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Warp Token update
🕑 Added 2024-06-10 04:22:09 +0000 UTC3k words
***
“Good, now stand clear,” the sailor instructed. “General? The cartridge, if you will.”
A short distance away lay a pile of white bags, Roderick recognising them as small sacks full of gunpowder. A barrel brimming with cannonballs sat to one side, another filled with canvas wads on the other. He rushed to pick one of the cartridges up, having to use two hands to do so, moving over to the end of the barrel and lifting it in.
“Now ram it home, rat,” the sailor ordered, pausing to rub his brow. “Gods, never thought I’d say those words in that order before…”
Skyseeker gave him an incredulous look, but didn’t bother asking what he meant. She was perceptive enough to know that she should use the third swab to do the job, this one ending in a simple cup-shaped recess. She rammed the cartridge to the back of the barrel, using her tail like a third arm to help to complete the task.
Next came the shot, Roderick lugging the twenty four pounder across the deck, Skyseeker plugging it into the cannon. Last was the wad, which served to keep the shot and the cartridge in place while the cannon was readied.
“Help me run it out,” the sailor said, picking up a spool of rope connected to the cannon’s base. Roderick joined him, heaving the rope taut, Skyseeker hurrying to add her miniscule weight to the effort. The cannon rolled forward on its iron wheels, the tackle going slack as it was pushed flush against the bulwark.
Now in position, the sailor produced an iron nail, slotting it into the powder vent, piercing the cartridge inside. He then took out a long matchstick, jamming it inside the vent where he let it sit. All they would need now is a spark to light the fuse, and the cannon would fire.
Roderick could see they were running late compared to the rest of the gunman lining the deck, each respective cannon crew leaders holding up lanterns, ready for the order to fire. Glancing out over the water, Roderick could see the Skaven ship was still maintaining its course some three or four hundred meters out, its bulk illuminated by two pools of green light, which emanated from a pair forward-facing cannons, mounted on the very front of the ship.
As he watched, one of the warp-cannons fired, this one landing short some dozen meters off, the splash of water momentarily obscuring the rat ship behind the spray. Like a company of artillery, the rats were zeroing in on them, becoming more accurate with each testing shot.
The wolfship continued its heavy turn, its weight felt with every slow change in angle, soon bringing its full broadside to bear.
“Stand aside, rat,” the sailor advised, using another rope to turn the barrel. Roderick made to help, but the sailor waved him away.
“You’ll fuck up our shot, General,” the sailor said. “Let me aim the gun.”
Roderick deferred to his experience, letting the foul-mouthed sailor angle the barrel. Down the gun line, Roderick heard the call to aim being shouted from the mouth of someone with a foghorn for a voice, an officer if he had to wager a guess. He could hear similar shouts from the deck below, probably from whoever was in charge of the hold’s weaponry.
“I said move ploughin’ back, rat,” the sailor chided. He stooped to collect a lantern of his own, one end of the stick trailing smoke. “you don’t want to be anywhere near that barrel when I light this son of a bitch.”
She hopped a safe distance away from the cannon, joining Roderick as he lingered by the ammunition barrels. The Skaven ship was maintaining its course, closing the distance fast. It was close enough now that he could make out the hundreds of Skaven scurrying about its decks.
“You may want to plug your ears, lass,” Roderick advised. “I can’t express to you how loud these guns are going to be.”
She took his word for it, covering her pink ears with her paws, shutting her eyes tight as the man with the foghorn voice shouted the order to fire.
The sailor brought down his lantern, the neighbouring gun team doing the same, the matchstick making sizzling and popping sounds as the fuse ignited. The sailor took a few steps back, but stayed a little too close to the gun than Roderick would have been comfortable with. He wasn’t even covering his ears, suggesting he’d done this many times before, or was hard of hearing.
Roderick gussed at least thirty, maybe forty guns were on each side of the wolfship, the rats were about to be in a world of hurt, if not downright destroyed in a few moments. Surely they would divert course? They weren’t that suicidal, were they?
