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The Morkreekian Project; TMS TMP Part I
Topic Started: 12th June 2007 - 08:32 PM (387 Views)
Morkskittar
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The Tunnel's Resident Rodent Ecologist

The Morkreekian Project
The Morkreekian Saga
The Morkreekian Project
Part I

Kirilken and his companion halted several meters away from the bedraggled group lying in front of them. In the center was a massive, black-furred Skaven with metallic teeth, and blades instead of claws and a massive dagger melded onto his tail. To his left was the tiniest Skaven the Skavenblight Ambassarat had ever seen. Kirilken had never before seen the rat… he had only heard him talked about. To the center rat’s right, a very light-furred Skaven was lying face-down. Above this rat was a perfectly normal rat. All of these Skaven wore the emerald green of Clan Morkreek.

Kirilken turned and whispered to his companion, the Grey Seer Silvar Greysqueak. "This is him. Though I wonder where-where Kraskritch and Keevik have gone..." The Ambassarat pulled out a dagger with a warpstone hilt. "Ah well... they were not at all essential."

As the Ambassarat raised his dagger above his head, the Slavelord's eyes popped open and he leapt to his feet, his right hand already slashing forward, his bladed claws glinting in the sunlight. Kirilken reeled backward, bringing his dagger to the front as he did so, deflecting Pawblight's powerful blow. Silvar muttered something under his breath, and a bolt of lightning erupted from his staff. Smaller bolts shot off of the main one, enveloping the Slavelord in a ball of lightning. A few stray bits of Silvar's warp-lightning struck Kirilken, and the Ambassarat collapsed, gasping.

The lightning surrounding the Slavelord dissipated, leaving behind a pile of charred ashes. Kirilken slowly stood up, shaking. "I told-told you not to do that, fool-fool! I needed those genetic samples!"

Silvar raised an eyebrow. "Do you not-not still have those from Ikiskabak?"

"Ikiskabak was a fluke!" snarled Kirilken. "There was no value in him whatsoever! It was all in-in that damn Daemon possessing him!"

"And what about Morkskittar?" inquired the Grey Seer. "As I understand it, he-he
was no fluke. Actual genetic breeding, no-no?"

Kirilken glared at the Grey Seer. "Yes-yes, I do still have his samples... but then I would have to redo all of the work-work I did to get the project to Pawblight's level!"

Silvar shook his head. "The project was at an end anyway, Kirilken. You know this. Both Karowak and Verminkin commanded you to put an end to it. Not that that has stopped you before..."

Kirilken didn't even answer this time, merely glaring at Silvar.

The rats in front of the squabbling pair began to awaken slowly. Kirlken and
Greysqueak watched, amused.

Skrit-Quoll was the first to awake. As he stood up, he peered at the pair before him. "Ah... you are Kirilken and Greysqueak, no doubt. Nice to meet you at last." Silvar merely smiled at the tiny rat's question, and Kirilken stared intently at the other two rats lying on the grass.

The light-furred Skaven was the next to awake. "Bellower, how-how are you?" inquired Kirilken lightly. The slave looked at the Ambassarat with bleary eyes, slowly getting to his feet.

Then everyrat looked down at the last Skaven, just beginning to awaken. "Who is that?" asked the Grey Seer, peering at the stirring rat curiously.

Skrit-Quoll grimaced before answering. "That would be Pawblight's... the late Pawblight's," he added, glancing at the pile of black ashes, "Master of Politics... Chittersnatch."

Kirlken sighed and drew is dagger again. "I don't think Skitterchar would be too happy with a usurper..." He knelt down beside the groaning Skaven and slit his throat neatly. He wiped his dagger on the dead rat's robes before standing and sheathing it. "So it is true... Morkreekian blood does run red. An interesting side effect. I wonder if the infected slaves have this too..." Shaking his head, the Ambassarat turned back to his companions.

"Let us return to Kaffir... much must be discussed."

***

The door closed and the Morkreekian Guardsmen walked to to the end of the corridor leading to the recently-closed door, stopping and standing on either side of a second doorway there, leaving their masters in the spacious room behind them.

The room was fairly large. At one end was a massive throne carved out of limestone, the same rock that made up the rest of the Undercity of Kaffir. It was very heavily cushioned. On the armrests were indentations in the stone, where water and Warpstone Powder were placed. In front of the throne was a semicircular table, the straight side facing the throne.

Opposite the throne was a massive window. Magical runes glimmered faintly over the edges of it, distracting one's eye. Beyond the window, the waterfront of Kaffir was visible. The entire hold was a masterpiece (for Skaven, that is). A massive cave, with a large opening out of a cliffside, contained the entire hold. It had been constructed by countless slaves, laboriously carving out each limestone brick to make the roads, dwellings, aqueducts, sewers, canals, palaces, towers, and arenas that filled mst of the cave space. On the side of the cave nearest to the opening in the cliff side, the land ended and the massive dock complex began. Countless ships of all sizes were morred there now, unloading their cargo, resting, being repaired, or preparing to leave. Beyond them was a massive underground lake, where even more ships jostled for favorable places at the docks. The lake opened out into the ocean just outside the cliff face. The sea contained more ships, many Skaven. Unfortunately, Arabayan corsairs had become a problem recently... but such was the price one had to pay for having such a hold on the cost of Araby.

