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Arrival of a Great Burden; Prequel to A Glimpse of Fate
Topic Started: 14th November 2013 - 12:14 AM (338 Views)
ShuNian
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Self-Proclaimed Miss Skavenblight

Author's Note: This is a short accompanying piece to my other fluff story A Glimpse of Fate This is a prequel to it, and just sheds light on an important event that took place years before the original short story.
Hope you enjoy, and as always- comments and critique are especially welcome! :)
And thanks to Ratty for proof reading!!

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Arrival of a Great Burden


The meeting hall of the Order of Seers was in chaos. What with a dozen angry Seers practically fuming, it was no surprise. The assembled rat mages seethed in anger and voiced their displeasure through high pitched bickering or quiet cursing under their breath. Their cries echoed to the endless ceiling and carried around the stone work. Even as a pawful of the Seers stood and practically tore at each other with their claws, one Seer was content to sit as far away from the fighting as he could manage.

Grey Seer Cribitt placed himself at the very end of the meeting hall, but still could not escape the endless arguing. He quietly sat in one of the empty and none-too-comfortable wooden chairs that had been dragged into the back. He tried very hard to ignore the screeching protests of his assembled brother Seers in a vain attempt to clear his thoughts, but to no avail. They were far too adamant about their current predicament to conduct their business in a quieter manner. The standing seers clawed and argued in a mess of white fur and horned heads, ready to clash into each other at the slightest provocation. Cribitt rubbed his temples as a couple of the standing skaven began to shove one another like whelps. This was starting to get on his nerves.

Cribitt, had he been in a better mind, might have stood and separated his colleagues but a more pressing matter kept him out of it. He focused past the argument and instead concentrated dead ahead, where a waiting Stormvermin stood at attention away from all of the fighting. The guard bore the true source of their ire. A whelp flailed helplessly in the single Albino Stormvermin’s grasp, trying to free itself from his iron grip. Its pale fur, new and thin, shone as it squealed in protest to the harsh handling. By the looks of its condition, it had only opened its eyes for the first time less than a fortnight ago. Cribitt could not help but stare at the small nubs on the runt’s head; two tiny pieces of obsidian that sprouted from its fur like warpstone in a blizzard.

Normally Cribitt would not have been so surprised to have seen a runt chosen by the Great Horned Rat. After all, had he considered every blessed whelp as odd he would have been unnerved by the sheer number of apprentice seerlings scurrying around. But this time, it was far more different. Where this would normally constitute the immediate raising and apprenticeship in their God’s merciless order, this whelp brought forth a new, concerning problem. He crinkled his nose distastefully at the Stormvermin, glaring at the mewling whelp. Cribitt, though silent, felt his very thoughts reflected in the out-cries of his fellow Seers.

“A breeder! A breeder of-of all things!”

“This is blasphemy- I shall not stand-tolerate such-!“

“The Horned Rat warn-warns us with ill omens-!”

“-Must be cleansed! We must-must be swift-!”

Cribitt found it almost ironic that his fellows decided to fight amongst themselves than face the problem before them. None were in pleasant spirits in light of such a tremendous event. It was easier for them to hiss and screech at each other like goblin shamans over scattered bones than it was to calm down and think about the problem. Seer Cribitt could not blame them too much though, as such news was a hard shard of warpstone to swallow.

A breeder, he mentally scoffed as he continued to scrutinize the whelp. Of all of the strange and enigmatic graces of the Horned One, why had they been cursed with a breeder? How could the Great Horned Rat bless something so insignificant and blasphemous as a breeder-whelp? Females were fated to be in the breeding-warrens, not spreading His glorious word!

Cribitt ground his teeth together. It was horrid enough to be stuck with the bickering of his colleagues, but why was he subjected to be in the same burrow as the little abomination? As wise as he was, Cribitt could not find an answer. The Grey Seer forced himself to pry his gaze away from the runt, willing his immense anger and confusion to abate. He took comfort in knowing he was not alone in this troubling situation.

