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Warp Token Update
🕑 Added 2024-05-10 06:53:41 +0000 UTC2k words
***
Forming a crescent shape was a stone foundation, thick jetties and wharfs jutting from the cobbles at various spots along its curved length, spearing out into a panoramic view of an azure ocean. Bobbing in the water were ships of all sizes, from small dinghies and private yachts, to commercial liners and cargo haulers, their sales flapping in the harsh winds. There were bright markers in the water to help keep the docking lanes clear, the buoys sporting small glass orbs upon their tops, the devices similar to the street lamps. Perhaps they acted as small lighthouses when night fell.
“What is this place?” Skyseeker exclaimed, faltering when a pair of guards walked by from right to left, turning to scrutinize her. She must look quite a state to them, draped in a cloth that previously belonged on a veranda. There was little they could do about it now.
“It’s the port part of Portomaggoire,” he explained, leading her off to the left. They were closer to the left side of the port than the right, so searching the lefthand docks was the first step to finding the wolfship.
“That! What’s that?” she pressed, jabbing a paw out to a ship cruising though the water. “Looks like slave hulk.”
“A trade galley,” he explained, Skyseeker rushing over to get a closer look. She soon became distracted, peering over the edge of the stonework, her red eyes tracing the white sands as they gave way to the ocean below. The shallows were full of rock clusters, algae adding a splash of green to the murky blue.
“Eek! See that?” she shouted, her finger aimed into the reefs. “What in Horned Rat’s name was that?”
“A fish,” Roderick answered, grinning as the Skaven became mesmerised as the little creature reappeared, darting between the rocks, its long tail glittering as the scales caught on the sunshine. Knowing that she had lived in an underground city most of her life, it was likely she’d never seen anything like a fish, or a port before.
He encouraged her to move on, the pair sticking close to the water so Skyseeker could watch the marine life swim by. Towards the inner side of the dock, Roderick could see rows of warehouses lining the port, their cavernous interiors occupied by the skeleton frames of ship hulls, carpenters sawing planks and hammering nails clustered around them.
Some of the builders looked up as Skyseeker wandered over to the nearest one, the Skaven admiring their work from a short distance away. She seemed infatuated, her eyes tracking the movements of one of the men as he shaved down a plank using a plane.
“They made all that?” Skyseeker asked, gesturing to the ship frame. This one was mostly intact, a few days from being ready seaworthy, if Roderick had to guess.
“That’s right,” Roderick replied, stealing a glance at the sun, guessing it was around ten o’clock. “Takes many months, sometimes years to produce a ship from scrap like this.”
She noticed where he was looking, reading his thoughts without having to ask. “Apologise, getting distracted by things,” she said. “Should be making haste to wizard ship!”
“No, it’s fine,” he replied. “It’s only natural you’d be curious about all this stuff. It’s… cute, in a way, you being so amazed by all these normal things.”
“Nothing normal about any of this,” she said. “And don’t call me cute!”
They moved on passed the warehouses, each one sporting a ship frame in various stages of completion. Skyseeker seemed a lot more livelier than usual, her energy failing to deplete as she hopped from one strange thing to the next. Perhaps all those knots in her fur he’d gotten out during their bath had something to do with it.
A trade galley up ahead pulled out of the quay, its sails curtaining them from the sun’s light for a moment, Roderick squinted into the distance, his features lighting up as he spotted something he recognised.
“Ah-ha,” he announced, clapping his gauntlets together. “I think I see the wolfship. There, at the far end of the port.”
“Where?” Skyseeker demanded, following his gaze. She reached into her hood, the telltale clockwork clicking of her goggles reaching his ears, the Skaven zooming in down the dock. “Which one? Boats all look same to me.”
“You’ll see when we’re closer.”
They walked on, reaching the part of the dock that started curling into a roughly straight line. Roderick could see swarms of humans and even a few dwarves lining up behind a few wharfs, each man and woman carrying some sort of pack or container. They were filing up onto wooden planks extending off the bows of a pair of bulky ships, guards checking the passports of each boarding passenger. To the left were stalls just like those in the market, gutted fish and choice cuts laid out behind crystal cases.
“Your invasion’s got a lot of people running scared,” Roderick noted, pausing to count the number of guards.
“As they should be,” Skyseeker chittered. “A Skaven’s finally inside Portmaguire walls. Flee in terror, peasants!”
Roderick raised his hands to hush her, apologising to the few passing families who’d overheard her.
