| Fog, Bells, and Merrymaking | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 2nd October 2006 - 10:38 PM (304 Views) | |
| Ratphink | 2nd October 2006 - 10:38 PM Post #1 |
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The Unlovable Lurker
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Enjoy boys and girls. :ph43r: *laughs madly into the shadows* ----------------------------------------------------------- Music seranded them in a way that only the Skaven could ever find pleasing. Disharmonic notes strong together in a melody of hate and chaos as the small caravans made their way through the tunnel system of the Underempire. It was strange… the tunnels were bigger up here then he remembered… the floor smoothed by the trampling of thousands of paws every day. The North was becoming more and more a place to live, a place of its own, even if it was forever bloodstained by the Civil War that tore it to pieces. Skaven and other insignificant creatures… undead and beastmen and the like… Manskritch spat in contempt. They fought and quarreled up here like children, and that last employer of his was the worst by far. Pulling the scarf snug against his face, he pulled his tattered top hat over his eyes as they passed a patrol unit, as if he wouldn’t be recognized by hiding a face he never showed. The beaten up carts were smaller, to fit through the narrow tunnels, making the troops life easier as they traveled. As per their usual, Hecritt and Lecritt were pounding at their drum, the likes of which only seen on slave barges, giving the slaves a beat to march to as they pulled their equipment. Iksha on the other hand, could be seen lounging with a regular circle of blades embedded in the rotting wood, a whetstone in one paw as he methodically sharpened each of his instruments of Death. Hiad the Black was of course up seated next to Manskritch. The black garb bound to withering old flesh by white leather straps, making him look like he was bound up in a spiders web. “Well… what do you make-make of the place? Think-think it’s changed much since we left?” Manskritch grinned maniacly under his scarf, his voice forever ragged by some unseen wound of his past, rasped out the question to his friend and business partner. “Hmmm? It seems that little advance has actually happened since we left. Though those fool Mercenaries have managed to carve out their own little kingdom it seems. Looks like we got hired by the wrong side way back when…” Hiads cold cruel laughter made the slaves hauling their cart shiver with fear and even increase in pace as if they could flee from the old Seer. “Or do you mean-mean the people, sir?” “A little bit of both to be honest…” Manskritch chortled himself as he watched the slaves heave and pant and sweat and bleed, he couldn’t resist cracking the whip over their heads eliciting whines from their filthy hides. “Why-why are we returning here anyways?” Hiads curiousity was getting the better of him. “Life was good in the south. Profit… slaves… hapless and unsuspecting victims. Why-why return?” “Why-why? Consider it unfinished business.” Manskritches rasp of a voice sounded more like a twisted scream as he laughed out into the dark tunnel. But it was suddenly cut short as a feint fog rolled in over them, fog? In the tunnels? The soft clanging of a bell somewhere in the distance… “See-see? The Horned Rat himself heralds are return and rings his bells with praise! We was-were always destined to come-return here my friend. Always.” And with that the troupe silently slipped into the fog and entered the North. For the first time in such a very long time… Le Cirque de Désespoire were putting on a show for the Factions of the North. |
Award for the Worst joke ever goes to... THRASKITAR for the following:
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| Morkskittar | 3rd October 2006 - 09:52 PM Post #2 |
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The Tunnel's Resident Rodent Ecologist
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W00T! Yay for the Circus... does this mean it's returning? ![]() Pillz |
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The Eldritch Wastes: A Post-Lovecraftian Online Serial Novel (Author Website) Pub Fight Deaths: 334. Pillz and Pyllz are © by Morkskittar. ![]() Complete Works of Morkskittar / You Have Just Lost the Game 'zodi | |
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