the vast tunnels of your marvelous Under-City."
"Bah! It doesn't matter! Clan Mors has-has fallen!"
"What."
What.
"Woah, I never realized just how large the walls were..."
"The finest engineering in the land, rat lad!"
"What did you say, umgi?"
"O-oh, nothing…"
Bardin glared at Markus, though his size didn't help in intimidating him.
"Stop fooling around, lumberfoots, they're letting us in."
"Ratbubgug."
"Thank you so much, for contributing to this conservation!"
"Flu bug."
The group stared at Gnawdwell as if he had a few screws loose, and they wouldn't be wrong. Before Gnawdwell could kill them with a flu bug, the gates came crashing open, making a thunderous impact as the wooden and metal doors flung open. As they returned back to the safe confines of Altdorf, the guardsmen stared at the weird tower of rats following the four elite skaven hunters.
"Everything's fine, everything's-"
"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
"Can you keep that beast muzzled? He's making my ears bleed!"
"I'M THE ONE ON TOP OF HIM!"
Arthur tried to wrestle Gnawdwell in an attempt to clamp his mouth shut, yet for some odd reason, he was overpowered immediately. Perhaps fighting a creature double his height, and one that is extremely strong and resilient had something to do with it.
"Here, I have a splendid idea! I call it, shoot the damn rat in the head!"
"Wait, no, I just cleaned this damn coa-"
Victor didn't wait for Kerillian to get away from Gnawdwell's head suddenly exploding, though Arthur was probably the most shocked as the explosion nearly blew off...his treasures.
"OH GODS, WHY?!"
The blackfur's blood splattered all over Arthur's front side of his body, and some even managed to launch over to Kerillian, coating her in some of the rat's blood.
"For…"
Arthur slid off of Gnawdwell's back, which didn't prove really hard, as the blood acted as a lubricant.
"Y-y-y-y...You just killed my father!"
"I doubt it, raki."
The headless corpse stumbled backward, its neck craning, at least what was left of it, to Arthur. He didn't really feel like eating afterward, as the stump that was once Gnawdwell's head, started to bubble around the wound, regrowing flesh and bone as if they were never gone.
"By Taal, I'm going to hurl…"
"Hold it in, umgi! Cause the rat ain't done yet."
Like a dwarf assembling a gun forged in a dwarven hold, the newly formed head made several curious noises, such as cracking and popping bones that were just gone a few seconds ago.
H-hey, h-horrible question right now but...c-can we do that..?
Heeey, why not try it out? Let's have the witch hunter shoot us in the head next!
On s-s-second thought, n-nevermind…
GOOD.
"Shield yer eyes, it's an abomination. Oh, wait no, it's just a rat."
Gnawdwell twisted his neck around, making sure his newly made head was to his standards.
"...I just died, and I'm still feeling the effects of a hangover."
"T-that's what you're worried about?"
The blackfur shrugged nonchalantly as if this was just another day in his life, which was probably true.
"I-I-I-I-I…"
"Alright, let's go!"
"I need to find a nice, quiet place soon, else the dwarf might get some distasteful hurl in his beard."
"Do it on the elf! She's wearing so much green, we'll barely notice it!"
Gnawdwell and the three stooges continued on their merry way, leaving behind Kerillian and Arthur behind to contemplate on what just happened.
"Are you sure you're his son?"
"...Sadly, yes."
"I pity you, Arthur. I really do."
HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK WE FEEL?
Arthur couldn't help but just lazily agree with his venomous companion, his father was a true piece of work, and has probably traumatized him more in three days than Arthur has in the span of years.
"I...m-miss Balthasar."
Arthur felt the wood elf's gaze on him, ignoring his blood soak shirt and white fur, it was almost like she felt bad for him, or perhaps it was a twisted form of hate?
"If you miss the damned masked bugger so much, then why don't you go look for 'im?"
"I don't know where he- Oh, there he is."
Arthur didn't know how much he could miss someone in his life, but seeing that familiar mask brought joy to him! The golden masked man was followed by the three stooges, though Gnawdwell was nowhere to be found, almost as if he just vanished.
"Wow, a real coincidence, hmm?"
"Oh, hush, elf."
Balthasar gave Kerillian a look of contempt, with which she responded by a not so polite gesture, it did give Markus and Bardin a hearty laugh, though.
"Balthasar! Oh how I've-"
"FEED US."
You know what, this is fine.
"...What?"
Even with a golden mask on his face, Balthasar still gave Arthur a look of disappointment.
"Nevermind that! I'm just so ha-"
Bardin let out a thunderous burp, interrupting Arthur once again.
"...Ahem, what I meant to say wa-"
Do you think rats taste like beef?
For the love of everything unholy, and holy, stop interrupting me.
"A-anyway, what I JUST want to say i-"
"JUST SPIT IT OUT, RAT!"
Balthasar couldn't help but put his face in his hands, shielding him from the absurdity of the attempted conservation.
"WHAT I WANT TO SAY IS, I AM REALLY GLAD TO SEE YOU! GODS!"
Arthur was finally able to greet Balthasar, despite Venom's and the others constant interruptions. Despite how awkward it had become, Balthasar still found it in to hug the three-foot rat, Arthur slowly found that he felt more...accepted by Balthasar than Gnawdwell. At least he had the decency to not get shot in the head every day, and bleed on him constantly.
"So, how was your trip with your...your...f-father?"
The others snickered at the idea of a skaven having a "caring" father, even Kerillian joined in occasionally with a snicker of her own.
"I've learned two things. One, he's crazily insane. Two, he's insanely crazy."
Without making a single sound, Bardin, Markus, and Victor promptly left, considering the job a finished one and going to a nearby bar to "refresh" themselves, though Victor had other things to do besides waste time becoming...inebriated. Kerillian was the only one who stayed behind, though Arthur didn't know why.
"There's more, isn't there?"
"So what if there is? What do you care? He's just a crazy megalomaniac who just happens to be Arthu- I mean, my father."
WAIT A MINUTE, THAT ISN'T FAIR!
AND YOUR FATHER'S A PSYCHOPATH.
Balthasar seemed confused by the sudden change of Arthur's voice but disregarded it as nothing more than a strange creature living inside of his body.
"I care, Arthur, because he's your father, an-"
"So what? For all I care, he could drop dead in front of me and I wouldn't mind! Oh, wait, he already has!"
"Tell me, Arthur, what do you truly know about him? Are you judging him because of the past, or the present? Cause to me, it really feels like you're ripping him a new one on his past deeds."
"Wha- No, that's not true!"
Arthur found Venom's attempt at arguing amusing, taking joy in the fact he couldn't make a proper argument. And Venom did have access to his memories, even if he didn't consent to that aspect of sharing his body with the black goo.
"He's..."
"He's what? Psychotic? Insane? Mad? Crazy? Of course he is, and I probably would be too in his position, but instead of explaining it to you, Arthur, think back to what your father said to you as to why he was here. Just...think."
The two body-sharers took a minute to think back on what their insane psychotic father bothered to mention, much less explain. Kerillian leaned up against a nearby wall of a house, looking off into the distance, though she still listened intently to the conservation. She did try to wipe off the blood off her fur coat, but it is rather hard to get blood out of anything without the proper instruments.
"I- Let's talk about this later, p-please..?"
Despite what it seemed like, Arthur was deeply disturbed about Venom's sudden...outburst, as his companion had never done that before, much less even speak to anyone else but him, but right now, he just wanted the conservation to end, and for them to stop talking about his father.
"Fine, right now though, we have to go somewhere."
"Oh, o-ok...why and where, though?"
"I've accrued several reports of something going on in the outskirts of the city, and I'm one hundred percent sure it's your father's handiwork, but I don't know what it is. Hence, a meeting has been called."
Arthur nodded, half-heartedly listening to Balthasar explain their destination, he couldn't help but just keep thinking about how truly disturbed he was by Gnawdwell's presence, the very thought of him being his father...nearly made him vomit in disgust. How could someone be so lifeless? So cruel? A part of Arthur wished that this was all a lie, that the psychotic blackfur was just a liar, a really talented liar.
"Ok…"
Balthasar gently raised Arthur onto his shoulders, effectively carrying the tiny rat.
"Good."
What are we doing here?
Whats it look like?
Gnawdwell laid slumped against a moist, wooden wall, finding it more comfortable than the stone cold floor. Fortunately, Gnawdwell had found a tavern not far from the gates to Altdorf, and it wasn't particularly hard to vacate the building with his…"charming" personality.
Stop drinking this swill, for god's sake! It's not even the good stuff!
Since when did you care what I shove down my gullet?
Why are you so insufferable to be with?
I...I guess it's in my blood. Let's hope it's not hereditary.
The rat promptly took another swig from the tankard in his hand, with a keg nearby at all times just in case he wanted to further drown out his emotions. The blackfur let out a long sigh, one that echoed throughout the cellar, completely devoid of life, except for himself of course.
You've...felt it, right..?
Felt what, Gnawdwell? Arthur's constant discomfort around you?
No- Oh, that's actually...correct.