He felt a tremor in the wood beneath his boots, the lower deck cannons the first to fire off. A second later, and their gun, along with the rest along the deck, discharged, the matchstick burning to capacity. The monstrous gun fired off in almost perfect synchronicity with the others, the deck becoming a firework show of explosives for a short instance. The barrel snapped at least two feet into the air, the cannon rocking back on its wheels as it delivered its bombardment. The immense recoil would have crushed anything directly behind the gun, but the tackle kept he gun secured closely to the bulwark, the tracks only moving as much as the slack let it.
As the gunpowder flash petered out, Roderick looked down the barrel’s length, seeing the sky had darkened with cannonballs, pockets of the stars obscured behind the curtain of ammunition. They arced into their highest point, then descended towards the Skaven ship. For a moment all he heard was the lapping waters and the ringing in his ears, and then the volley found its mark.
Even across the distance, crushed wood and pained cries reached his ears, more than a quarter of the broadside having found its mark in the Skaven clanship, its narrow profile meaning many of the shots had missed. Even so, the damage was immediate. One of the frontal warp-cannons shattered to pieces, the nearby Skaven being flung to the waters by the shattering impact. Chunks were torn from the bow, the hull pockmarked with scores of holes and even a few pockets of green flame. Whatever ammunition the lightning cannons used must have cooked off.
“There’s no time for gawking!” the sailor shouted. “Swab the ploughin’ barrel, rat! We’re firing again!”
“Shut up, sea-man,” Skyseeker snarled. “you’re slowest out of all three of us.”
She did as ordered despite her attitude, plucking a swab from her tail and ramming it down the gun, but not without directing a mumbled insult to the sailor’s parentrat as she did.
The process of reloading was exactly the same as before, although this time her cotton swab came out black with soot, and the sailor told her to wash it in a nearby basin before she used it again. As Roderick approached with the next cartridge, he saw that the Skaven ship was adjusting course.
Rather than continue its interception, the nose turned swiftly to the side, an unnatural burst of speed shooting it off to the right. It was speeding along as though the winds had curried to its favour all of a sudden, but as Roderick got a look at the vessel’s rear, he saw the source of its newfound speed.
Attached to the flanks of the ship were two giant nozzles, shaped into cones placed one atop the other. From inside these cones blasted flames the colour of emeralds, the streams of jet bringing to mind images of dragon’s breathing flame, the water directly below the twin infernos bubbling violently with the immense heat. The constructs seemed to be made of iron, resembling steam engines one might find on dwarven vehicle, but Roderick had never seen steampower on such a scale before.
“What on Ulric’s frosty fucking breath is that?!” the sailor demanded, the man’s jaw going slack.
“Warpsteam engine,” Skyseeker answered, her goggles reflecting the twin-tailed blasts of green flame. “Ultimate warp-power, constructed by Skryre’s genius Warlock Engineers. Hope you man-things have more oars to spare!”
“That explains how they caught up to us so quickly,” Roderick muttered. The engines screamed like harpies as the Skaven ship blasted off into a higher gear, bringing its own broadside to bear.
Without warning, ports in the clanship’s rotting hull opened up, several dozen lightning cannons visible into the moonlight. Lightning flashed, lances of energy bridging the gap between the two ships. Some fell short, others sailed wildly into the sky, but they’d closed the distance enough that some were heading straight for the wolfship’s hull.
“Brace yourselves!” the sailor yelled, Roderick covering his head in his hands. A strike landed dangerously close to their right, the cannon crew unfortunate enough to be in its path flung away by the resulting blast. The air filled with electricity as more lances found their marks, one tearing down the crow’s nest, the lookout up there vapourised, another striking the hull below and to the right.
The calm demeanour of the crew teetered, but did not falter, the gun crews maintaing their duties as they reloaded. Skyseeker was shaken by the close call, but she kept up her duties, passing her swab from tail to hand as she rammed the cotton wad inside the barrel, she and Roderick helping the sailor to push the gun forward once more. Both ships were travelling parallel to each other now, the sailor having to angle the gun far to the right to compensate for the Skaven’s sudden speed.