Once again he looked to the gathered skaven. Only a dozen seers besides himself occupied the vast chamber. None were particularly happy to witness the atrocity that was dangled mockingly before them. Not only was the scent of agitation thick in the burrow, but the tension was particularly tangible. They had all been paranoid since they were first hoarded into the meeting hall like rat hounds to a pen. Their distress had quickly escalated when they discovered that none were permitted to leave per request of the Seerlord. So there the Seers had remained, crowded and agitated with no news from the outside. Essentially, they were trapped until the Seerlord dismissed them. And for all Cribitt knew, that could take ages.

Cribitt doubted any of them would be trapped had it not been for fate’s ill timing. Grey Seer Cribitt especially had had poor timing, as he found himself present the night the Breeder-whelp had even arrived. Cribitt had been drawn back to the Temple of the Horned Rat. Ill omens had plagued his dreams and he had been offering a sacrificial slave to his God in attempt to beg for guidance. He had found many seers scrambling to do the same, troubled and scared like whelps hiding from a raiding clan. The commotion was only made worse when a scene played out before the temple’s gates.

Upon investigation (and swift interrogation of the surviving slaves who had witnessed) Cribitt had the misfortune of finding the cause of such discord. Apparently a rat-wife, a lowly slave made to care for the females, smuggled an interesting whelp to the temple gates. A breeder had been nestled in the slaves paws, the same that offended his sight now. It had been marked with the mark of the Great Horned One and the eunuch-slave knew full well the significance of such a strange omen. The rat-wife had risked his life to deliver the runt to the Order of Seers, no doubt in hopes to exploit the situation for some sort of leverage over the Grey Seers!

Though the eunuch’s hopes had been dashed down faster than his brains on the cobble stones as temple guards slew the slave-rat. It was surprising they did not slay the whelp as well, but breeder or not, the guard-rats were smarter than to lay a claw on a chosen of the Horned One. Unfortunately for the guards they had let many bear witness to their gruesome course of action, and did very little to clean up after themselves.

Cribitt had watched as his brother Seers that witnessed the scene immediately panicked and were quick to make spectacles of themselves; either by rushing to pray before their idol of their God or to start bullying apprentices to fetch more sacrifices. What started as one incident quickly devolved into pandemonium, each of the dozen seers desperate to prove that this is what drew them to the temple. It was only fueled by a green-eyed mage that shouted words of blasphemy;

“I sniff-saw it! Runt was-was a breeder!!”

Cribitt had listened to the mad seer rave about ill fortune and inevitable doom through the corridors until the chaos was broken by the arrival of the temple guards. Before they could even speak protest, all of the visiting seers were bullied and forced into the very chamber they stood in now- waiting for hours for word of their temporary holding from their master, Seerlord Kritislik. The dozen grey seers all wallowed in their confusion and agitation, not even permitted to leave by order of the Seerlord. Instead for hours they endured nothing but the nerve wrecking wait and the many conspiracies of their fellows.

In fact, Grey Seer Cribitt had heard nothing but their odd theories and complaints since they had been hoarded into the meeting burrow. It was nothing but anger towards the guards from keeping them there and interpretations of signs granted to them by the Great Horned One. Even when the breeder-runt had been presented, Cribitt had not known a quiet moment. His head ached as he thought of the hours of stupidity and ignorance he was forced to endure. For all he knew, this very night could have been orchestrated from the start! What was worse, Cribitt was not the only skaven to jump to this conclusion.

Another Grey Seer, a jittery runt-Seer in dark robes, had squeaked these unfolding events had been prophesized. He hissed that the Seerlord must have foreseen the runt’s arrival himself, and had planned its retrieval from the beginning! How else would that temple guards have know to act so swiftly upon the runt’s deliverance? Despite the Runt-Seer being met with the protests of the assembled skaven, Cribitt was not so foolish to rebuff the idea and was even willing to accept such a claim.