Carnage scoffed at his partner, even with nearly drinking an entire keg in less than a few minutes, he still felt like...himself, which was something he did not want to be right now.
You can't force these things, you idiot. He probably just has to both process and deal with the fact your not only a criminally insane murderer, he's also letting another criminally insane murderer into his body as well.
Gnawdwell laughed, though he had forgotten to talk more about Carnage during his and Arthur's little talk out in the woods, he just deemed it not important enough to disturb his son further. Or maybe that was a lie that he repeated to himself, like everything else in his life.
How...sad.
What is?
I find it funny, that we both could take on a literal army, and still come out on top...but yet when it comes to dealing with anything that needs even the slightest bit of emotion, we completely and utterly...fail.
Carnage stayed silent, as Gnawdwell continued to drink from his tankard, and periodically refill it from time to time.
"I thought I smelt the scent of someone drinking away their troubles, though I didn't expect it to be you...maybe that's why on the way here there was a slight smell of death!"
God- Why the hell is she here?!
Ohwee, I wonder why. It's not like you threatened to kill everyone in the damn tavern if they didn't leave. Oh, and they probably also reported you to the damn authorities, or they just came running out screaming a giant rat was here. Take your pick.
Despite the number of obstacles between them, Gnawdwell could see the smug elf obviously taking satisfaction in the fact she found the blackfur, though he felt there was more to this than he thought. Kerillian stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for a response.
"What do you want, elf? And if you want something to drink, you came to the wrong place."
"None of the sort, lumberfoot. Though I worry about your already horribly maintained body."
"Don't you have something else to do? Besides bore me to sleep with your constant insults?"
Now you're just being an as-
Shush.
Kerillian stared at Gnawdwell just laying down on the floor, his back against the wall, with several liquor stains on both his shirt and fur.
"The only person I've seen drink this much was Bardin, and I'm pretty sure you already surpassed him."
"Ohoho, you think?"
Even when he spoke, he took another drink from his tankard, sometimes not waiting for the keg to fully fill his instrument of liver failure.
"So, what do you want from me? Besides my death, of course."
"I, unfortunately, wanted to ask you something, if you could stop wasting your time drinking yourself to death."
It's not a waste of time, this is my therapy session!
Sometimes, I feel like we just exist to amuse someone else in the world.
The hell you talking about? You know what, forget it.
Gnawdwell shifted around in his semi-comfortable position, finally setting down his tankard to actually talk to the wood elf. Kerillian leaned up against the wall that Gnawdwell used as a support for his back, looking down on him.
"Be honest with me, rat...Why are you here? How did you even get here? Last time I heard of your 'terrifying' name, you were stationed in Karag Ogrud, which I'm sure isn't a day's walk from here."
"So, you've still kept tabs on the Underworld, have you? Clever girl."
Kerillian glared at Gnawdwell with her pitch black eyes, but he didn't mind though.
"Just answer the damn question."
The blackfur sighed, finally deciding to look the elf in the eyes, though he was reluctant to explain himself. But, the more he thought about what he's done in the past few days, the more he realized...everything's gone. He might not have enjoyed bossing around underlings, runts, mere squabbles of vermin, but yet, he felt...remorseful. His minions were unlike other Clan's, loyal to Gnawdwell until the very end, even if the odds were massively out of their favor. Even among the hundreds upon thousands of vermin he led, there were still some that he cared about, even if they were...expendable. He can't go back. Not anymore. He always tried to save what was left of his pitiful existence, but whenever he tried, it only seemed like it became even more shattered, with more pieces to clean up after. Even after this sudden realization, he can only come to one conclusion, if his own son rejects him…
Then this would all be for nothing.
"Hey! Don't go daydreaming on me, answer the question already!"
Gnawdwell broke out of his entranced state, staring at Kerillian once more.
"I...I left my Clan behind. Everything...everything's...gone. Just. Gone."
Gnawdwell turned his gaze over to his empty tankard, whose insides were once filled with something he enjoyed.
"What do you- H-hey, don't you dare...goddammit…"
Gnawdwell buried his face into his hands, shielding his tears from Kerillian's stare, and to save him from embarrassing himself in front of an elf.
"Hey, hey, it's going to be ok. Just...continue, please."
Her hand hovered hesitantly over his shoulder, with his pitch black fur barely brushing her fingertips.
"I...I heard there was a traitor amidst Altdorf, and I was ordered to…'exterminate' the problem. But, after that, I was...approached by a man. A man, who knew that my son was alive. Could you i-imagine? After...years, and years of regret and guilt, I FINALLY knew he was alive!"
"But, it's not turning out how you expected, is it..?"
She was right, but he surely didn't expect an entire parade to happen because he reunited with his long lost son, but...he surely didn't expect to be given the cold shoulder either.
"...No, I didn't even expect anything glamorous or anything joyful! I just...I don't know. Perhaps me coming here was a mistake."
Gnawdwell felt something brush up against his arm, but he ignored it, continuing to wallow in his self-pity, oblivious to the fact that the elf sat next to him. He stayed silent as he refilled his tankard, and just as he was about to take another swig, a hand grabbed ahold of his drinking arm.
"Perhaps you should lay off the ale, don'tcha think?"
The blackfur turned his head around, only to stare Kerillian in her eyes, which...unnerved for some odd reason, though, deep down in his mind, he knew why.
"I may not be a parent, much less someone who can take care of another, but...I usually find that if you want to take care of someone, you have to deal with your problems first."
A lump began developing in his throat, and emotion had started to arise from the murky black depths of his soul, emotions that he simply wanted to drink away. She was being so...so...kind to him, offering advice for him, despite her history with his kind, but he couldn't help but wonder why?
Maybe...she just wants to...reunite...me and Arthur.
Oh stop it, you're making me feel all tingly inside.
Kerillian let go of Gnawdwell's drinking arm, which prompted him a choice. Though it wasn't really much of a choice for him, the prospect of drinking himself to unconsciousness was always a nice experience, but...the thought of him being with his only son deemed more important to him than even the best ale in the world. Gnawdwell set down the still filled tankard on the cobblestone floor and proceeded to rise from the ground, while also helping Kerillian up, which didn't seem too hard considering he was a tad bigger than her.
"...I can't believe I'm going to say this, but...thank you."
Awww.
"Your wel- I mean, how dare you drag me down into this disgusting, moldy and vile cellar? It rots of vermin down here! You bumbling idiot!"
Gnawdwell let out a croak, trying to...laugh, though it was a miserable attempt. Kerillian was startled by the croak, making her wonder if Gnawdwell was just a toad in disguise. The two continued to walk up and out of the cellar, but as they left, the blackfur just had one thing left to ask.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Hmm? Oh, um. No reason, just trying...to be...friendly."
Lies.
Let's not ruin our relationship with her already, please.
Gnawdwell nodded, despite knowing it was a lie, but what could he do? Ruin their relationship already, in less than a few minutes?
Welp, let's go find Arthur and fix this.
Annnd that's what you said last time.
"It'll work this time, Carnage!"
Gnawdwell spun his head around, staring at Kerillian's confused expression, though she couldn't question him about his sudden outburst, probably because he started running off into the distance.
How are we going to find him?
Shouldn't be too hard to sniff out the only rat in Altdorf.
Giant rat.
...Sure.
"Ikit-Ikit!"
Ikit's sudden trance was broken by his master's voice, his metal frame vigorously working to maintain his body to keep him alive.
"Gnawdwell has betrayed the Council Of Thirteenth! You must-must hunt him down along with the scraps of Mors-rats.!"
Ikit was confused, despite being one of the best thinkers and inventors in skavendom, he hadn't anticipated Clan Mors to fall, much less with Gnawdwell in the unholy Council. But that didn't matter now, for Ikit had a new job: To hunt down and bring the traitor down to his knees, and make him plead for his life, only for the egomaniacal tinker-rat to kill him in the middle of his begging, for none betray the Council without consequences!
"Yes-yes, glorious Morskittar, I bring-hunt traitorous Gnawdwell of the second set, to face his crimes against all of skavendom!"
"Excellent-good! Mors-rats are already making their way-move towards Altdorf, where the traitors are being held."
The mad tinker-rat's ears ruffled when his master mentioned "traitors", indicated there was more than just one, proving this to be another chance to impress his master, and gain almighty fame for Ikit! Without making a sound, Morskittar dismissed the tinker rat, who went off to form his dreaded army of foul machinations, nercomatons, and their horrifyingly good ranged weaponry. The warlock engineer enjoyed the constant grinding of the machines, each being prepared for war, which is something Ikit has been itching to get back into, almost if it was more of a hobby than a tragedy. One thing was certain in the mad tinker-rat's mind: He was going to succeed, and succeed he will!
Gnawdwell, why must you do this to yourself?
Gnawdwell jumped out the window of a two-story building, hitting the ground with a solid thud, and a snap as he broke one of his bones.
Because. Yes.
Under his arms, he carried a keg filled with ale, but acquiring didn't prove easy. It was trivial, though those angry screams sounded horrible, Gnawdwell didn't mind and silently dashed away from the scene of the crime.