The cannons on the lower deck fired, still organised enough to fire a synchronised volley, Roderick’s own cannon joining the fray as the sailor lit their matchstick.
Roderick felt his eardums quake as the cannon fired, discharging a cloud of smoke and flame. The round shots whistled through the skies, the Skaven ship buckled as they hit home, pockmarking its hull in several places. Even with its superior speed, the clanship couldn’t outrun every shot.
“Again! Ploughin’ again!” the sailor yelled, Skyseeker thrusting the swab into the cannon. The Skaven were gaining a lead, the wolfship turning to compensate, giving the gun crews a better firing arc, more volleys from below deck flying into the sky. Roderick knew that aiming artillery involved a lot of calculations, but that didn’t compare to firing at a moving ship, from a moving ship, even just a slight mistake would result in a miss. It made him glad he wasn’t the one in charge of aiming.
The Skaven clanship used its superior engines to dodge, manoeuvring in random directions in order to throw off the crew’s aim. Whether their helmsman was just skilled or panicking, it made the clanship a difficult target to hit, most of the next thunderous volley missing as the Skaven made a powerful one-eighty turn, their lack of reliance on the wind allowing them to change direction at a whim.
Now the Skaven was sailing to the left, part of its hull covered behind a rising wave for a moment. When the water fell away, the Skaven unleashed another warp-lightning broadside, the lances of electricity coming close enough to pain the features of the sailors green.
The helmsman of the wolfship turned away from the volley, putting the rear of the vessel in the way of the lightning, in the hopes of narrowing their profile as much as possible. Roderick watched as several lances streaked passed the hull, those that found their mark striking the stern with violent force, one destroying the deck directly behind the cabin he shared with Skyseeker. He felt the ship rock on its axel as more warp-power hit the rear end of the hull, what felt like the vibrations of an explosion travelling up his legs.
“What was that?” he demanded, directing his question to the sailor.
“One of the pumps must have been ploughin’ hit,” the sailor replied.
“Don’t we need those?” Skyseeker asked. She was cleaning out the barrel without even being told to do so.
“We can stay afloat with one pump down,” the sailor explained. “but if another goes, you best hope you can swim.”
“We’re turning the other way,” Roderick muttered, leaning on the nearby mast as the wolfship shifted, presenting its starboard side to the Skaven. The beat of the drums that signalled the orders to the rowers changed, shifting into a temp that was faster, more aggressive. He didn’t know what this beat meant, but surmised it must mean that more speed was needed.
“Ah, the captain’s ploughin’ changing tactics,” the sailor mused, Roderick narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
“To what-what?” Skyseeker asked before Roderick could.
“Off the bulwark!” someone shouted, Roderick turning to see Von Kessel striding down the deck, a handgun clutched in each arm. “Everyone grab a rifle and brace yourselves, we’re cutting a swath through these vile vermin!”
The gun crews leapt into action, gathering towards the middle of the deck, where men were posted handing out rifles and ammo. Their sailor went over to join them, coming back with two long carbines, offering one to Roderick.
“No need,” he said, producing his two pistols, the one Skyseeker had stolen for him glinting in the moonlight. He did take some spare ammo, as their was plenty to go around. The sailor then turned to Skyseeker, and after he hesitated, he held the rifle out to her.
“You’ve shot a twenty-four pounder at your fellow rats,” he began. “figure you can handle one of these.”
“Keep noisy gun to self,” she said, waving him off. “Man-thing weapons not for rats.”
“Then what will you fight with?” the sailor asked. “In case you haven’t realised, we’re going to ram these rats right off their ship.”
“You can use my knife, lass,” Roderick said, unsheathing his hunting blade. He tossed it to her, and she caught it mid-air, flipping it over into a reverse grip, flashing him a toothy smile.