The Grey Seer had begrudgingly admitted to himself that the Seerlord was undisputedly the greatest prophet of their order (one he aspired to surpass.) To challenge the Seelord’s visions was to challenge fate itself he knew; nothing but fruitless and deadly, no matter how farfetched his word seemed. Cribitt idly wondered where the Seerlord stole away to now, leaving the dozen seers to their own devices. He cursed under his breath for the wait, not one to enjoy having to wait for answers he so deserved. Cribitt ground his teeth together. One day he would make Kritislik pay for this transgression…

A high chorus of shrilled voices suddenly brought Cribitt from his anger, making him focus back to the far side of the chamber. His ears and whiskered twitched, realizing the argument reached a new crescendo, sending the room echoing with loud, piercing tones. He grit his teeth and the fur on his neck rose as the sudden screech of chair legs scraping the ground assaulted his ears. Seer Cribitt watched as the green eyed Seer suddenly leapt from the crow with frightening speed and snatched the whelp from the guard-rat like a bat grabbing an insect.

The albino guard gave no sign of protest, even as the breeder-runt squealed in fright. The squealing grew loud and desperate as it changed from scared to pained, and the runt began thrashing in the grasp of the seer. The green-eyed Seer roughly clawed at the runt’s small horns with such force, as though trying to prove they were fake- as though the whelp was only the product of an elaborate, blasphemous prank. Cribitt watched as a pawful of Grey Seers followed the first and began to crowd the runt.

The acrid scent of the musk of fear wafted through the chamber as one by one, the seers seized the runt- each attempting to tear the horns off the whelp where the last seer failed. Cribitt secretly wished that one would succeed so they would not have to deal with such a strange offering from the Honred One much longer. He sensed the same tension in the other seers who watched the scene, none shedding an ounce of sympathy for the squealing breeder. None wanted to face the idea that the Great Horned One had laden them with such a breeder… it could not be possible.

The lynch mob around the whelp squabbled until a loud bang echoed through the chamber. The ominous sound ceased all noise in a single moment as all eyes were drawn to the entrance. The large wooden doors of the ancient doorway had swung open and groaned as they let in the late arrival. The gathered ratmen gaped and gave a collective pause, as though the very snout of death greeted them. Death might as well have been, as none could distribute doom as mightily as Seerlord Kritislik- Patriarch of the Order of the Seers, Voice of the Great Horned Rat, and He Who Was First as proclaimed by the Thirteen Dreaded Lords.

Seerlord Kritislik regarded the gathered skaven with a look of pure undisguised malice. It was the very look of superiority that was expected of one of such high rank above his lesser. Kritislik radiated dark power the way warpstone radiated corruption. His posture was rightfully held high above his subordinates, only made frighteningly higher by the darkened horns that towered above his head. Truly, the Seerlord embodied the righteous zeal and fear inspired by the Great Horned One. Kritislik’s red eyes bore down upon the Grey Seers that were still standing. The burning embers dared the lesser mages to defy him in any sense, willing to smite them at any moment.

Kritislik had finally arrived to deal with the odd omen personally, and none doubted that he was the best suited. Who would dare protest the very voice of the Horned One?
Such an intimidating sight was the Seerlord that the standing seers, all but forgetting the whimpering runt, immediately dropped their posture to him. They all bore their necks to their master in proper submission. Cribitt and the rest of the seated made haste to follow their example and stood to do the same. Soon the room all reeked of fear and respect to the Seerlord. As the highest ranking grey seer, there was no doubt Kritislik would want it any other way.

After a few moments of savoring the awe he produced, Seerlord Kritislik slowly waved his clawed paw, allowing his underlings to return to their seats and wait patiently for his instruction. All did without question, immediately picking themselves off of the floor with great haste. Cribitt, as he crawled back into his own chair, watched as the standing seers scuttled away from their master like mice to their creep-hole. The slowest seer was suddenly fixated by the Seerlord’s fiery gaze, transfixing the seer to a paralyzed standstill. Distastefully Seerlord Kritislik eyed the burden the fearful lesser-mage carried, bearing his teeth at the squirming thing.

Cribitt noted it had been the green-eyed seer from earlier that bore the source of their master’s ire. The emerald eyed skaven dared to look down and discover what he held with a look of shock. Somehow, the seer had managed to wrestle back the breeder-runt and held a tight grip on the little blasphemy. And by the relaxed way it trembled in his paws, the whelp mistook the handling for a comforting gesture. The unfortunate seer more than likely forgot the whelp in light of the Seerlord’s arrival. The green-eyed seer came to the same conclusion and promptly dropped the whelp at Kritislik’s feet before scurrying away.

