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KHAR’XIT’S ENCOUNTERS; Nemesis Crown Chronicles
Topic Started: 27th June 2007 - 02:56 AM (304 Views)
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NEMESIS CROWN – KHAR’XIT’S ENCOUNTERS

PART I – The Plan for Mattengard


Rikkit was the rat who told Khar’xit where he would find the holy man. Now that tunnels had been completely dug underneath the heart of Mattengard, Khar’xit would have no trouble sending an assassin to kill that holy man. Man-things were so impractical with their stupid dead heroes.

In a house overgrown with ivy they would find him, a few squeaks west, Rikkit said.

Khar’xit had been so deep in thought that he did not notice Rikkit had been tugging on his vestments for quite some time. Khar’xit looked down at the much smaller, frightened rat expectantly. Rikkit squeaked.

“Master, eep! Eshin assassins seek you! Yes-yes!”

Khar’xit nodded.

Rikkit scurried off and returned a moment later with two rats cloaked in black and violent-looking. They half-bowed to Khar’xit and looked up, grinning.

“Mokey and—”
“Skarz!”
“We’ve come—”
“From far!”
“Yes-yes, far. You wish us to do a deed?”
“A dark deed!”
“Dark, indeed!”

Khar’xit stood slowly and presented Mokey and Skarz with parchments from within his robe, not speaking. Then, as the assassins were fumbling over the parchments, struggling to read in the dim candle-light of the tunnel, Khar’xit folded his arms and waited patiently for the two Eshin to make a decision. Rikkit’s eyes darted fiercely between the two assassins and Khar’xit.

After a few minutes of squeaking one of the assassins spoke up, “Mokey is no fool! No fool! These dispatches are of the evil-elf-things!”

“Why not do you implore them instead!” Skarz added.

Khar’xit would have smiled, or tried to at least, were not for the cursed staples over his mouth. These two were jealous of all things! Khar’xit tugged on Rikkit, who seemed to jolt out of a trance.

“Yes! Sorry! Khar’xit says if you do not wish to have the kill for yourselfs, he will find more suitable killers!”

Mokey and Skarz looked at each other and appeared to think it over for a moment before nodding simultaneously.

“We will not have the evil-elf-things steal the glory that is rightly the Great Horned One’s!” said Mokey.
With a stoic expression, Khar’xit sat back down waited for the assassins to finish going over the maps. He glanced at Rikkit, who was staring at him but quickly looked away and pretended to buy busy with something on his tail.

If everything went according to plan, Clan Infernus’s hired assassins would take care of this sigmarite and ‘cleans’ Mattengard of its dying religion. The few man-things still living there would feel abandoned and they would all flee their homes. Khar’xit had other plans for this place, and other forces to implore to ensure the take-over of Mattengard. The Beastmen’s hold of this place was strong already; they could be of some use. As could the mysterious evil-elf-things Khar’xit had encountered just weeks prior. All of that seemed so far away now. Khar’xit’s mind was a whirlpool of thoughts uncontrollable. Again, it was Rikkit who wrenched him from his brooding.

“The assassins have gone, master. Kill-kill, they will!” Rikkit piped.

Khar’xit bowed his head and stood once more.

“Rikkit will tell the Clan, yes-yes?”

Khar’xit’s silence was an answer enough for Rikkit because he quickly scampered out of the room to where the rest of Clan Infernus would be. Raising a hand to his mouth, Khar’xit felt the staples that held it shut. He would please the Great One. This curse would be lifted, and Mattengard would fall under his command.
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PART II – The Failed Attempt

Mokey and Skarz approached the dark house silently, flowing through the shadows like the water of a stream. They waited for the moon to reside back behind the clouds before continuing to the house.

Without checking for any other entrance, Mokey climbed up the side of the house using the ivy as a ladder. Once on the roof, he turned back around and motioned for Skarz to come up. Skarz, however, was not there. Mokey blinked and looked around him, squeaking inaudibly. Mokey turned back towards the chimney and peeked his head over the top, looking down in. Darkness.

Noiselessly, Mokey climbed down the chimney, and landed with a soft pat inside the house. It was too dark for man-eyes, but Mokey didn’t have much of a problem. It was easy to guess where the sigmarite priest would be; the faintest glimmer of light shone beneath one of the doors. Mokey crept towards it and put an ear next to the keyhole. Slow breathing. Wherever Skarz was, he was not likely caught by the priest as he was sound asleep in his bed.

Mokey turned the knob tediously and the door creaked slightly. Mokey stopped and paused for a second to see if he had woken the sleeping priest. Same breathing. This time Mokey swung open the door and stepped inside quickly, making little more noise than a whoosh.

A candle on the nightstand lit the room barely, but well enough for Mokey to see the lump in the bed that was the priest. He snuck to the side of the bed and raised his scimitar over his head, bringing it down quickly and violently into the flesh of the sigmarite. There was no scream. Mokey pulled out his blade and uncovered the priest to find that it was Skarz with a horribly disfigured face, cemented in agony. Mokey squeaked and squirted the musk of fear, stepping back and dropping his blade.

