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Warp Token update
🕑 Added 2024-05-13 04:36:13 +0000 UTC2k words
***
“Salutationings,” Skyseeker began, waving a paw. “I… am Skyseeker of Clan Mors, Master Assassin, chosen of Lord Gnawdwell, and disguise extraordinaire!”
She gripped the lip of her hood, peeling the fabric back just enough to expose the tip of her furry muzzle. “See? Not actually a beard-thing!” she announced, snickering like she’d just pulled off the greatest scam of all time.
“Now this, I did not foresee,” Wilfred muttered, stroking his long beard pensively. “What a fascinating turn of events this is! You managed to ally with a friendly Skaven,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “Well done, Roderick. None have ever managed to do something like this before.”
“Not friendly!” Skyseeker insisted. “More like… neutral. Yes-Yes!”
“And your name is Skyseeker, correct?” Wilfred asked. “What an interesting name. Are you perhaps an astrologer by trade?”
“That and more! Astrology, thaumatology… trigonometry, dabbled in all arcane arts in spare time,” Skyseeker answered. “-And! Superb warrior as well! Beat Rick-rod in duel once.”
“There’s a lot of context she’s neglected to add,” Roderick chimed in.
“A she, you say?” Wilfred got down on one knee, lowering to Skyseeker’s eye level. “Well, miss Skyseeker, you have my gratitude for aiding Roderick in his quest. I’d love to know how the two of you met.”
“It’s a long tale, and not the good kind!” Skyseeker replied, beginning to list off her fingers. “It’s full of action, suspense, a giant bird, betrayal, reparations, and a bath.”
“He doesn’t need all the details, lass,” Roderick said. “Let’s find someplace quiet, and we’ll give you the short version.”
Skyseeker took up the rear as the two men pushed through the throngs of people, soon emerging onto the far side of the crowd, ducking into a secluded alleyway between two warehouses where they could talk without being overheard.
Roderick started from the beginning, recounting his events from when he’d been forcibly employed by the mercenary Commander, to his strange meeting with Skyseeker, and their trip across the Trantine Hills together. She butted in every now and then to provide key details – usually ones that involved her being put in the spotlight – Roderick doing his best to incorporate her deeds without getting off track. He didn’t mind embellishing Skyseeker, if it meant convincing Wilfred she would be useful in the future.
The old wizard listened to their story patiently, glancing between the two without so much as a word. Roderick left out the part about confessing to Skyseeker what his true purpose in Tilea was – that was one boundary he feared Wilfred would not appreciate him crossing.
“Quite the series of events,” Wilfred said once the story was finished. “Yet, there’s one thing I don’t understand,” he added, turning his brown eyes on Skyseeker. “Why have you followed Roderick all this way? Surely you must have known there would be risks coming here, does your Clan not have need of you?”
Skyseeker raised a explanative paw, then lowered it when she couldn’t think of something to say. Roderick spoke up before the pause dragged on.
“She was ostracised from her Clan,” he explained. “When they found out she was assisting me, they branded her a traitor, right lass?”
“Uh, correct!” she said, snickering under her breath.
“A fellow exile, hmm?” Wilfried noted. “No wonder you two got along so well.”
“Had nowhere else to go-go,” Skyseeker added, drooping her head as though overcome with grief. Roderick could see from a league away that it was all a farce. “Lived with rats all life, purposeless without them! Then, hatched a brilliant scheme – follow Rick-rod to ship, see new places, explore new things. Always wanted to go on a cruise!”
“Oh, you wish to travel with us?” Wilfred asked, twirling his chest-length beard with a finger as he considered. “Well… it will be a lengthy voyage, and I’d be glad of the opportunity to question an astrologer from an alien culture such as the Skaven…”
“Questions?” Skyseeker exclaimed. “Oh, no-no! Take it back, will stay in Tilee-place.”
“I worried you’d be against the idea,” Roderick noted, addressing the wizard.
“It’s certainly a… strange occurrence,” Wilfred admitted. “But, any friend of Roderick’s is a friend of mine, and I’d be glad to have you join us, miss Skyseeker.”
“Skaven senses Fredwil’s about to say but,” she mumbled.
“You’d sense correctly,” Wilfred replied. “While I have no qualms, the crew I enlisted might not be so... forthcoming, about letting a Skaven on board.”
“Could sneak onto ship from water,” Skyseeker suggested, but Roderick shook his head.
“I’m not going to make you stay crammed in the cargo hold like a… well, rat,” he replied. “You deserve better than that.”
Skyseeker flashed him an appreciative look, one she hid behind her hood soon after.
“Think we might be able to convince them otherwise?” Roderick asked Wilfred.
“Their captain is one Arnulf Von Kessel,” Wilfred said. “It may be difficult, but not impossible to persuade him to see reason. He’s from Nordland, originally, used to be part of a handgunner troop before transferring to the Navy. His wolfpack’s assisted us in a couple of our campaigns up in Kislev.”
“So he knows of me? Alright. You trust him?”
“He respects the Conclave, though it took some effort to convince him to come all this way. Trust is subjective, but he can be bought, and as long as we can convince him that miss Skyseeker’s presence will be of aid, he should be forthcoming with the idea.”