The runt let out a fresh peal of wails as it smacked the ground, further pained by the harsh treatment. But none pitied the whelp as it squealed unhappily on the stone floor. The Seerlord gestured his paw again, and called forth the Albino guard that waited patiently behind. The guard-rat grabbed the whelp by the tail and held it aloft, taking it away from Kritislik and out of the way. The breeder-runt still squealed as it was held, and stupidly buried its face into its paws- as though to hide from the cruel world that kept hurting it.

But the Seerlord paid the runt no further mind and instead focused on the grey seers that surrounded him. He transfixed the rest of the skaven and caused a tangible sense of anxiety and suspense to course through them. Cribitt’s own mouth began to grow dry as he waited for what felt like an eternity for the Seerlord to finally squeak. He almost felt as though he were the runt being held aloft for Kritislik to scrutinize. But his patience was rewarded, as the Seerlord’s ancient voice cracked through the silence.

“My brothers,” Kritislik began ominously, his voice carrying over every inch of the chamber like the ringing of a giant bell. His tone was like the grim veil of death. “You know well-well why I have called you together. Strange omens have been sent to us by the Great Horned One…”

None dared to even breathe, let along mutter their agreement. Kritislik did not pay mind to the silence and seemingly welcomed it as he continued.

“The time has arisen-come for His most devoted servants to divine his will. It is we who will triumph in light of his more… perplexing offerings. The Order has been tasked with the glory of this new trial, and all will carry out this sacred burden with devotion… and without question.”

There was little formality in the Seerlord’s speech. The unusual fortitude greatly frightened Cribitt. The tension only grew as Kritislik gazed around at the fidgeting grey seers. Though this time Cribitt could not take his master’s gaze and turned to look away. It was then Cribitt caught the eyes of the seer next to him and simultaneously they froze. It was the same runt-seer that had spoke of prophecy earlier that night. The runt-seer had paused in mid bite as Cribitt locked eyes with him- a sprig of weird root held halfway from his open maw.

The scrawny seer slowly lowered the sprig and said nothing as they still locked eyes. In that moment a look of rare knowing passed between the two- a silent understanding, rarely shared by two skaven. This night would not end before they were released of their burden. The Seerlord would see them all burned alive before submitting to a curse sent from the Horned One. Kritislik was now forcing them to bear this trial with him. He would make sure none would escape the wrath of their God. Eventually the broke their frightened gaze and looked back to Kritislik as the Seerlord spoke once more.

“Pray to the Horned One as I have,” hissed the Seerlord, his voice picking up intensity. “For his will now lives-breathes and guides me to the solution. We will test his newest… servant and prove,” Cribitt wondered if the Seerlord struggled to accept this, “if it is truly worthy in his eyes.”

The assembled knew this was not up for debate, as the Seerlord obviously made up his mind before he even entered the meeting burrow. Kritislik had already pondered their course of action and would not suffer to let the rest of the seers divine such an important decision. Seer Cribitt could not help but feel they would even know of Kritislik’s decision had they never found out about the breeder in the first place. But they had, and they had gathered for the runt’s arrival- and now they were stuck and had no choice but to bear the weight of Seerlord Kritislik’s decision.

The grey seer watched as Kritislik suddenly gestured for all of them to rise, making them file out of the meeting chamber like runts following their elders. The Seerlord waited for them all to exit before he took his own place in the back with the albino guard-rat. When all had left the burrow the guard-rat dropped the whelp into a sack he produced from his belt and securely took his place in front of the great Council member. The whelp squealed and scratched at the burlap sack, but eventually settled when it was not granted freedom.

When the guard prepared the little ivory terror, Kritislik forced the group of seers forward to their new destination with a few curt commands. The lesser seers complied, and eagerly they set off into the bowls of the temple. Grey Seer Cribitt felt uncomfortable as they were herded down the winding corridors, only of sound of their clawed feet following them into the darkness. He felt that they might have well been proceeding to their inevitable death. For the scent of dread hung so heavy in the air it almost choked him. But Cribitt would persevere. He would help please the Seerlord to save his own tail.