Yes, this is definitely how we'll win Arthur back! By drinking!
Really?
Do you know what sarcasm is?
Gnawdwell politely asked Carnage in a very polite way to mind his business, which was in a way, offensive. Despite his little detour off into a noble's house, he really was following his son's scent, as weird that may be, but nothing's weird for an eight-foot rat with an alien living inside his body, though.
It's best we get rid of the damn ale, else he sees us as drunken bast-
SHSHSH.
Without warning, the keg exploded in the blackfur's grasp, covering him in the keg's contents. He liked drinking the stuff, but he sure didn't like when it got into his damn fur.
"Goddammit, Carnage! WHAT THE HELL MAN?!"
By the Gods, are you an alcoholic? Who would've thunk it?
"EAT MY FURRY BEHIND!"
We're in public.
Some brave souls haven't yet left the street Gnawdwell was in, and they regretted that decision as soon as the unholy words were spoken.
It's fine.
Sensing the tension of being a giant rat, and also saying, "Eat my furry behind", caused the black rat to go off and do something else, like finding his son. Gnawdwell used a technique he personally called...
'I'm lazy as all hell so let my buddy Carnage do all the work because I'm a major donkey.' technique.
Exactly, now swing faster.
The blackfur swung from rooftop to rooftop, occasionally traumatizing a poor innocent child with his terrifying smile. That, and because he was a giant red monster made out of sludge.
Oof, that kids gonna have nightmares.
We can fix that, just swing back a bit and we'll tear out the part of his brain that makes him scared.
Forget I even said anything.
TURN AROUND, LET'S FIX HIM IF YOU'RE SO WORRIED!
The two argued with such fervor, they probably would've been able to go through several wars without noticing, until something big and hard stopped them. It is called: A house.
This is all your damn fault! If you paid attention to where we were going instead of arguing with me, this would have never happened!
This is my fault? You were the one who even started this argument, you piece of crap!
On the inside, an epic battle was raging in Gnawdwell's mind, on the outside, however...It just seemed like he was having a stroke, which the two observers didn't care for at all. Breaking into an occupied house on accident is hard to do unless an idiot was involved, in this case, there were two idiots.
I'm going to eat your-
DON'T YOU FINISH THAT THOUGHT.
Fortunately for the occupants in the house, Gnawdwell just continued to spazz out on the floor until he fell out through the giant hole in the wall he made himself, so that's a bonus.
Unfortunately, he landed in a massive crowd of people. He swore he could hear the screams of overprivileged nobles as the entire crowd immediately dispersed, screaming about a giant red monster in the middle of the street.
Great, just...great. I'm so happy you're my host.
SEE?! I'M THE BEST!
If only you weren't so damn...forget it.
Gnawdwell jolted upright, the red sludge retracting back into his body, enabling him to slink away from the onlookers, merging into the shadows of the alley he wandered into.
Why do you do this? Do you enjoy making other people's a literal hell?
"I don't know, maybe?"
THAT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION.
"Wh- How was I supposed to know?!"
WE SHARE THE SAME BODY, YOU IDIOT!
The black rat shrugged off the mental conservation, just adding it to the pile of unfinished talks he had with Carnage, which he promised to talk about, but never did. The two walked in silence, all that was exchanged between them was the infrequent grunts of Carnage messing around in his host's mind.
After a while, Gnawdwell finally found his way out of the miserable, dank, and repulsive alleyways, though they did remind him of Clan Mors, except there no mounds of corpses to be found. All this time he was following Arthur's scent, though he probably could've done it more stealthily, he didn't care now though, because now he was close, he could practically...smell him.
A sudden laugh came from around the corner of the exit, making Gnawdwell curious as to how someone can laugh at a time like this? Perhaps he was projecting, but again, he didn't care. Carnage stayed silent even as Gnawdwell peeked around the corner of the exit, finally seeing who it was, or better yet, they.
Happy. Yes, that's what he felt, that's honestly what he felt in the moment of seeing Arthur on the infamous Balthasar Gelt's back, the two conserving and laughing as if the world wasn't falling apart around them. No, he wasn't just happy, he was overjoyed! How couldn't he be? He was, is, elated to see his son treating the man like his...father. He couldn't feel betrayed, he didn't have the privilege nor the right to be. He abandoned him in his time of need, he left him to die in the world. Maybe this was his son's way of getting back at him, to make him feel...pain.
The black rat was so tied up in his thoughts, he hadn't realized the two had vanished into a large, box-like structure, Gnawdwell was certain it was not a house, as several guards protected the entryway, and some were posted on the rooftop of the building. Inspecting his surroundings, he noticed the five idiots he met earlier were here as well, though two were quite drunk.
Alright, I have a-
Nonono, the last time you had a plan, we nearly died. In fact, nearly all of your plans either lead us into certain death or half-certain death.
Could you let me finish?
You can talk but I won't be listening.
Gnawdwell sighed, refusing to speak to Carnage as if he was a mere child. Instead, he had a brilliant idea, an idea so foolproof, it couldn't fail!
Nono, I just saw it appear, you can't hide it from me, I know what it is! THIS IS STUPID, PLEASE STOP.
No.
The black rat strutted out of the alleyway, revealing himself to the guards, with a smug grin on his face as he approached the two guards positioned at the entryway.
"Hello, good sirs!"
"What the goddamn fu-"
"Watch your language, dear sir, I am the great...uh, Arthur!"
Gnawdwell attempted to make his voice high pitched like his son's, but sadly, it only ended up sounding like a record being scratched by several claws. He also tried to become shorter by...ducking down to the ground, but it just looked like he broke his back and had a floppy spine.
What the hell? Why? WHY?
"E-erm, I don't think- but he just-"
The two guards stood baffled as Gnawdwell's body flopped around, his voice sounding like children were sent to hell too early.
"NO, TIS I, THE REAL ARTHUR!"
"This is- Wha-..."
"Wait, hold up, I'm getting a signal."
It all happened so sudden for the guards, with Gnawdwell snapping his spine back to its usual state, while he smashed their heads together, hopefully only knocking them out for a few hours.
"...If they're dead, I want my lawyer."
PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT IS UNHOLY AND HOLY, STOP SPEAKING IN THAT VOICE.
"Oi, what's going on down 'dere?!"
"Oh sh- I mean, EVERYTHING'S FOINE, NOTHING OUT OF PLACE, INNIT?"
The blackfur attempted to replicate the speech of reiklanders, but sadly, it sounded a tad out of place.
"Why are you speaking like a damn noble? Get back to work, you idiot!"
"Oh, sure! I'z gonna go get some drinks first, eh?"
"Wha- No, that's not yer job!"
"Blueberries, strawberries, wheat, and drugs! They're all the same to me'z! Anyho'z, I doubt any of ye could marry my large crate of thunder droppings."
What? What are you saying? Have you snapped? Are you broken? HELLO?!
Ignoring the roof guard's commands and various insults, he proceeded to open the door, and simply walk in as if nothing was wrong.
"But how doe this relate to me, and why is HE so-"
Ah crap, here we go again.
In the center of the room was a large, square table surrounded by various battle-scarred generals and such, with several soldiers at attention. He noticed the five infamous shaven hunters scattered around the room, and despite their uncaring expressions, he knew they were listening intently to what was being said.
At the other side of the table sat Arthur in a small chair, with Balthasar standing beside him. Everyone's gaze was on the blackfur, the room's atmosphere filled with such hostility and fear, he could choke on it. Balthasar was the first one to break the eerie silence filling the room, though he spoke carefully, it almost seemed like he didn't want to upset him. Amusing.
"Ahem, if you don't mind me asking, why and how did you find us?"
"I came looking for someone, you might've heard of him, no?"
Arthur let out an audible groan, while simultaneously slumping back in his chair as a display of annoyance.
"But, it seems like you are in need of help, Gelt."
"What could ever give you that idea?"
"Yes, I wonder what could give me that idea…"
The black rat lumbered over to the table, and with further inspection, there was a map splayed out on the surface, along with several red and black flags surrounding a single model of a city that was supposed to look like Altdorf. If only the model wasn't in the shape of a box.
"Is this supposed to be a failed attempt for planning out a battle? My grandfather can do better than this, and I k- I mean, he's dead!"
"Wait, what? You killed your own-"
"Let's not talk about that right now."
Gnawdwell, in complete silence, picked up one of the black flags, and on each side of the loose paper was a symbol of a rat with two bulging, bloodshot eyes.
"Ah, goddammit."
I knew this was going to bite us in the furry rear sooner or later!
"Shhh, it's better if we don't tell them."
What if they already know?
"Well, I guess it's my fault for leading them here, huh?"
What were you thinking? We could've just taken the warprail without making a big fuss, not deal with this horde of ravenous idiots, and be here at the same time! I love killing things, but sometimes you just make it...take too much effort.
"It's not my fault, how was I supposed to know once I abdicated that they turned on me like...rats? Also, it's not my fault I had to kill that damn abomination, I was frustrated, alright?! Now leave me alone, goddammit!"
Wait a minute...please, tell me you didn't say any of that out loud. Please.
"I- Oh."
