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Warp Token Update
🕑 Added 2024-06-11 11:40:28 +0000 UTC2.8k words
***
“Ramming speed!” she exclaimed. “For Clan Mors! For the man-thing Empire!”
The ships collided, the weight of the crash comparable to two giants butting heads. Roderick had thought the ram had been cast from rock, and he was proven correct, the sheep’s skull splitting apart metal and wood alike, not even so much as buckling under the impact.
Skyseeker had directed the ram towards the centre of the Skaven ship, Roderick just able to see the clanship parting down its middle, the bow melting through the hull like a knife through butter, the cries of countless panicking rodents reaching his ears.
The ram depleted their speed in an instant, Roderick holding onto a nearby mast for support as the wolfship buckled with strain. A feminine cry rose up above the sounds of groaning wood, Roderick glancing over his shoulder to see Skyseeker arcing through the air, the violent impact having knocked her clear off her perch on the wheel. The drop to the main deck was a good five or so meters, Roderick panicking as she hit the wood face-first, her legs bending unnaturally over her backside as she lay there in an awkward pose.
“Skyseeker!” he cried, rushing over to her side. He released the breath he’d been holding when she stirred, blinking her red eyes up at him. “By Sigmar, are you alright?”
“I’m perfectly fine, Richard, thank you for asking,” she replied in an eerily level voice, one free of snivels or chitters. He helped her to her feet, the rat woman shaking her head as she brushed herself off.
“You did very well,” he added, looking over the bulkwark. The Skaven ship had been cleaved in twain, and while the ram hadn’t gone all the way through, the damage had been done, the clanship starting to sink towards the waterline. Some sailors were throwing up victorious cheers upon seeing the Skaven wreck, a wave of calm settling over the ship.
The serenity was pierced by a pointed snarl, a ratman leaping up onto the portside railing, brandishing two curved swords. Another shriek raised to answer it, this one from the starboard side, a Skaven warrior scampering up onto the deck. He was joined by another, then two more, and very soon the deck was being swamped with rodents. The Skaven must be climbing up the hull from their ship, as eager to fight as they were to flee their ruined vessel.
The vermintides descended upon the sailors from both sides, those unlucky enough to be closest being hacked apart without mercy, one sailor being rammed through by a spear with a cruel gut hook on the end. The man was thrown onto his back, his cry of alarm wetted by a gurgle of blood seeping from his lips, the man grasping the haft with his callused hands.
The clanrat twisted his spear with a cackle, the sailor going limp. The men nearby brought their flintlock rifles to bear, blasting the rodent to pieces, his mangy body crumpling to the deck.
The ship became a thrashing, close quarters bloodbath, the charging rats being met with sailors armed with rifles and handguns. Like infantry forming firing lines, they lined up in rows, standing shoulder to shoulder as they shot the incoming Skaven down.
“Here,” Roderick called, tossing his Skaven sword to Skyseeker, who caught it in her paw. She seemed to have shaken off her daze. He moved his hands to his belt, drawing his two pistols and aiming them in one fluid movement. One of the rats was coming right for them, and Roderick pulled one of the triggers, his head vanishing in a cloud of red mist.
Swerving round, he fired his second shot, the backwash of smoke plastering his face. He took out the leg of a rat who’d just climbed the bulwark, sending the Skaven flipping away to the waters below.
“Get off man-thing ship, Skurvy paws!” Skyseeker shouted, charging into the fray. “I’m only rat allowed!”
Roderick reloaded, watching as Skyseeker cut down a clanrat that hadn’t noticed her approach, holding the sword in both her paws. Just like back on the Trantine Hills, the Skaven seemed more confused than alarmed by her presence, the rats watching her cut down three of their number before finally concluding she wasn’t on their side.
While he’d only seen Skyseeker use daggers in combat, she was handy with a blade, blocking a swipe from an overhead spear, moving in to give the sailors support. Roderick was reloaded, firing a lead ball at a clanrat moving in on her left flank, tearing a chunk through the rat’s furry abdomen, cutting down another rodent with his offhand pistol. It was a challenge to reload with both hands full, but he could concentrate on moving the paper charges with Skyseeker and the sailors taking most of the Skaven’s attention.
The bulk of the Skaven were concentrating on overrunning the main deck, leaving those on the bow and stern mostly alone, allowing them to fire down and the swaths of rats from vantage points. Some of the men had resorted to using the swivel guns at point blank range, firing at their own ship in an attempt to stem the tides, the cannonballs cutting visible lines through the Skaven ranks.
Yet for every rat killed, another was there to take its place, those that couldn’t reload their flintlocks in time falling back on their swords, the deck devolving into a chaotic brawl. The sailors formed pockets of resistance, the man in front covering the riflebearers as they reloaded, the crack of gunfire rising up above the sounds of clashing blades.