Before he knew it they had traveled deep into the pits of the temple. Seerlord Kritislik had guided them past all of the sacred sacrificial chambers and the burrows of initiation- where apprentice Seerlings were mercilessly tested to see if they were worthy of being a Grey Seer. The assembled were pushed past these chambers and into the heart of the Sanctum of the Horned Rat where the last and most important trial slept- the Maze of Inevitable Death.

Its mouth was a yawning black hole in the center of the room, guarded by the stone gaze of a giant figure. The stone Horned Rat leered down at them knowingly, welcoming them once more into the dreaded burrow. All knew the final trial well. As fledgling seers, each had been made to walk through its horrid depths with nothing but a blindfold and the good graces of the Horned One to guide them. Grey Seer Cribitt shuddered as he remembered his own initiation through the maze but could not help but fight a nagging feeling.

It was one thing to send in a trained apprentice, but to send in a whelp…? He suddenly felt the first glimpse of hope for this dire situation. Cribitt knew what the Seerlord was going to do.

Once they all filed in the Grey seers parted at the open maw of the maze, letting the Seerlord and his guard through to the entrance. Cribitt stood not too far from Kritislik’s right, and watched with a growing sense of calm. He knew with every fiber of his being that it had been true that the Seerlord had foreseen this night. For the Seerlord no doubt had taken pains to prepare what was to happen next. But one question kept nagging him- why had Kritislik needed the grey seers there with him?

Carefully the albino guard-rat approached the Seerlord, stopping a respectful tails length away. He opened the bag he carried and held it out at paws length, bowing his head respectfully to Kritislik. Without hesitation Kritislik reached down into the burlap sack and produced the breeder-whelp. Somehow it had been pacified by its time in confinement and sniffled pathetically as its eye readjusted to the scene around it. Cribitt mentally cringed as the Seerlord gathered the whelp in his paws, and wondered how his master stomached holding the thing. The grey seers around him must have shared the same revulsion, as a few weaker minded seers physically recoiled at the sight.

A hush fell over the assembled skaven as the Seerlord brought the whelp level to him. For a few heart skipping seconds the runt and ancient skaven studied each other. The whelp’s large, amber eyes held the Seerlord’s for only a brief moment before disappearing with a sharp squeal. Cribitt watched as the Seerlord savagely threw the runt with terrifying strength that defied his ancient and gangly frame. The pale blur of the whelp arced through the air and straight to the gaping maw of the maze. The breeder-runt knocked against the lip of the opening, cracking its head loudly as it was swallowed by the inky shadows below.

The only sound that followed the runt was its fading shrieks as it disappeared into the abyss. Then silence engulfed the room. All stared after the departed runt, and none moved. The weight of their burden felt as though it were being lifted, only to be brought down by a new sense of urgency. The sense of satisfaction that had filled Cribitt’s heart for a brief moment quickly faded. Relief did not come as he hoped it would, and it frightened him to his rotten core.

Grey Seer Cribitt swallowed hard and was compelled to look to the statue of the Horned Rat. It glared back at him, as though mocking the seer with its all knowing gaze. It knew something he would never, and it burned him to think so. Cribitt looked around him to his brothers, but discovered they did not share his newfound anxiety. They were all visibly relaxed, and some even muttered their thanks to the Horned One. But Cribitt cursed them for their gullibility. Seer Cribitt was wiser than they were, and knew that something was not quite right. His whiskers twitched nervously and he searched for answers within his own mind.

Something caught the grey seer’s eye and Cribitt found himself looking to the Seerlord. At first all he saw was the same ancient mage-rat he had known for his entire vocation… but this time, something had irrevocably changed. Kritislik, though still the same imposing figure as ever, he seemed much more… defiant. It was a sense of determination that began to surpass any zealous devotion Kritislik might have previously possessed. But this defiance was not directed at the gaping entrance of the maze- nor was it given to any of the surrounding grey seers.

Cribitt followed the Seerlord’s stoic gaze and found that Kritislik too held the stone Horned Rat’s enlightened eyes; though instead of viewing a mere icon, Seer Cribitt was frightened to realize that Kritislik was reveling at the Horned Rat himself. That somehow to Kritislik, it was no longer a mere statue, but the scrying spirit of their almighty god.