Nearly everyone in the damn room was confused, or terrified of what the hell he was talking about, even Kerillian became confused about what the hell he was talking about.
"Everything that I just said, ignore it! It's just a side effect of my, uhhh...insanity..?"
"It seems, you know quite a lot about this, Gnawdwell. Would you care explaining how?"
"Uh, no not really."
The door locked behind Gnawdwell as he tried to escape his situation, with several soldiers blocking said door.
For god's sake, you're an idiot!
"Goddammit, I never should have followed the smell of my own blood and...lavender? Wait...is my son gay?
"HOW IS THAT EVEN RELEVANT RIGHT NOW?!"
Arthur had attempted to sock Gnawdwell in the face, but sadly, he fell out of his chair in pure frustration before he could. Despite having several options of escape, Gnawdwell decided it was best to just explain than it was to fight the entirety of Altdorf. If they annoyed him, well...there was always room in his stomach for another meal.
Are You Braindead?
"Incorrect-wrong! Fix-repair tank!"
Several apprentice engineers scrambled to gather their instruments to repair the leaking tank, which contained volatile warpfire inside. One engineer-rat was smart enough to take cover, while the others attempted to prevent the cursed device from exploding, unfortunately, they weren't successful. An explosion of green flames and ash erupted in the room, killing the apprentice engineers in an instant, even the one who took cover.
"Fools!"
The insane engineer berated his dead apprentices, with his insults only seeming to become more vile and disturbing. When he heard nothing else come from the room, he quickly left, not wanting to be blamed for their deaths, after all, his pride was more important than their lives. The warlock engineer hurriedly went back to hi nest-burrow, though it acted more like his personal laboratory than anything. He mumbled to himself as shouts were thrown across the cave-warrens alerting other rats of the demises of the apprentice engineers, though he could care less as he unraveled a massive blueprint over a table.
"Close-near."
The engineer-rat spent hours and hours scribbling on the blueprint, attempting to find a way to make his magnificent device work, but yet it was near impossible, maybe even incomprehensible! The engineer would've spent another year working on the blueprint if it weren't for the sudden knock at the opening of his lab. Begrudgingly, the engineer moved his rather heavy bulk, though most of it was a hard metal suit that encased his soft, supple flesh, and lumbered towards the door rather awkwardly. He made sure to scare the living hell out of the rat who dared disturb him in his spare time.
"I-Ik- AH!"
The engineer snapped his jaws, stopping inches away from the clanrats face, his metal fangs looking particularly sharp. The poor clanrat stumbled backward, falling on his bosom.
"What-need do you want? Speak before I end-kill you, fool!'
"L-lord M-Morskittar w-wishes to see you-you..."
The engineer wasn't particularly happy, as evident by the fact he burned the clanrat alive with his portable warpfire thrower that was inserted into his metallic arm. Screams of agony came from the clanrat, though the engineer paid no heed for its pleas of help, for he could only wonder why Morskittar wished to see him, especially since his lord had been busy with...scheming.
"...Where-find is Morskittar, cla-"
The warlock looked down, only to see the clanrats charred body as the green flames continued to devour his corpse.
"...I don't-not need your assistance anyway! I can find-search for him by myself, yes-yes!"
The insane scholar wandered the caverns, his unstable state thinking up of new ways to torture, and slaughter his foes, no matter how experimental they were.
"Mend-meld ratling on-attach to abomination! Make-use monster good…"
It was rather odd to see the engineer out of his lab, much less wandering aimlessly in the tunnel-warrens, but none dared to question him, lest they are burned alive like the last one who disturbed him. Fortunately, the warlock was able to find a fool that looked fairly high ranked among the groups of clanrats, so he promptly asked for directions. By walking over to said rat, and strangling him with his metallic five-pronged claw that replaced one of his hands, where the warpfire thrower was conveniently placed in the palm of the claw, with some warpfire trickling out of the barrel, burning the terrified rat's fur.
"Where-find Morskittar, skavenslave?"
The rat didn't seem too pleased about being insulted, but he gave the insane engineer what he wanted, which prompted him to let go of the "skavenslave" and continue on his merry way to Morskittar's chambers. It was all just another day in Skavenblight.
"A-alright, come on…"
Arthur clutched Gnawdwell's back, gripping his black furs in an attempt to get him off the ground. Not surprisingly, he failed miserably. The black fur continued his mental breakdown, crying like there was no tomorrow.
"Come on...we have to get to the others. You already had well enough time to cry it out."
Arthur attempted several more times to lift Gnawdwell off the ground, though all of them were in vain, in the end, Arthur gave up his futile crusade, deciding to sit by the Warlord until his "little" session to himself ended. While the humongous rat continued sobbing on the cold ground, Arthur felt a form of...pity for him, it seemed so out of character for a psychopath like Gnawdwell to just seemingly burst out crying. Even after seeing everything Gnawdwell was and is capable of, and everything he read about his kind, his behavior vastly differed from the regular ol' plague-riddled rats. He exhibited emotions other than hate, and...hate, it was obvious he was his father, even if he had mood swings that could rival the unpredictability of life itself.
"Gnawdwell, come on...let's go...please..?"
"Alright, fine. Let's go."
"W-what?"
"I said, let's go!"
The black rat rose from up from the ground, picking up the fleeing Arthur, trying to make an attempt at escaping his grasp.
"Come to papa!"
"NOT LIKE THIS!"
What the hell am I witnessing?
Gnawdwell snatched up Arthur in one fell swoop, hanging him over his back while they both once again ran through the forest like a couple of barbarians.
"O-oh god, I feel like vomiting..!"
"Don't you dare vomit on me, this fur has been perfectly trashed for at least a few hundred years."
"W-wait, that makes no s-sense…"
The wood elf had trouble catching up with the psychopath, despite his large bulk, he was an expert at hiding in even plain sight. Most of the time, she had to rely on Arthur to find the damned black rat. Probably because he was screaming the entire time he was on Gnawdwell's back.
"This is the strangest family I've ever met in my life..."
"OOOOOOOOOOOO, I'm a dwarven lad with a hearty belly that thirsts for ale!"
"Ergh, you may not be a dwarf, but you sure as hell drink like o-"
Arthur projectile vomited off of Gnawdwell's back, hitting several bushes and trees as he continued to dash through the forest. Though he was oblivious to this, he accidentally vomited on the pursuing Kerillian, who was all the much too happy to voice her displeasure.
"By the saints of the fu-"
"LANGUAGE!"
The wood elf turned to where she heard the rat's voice and promptly shouted her response back. What she said doesn't bear repeating.
"What…"
"Oh don't worry about it, you just accidentally caught a spy."
"I-I did..? Y-yay!"
Arthur flailed around on Gnawdwell's back, recovering from his sudden need to regurgitate what he ate a few hours earlier. Gnawdwell seemed unfazed by his son's instant projectile vomit a few minutes earlier.
"C-can we stop..?"
"You said we had to go, so we're going!"
Arthur was too mentally exhausted to argue with his father, much less even make a rebuttal to his stupid reasoning.
You two are the physical embodiment of stupidity.
You...don't think...I know that already..?
"What in the nine realms of heresy are those three idiots doing?"
Victor paced around in the huge, narrow ravine, while the mercenaries they had met promptly left, not wanting to be accused of heresy for carrying their "goods".
"Why are you asking me? I've not a clue where they went!"
Markus placed himself down on a mediocre sized rock, using it as a chair to rest his sore legs, whilst placing his scabbard next to him on the ground. Bardin, on the other hand, seemed to be agitated by something, as the stouty dwarf stared deep into the forest that laid upon the sides of the ravine, barely outside of the massive gorge. At that moment, Bardin noticed something moving in the shrubbery, the trees seemingly cowering from...something.
"Oh, for Grimnir's and my sake…"
"Hmm? What is it, Bardin?"
Markus didn't understand the dwarf's plight, though what Bardin shouted next was a good indicator as to what he was worried about.
"Hide, wazzocks! We've got ourselves some vermin stalking the forests!"
"Bardin, you know I don't know what the hell those words mean!"
Victor wasn't as dimwitted as Markus was, being able to understand what the dwarf was saying.
"It means to prepare yourself, Kruber! We're not alone."
"Well, what in the blazes is it?"
"Ask the dwarf, he's the one who probably saw the bloody thing!"
The ground shook, as whatever abomination hid in the deep forest approached nearer, with guttural roars occasionally making it out of the trees.
"Yo, wassup, Gna-"
"FOR SIGMAR'S SAKE, SHOOT THE BLOODY THING TO BITS!"
"W-wait...WHAT?!"
"Goddammit, here we go again."
Victor took no time checking if what he was shooting at was friend or foe, he just kept firing each pistol that he took off his bandolier, in a seemingly never-ending onslaught of gunpowder and bullets.
"Oh god, make it end!"
Gnawdwell stood idly, using his claws as toothpicks to get rid of some unwanted flesh in his fangs, though Victor's firing was starting to become an annoyance, as the witch hunter had been starting to get more accurate with his shots.
"Stop shooting, for Taal's sake!"
"Is it dead?!"