“That’s all I need. How soon can they set sail?”
“We can go right away. I’ve had the good captain keep his men prepared for your arrival. All they need is the go ahead.”
“Then we have no time to waste-lose,” Skyseeker replied, taking Roderick by the hand. “Onwards!”
She dragged Roderick further down the port, Roderick struggling to keep up with her quick strides. Wilfred followed after, using his staff like a walking stick, the old man chuckling at the sight of him being led around.
As they approached the far end of the port, Roderick began to see the wolfship in more detail. It was anchored to the furthest quay in the crescent, its sails reefed into their posts. The vessel was massive, dwarfing the few ships docked onto the nearby wharfs, making them look like toy boats in comparison. The design of the ship was sleek, the hull as narrow as possible, the vessel a near perfect balance of mobility and firepower.
The rear of the ship was tiered into three levels, the upper two smaller than the lowest, likely the captain’s cabin and other officer chambers. The midsection of the ship was a large, flat deck maybe twenty meters across, the rails brimming with maybe a dozen gunpowder cannons, the barrels turned towards the sky, but the array of weaponry didn’t end there.
The hull was pockmarked with two layers of portholes, brass brackets spanning the ship’s entire length giving the vessel a layer of protective casing. Oars jutted out of the lowest layer of aforementioned ports, while more cannon barrels occupied the higher layer. Woe betide any ship in range of a broadside, there was enough cannon there to level a small town.
The most prominent detail of the ship was the forward section, where a forecastle bulged from just beyond the ship’s nose, the bunker-like feature three tiers tall with a flat top. Roderick could see maybe twenty windows built into the structure, and sprouting from each one of them were even more gunpowder barrels. That was only what he could see from this side, another twenty weapons likely lay on the opposing side of the forecastle, ready to fire on anything in front of the ship.
The forecastle overlooked a monumental ram, a giant pole the size of an oakwood’s trunk projecting from the ship’s nose, the feature tipped with a block of stone, chiselled into an approximation of a sheep’s skull the size of a dragon’s head.
“I don’t like it,” Skyseeker chittered, turning her nose up at the ship.
“What?” he asked, blinking. “You don’t feel inspired by the sight of so many guns? Few would dare to attack a warship like this, and those that don’t wouldn’t last long.”
“It’s too big!” she complained. “And you know what big means? Slow!”
“Speed isn’t a problem for a wolfship. Quite the opposite, actually.”
They made their way up the quay, passing stacks of wooden crates and barrels draped in fishing netting, walking along the wolfship’s immense length. It was fifty or sixty meters long from bow to stern, several hairy ropes connecting the deck to the metal posts lining the quay.
A wooden plank extended from the ship’s midpoint down to the pier, and as Skyseeker dragged Roderick towards it, two guards intercepted her. Unlike the militia of the city, these men sported full armour plate, polished to a shine. Dangling from their right shoulders were small, red capes, and embroidered upon them was the Reikland coat of arms, the golden thread seeming to shine in the sun. These were not sailors, but soldiers of the Empire, Roderick’s chest welling as he finally looked upon his own countrymen for the first time in what felt like an age.
The guards crossed their spears, creating an ‘X’ in the air and blocking access to the plank, Skyseeker loosing a very Skaven-like squeak as they glared at the unlikely pair, Roderick politely releasing her paw.
“Stay your weapons, men,” Wilfred called, sidling up beside Roderick. “Your General returns to us at long last.”
The two guards relaxed when they noticed the wizard, though they still spared wary glances at Roderick and Skyseeker. They took a moment to look him over, and perhaps upon recognising Roderick’s features, they lowered their spears, saluting him like fresh troops ready for inspection.
“I’m not your General any longer,” Roderick said, but he did wave for the guards to be at ease.
“For now,” Wilfred added, turning to the men. “Fetch the good captain, please. Tell him I’ve brought two new guests.”
One of the guards nodded, turning to walk up to the wolfship, disappearing behind the deck’s railing. He reappeared after a few minutes, now in the company of one other, the guard stepping aside and allowing Roderick to get a look at who it was.
The man was of similar age to Roderick, perhaps a little on the younger side, dressed in a black open-neck tunic and matching baggy trousers, the sleeves of his white undershirt ending just above the wrist. His face was obscured behind a ginger, bushy beard and a thick, handlebar moustache, and on his head rested a wide-brimmed barett, its fabric striped in white and red bands – the colours of the homeland. Two white feathers protruded from its top, probably peacock feathers. This must be captain Von Kessel.
His heeled boots clicked as the captain walked off the plank, clasping his arms neatly behind his back. He glanced at the three newcomers in turn, his eyes lingering on Skyseeker’s smaller frame for a second before they settled on Roderick.
“Hail, Roderick Erdmann,” Von Kessel began, his tone neutral. “I had begun to fear you would never make it to the city, despite Wilfred’s promises to the contrary.”
“Greetings, captain,” Roderick replied, and although he’d not had to address a superior in years, his arm snapped up in a prim salute all the same. Old habits die hard, he supposed. “I hope my delay did not cause too much idleness for you and your crew.”