Eventually the others felt it too, as they came back to their senses and noticed their unmoving master. They all shifted nervously, like clanrats under inspection. They waited in vain for their master to move and dismiss them from the horrid chamber and banish any ill tidings that still lingered in the air. For now these were no longer important to the Seerlord. Only the unheard voice of the Horned One that resonated from the statue proved invaluable. Despite their impatience, none dared to squeak and instead followed his gaze, joining Cribitt as the waited to hear the voice of their god too.

Suddenly Grey Seer Cribitt felt his fur bristle as a new force haunted his mind. He too began to hear the Horned One, but differently as the Seerlord. It pushed him to voice what no other could, or even dared. The seer could not take the silence nor the questions that swarmed his mind. Grey Seer Cribitt licked his dry lips and let his hoarse voice break the silence.

“Most-most righteous of prophets- most devoted of the Horned One-“

Seerlord Kritislik did not turn to acknowledge him, his old ears merely twitched as Cribitt addressed him. Despite being greeted with silence Cribitt continued cautiously; ignoring as his fellows stared warningly at him. It was as though they feared his wizened words would jeopardize the banishment of the blasphemy. But he ignored them.
He needed to squeak. He needed to know.

“You squeak-spoke of trials for our Brotherhood… The new chosen has been thrown-cast into the pit for its test-test of worthiness… but what-what trial is ours to endure?”

His question hung in the air as heavily as Morrsleib at its fullest. Kritislik did not respond for many heartbeats. Cribitt could not tell if his question was ignored of if the
Seerlord could no longer hear any of their world. His glands clenched as he waited for some sense of acknowledgement, fearing his inquiry may have broken some silent pact the others shared. But relief finally came as Kritislik slowly turned his fiery gaze onto Cribitt and held him in place with the intensity of righteousness. The ancient skaven barred his fangs and nearly made the lesser seer’s glands void as his brittle voice echoed through his ears.

“Your trial is to never-never let another soul find what happened here…”
"All tunnels lead to Skavenblight..."
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Ratty Gnawtail
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Scribble-thing

As before, great work Shu! :D

I particularly liked your take on Kritislik, the combination of his age, devotion to the Horned Rat, and menacing nature really created an interesting and scary character.
Strangely enough I want to see more of this green-eyed Seer as well. :P
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ShuNian
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Thanks Ratty! :)
I might have to use him if I ever turn this fluff into a series. Or who knows. Originally, in A Glimpse of Fate he was mentioned to have dabbled in necromancy (or at least trying to study it.) I could always do something like that. A Seer/Necromancer fight would be fun to write for!!
Thanks again for proof reading! :)
"All tunnels lead to Skavenblight..."
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Danbob87
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Stormvermin
Very enjoyable stuff, I must go back and read A Glimpse of Fate again. Are there any plans for a sequel?
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ShuNian
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I'm really happy you liked it!
Well, originally I did have a plan to write an entire story that followed A Glimpse of Fate and Grey Seer Cribitt's adventure into the North.
I've really been debating on whether I wanted to start it.
"All tunnels lead to Skavenblight..."
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Ratty Gnawtail
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ShuNian
25th November 2013 - 07:37 PM
I've really been debating on whether I wanted to start it.
*Jedi hand wave*
You will start a sequel to your very well written story.
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Danbob87
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If you wrote it, I would read it. If that influences your decision at all.
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ShuNian
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Honestly, any type of support and feedback does help. :)
I think I'm going to try and write more for the future, as I do have a good idea for the plot.
Thank you both for the support! :)
"All tunnels lead to Skavenblight..."
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GreyseerIlok
Clanrat
#gs#


II really enjoyed reading that, it was interesting.


I thought about writing about a Grey Seer who'd either gone to the North or had knowledge of the Northern Tribes and customs. I don't know of much fluff that has both the Skaven and the Beast of Chaos in or Chaos Dwarves. That might be fun.


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ShuNian
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I'm glad, thank you!

You should. :) It would be really fun to read!
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GreyseerIlok
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Well, I've just finished the 1st of chapter regarding a Space Marine chapter, so in the next few days or so I'l have a go if I get the chance...
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