The Slave Barracks of the Skaven city were not visible from this angle... they were built into the walls of the cave; endless rows of cells with countless slaves filling them. After all, Clan Morkreek was one of the foremost slaving Clans in the Underempire.

Sitting in the throne opposite this magnificent view was none other than Kirilken. Arrayed around the curved side of the table were four chairs, each with a Skaven sitting in it.

The chair on the far left held none other than the Verminmaster Skrit-Quoll. Next to him was the slave, Bellower. On his right was Silvar Greysqueak. On the far right was a rat cloaked in black, his staff leaning against the table.

Skrit-Quoll was the first to speak. "Well, Kirilken, it seems as if you have accomplished much in our absence."

The Ambassarat smiled. "Yes-yes we have, Verminmaster. As you can see, we have finished the contruction of Kaffir... well-well, except for some of the farthest Slave-pens, but no matter... and we have returned Clan Morkreek to its prominent place in the Underempire."

Bellower smiled. "And how did you do all of this-is, Ambassarat?" The slave put emphasis on the word 'ambassarat,' treating it like a derogatory term. Kirilken narrowed his eyes, bu made no comment on this.

"Just as I had told you I would-would. After the dissolution of Clan Morkreek under Morkskittar, Karil, and Pawblight, I merely regathered the Clan-clans that had abandoned us previously... it didn't take much convincing. Morkskittar had gone about it the wrong way... you don't make peace with the leaders, you kill them. Then the pawns all fall into place-place."

"And what was the point of sending Pawblight - and us, I might-might add, on a wild goose chase through Silvar's Aethyric simulation?" The Grey Seer cast a dirty look at the Verminmaster for this comment, bu Skrit-Quoll just looked at Kirilken.

"Such insolence from you, Verminmaster.... I though you would have more respect for your creator." Skrit-Quoll's eyes were as cold as steel.

Kirilken sighed melodramatically. "If-if you insist, dear Skrit-Quoll... it was no simulation of Silvar's." Greysqueak raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing. "It was another move I was making against Morskit... which failed miserably, as my Engin-seers failed to take out the Daemon after Pawblight was killed. Daasnacht is one of his foremost servants, you know-know. He was always interfering with my plans for the Clan... he and his lackey Mephistopheles." Kirilken glared out of the window for a moment. "You need not understand."

The other rats did not push this. Kirilken looked at each one in turn before continuing. "However, we now have a problem face-facing us. Clan Moulder has decided to terminate the Morkreekian Project. Bellower looked shocked, Skrit-Quoll emotionless, and Silvar unsurprised - after all, he had already known. "Both Verminkin and the Mouldering Council voted to end it. Karowak convinced the Council to vote his way... though-though I am pleased to say that Kalakkial tried to cinvince the vote to go the other way.

"Of course-course, they know that we will not end the project. Far too much work has been put into it. The Packlord and Karowak merely wish to have a hold-hold over us. Of curse-course, they want the project to continue as much-much as we do, but they will never say it." Kirilken grinned slyly. "Which is why we must now come up with our own sources of income and subjects. As of this-this moment, we have twelve-thousand Slaves stored in the laboratories below, and seven hundred and two Moulders working on them. Our treasuries hold enough Warptokens and Warpstone to buy out many other Clans. Mighty Clan Moulder won't miss a few of our slaves, will they?" The others at the table grinned in comprehension. "It all works to our favour. I will continue work on the Slavelord Project... though I have been set back several moons by a certain Grey Seer's excitement..." Silvar cast his eyes down at this. "However, no new Slavelord will arise from my breedings this time... Pawblight failed me. It all depended on him... I shall not make that mistake again. I will-will take over the title of Slavelord. Verminkin, Karowak, and Kalakkial all approve of this... as does Favrik, I might add." The other rats were smiling.

"Skrit-Quoll... you are to keep your job as Verminmaster. Or rather, take it back. have fun with the Skaven currently doing your job; he is of little importance. we need-need you managing our stocks again." The little rat nodded, and Kirlken turned to the next rat.

"Bellower. You are to take over the daily managements of the Clan. I have been doing this job of late, but you know my strength isn't in keeping things orderly. I believe you can-can do this.... after all, you lived at the bottom for so long. A service for which I thank-thank you. You will take over the job of Slavemaster from me." Bellower dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Silvar... return to Skavenblight and report to your master. I am sure he will be glad to hear of these events." The Grey Seer nodded.

"I will return here when I am done," he responded.

"Good-good." Kirilken began to turn to the last, hooded rat when Skrit-Quoll asked a question.

"And who-who will take over your old job in Skavenblight? That hooded one?"

Kirilken smiled. "Oh, no-no-no. Silvar's master will be a much more powerful figure to have in Skavenblight than a mere Ambassarat." The new Slavelod turned back to the hooded rat. "Skitterchar here will continue in his old job."

OOC: Yay! Morkskittar is almost ready to start Nemesis Crown stuff....

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