The three of them took up positions deeper onto the deck, Roderick watching as the men drew swords from their scabbards, they must be readying for a possible boarding action. The ram was the pride of any wolfship, and he wondered how many ships these men had boarded during their careers.
The wolfship turned with the wind, the sails angling to compensate, pointing its most powerful weapon at the Skaven ship. From the vermin’s point of view, the skull of the ram must seem like a daemon out of the hells of Chaos, Roderick as eager as he was nervous to see it in action.
They bore down on the clanship, the forecastle’s forward cannons firing in succession as the distance between the ships closed, the bombardment of the cannons drowning out the pounding drums.
The clanship attempted to divert away, catching onto their plan, but as the Skaven vessel turned, the movement exposed the powerful engines mounted on its rear, those manning the forecastle’s weapons taking advantage. The forecastle erupted in fire and thunder, Roderick swearing he could feel the ship recoil backwards as the many cannons fired, the Skaven ship caught right in the middle of their deadly firing arc.
He leaned over the bulwark to see the lower nozzle of the warpsteam engine had been hit in the volley, a cascade of steel of wood falling to the ocean, green flames coughing from the mechanical wound. The effect the damage had on the Skaven’s speed was immediate, the vessel slowing down considerably in its attempt to flee.
The wolfship’s sails flexed as they caught the wind, their speed reaching levels even racing horses couldn’t rival. As they bore down on the Skaven ship, spearing through the waves with ease, the Skaven turned to port, exposing the breadth of their hull, the muzzles of its many lightning cannons priming with electrical charge. It seemed they were going to loose one last desperate volley, and at this short distance, it wasn’t going to miss.
“Get down!” he exclaimed, grabbing a surprised Skyseeker and hitting the deck, shielding her smaller body with his own. The sailors around him didn’t need to be told twice, the men who’d been watching alongside him throwing themselves from the bulwark, seeking refuge in the middle of the deck, as it was the safest place to brace at this angle.
The air filled with the sound of crackling currents, the beams of warp energy lancing around the ship, turning the sky into a perverted version of a thunderstorm. There was a monumental crash as the top of the forecastle was hit, the upper layer of portholes obliterated in green fire. A ruined navel cannon was sent flying through the air, arcing down towards the main deck, catching a sailor in its descent. The man was reduced to paste without so much as a cry, the cannons smashing through the deck where it buried down into the hull, causing unseen amounts of damage.
Another strike hit the starboard side, more ripping through the sails above Roderick’s head, once coming so close Roderick could have reached out and touched it. The warpstrike landed just short of where he knew the kitchen to be, just beyond the ship’s wheel. The lightning detonated like a hand grenade, and flying out from the blast were the unfortunate few who happened to be caught in its deadly radius. Even the helmsman was thrown clear, tossed off the bulwark and into the sea. The wheel was intact, fortunately, the device scrolling violently now that it was unmanned.
The ship lurched as the rudder was turned, even some of the sailors and their hardy sea-legs tripping over with the violent change in direction. Another tremor through the hull foretold another warp strike had hit the hull, Roderick dreading to think what the situation was like below deck.
As Roderick got off from Skyseeker, he returned to the bulwark, only to find that their ramming course was going way off course, they would sail straight passed the Skaven in a few moments. He tried to warn the sailors, but the deck was quickly being thrown into chaos, and the captain nor the officers were anywhere to be seen.
All of a sudden, the wolfship changed direction again, Roderick seizing the nearby mast as their course was corrected, the Skaven ship angled before the ram once more. He had seen the helmsman be thrown clear, someone must have quickly darted up there take his place, but who?
“Chocks away, man-things!” Skyseeker chittered, just audible over all the shouting and cannon fire. Roderick turned to see her grasping the wheel in her two paws. She wasn’t tall enough to see over it, so she had simply climbed atop it, using her feet to help spin it faster. It looked like some sort of perverted reversion of a hamster wheel. He knew she was fast, but she’d darted up there almost instantly, it was uncanny.
“Ramming speed!” she exclaimed. “For Clan Mors! For the man-thing Empire!”