Despite the initial surprise advantage, the morale of the Skaven wasn’t holding, some turning tail and dropping their weapons, hoisting themselves back over the bulwark, despite the protests of their comrades. The rats didn’t seemed to be equipped with their deadly ranged wargear they were known to use, perhaps their heavy equipment had been destroyed during the ram, or couldn’t be lifted up onto the wolfship easily.
“That’s right-right!” Skyseeker jeered, shaking her fist as she chased a ratman off the ship. “you better squirt fear-musk!”
From over the bulwark reached a giant hand, fingers the size of Roderick’s arm gripping the railing. The palm tapered into an arm as thick around as a barrel, packed with steely muscles, the hide sheathed in a course layer of fur. More of the monstrous limb came into view as its owner hauled itself higher, and within a few moments, the terrible visage of a ratman came into view.
It wasn’t too dissimilar from the other Skaven he’d seen, save for its exaggerated proportions. Its skull was as thick and wide as a lion’s, its reinforced skull wrapped in what looked like bandages.
It turned its pink eyes on Skyseeker, as she was the closest thing at present, splaying its powerful jaws wide. It unleashed a guttural roar, flecks of spittle flying from its throat, the sound reminding Roderick of angered trolls, his bones shaking alongside the noise.
Skyseeker responded by loosing a pitiful squeak. “EEEEEK! RAT ORGRE!” she warned, as though it wasn’t obvious enough. “Change mind! I’m the one who squirts fear-musk!”
The rat ogre leaned its barrel chest against the bulwark, Roderick seeing that poking out of its backside were several green crystals, each lining the length of its spine like quills. He could also see metallic augments ingrained into the front of its broad shoulders, sheets of steel and what looked like flat screw tops drilled into its thick flesh. Had the Skaven welded armour pieces into this monster?
The ogre raised its other arm to clamber up onto the deck, but arm wasn’t quite the right term. From the shoulder to the elbow was a giant bicep with more muscle mass than his entire body it seemed, but from there on, the limb transformed into a steel amalgamation, a device not dissimilar from a corkscrew taking place of the forearm. The device ended in another of those green crystals, the mineral sharpened to a point, almost like a drill bit in a way.
The ogre used this metal arm as leverage, two thick legs lifting onto the deck, the ogre’s waist obscured by a red loincloth. Now on flat ground, the beast rose to its full height, at least thirteen feet of pure muscle. Roderick noted that its flesh was stitched in places, almost as though parts of it had been grafted on by a surgeon, but surely the Skaven didn’t possess such abilities, did they?
“Move, Skyseeker!” Roderick warned, but the rat woman seemed paralysed with fear, she just stood there as the rat ogre turned its gaze on her. There was little intelligence in its eyes, the monster frothing at the mouth as it advanced on her.
It lifted its meaty arm, the one that wasn’t a metallic augment, curling its fingers into a fist, making to smash her into dust. She made to back away, but her foot caught on a jutting piece of wood, and she tripped onto her butt, Roderick looking on in horror as he fired his pistols in an attempt to distract the ogre.
His bullets ripped into the ogre’s massive pectorals, drawing blood, but the beast hardly flinched, bringing its fist down on Skyseeker. She cowered behind a raised hand of her own, the rat woman looking like a child in comparison to the ogre.
As the ogre brought down its arm, Skyseeker’s feeble limb blocked the blow, the monster recoiling as though it had struck steel, Roderick’s panic morphing to confusion as he looked down at her.
Skyseeker’s outstretched arm had changed.
Gone was her flesh and dark fur, replaced instead by solid, grey stone, the mineral conforming to the shape of her arm. It was cracked where the ogre had struck her, but Skyseeker had not ben pounded into dust.
“EEEEEEEK!” she shrieked again, turning wildly back to give Roderick a look. “Help me Rick-rod! Being molested by rock-things!”
“Do not fear, miss Seeker!”
Roderick turned to see Wilfred on the far side of the deck, the wizard surrounded by sailors forming firing lines. He was raising his staff high, a bright light emanating from its tip.
“Druthandor protects you all,” Wilfred called. “Fight! In the name of the Emperor!”
Skyseeker wasn’t the only one under the spell’s influence. Several other sailors were being clad in rock, forming protetive barriers across their exposed flesh, mostly on the arms and chest, the Skaven dulling their weapons against this newfound protection.
The rat ogre, unable to comprehend what had happened, moved to strike Skyseeker down again, but this time she spurred into action, skittering out of its path as it brought its giant hand down, smashing a hole in the place she’d just been standing. Testing out her new, golem-like arms, she brought her paw down in a chopping motion, hitting the ogre across its thick wrist, the giant beast snarling with pain. Being hit with pure rock was bound to hurt anyone.
