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Skavenblight: Day One; TP Chptr II Prt I
Topic Started: 2nd September 2006 - 03:48 PM (400 Views)
Morkskittar
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The Tunnel's Resident Rodent Ecologist

Skavenblight: Day One
The Pitfighter
Chapter II
Part I

Rakkin stared blearily into his mug of Skavenade. It had been an odd day. He had arrived in Skavenblight late last night, and had slept out in the streets, buried under countless stalks of discarded Black Wheat. When he awoke and began foraging in the streets for food, it was still dark. Splinter’s cage banged against cobblestones and buildings loudly, and Rakkin’s pack was heavy. Thinking back on it, it was a miracle that the Moulder hadn’t been mugged.

It was just as the sun was coming up that the oddness began. He was approached by a beggar rat asking for tokens in exchange for a blessing of kind, but as soon as Rakkin turned around, the beggar’s pale, exposed flesh grew even paler and he fled. Rakkin shrugged this off, ignoring it. After all, it was just a beggar.

Then he met the second beggar, sitting on small pile of Black Grain, his eyes warning everyone to keep off of his food. Rakkin passed by, his eyes hungrily eyeing the food. The beggar hadn’t been looking the Moulder’s way; instead, he was glaring off a young gang of Skaven armed with sharpened sticks. When they finally stalked off, no doubt muttering things that amounted to the pile not being worth a fight, the beggar scanned the area around him and started when he saw Rakkin so close. The beggar made to stand, and fell flat on his face. Rakkin dispassionately noted that the Skaven’s legs had been cut off. The rat managed to get his face up and look Rakkin in the eyes. Seconds later, Rakkin smelled the musk of fear and the beggarat was rolling away from Rakkin, leaving his pile of grain untouched.

Not one to pass off an opportunity, Rakkin put down his cage and bag and quickly devoured the grain. After a brief rest, Rakkin picked up his things and moved on, keeping to the main streets.

It wasn’t long before Rakkin found himself wandering in a dark alley, driven off the main streets by hungry eyes and more traffic. The Master Moulder fidgeted and glanced around nervously, watching for the vicious gangs that roamed the streets. As such, rakkin wasn’t surprised by the appearance of a heavily-cloaked rat out of a waste-barrel nearby. Rakkin froze, put down his cage, and drew his blade, sparing a glance all around him. The cloaked rat froze as well, the opening in his hood turned towards Rakkin.

The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before the cloaked rat croaked, “Kashisk, is that-that you?” Rakkin’s eyes widened in surprise. What was this rat talking about? The rat shuffled forward awkwardly, and the cloak’s movement’s told Rakkin that the rat was peering at his face. “By the Horned One, it is. Where-where have you been?” Taking in Rakkin’s appearance, the rat chuckled. “become a full-full Master Moulder, have you? I knew it would happen someday.” Rakkin’s confusion must have shown in his eyes, for the cloaked figure laughed again. ‘Don’t try and play dumb-dumb with me, Kashisk. You know that I don’t fall for things like that.

At this point, Rakkin thought it best to play along with the old rat. This rat seemed to know Rakkin from somewhere… maybe the forgotten part of his life! “Is that who I think it is?” squeaked Rakkin. That should get the rat to show himself.

The figure chuckled. “Probably is, old rat. You-you always knew all of your mates’ voice patterns.” Rakkin stared. Mates? He had mates?

“Breeders?” asked Rakkin dubiously.

At this the rat laughed loudly, the bundle of cloth he was in shaking. “I had-had forgotten that about you, Kashisk! The best-best sense of humour around.” The rat turned around. ‘Pick up your-your supplies and follow me. Or do you care to lead the way?”

Rakkin thought fast. This rat seemed to trust him… too much. Rakkin’s instincts screamed to use this trust… but then that would possibly place him at the mercy of this strange rat. What if it was an ambush? How could an ambush be this personally made to get at me? said a voice in the back of Rakkin’s head. He knows who you are…

Rakkins decision was made. “You lead. Me memory has grown faint, friend.” The mysterious rat chuckled and scuttled forward. Rakkin sheathed his blade, picked up Splinter, and followed.