Gnawdwell gently, and cautiously put down Arthur, who now smelt of gunpowder, and for some reason, blood. The white rat was seemingly traumatized, though Gnawdwell couldn't find out why.
"Wha- Oh, it's you."
"Really? That's all you have to say?"
The various holes in Gnawdwell didn't make for a great conversation starter, nor did they help Arthur's already shattered sanity.
"...You're all damn idiots."
"I'm not the one who got stuck in a damn chimney!"
"WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT?"
"I mean, a couple of tankards and…"
Arthur trembled, curling up into a ball while ash and the leftover sparks of Victor's pistol dotted his fur, it didn't help either that he was covered in Gnawdwell's blood from the shooting.
So, um...are you alright?
Oh, yes, I'm just CHIPPER.
Sure doesn't sound like it.
You know, sometimes...I wish I just had a dad, that didn't care for me.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, THAT'S MY ALE!"
I think I agree with you.
"Get yer grubby paws off of that bottle! I've been saving that ever since I left my damn hold, you filthy vermin!"
You've been awfully quiet these past few hours...or has it been days?
I think at least a day.
That's not what I wanted answered.
Alright, fine. So what if I've been quiet? I'm trying to process the fact that psycho over there holds another...me inside of him.
So?
It...feels so weird. It doesn't help that he's your damn father either.
Lucky us.
Bardin and Gnawdwell continued arguing for what seemed like an eternity, with Victor and Markus not even bothering with the absurd conflict, as both sides were determined to drink that good ol' bottle of ale.
"COULD YOU TWO STOP YOUR ARGUING FOR ONE DAMN SECOND?! I CAN HEAR YOUR WHINING AND COMPLAINING FROM HALFWAY ACROSS THE WORLD!"
That made the two shut up, though they stilled look at each other with glares of contempt, with a hint of murder added in.
"By the Pale Queen, you two are the friendliest, yet the stupidest dwarf and rat I've met!"
"He was trying to drink my bloody ale, wutelgi!"
"Jokes on you, I already drank it!"
Kerillian and Bardin looked over to Gnawdwell, who was eating the entirety of the bottle, not just drinking the ale.
"...We're going back to Altdorf."
"OH, THANK SIGMAR."
"For once, elf, we are in agreement."
"I...Please."
Gnawdwell grumbled to himself, though he reluctantly agreed with them.
"What in the blazes happened to the other rat?"
"Erm, nothing! Absolutely nothing happened."
Gnawdwell licked his lips, as another bottle of ale was magically gone from Bardin's backpack.
"The damn witch hunter shot me nearly a dozen or so times, I ain't got proof, as it's already gone."
"Well, why the hell would you shoot him? He's a rat, sure, but goddammit, he can't die! Shooting him is just a waste of ammo!"
"Well...shut up! It was an accident!"
"Can we just forget it, and return back to the umgi city?"
"Oh gods, you know its bad when the dwarf says 'forget it'."
Bardin was already stomping off to Altdorf, not waiting for anyone else to join him. Though his stunty stature didn't help with his speed.
"Let's just...ok, black fur, you pick up Arthur and follow us, but I'll keep my damn eye on you if you do anything shady."
"Glublubburg."
"...What?"
"Forget it, he drank Bugman's."
Despite being almost knockout wasted, Gnawdwell was barely able to manage to pick up Arthur, while the others started to group up, once again traveling back to Altdorf after seeing enough mayhem and chaos.
Life is...just...not good right now.
I hate everything and everyone.
I want Balthasar.
At least he- Wait, he did hurt us, but that was purely just to knock us out.
What are you talking about?
What I'm trying to say, at least he didn't try to kill us when he first met us!
"OOOOOOOOO, Glubgublgugbagh."
"Amazing, a new dwarven language."
"Watch yer tongue, elf!"
...I want a hug.
We all want hugs.
"So, elf, where the hell did you wander off to, eh?"
Bardin walked alongside Victor and Markus, preferring to stay closer together than aimlessly wandering through the forest, though Kerillian followed behind them, right next to Gnawdwell's drunken state.
"I...er, was just scouting out the forest for any vermin, that's all."
The three turned around, catching a whiff of something...unpleasant.
"Blegh! It smells like you've found some, though I wonder if they were the same ones we're seeing right now…"
She scoffed, though she did move away from them ever so slightly. Arthur was able to maneuver Gnawdwell's giant, furry body, being able to comfortably sit on his shoulders like a bird perching on a branch.
"Victor's right, you do smell very...not nice. And that's coming from a rat that slept in the sewers of Altdorf!"
Arthur made finger guns with his hands, pointing them at Kerillian as he said that. The gesture didn't exactly comfort her.
"Ah, yes, you have slept in the sewers, haven't you?"
"I mean-"
"Bluhguhgubglbu."
Arthur lightly smacked Gnawdwell on the head, making him produce even more drunken noises, which the others found worrying.
"Ahem, as I was saying. Sleeping in sewers isn't exactly something I'd consider luxurious, but it does beat sleeping in the dark, dank streets."
"But what about your dignity? Your pride?"
"Victor, no offense, but not everyone can be an elite crack team of five, taking down skaven strongholds and breaking up verminous plans left and right."
"Ahaha, our reputation precedes us, grimgi!"
"You know about our heroic deeds, Arthur?"
Gnawdwell burped at the mention of 'heroic deeds', almost as if he disagreed with the notion.
"Not until a few minutes ago."
"What do you mean, rat?"
Arthur shook his body, trying his best to make himself comfortable on the Warlord's back.
"Gnawdwell...talked to me."
"Oho, I'm surprised you don't have a knife in yer back, vermin."
Arthur thought Bardin joked, though the dwarf seemed very sincere.
"The black one speaks? How surprising! Hopefully, he doesn't kill us all in the process."
"No...I doubt he'll kill you all."
The four shot a sharp glare at Arthur, completely disagreeing with him in every way possible.
"We totally believe that, Arthur…"
"The only time I trust a raki to do something, it's to die!"
Bardin emphasized his statement by swinging his ax haphazardly, with no sense of precaution.
"I'll have to agree with the dwarf on this one. No offense, Arthur."
Arthur did take offense at Markus's agreement with Bardin, though he wasn't surprised.
"...What do we do at Altdorf?"
"We? There is no 'we', rat. The only reason we came out here was so you wouldn't kill yourself like the idiot you are."
Arthur was a bit taken aback by Victor's sudden aggression towards him, as the witch hunter had only made tiny remarks at him until now.
"Since when did you remember you're supposed to purge chaos taint, Victor?"
Victor didn't give Kerillian the pleasure of a response, preferring to stay silent than be berated for the entire walk back to the human city.
"Glubugb, ghubhugb?"
I feel like his brain is permanently damaged at this point.
Trust me, You aren't the first.
Arthur petted Gnawdwell's head like an owner would to his precious dog, with Gnawdwell still blurting out drunken nonsense every few minutes.
"There, there...you'll get over it soon."
Ha! Yea right!
Skavenblight. A horrid Under-City containing some of the vilest and ruthless ratmen in the entirety of the Under-Empire, though all of them shared their madness and insanity, there was one warlock engineer that surpassed the normal limits of insanity, his madness was unrivaled, one who was so far gone he only longs to complete his one dream: The construction of the first atomic bomb.
...I'm lost.
The warlock engineer appeared to have gotten himself lost in the arrays of tunnels, despite having traversed the caverns millions of times in his life. The warlock meandered around the tunnels, trying his best to look like he knew what he was doing whenever other underlings walked by, just to prove his vast superiority. Despite his constant misgivings, the engineer had been fortunate, in that Morskittar's chambers was nearby, and was able to find them somewhat easily. As the engineer opened the doors that were far too large to open by a normal rat, he could already sense the displeasure and disgust from his master, who didn't seem very keen on him being late.
"What-what? That isn't possible! I SAID SO!"
The engineer reluctantly waddled into the room, seeing his master covered in the same metal frame that covered his own body. Morskittar, noticing his right-hand suddenly appearing out of nowhere, decided to take action.
"Ikit Claw-Claw, you fool! Where have you been-staying?"
"O' glorious Morskittar, me-me foolish intellect managed to get me-me lost in the vast tunnels of your marvelous Under-City."
"Bah! It doesn't matter! Clan Mors has-has fallen!"
"What."
What.
"Woah, I never realized just how large the walls were..."
"The finest engineering in the land, rat lad!"
"What did you say, umgi?"
"O-oh, nothing…"
Bardin glared at Markus, though his size didn't help in intimidating him.
"Stop fooling around, lumberfoots, they're letting us in."
"Ratbubgug."
"Thank you so much, for contributing to this conservation!"
"Flu bug."
The group stared at Gnawdwell as if he had a few screws loose, and they wouldn't be wrong. Before Gnawdwell could kill them with a flu bug, the gates came crashing open, making a thunderous impact as the wooden and metal doors flung open. As they returned back to the safe confines of Altdorf, the guardsmen stared at the weird tower of rats following the four elite skaven hunters.
"Everything's fine, everything's-"
"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
"Can you keep that beast muzzled? He's making my ears bleed!"