Roaring, the ogre swung out with its warpstone drill arm, backhanding Skyseeker across her chest. More of her body was clad in rock, but the impact still sent her reeling, the Skaven’s feet skidding along the deck as she was sent stumbling away.
“Shoot thing, Rick-rod!” she cried. “Shoot-shoot-shoot!”
Roderick wanted to get in there and help, but without a sword, all he had was his pistols. He walked forward, firing pistols one after the other, hitting one of the warpstones jutting from the ogre’s back, the gem shattering apart. He aimed another shot at its face, blowing a chunk out of the tip of its muzzle, but the beast had its sights solely on Skyseeker, and didn’t even spare him a glance.
“Bring it down!” Roderick commanded, grabbing the attention of a few nearby sailors, gesturing in the ogre’s direction. “Bring that abomination down, now!”
His fear for Skyseeker’s life seeped into his voice, but the sailors did as he bid, directing their attention to the largest threat, a trio of rifles firing off in succession. If bullets couldn’t bring it down, perhaps bleeding it out was the next best approach.
The ogre stumbled under the volley, but it remained on its feet, thrusting its drill-arm out, aiming for SKyseeker’s chest. She swiped the blow aside with her reinforced arms, but her face contorted as she did so, the move having caused her great pain. He’d been a fool to tell her off for stealing that kitchen knife, she was completely weaponless against the monstrosity, and it was giving her no time to scavenge for one.
“Shoot gun, Rick-rod!” she urged, screaming when the ogre lunged forward, its jaws splayed wide, the Skaven narrowly ducking beneath its salivating jaws. She had squeaked and shrieked before, but had never screamed like that, and Roderick never wanted to hear it ever again.
“I am,” he called back, using the ramrods to stuff the paper charges down the barrels.
“Idiot! Meant big gun!”
Roderick cursed himself for being so foolish, glancing over to the nearest navel cannon. If there was anything they had on hand that could take down such a beast, it was one of those.
He slotted his pistols away, rushing over to the cannon. He didn’t like turning his back on Skyseeker’s situation, but this was his best chance at helping her. Charging in without Wilfred’s spell would only get the both of them killed. He made to push the cannon around, cursing when he relised it was secured in place by the tackle, Roderick taking out his knife and slicing off the ropes.
He collected a swab laying nearby, almost dropping it as he plugged the barrel. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, aware that every second wasted could spell the end of Skyseeker’s life. The men firing from the upper decks were covering him, making sure no Skaven got too close to stop him from his work.
Once the barrel was cleaned, he loaded up the cartridge, then the shot, each trip to and from the cannon feeling like he was moving through quicksand, Skyseeker’s cries of panic piercing him to the core. He glanced back to see her taking another strike from the ogre’s drill, the crystal tearing cracks in her magical armour. He knew the spell’s effects enough to know she wouldn’t last another hit like that.
With the cannon loaded, he thrust all his might into shoving it away from the bulwark, but he barely moved it a few inches across the deck. He was too weak, and the weapon too heavy. Why had he cut the ropes? He could have used them to help move it!
Just as he thought all hope was lost, the cannon began to move, its wheels squeaking as they rolled, Roderick looking over to see a sailor was adding his weight to the effort, Roderick recognising him as the one that taught Skyseeker how to swab.
“Get your asses over here and help!” he shouted. “Put your ploughin’ back into it, General!
His orders hadn’t been directed at anyone, but a few more sailors nearby joined them, taking up positions at various parts of the cannon. With five of them, moving the cannon got a little easier, Roderick shoving his shoulder into the barrel as they turned it about, placing the ogre square down its sights.
“Rick-rod!” Skyseeker cried. The ogre had pinned her against the bulwark, putting its massive body in the way, cornering her.
“We need a light!” one of the man said, plugging the vent with a matchstick. Roderick searched the deck frantically, locating a lantern nearby, rushing overt to collect it. Rather than light the tip of the match, Roderick held the flame as close to the barrel as he could, throwing all caution to the wind in his haste.
“Down!” he yelled, the sailors scrambling clear. He prayed to all the Gods the gun wouldn’t miss at this range. Or Sigmar forbid, hit Skyseeker by accident…
As the ogre raised its arms, making to cut Skyseeker down, the cannon erupted, rocking back on its wheels as the barrel flipped towards the sky, Roderick’s hearing petering out as the thunderous report deafened him.
There was a split second before the cannonball tore a basketball-sized hole through the orge’s chest, Roderick able to see the night sky through the exit wound, a cloud of red mist filling the air. The ogre paused mid-strike, looking down at it mortal wound, tilting its head as though confused by the sight. It stood for a few moments, then its legs began to buckle, and it dropped to its knees, clawing at Skyseeker in one last attempt to attack her. It keeled against the bulwark, uttering one final growl before going still.