Behind him he heard something. Turning around, his eyes met the priest’s for only a second before blackness consumed them. Mokey felt the knife blade enter his belly, and that was the last thing he felt as he collapsed to the floor.

The priest retrieved his knife from the assassin’s stomach and spat. This was it; the forces of darkness have come.
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PART III – An Unexpected Battle

The alarm bells sounded down the tunnels beneath Mattengard. Something had gone awry, realized Khar’xit. Furious, he pointed at Rikkit who scurried out of the room as fast as he could, calling Clan Infernus to arms.

Khar’xit made his way out of his chambers to where the battle would commence. Rats were running past him, gathering their armor and weaponry.

Once the bells stopped ringing, Khar’xit knew who was attacking. The foolish man-things must’ve caught the assassins and found the maps. Fools! He would make them pay dearly for daring to intrude these skaven tunnels.

Up ahead, Khar’xit could hear shouts and cries of battle. Turning the corner, he could no longer advance to see his invaders, because the body-mass of the rats pouring towards the fighting. Muscling his way through the crowd, Khar’xit forced himself through the sea of rats and finally saw the man-thing army that had come to seek justice (or something equally idiotic). There was a man wielding a pike with the two Eshin assassins impaled brutally on it like a cabob. At that moment, there was no doubt in Khar’xit’s mind that this was the sigmarite priest.

Khar’xit squirted the musk of anger, and soon so did many of the rats around him. The drums of war pounded as the skaven poured over the rag-tag militia of man-things.

“Don’t kill them all! Eep!” Rikkit cried out, appearing from the middle of the skaven ranks. “Save some for later!”

Khar’xit elegantly and viciously carved his victims without remorse. The man-things between him and the priest were in his way. Torturing that priest until he renounced his faith tickled Khar’xit somewhere deep inside, and it almost made him smile.

Soon, there were too few man-things left, and they began to flee; the priest among them. Unable to outrun the rats, they quickly fell beneath the bulk of the skaven forces. They cried out helplessly for Sigmar, and some for their mothers.

Khar’xit, who normally would’ve enjoyed hearing the suffering of the man-things did not seem to notice. He did not even seem to notice that he was running, sprinting after the priest with the pike. As the exit to the tunnel came in sight, Khar’xit caught the priest in an awkward tackle. Khar’xit picked the man-thing sigmarite up by the head and dragged him back to where Rikkit would be able to get all sorts of information out of this one. Above all, this man-thing would renounce his faith and die in vain.
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PART IV – A Meeting Place

Activity was fierce on the surface. Hundreds of warbands of all races, tribes, clans and bloodlines fought in the great forest above. This was why Khar’xit never liked being on the surface for too long, and it was reaching that point.

Rikkit stood before him negotiating with two Beastlords.

“Your Tree-Hanger-Tree has much magic, yes-yes!” Rikkit said, as though he was trying to explain it to a ratling.

“You give us magical power and we will defend it with you against the man-things! Kill-kill we will!”

The Beastlords seemed to talk it over with each other for a second and then nodded together in approval. Behind them, a herd gathered, emerging from the forest. Rikkit stepped back, and squirted the musk of fear, afraid that he and Khar’xit had been betrayed.

This was not the case. To show his frustration at Rikkit’s misunderstanding, he swung his mighty axe into the tree they were beneath and left it there. Rikkit somehow understood and the Beastlord grunted with approval, removing the axe from the tree.

Khar’xit nudged Rikkit. It was time to go.

“Yes-yes. We must be going!” Rikkit said, turning away from the Beastlords and their herd, climbing to his perch on Khar’xit’s shoulder.

As Khar’xit hurriedly made his way back to the tunnels, he heard the herd’s hoofs moving away as one; then moments later they were audible again. Something was wrong. Khar’xit stopped and turned around, surveying his surroundings and sniffing the air. Moments later the sounds of battle could be heard, and from around a small hill ran the same herd they’d just been with being chased by a colorful unit of bretonnian knights.

The beastmen cried out as they were cut down by the mighty knights. Streams of red flowed freely from the wounds as the knights painted the ground with blood. They were making their way towards Khar’xit and Rikkit quickly.

A wounded beast managed to cut at one of the knight’s horses and it fell painfully and awkwardly, launching the rider in a way that would break someone’s neck just watching; that left five who had now overrun the herd and were coming up on Khar’xit and Rikkit.

Khar’xit drew his warp sword and ran through the knights, dodging their swords and lances and slicing a fine line through one of the horses. Disemboweled, the horse fell and trapped the rider beneath it. Rikkit, no longer grabbing on to Khar’xit’s hood for dear life, hopped down and drew his daggers.

The knights had turned around for another pass. This time Khar’xit did the same thing, only removing the leg of a rider. Rikkit jumped up onto one of the knights and stabbed the rider in the jugular with both daggers before hopping off the out-of-control warhorse. The two remaining knights must have decided that it was not worth their lives, turned and fled.

Khar’xit sheathed his sword and Rikkit did the same. The rush of battle always seemed to make things turn into one big event that happens in the blink of an eye.

The herd of beastmen were all dead, even the Beastlords. Khar’xit breathed heavily and turned back towards the tunnels. Curse the man-things. They know not what they do. Fools.
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