"I'M THE ONE ON TOP OF HIM!"
Arthur tried to wrestle Gnawdwell in an attempt to clamp his mouth shut, yet for some odd reason, he was overpowered immediately. Perhaps fighting a creature double his height, and one that is extremely strong and resilient had something to do with it.
"Here, I have a splendid idea! I call it, shoot the damn rat in the head!"
"Wait, no, I just cleaned this damn coa-"
Victor didn't wait for Kerillian to get away from Gnawdwell's head suddenly exploding, though Arthur was probably the most shocked as the explosion nearly blew off...his treasures.
"OH GODS, WHY?!"
The blackfur's blood splattered all over Arthur's front side of his body, and some even managed to launch over to Kerillian, coating her in some of the rat's blood.
"For…"
Arthur slid off of Gnawdwell's back, which didn't prove really hard, as the blood acted as a lubricant.
"Y-y-y-y...You just killed my father!"
"I doubt it, raki."
The headless corpse stumbled backward, its neck craning, at least what was left of it, to Arthur. He didn't really feel like eating afterward, as the stump that was once Gnawdwell's head, started to bubble around the wound, regrowing flesh and bone as if they were never gone.
"By Taal, I'm going to hurl…"
"Hold it in, umgi! Cause the rat ain't done yet."
Like a dwarf assembling a gun forged in a dwarven hold, the newly formed head made several curious noises, such as cracking and popping bones that were just gone a few seconds ago.
H-hey, h-horrible question right now but...c-can we do that..?
Heeey, why not try it out? Let's have the witch hunter shoot us in the head next!
On s-s-second thought, n-nevermind…
GOOD.
"Shield yer eyes, it's an abomination. Oh, wait no, it's just a rat."
Gnawdwell twisted his neck around, making sure his newly made head was to his standards.
"...I just died, and I'm still feeling the effects of a hangover."
"T-that's what you're worried about?"
The blackfur shrugged nonchalantly as if this was just another day in his life, which was probably true.
"I-I-I-I-I…"
"Alright, let's go!"
"I need to find a nice, quiet place soon, else the dwarf might get some distasteful hurl in his beard."
"Do it on the elf! She's wearing so much green, we'll barely notice it!"
Gnawdwell and the three stooges continued on their merry way, leaving behind Kerillian and Arthur behind to contemplate on what just happened.
"Are you sure you're his son?"
"...Sadly, yes."
"I pity you, Arthur. I really do."
HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK WE FEEL?
Arthur couldn't help but just lazily agree with his venomous companion, his father was a true piece of work, and has probably traumatized him more in three days than Arthur has in the span of years.
"I...m-miss Balthasar."
Arthur felt the wood elf's gaze on him, ignoring his blood soak shirt and white fur, it was almost like she felt bad for him, or perhaps it was a twisted form of hate?
"If you miss the damned masked bugger so much, then why don't you go look for 'im?"
"I don't know where he- Oh, there he is."
Arthur didn't know how much he could miss someone in his life, but seeing that familiar mask brought joy to him! The golden masked man was followed by the three stooges, though Gnawdwell was nowhere to be found, almost as if he just vanished.
"Wow, a real coincidence, hmm?"
"Oh, hush, elf."
Balthasar gave Kerillian a look of contempt, with which she responded by a not so polite gesture, it did give Markus and Bardin a hearty laugh, though.
"Balthasar! Oh how I've-"
"FEED US."
You know what, this is fine.
"...What?"
Even with a golden mask on his face, Balthasar still gave Arthur a look of disappointment.
"Nevermind that! I'm just so ha-"
Bardin let out a thunderous burp, interrupting Arthur once again.
"...Ahem, what I meant to say wa-"
Do you think rats taste like beef?
For the love of everything unholy, and holy, stop interrupting me.
"A-anyway, what I JUST want to say i-"
"JUST SPIT IT OUT, RAT!"
Balthasar couldn't help but put his face in his hands, shielding him from the absurdity of the attempted conservation.
"WHAT I WANT TO SAY IS, I AM REALLY GLAD TO SEE YOU! GODS!"
Arthur was finally able to greet Balthasar, despite Venom's and the others constant interruptions. Despite how awkward it had become, Balthasar still found it in to hug the three-foot rat, Arthur slowly found that he felt more...accepted by Balthasar than Gnawdwell. At least he had the decency to not get shot in the head every day, and bleed on him constantly.
"So, how was your trip with your...your...f-father?"
The others snickered at the idea of a skaven having a "caring" father, even Kerillian joined in occasionally with a snicker of her own.
"I've learned two things. One, he's crazily insane. Two, he's insanely crazy."
Without making a single sound, Bardin, Markus, and Victor promptly left, considering the job a finished one and going to a nearby bar to "refresh" themselves, though Victor had other things to do besides waste time becoming...inebriated. Kerillian was the only one who stayed behind, though Arthur didn't know why.
"There's more, isn't there?"
"So what if there is? What do you care? He's just a crazy megalomaniac who just happens to be Arthu- I mean, my father."
WAIT A MINUTE, THAT ISN'T FAIR!
AND YOUR FATHER'S A PSYCHOPATH.
Balthasar seemed confused by the sudden change of Arthur's voice but disregarded it as nothing more than a strange creature living inside of his body.
"I care, Arthur, because he's your father, an-"
"So what? For all I care, he could drop dead in front of me and I wouldn't mind! Oh, wait, he already has!"
"Tell me, Arthur, what do you truly know about him? Are you judging him because of the past, or the present? Cause to me, it really feels like you're ripping him a new one on his past deeds."
"Wha- No, that's not true!"
Arthur found Venom's attempt at arguing amusing, taking joy in the fact he couldn't make a proper argument. And Venom did have access to his memories, even if he didn't consent to that aspect of sharing his body with the black goo.
"He's..."
"He's what? Psychotic? Insane? Mad? Crazy? Of course he is, and I probably would be too in his position, but instead of explaining it to you, Arthur, think back to what your father said to you as to why he was here. Just...think."
The two body-sharers took a minute to think back on what their insane psychotic father bothered to mention, much less explain. Kerillian leaned up against a nearby wall of a house, looking off into the distance, though she still listened intently to the conservation. She did try to wipe off the blood off her fur coat, but it is rather hard to get blood out of anything without the proper instruments.
"I- Let's talk about this later, p-please..?"
Despite what it seemed like, Arthur was deeply disturbed about Venom's sudden...outburst, as his companion had never done that before, much less even speak to anyone else but him, but right now, he just wanted the conservation to end, and for them to stop talking about his father.
"Fine, right now though, we have to go somewhere."
"Oh, o-ok...why and where, though?"
"I've accrued several reports of something going on in the outskirts of the city, and I'm one hundred percent sure it's your father's handiwork, but I don't know what it is. Hence, a meeting has been called."
Arthur nodded, half-heartedly listening to Balthasar explain their destination, he couldn't help but just keep thinking about how truly disturbed he was by Gnawdwell's presence, the very thought of him being his father...nearly made him vomit in disgust. How could someone be so lifeless? So cruel? A part of Arthur wished that this was all a lie, that the psychotic blackfur was just a liar, a really talented liar.
"Ok…"
Balthasar gently raised Arthur onto his shoulders, effectively carrying the tiny rat.
"Good."
What are we doing here?
Whats it look like?
Gnawdwell laid slumped against a moist, wooden wall, finding it more comfortable than the stone cold floor. Fortunately, Gnawdwell had found a tavern not far from the gates to Altdorf, and it wasn't particularly hard to vacate the building with his…"charming" personality.
Stop drinking this swill, for god's sake! It's not even the good stuff!
Since when did you care what I shove down my gullet?
Why are you so insufferable to be with?
I...I guess it's in my blood. Let's hope it's not hereditary.
The rat promptly took another swig from the tankard in his hand, with a keg nearby at all times just in case he wanted to further drown out his emotions. The blackfur let out a long sigh, one that echoed throughout the cellar, completely devoid of life, except for himself of course.
You've...felt it, right..?
Felt what, Gnawdwell? Arthur's constant discomfort around you?
No- Oh, that's actually...correct.
Carnage scoffed at his partner, even with nearly drinking an entire keg in less than a few minutes, he still felt like...himself, which was something he did not want to be right now.
You can't force these things, you idiot. He probably just has to both process and deal with the fact your not only a criminally insane murderer, he's also letting another criminally insane murderer into his body as well.
Gnawdwell laughed, though he had forgotten to talk more about Carnage during his and Arthur's little talk out in the woods, he just deemed it not important enough to disturb his son further. Or maybe that was a lie that he repeated to himself, like everything else in his life.
How...sad.
What is?
I find it funny, that we both could take on a literal army, and still come out on top...but yet when it comes to dealing with anything that needs even the slightest bit of emotion, we completely and utterly...fail.
Carnage stayed silent, as Gnawdwell continued to drink from his tankard, and periodically refill it from time to time.
"I thought I smelt the scent of someone drinking away their troubles, though I didn't expect it to be you...maybe that's why on the way here there was a slight smell of death!"