The rat led Rakkin through a maze of dark and winding alleys at a breakneck pace. Rakkin was struggling to keep up. After about twenty minutes of jogging, the mysterious rat stopped. Rakkin almost bumped into him. The Moulder looked around curiously. They appeared to have reached a dead end. And an awfully smelly one…

Dead carcasses filled the alley until it reached the dead end. The mysterious rat dug through the corpses of countless slaves until he reached the dirt below. Stepping over the carcasses gingerly, Rakkin saw the rat lift pen a trapdoor. A spiral stair extended downwards out of site. The rat gestured for Rakkin to enter first. The Moulder gulped. If this was an ambush, it would be here. Against the logical part of his mind, Rakkin began descending the staircase slowly, so that he wouldn’t lose his balance. The other Skaven shut the door behind him and pushed a brick on the damp stone walls. A low rumbling sound came from above. Probably covering up his hidey-hole, though Rakkin.

On the way down, Rakkin almost slipped on wet moss twice, but both times was caught by the stranger, who muttered things about how Kashisk had never had good footing.

By the time they reached the bottom, Rakkin was dying to know about himself and who this strange rat was. The rat pushed ahead of Rakkin and led the Moulder to a large cave. Around the edges of the cave were countless woodern tables of varying shapes, sizes, heights, woods, and conditions. Rakkin dumped his bag and placed Splinter on the sturdiest table he could find before turning to look at the strange rat who had brought him here.

Rakkin almost choked as the rat threw back his hood. The rat was so familiar… Rakkin had seen him not four hours ago as the first beggar. Scrutinizing that rat more closely, Rakkin noticed a peculiarly-shaped scar on the rat’s snout and a gold earring in his left ear. Rakkin almost choked again. He knew this rat… why had he not seen it before! It was Master Moulder Favrik, owner of the Moulder Monthly.

“Welcome back, Kashisk,” said Favrik. I know this-this place is not as neat as it was when you left it, but I you understand.” The media rat was twiddling his nine fingers nervously, as if not sure that ‘Kashisk’ would undnerstand. Rakkin nodded.

“I understand, rat-rat.” Favrik instantly calmed down, and began making the first decent meal that Rakkin had had in days. As he did so, Favrik asked Rakkin about how he had done in the UnderEmpire Grand Tournament. Rakkin had been forced to answer that he had been too late to enter. Favrik was shocked.

“A Moulder not entering the Grand Tournament? A shame! Why not-not? Favrik turned and inspected Rakkin closely. His eyes widened in surprise. “Ah, clever, Kashisk. Taking on a new Moulder name. Rakkin, is it?” Rakkin nodded. Favrik chuckled. “I’ll just call you by that name so you won’t have to listen to this old out-of-date rat speak your old name.

“So-so, you were forced to flee Hell Pit and couldn’t stop at a preliminary location on the way? A shame, ‘tis. Of course, you know-know that I am on the Judges Council?” Rakkin nodded, a slight gleam of hope in his eyes. “I can always slip you in there… Karowak and Kalakkial are both-both old farts and won’t notice…”

Rakkin smiled for the first time in a month. “I would-would greatly appreciate that, Favrik.” Favrik nodded, unperturbed by the use of his name. “But there is one-one issue - if I am to have any hope of winning, I will need-need a lab.” Favrik nodded again.

“I still have my old lab below this room-room, with a full-full tool set. You’ll have to go buy beasts, though.” It was Rakkin’s turn to nod, though Favrik didn’t see it, as he had turned back to his meal. Rakkin stood and rummaged through the cabinets scattered throughout the room until he found some Skavenade. He began drinking.

As Favrik served his meal, he asked Rakkin one thing. “I’m curious, Rakkin. Who was it that drove-drove you out?”

Rakkin looked up and stared at Favrik for a few moments before replying, “The Underlord.” Favrik nodded knowingly and returned to his delicious rat stew.

Complete Works of Morkskittar

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Pub Fight Deaths: 334. Pillz and Pyllz are © by Morkskittar.
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SneakyRodent
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Claws of the Horned One founder member

Well constructed as always, an enjoyable and easy read :)
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Holder of 'Best Post' Award 2007 here
Took part in the glorious Lords of Decay Revolution of April 1st 2012

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war-seer kindari
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Grey Seer
i think i would like to read the rest, for this interests me, and i am not so easily interested




sor skavendom and moulder write more please!!! :rogre: :rogre: (skaven) (skaven) *bsb* *bsb* *bsb* ^Warpfire^ ^Warpfire^ ^Warpfire^
Renewal is good
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