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The Moulderican Dream; TMS TMP Part II
Topic Started: 19th August 2007 - 03:26 PM (333 Views)
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The Tunnel's Resident Rodent Ecologist

The Moulderican Dream
The Morkreekian Saga
The Morkreekian Project
Part II

Kirilken stared out over the streets of Kaffir. He could sense the emotions broiling down there... fear... anger... hate. Not too many Skaven take kindly to having a complete stranger promoted over them. Even less take kindly to having a slave promoted over them. Kirilken smiled. They would have to deal with their problems on their own... Kirilken was not about to remove himself and Bellower from command.

Bellower had already taken a new name, Hajak, and had spent much of his time as new Slavemaster picking the thirteen Hordeleaders. The Hordeleaders would be the Slavelord's arms, the generals of Clan Morkreek's armed forces. Already, one of the first Hordeleaders, Merkit, had traveled to the surface, near the place called "The Great Forest," supposedly to look for some trinket that would grant the owner supreme powers. One of those rumours. Of course, it was all a disguise. Merkit, one of Hajak's most trusted new leaders, was actually checking up on Clan Morkreek's sleeper caches, scattered throughout the supposedly ruined Morkreekian Underway. He was due to return within the fortnight.

Kirilken frowned. No matter what Merkit's mission was, he and his council had some issues to deal with. The Skaven in the Slaver's quarter were angrier than the rest of Kaffir at the promotion of Bellower, as the Skaven hierarchy was more pronounced there than aywhere else. Already, agents of Clan Morkreek's leaders had been found murdered in the streets. There anger was manifesting itself in violence again the Clan's leadership... that would have to be punished. Still, the amount of Skaven in that quarter was large, and killing them all would be a serious blow to Clan Morkreek's economy. Something had to be done, however... there was much potential for destruction down there.

The former Ambassarat turned away from thw window of the Morkeekian Spire, the massive sandstone tower in the center of the massive underground cavern. The light of day spilled in through the hole in the wall of the cavern, where the sea flowed into the hold. Kirilken shut the window, plunging the room into a much more comfortable darkness. he lit a torch on the wall, allowing him to see the room he was in.

Three tables lay strapped to the far wall, dead and dying Skaven strapped to them, their bodies cut open and held so with pins and knives. As the Slavelord's gaze passed over them, one whimpered. Kirilken strode over to it, drew a dagger, and slashed its left eye out. The slave's body convulsed, causing the pins and blades to rend his flesh further. The Skaven shuddered and died ad the sharp edgescut deep into his exposed heart. Kirilken wiped his dagger on a nearby cloth, and re-sheathed it. He turned away from the tables and looked over the rest of his private, secret, hidden chamber.

Food was laid out on two tables on either side of the window the Slavelord had just been looking at. Raw meat, cooked meat, a few stingy vegatables, some black bread, and lots more meat. Much of it was half eaten. To the left of this, on the wall to Kirilken's left, the door that led back to the main complex of the spire was closed shut, the metal undented. A secret passage out was next to it., marked by the faintest of scratches on the wall.

On Kirilken's right, an opening in the wall led to a circular chamber. It was through this opening that Kirilken walked. At the opposite side of this smaller room, three slaves lay strapped to a throne, connected by wires and flesh. To his right, another opening led to Kirilken's laboratory.

The Slavelord walked straight forward, to a metal control panel mounted on a pedestal in front of the tortured slaves. He pushed several buttons, and a hum filled the room as electricity began to course through the bodies of the slaves. The slaves began to twitch and convulse. In the stones of the hold and down through the ground, a cord of sinews and nerves filled with energy, transmitting the neural signal to a receiving node.

The topmost slave in the triangle suddenly shook its head and stood up. This one was the meast contrained by wires and the like. It opened its mouth and spoke in a relatively deep voice.

"I though-thought never to hear this node ever speak to me again. I can assume that either the secret chamber of Kaffir has been discovered, or one of the agents has returned. Kraznoviskitch, is that you-you?"

Krilken smiled and bowed, nowing that the slaves below the speaking one would relay his actions and words to the much more complex slave set-up on the other end.

"It is no longer Kraznov, or Kraznoviskitch, dear-dear Raznarth. I go-go by the name of Kirilken now."

The speaking slave smiled, amused. "The former ambassarat of Clan Morkreek to Skavenblight, turned Slavelord, eh?" The deep voice of Raznarth sounded odd coming from the mouth of the diminuitive slave. "And who will replace you in the city?"

Kirilken didn't miss a beat. "The Underlord of Skavenblight."

The slave then looked contemplative. "So you have friend-friends in high places. But what about for official negotiations? The Underlord surely won't reveal himself for you."

"That is true, dear Raznarth. However, he has agreed to send a disguised agent when required."

The slave nodded understanding."I assume you have an agent of his that relays your words to him?"

Kirilken nodded, exaggerating his movement so that the sight-slave would pick it up. The sound-slave has both of its ears mutated onto the end of his nose, the better to hear with.

"A certain Silvar Greysqueak does that job."

The slave was now looking extremely amused. "Well-well... Silvar... I should have guessed." The slave nodded its head, its eyes unfocusing for a brief second as it tried to break free of its neural impulses. It was soon back under control, though. "However, I sense that that is not-not what you contacted me to talk about. I had thought you dead. What is the trouble?"

"There is no trouble, Raznarth. I merely wish to know more about the current status of the Project."

All traces of amusement vanished from the slave's face. "The project? As you probably discerned from your infallible spies, Verminkin considered terminating it. I convinced him to merely cut funding. However, it is in dire straits. The Packlord no longer considers it a viable option." Anger briefly flared in the slave's eyes. It really was remarkable what these communicators could do, thought Kirilken. Raznarth was a genius.

"And why is that?" asked Kirilken, cocking his head curiously.

The slave gave forth a false chuckle. "Now that you're back-back, only five of us remain: me, you, Larrax, Kallen, and Gastitch. Of the Thirteen, and then the Nine, now there are only five. My own experiments have been going well-"

"As have mine," interrupted Kirilken, and then quickly backed down as his superior glared down at him for his insolence. Raznarth might appear easy-going on the surface, but he was a harsh and cruel master.

"However, Larrax has almost lost his entire experimentary clan, Viktak, to an Night Goblin attack. His gene-pool is reduced... Clan Viktak will not be-be the super clan we need. Larrax knows this-this now.

"Kallen has not been heard from-from for several moons... I know he still live-lives, however.

"Gastitch's experiments are not doing well, either. The Beastpox struck his hold harder than it struck Kaffir, and many of his super Skaven were killed by it, much to the dismay of officials there-there." Kirilken barely suppressed a smile. Not even Raznarth knew that the new Beastpox had been engineered by the late Plaguebender Jarvan on Clan Morkreek's orders.

"I expect a full report from you soon.... Kirilken." The slave was amused again. "I hope the news is good. Verminkin had such high hopes for the Moulderican Dream... he really wanted the super-Skaven of our clans to take over. He relished in the thought of meddling with then genetics of whole Clan-clans, installing things to prevent us from being harmed by them, and to turn them to our side. That bit has been doing well, although Verminking does not realize it. If Clan Morkreek has been doing well... Verminkin might restore funding." Kirilken had his doubts about that, but he didn't dare contradict his superior.

"I must leave now... I have pressing business to discuss with Scarskrex. Send the report by sinew-signal to node thirty-two."

Kirilken nodded. "It shall be done."

"Good-good." Without further prompting, the slaves suddenly collapsed, lifeless, to the ground. Kirilken smiled and turned to face his laboratory, admiring its beauty before walking into it, basking in the sounds of screams and the scent of fear.

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