God- Why the hell is she here?!
Ohwee, I wonder why. It's not like you threatened to kill everyone in the damn tavern if they didn't leave. Oh, and they probably also reported you to the damn authorities, or they just came running out screaming a giant rat was here. Take your pick.
Despite the number of obstacles between them, Gnawdwell could see the smug elf obviously taking satisfaction in the fact she found the blackfur, though he felt there was more to this than he thought. Kerillian stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for a response.
"What do you want, elf? And if you want something to drink, you came to the wrong place."
"None of the sort, lumberfoot. Though I worry about your already horribly maintained body."
"Don't you have something else to do? Besides bore me to sleep with your constant insults?"
Now you're just being an as-
Shush.
Kerillian stared at Gnawdwell just laying down on the floor, his back against the wall, with several liquor stains on both his shirt and fur.
"The only person I've seen drink this much was Bardin, and I'm pretty sure you already surpassed him."
"Ohoho, you think?"
Even when he spoke, he took another drink from his tankard, sometimes not waiting for the keg to fully fill his instrument of liver failure.
"So, what do you want from me? Besides my death, of course."
"I, unfortunately, wanted to ask you something, if you could stop wasting your time drinking yourself to death."
It's not a waste of time, this is my therapy session!
Sometimes, I feel like we just exist to amuse someone else in the world.
The hell you talking about? You know what, forget it.
Gnawdwell shifted around in his semi-comfortable position, finally setting down his tankard to actually talk to the wood elf. Kerillian leaned up against the wall that Gnawdwell used as a support for his back, looking down on him.
"Be honest with me, rat...Why are you here? How did you even get here? Last time I heard of your 'terrifying' name, you were stationed in Karag Ogrud, which I'm sure isn't a day's walk from here."
"So, you've still kept tabs on the Underworld, have you? Clever girl."
Kerillian glared at Gnawdwell with her pitch black eyes, but he didn't mind though.
"Just answer the damn question."
The blackfur sighed, finally deciding to look the elf in the eyes, though he was reluctant to explain himself. But, the more he thought about what he's done in the past few days, the more he realized...everything's gone. He might not have enjoyed bossing around underlings, runts, mere squabbles of vermin, but yet, he felt...remorseful. His minions were unlike other Clan's, loyal to Gnawdwell until the very end, even if the odds were massively out of their favor. Even among the hundreds upon thousands of vermin he led, there were still some that he cared about, even if they were...expendable. He can't go back. Not anymore. He always tried to save what was left of his pitiful existence, but whenever he tried, it only seemed like it became even more shattered, with more pieces to clean up after. Even after this sudden realization, he can only come to one conclusion, if his own son rejects him…
Then this would all be for nothing.
"Hey! Don't go daydreaming on me, answer the question already!"
Gnawdwell broke out of his entranced state, staring at Kerillian once more.
"I...I left my Clan behind. Everything...everything's...gone. Just. Gone."
Gnawdwell turned his gaze over to his empty tankard, whose insides were once filled with something he enjoyed.
"What do you- H-hey, don't you dare...goddammit…"
Gnawdwell buried his face into his hands, shielding his tears from Kerillian's stare, and to save him from embarrassing himself in front of an elf.
"Hey, hey, it's going to be ok. Just...continue, please."
Her hand hovered hesitantly over his shoulder, with his pitch black fur barely brushing her fingertips.
"I...I heard there was a traitor amidst Altdorf, and I was ordered to…'exterminate' the problem. But, after that, I was...approached by a man. A man, who knew that my son was alive. Could you i-imagine? After...years, and years of regret and guilt, I FINALLY knew he was alive!"
"But, it's not turning out how you expected, is it..?"
She was right, but he surely didn't expect an entire parade to happen because he reunited with his long lost son, but...he surely didn't expect to be given the cold shoulder either.
"...No, I didn't even expect anything glamorous or anything joyful! I just...I don't know. Perhaps me coming here was a mistake."
Gnawdwell felt something brush up against his arm, but he ignored it, continuing to wallow in his self-pity, oblivious to the fact that the elf sat next to him. He stayed silent as he refilled his tankard, and just as he was about to take another swig, a hand grabbed ahold of his drinking arm.
"Perhaps you should lay off the ale, don'tcha think?"
The blackfur turned his head around, only to stare Kerillian in her eyes, which...unnerved for some odd reason, though, deep down in his mind, he knew why.
"I may not be a parent, much less someone who can take care of another, but...I usually find that if you want to take care of someone, you have to deal with your problems first."
A lump began developing in his throat, and emotion had started to arise from the murky black depths of his soul, emotions that he simply wanted to drink away. She was being so...so...kind to him, offering advice for him, despite her history with his kind, but he couldn't help but wonder why?
Maybe...she just wants to...reunite...me and Arthur.
Oh stop it, you're making me feel all tingly inside.
Kerillian let go of Gnawdwell's drinking arm, which prompted him a choice. Though it wasn't really much of a choice for him, the prospect of drinking himself to unconsciousness was always a nice experience, but...the thought of him being with his only son deemed more important to him than even the best ale in the world. Gnawdwell set down the still filled tankard on the cobblestone floor and proceeded to rise from the ground, while also helping Kerillian up, which didn't seem too hard considering he was a tad bigger than her.
"...I can't believe I'm going to say this, but...thank you."
Awww.
"Your wel- I mean, how dare you drag me down into this disgusting, moldy and vile cellar? It rots of vermin down here! You bumbling idiot!"
Gnawdwell let out a croak, trying to...laugh, though it was a miserable attempt. Kerillian was startled by the croak, making her wonder if Gnawdwell was just a toad in disguise. The two continued to walk up and out of the cellar, but as they left, the blackfur just had one thing left to ask.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Hmm? Oh, um. No reason, just trying...to be...friendly."
Lies.
Let's not ruin our relationship with her already, please.
Gnawdwell nodded, despite knowing it was a lie, but what could he do? Ruin their relationship already, in less than a few minutes?
Welp, let's go find Arthur and fix this.
Annnd that's what you said last time.
"It'll work this time, Carnage!"
Gnawdwell spun his head around, staring at Kerillian's confused expression, though she couldn't question him about his sudden outburst, probably because he started running off into the distance.
How are we going to find him?
Shouldn't be too hard to sniff out the only rat in Altdorf.
Giant rat.
...Sure.
"Ikit-Ikit!"
Ikit's sudden trance was broken by his master's voice, his metal frame vigorously working to maintain his body to keep him alive.
"Gnawdwell has betrayed the Council Of Thirteenth! You must-must hunt him down along with the scraps of Mors-rats.!"
Ikit was confused, despite being one of the best thinkers and inventors in skavendom, he hadn't anticipated Clan Mors to fall, much less with Gnawdwell in the unholy Council. But that didn't matter now, for Ikit had a new job: To hunt down and bring the traitor down to his knees, and make him plead for his life, only for the egomaniacal tinker-rat to kill him in the middle of his begging, for none betray the Council without consequences!
"Yes-yes, glorious Morskittar, I bring-hunt traitorous Gnawdwell of the second set, to face his crimes against all of skavendom!"
"Excellent-good! Mors-rats are already making their way-move towards Altdorf, where the traitors are being held."
The mad tinker-rat's ears ruffled when his master mentioned "traitors", indicated there was more than just one, proving this to be another chance to impress his master, and gain almighty fame for Ikit! Without making a sound, Morskittar dismissed the tinker rat, who went off to form his dreaded army of foul machinations, nercomatons, and their horrifyingly good ranged weaponry. The warlock engineer enjoyed the constant grinding of the machines, each being prepared for war, which is something Ikit has been itching to get back into, almost if it was more of a hobby than a tragedy. One thing was certain in the mad tinker-rat's mind: He was going to succeed, and succeed he will!
Gnawdwell, why must you do this to yourself?
Gnawdwell jumped out the window of a two-story building, hitting the ground with a solid thud, and a snap as he broke one of his bones.
Because. Yes.
Under his arms, he carried a keg filled with ale, but acquiring didn't prove easy. It was trivial, though those angry screams sounded horrible, Gnawdwell didn't mind and silently dashed away from the scene of the crime.
Yes, this is definitely how we'll win Arthur back! By drinking!
Really?
Do you know what sarcasm is?
Gnawdwell politely asked Carnage in a very polite way to mind his business, which was in a way, offensive. Despite his little detour off into a noble's house, he really was following his son's scent, as weird that may be, but nothing's weird for an eight-foot rat with an alien living inside his body, though.
It's best we get rid of the damn ale, else he sees us as drunken bast-
SHSHSH.
Without warning, the keg exploded in the blackfur's grasp, covering him in the keg's contents. He liked drinking the stuff, but he sure didn't like when it got into his damn fur.
"Goddammit, Carnage! WHAT THE HELL MAN?!"
By the Gods, are you an alcoholic? Who would've thunk it?
"EAT MY FURRY BEHIND!"
We're in public.
Some brave souls haven't yet left the street Gnawdwell was in, and they regretted that decision as soon as the unholy words were spoken.
It's fine.
Sensing the tension of being a giant rat, and also saying, "Eat my furry behind", caused the black rat to go off and do something else, like finding his son. Gnawdwell used a technique he personally called...
'I'm lazy as all hell so let my buddy Carnage do all the work because I'm a major donkey.' technique.
Exactly, now swing faster.
The blackfur swung from rooftop to rooftop, occasionally traumatizing a poor innocent child with his terrifying smile. That, and because he was a giant red monster made out of sludge.
Oof, that kids gonna have nightmares.
We can fix that, just swing back a bit and we'll tear out the part of his brain that makes him scared.
Forget I even said anything.
TURN AROUND, LET'S FIX HIM IF YOU'RE SO WORRIED!
The two argued with such fervor, they probably would've been able to go through several wars without noticing, until something big and hard stopped them. It is called: A house.
This is all your damn fault! If you paid attention to where we were going instead of arguing with me, this would have never happened!
This is my fault? You were the one who even started this argument, you piece of crap!
On the inside, an epic battle was raging in Gnawdwell's mind, on the outside, however...It just seemed like he was having a stroke, which the two observers didn't care for at all. Breaking into an occupied house on accident is hard to do unless an idiot was involved, in this case, there were two idiots.
I'm going to eat your-
DON'T YOU FINISH THAT THOUGHT.
Fortunately for the occupants in the house, Gnawdwell just continued to spazz out on the floor until he fell out through the giant hole in the wall he made himself, so that's a bonus.
Unfortunately, he landed in a massive crowd of people. He swore he could hear the screams of overprivileged nobles as the entire crowd immediately dispersed, screaming about a giant red monster in the middle of the street.
Great, just...great. I'm so happy you're my host.
SEE?! I'M THE BEST!
If only you weren't so damn...forget it.
Gnawdwell jolted upright, the red sludge retracting back into his body, enabling him to slink away from the onlookers, merging into the shadows of the alley he wandered into.
Why do you do this? Do you enjoy making other people's a literal hell?
"I don't know, maybe?"
THAT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION.
"Wh- How was I supposed to know?!"
WE SHARE THE SAME BODY, YOU IDIOT!
The black rat shrugged off the mental conservation, just adding it to the pile of unfinished talks he had with Carnage, which he promised to talk about, but never did. The two walked in silence, all that was exchanged between them was the infrequent grunts of Carnage messing around in his host's mind.
After a while, Gnawdwell finally found his way out of the miserable, dank, and repulsive alleyways, though they did remind him of Clan Mors, except there no mounds of corpses to be found. All this time he was following Arthur's scent, though he probably could've done it more stealthily, he didn't care now though, because now he was close, he could practically...smell him.
A sudden laugh came from around the corner of the exit, making Gnawdwell curious as to how someone can laugh at a time like this? Perhaps he was projecting, but again, he didn't care. Carnage stayed silent even as Gnawdwell peeked around the corner of the exit, finally seeing who it was, or better yet, they.
Happy. Yes, that's what he felt, that's honestly what he felt in the moment of seeing Arthur on the infamous Balthasar Gelt's back, the two conserving and laughing as if the world wasn't falling apart around them. No, he wasn't just happy, he was overjoyed! How couldn't he be? He was, is, elated to see his son treating the man like his...father. He couldn't feel betrayed, he didn't have the privilege nor the right to be. He abandoned him in his time of need, he left him to die in the world. Maybe this was his son's way of getting back at him, to make him feel...pain.
The black rat was so tied up in his thoughts, he hadn't realized the two had vanished into a large, box-like structure, Gnawdwell was certain it was not a house, as several guards protected the entryway, and some were posted on the rooftop of the building. Inspecting his surroundings, he noticed the five idiots he met earlier were here as well, though two were quite drunk.
Alright, I have a-
Nonono, the last time you had a plan, we nearly died. In fact, nearly all of your plans either lead us into certain death or half-certain death.
Could you let me finish?
You can talk but I won't be listening.
Gnawdwell sighed, refusing to speak to Carnage as if he was a mere child. Instead, he had a brilliant idea, an idea so foolproof, it couldn't fail!
Nono, I just saw it appear, you can't hide it from me, I know what it is! THIS IS STUPID, PLEASE STOP.
No.
The black rat strutted out of the alleyway, revealing himself to the guards, with a smug grin on his face as he approached the two guards positioned at the entryway.
"Hello, good sirs!"
"What the goddamn fu-"
"Watch your language, dear sir, I am the great...uh, Arthur!"
Gnawdwell attempted to make his voice high pitched like his son's, but sadly, it only ended up sounding like a record being scratched by several claws. He also tried to become shorter by...ducking down to the ground, but it just looked like he broke his back and had a floppy spine.
What the hell? Why? WHY?
"E-erm, I don't think- but he just-"
The two guards stood baffled as Gnawdwell's body flopped around, his voice sounding like children were sent to hell too early.
"NO, TIS I, THE REAL ARTHUR!"
"This is- Wha-..."
"Wait, hold up, I'm getting a signal."
It all happened so sudden for the guards, with Gnawdwell snapping his spine back to its usual state, while he smashed their heads together, hopefully only knocking them out for a few hours.
"...If they're dead, I want my lawyer."
PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT IS UNHOLY AND HOLY, STOP SPEAKING IN THAT VOICE.
"Oi, what's going on down 'dere?!"
"Oh sh- I mean, EVERYTHING'S FOINE, NOTHING OUT OF PLACE, INNIT?"
The blackfur attempted to replicate the speech of reiklanders, but sadly, it sounded a tad out of place.
"Why are you speaking like a damn noble? Get back to work, you idiot!"
"Oh, sure! I'z gonna go get some drinks first, eh?"
"Wha- No, that's not yer job!"
"Blueberries, strawberries, wheat, and drugs! They're all the same to me'z! Anyho'z, I doubt any of ye could marry my large crate of thunder droppings."
What? What are you saying? Have you snapped? Are you broken? HELLO?!
Ignoring the roof guard's commands and various insults, he proceeded to open the door, and simply walk in as if nothing was wrong.
"But how doe this relate to me, and why is HE so-"
Ah crap, here we go again.
In the center of the room was a large, square table surrounded by various battle-scarred generals and such, with several soldiers at attention. He noticed the five infamous shaven hunters scattered around the room, and despite their uncaring expressions, he knew they were listening intently to what was being said.
At the other side of the table sat Arthur in a small chair, with Balthasar standing beside him. Everyone's gaze was on the blackfur, the room's atmosphere filled with such hostility and fear, he could choke on it. Balthasar was the first one to break the eerie silence filling the room, though he spoke carefully, it almost seemed like he didn't want to upset him. Amusing.
"Ahem, if you don't mind me asking, why and how did you find us?"
"I came looking for someone, you might've heard of him, no?"
Arthur let out an audible groan, while simultaneously slumping back in his chair as a display of annoyance.
"But, it seems like you are in need of help, Gelt."
"What could ever give you that idea?"
"Yes, I wonder what could give me that idea…"
The black rat lumbered over to the table, and with further inspection, there was a map splayed out on the surface, along with several red and black flags surrounding a single model of a city that was supposed to look like Altdorf. If only the model wasn't in the shape of a box.
"Is this supposed to be a failed attempt for planning out a battle? My grandfather can do better than this, and I k- I mean, he's dead!"
"Wait, what? You killed your own-"
"Let's not talk about that right now."
Gnawdwell, in complete silence, picked up one of the black flags, and on each side of the loose paper was a symbol of a rat with two bulging, bloodshot eyes.
"Ah, goddammit."
I knew this was going to bite us in the furry rear sooner or later!
"Shhh, it's better if we don't tell them."
What if they already know?
"Well, I guess it's my fault for leading them here, huh?"
What were you thinking? We could've just taken the warprail without making a big fuss, not deal with this horde of ravenous idiots, and be here at the same time! I love killing things, but sometimes you just make it...take too much effort.
"It's not my fault, how was I supposed to know once I abdicated that they turned on me like...rats? Also, it's not my fault I had to kill that damn abomination, I was frustrated, alright?! Now leave me alone, goddammit!"
Wait a minute...please, tell me you didn't say any of that out loud. Please.
"I- Oh."
Nearly everyone in the damn room was confused, or terrified of what the hell he was talking about, even Kerillian became confused about what the hell he was talking about.
"Everything that I just said, ignore it! It's just a side effect of my, uhhh...insanity..?"
"It seems, you know quite a lot about this, Gnawdwell. Would you care explaining how?"
"Uh, no not really."
The door locked behind Gnawdwell as he tried to escape his situation, with several soldiers blocking said door.
For god's sake, you're an idiot!
"Goddammit, I never should have followed the smell of my own blood and...lavender? Wait...is my son gay?
"HOW IS THAT EVEN RELEVANT RIGHT NOW?!"
Arthur had attempted to sock Gnawdwell in the face, but sadly, he fell out of his chair in pure frustration before he could. Despite having several options of escape, Gnawdwell decided it was best to just explain than it was to fight the entirety of Altdorf. If they annoyed him, well...there was always room in his stomach for another meal.