To the right, several benches were lined up against the dock’s edge, facing out to sea. As Roderick’s gaze fell over them, the cool breeze whipping his hair back, he did a double take, realising that sitting upon one of them was someone he recognised.
“What you looking at, Rick-rod?” Skyseeker demanded. “If you say your boat’s on other side of port, you will be stabbed.”
“No, that’s… that’s him,” he said, Skyseeker turning to follow his finger. Sitting with his back turned was an old man, his long silver hair blowing in the breeze. Draped over his shoulders was a robe the colour of grass, and upon his head rested a wreath of sticks, the wood looped around itself though it was as flexible as shoelace.
“Really-Really?” Skyseeker asked, tilting her muzzle. “THAT is the grand wizard you spoke-speaked of?”
“Sure is. Recognise him anywhere.”
“B-But he’s just sitting there!” she argued. “Where’s his doomwheel? Or his throne of skulls? Or his army?!”
“He’s a druid, not a Chaos Lord,” Roderick chided. “Come, he’s been expecting me for days now.”
He could see Skyseeker was a little hesitant to follow, Roderick pausing to look back at her. “Don’t fear, lass, Wilfred’s as reasonable as they come, trust me.”
“I-I do,” she muttered, catching up with him. “Any last seconds advice? Want to make good-good impression!”
“Just… don’t mention how we met,” he replied. “And say nothing of your mission. Or the fact I told you what the Emperor is after. Actually, just let me introduce you. Better that way.”
She hung back while Roderick approached the bench, noting that the old man was cradling a pipe in the corner of his lips, a little wisp of smoke trailing from the bowl.
Without turning round, he lowered the pipe, sighing out a puff of smoke while shaking his head.
“Did you know,” the old man began. “That in Marienburg, someone was lashed twenty times for keeping a wizard waiting? That sage had been so very thoughtful, to spend his valuable time on a peasant, and they had rewarded his generosity by running late to their agreed upon meeting. The nerve!”
“I presume that wizard was you?” Roderick asked.
“No,” the old man replied, fixing him with a hard look, his brown eyes veiled by the smoke. “But, imagine that it was, and I found myself waiting fifteen days and nights for a troublesome whippersnapper such as yourself to make his presence known? What would my reaction be?”
“You’d be frustrated,” Roderick replied. “that I brought you half a month closer to Grim Death, which is perhaps a third of the time you have left, judging by all those grey hairs I see.”
Despite his withered appearance, the old man leapt to his feet, propping himself up on a staff. To any common man it would appear like a walking stick, but even to Roderick’s undisciplined senses, he could feel the power radiating from its wood, the air filing with swirling energy. At its tip sat a refined emerald, cradled in the grip of spiralling vines, the precious gem seeming to shine as the wizard planted the haft of the staff in the ground.
As Roderick stood off with the old man, he noticed the lingering Skyseeker brace herself, the tip of a weeping blade poking through the folds of her disguise. He couldn’t see her tail, but he imagined it would be standing out as straight as an arrow.
“They’re silver,” the wizard insisted, and then he cracked a smile, chuckling as he placed his pipe back in his mouth. “And you’re no spring chicken yourself, Roderick. You’ll be grey before long.”
“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” Roderick said, returning the smile. He stepped forward, clapping the old man on the shoulder.
“Likewise, Roderick, likewise. Now let’s have a look at you.” He stepped back, beginning to pick and fret over Roderick’s cloths. “You are in quite the state. I knew the mercenaries would give you trouble, but to take your Reiklander armour from you, and your sword…”
“What do you mean, you knew?” Roderick asked, narrowing his eyes. “Did you see me get waylaid in a crystal ball or something?”
“I foresee everything,” Wilfred replied, waving a mystical hand in front of his face.
“Then you could have sent aid instead of sitting around here,” Roderick mumbled.
“Sent aid? Across half the country? You escaped long before my help would have had an impact, I knew you would be resourceful enough to make it here on your own.”
“That’s where your wrong, Wilfred,” Roderick countered. “I made an… unlikely ally along the way. One who saved my life a number of times.”
“Oh?” Wilfred asked, raising his bushy eyebrows. “Where are they? I would love to pass on my thanks.”
Roderick gestured behind him, Wilfred turning around, blinking when he noticed the demure Skyseeker watching on from afar. Taking this as her prompt to introduce herself, she came forward, glancing up at Roderick as if for reassurance, one he replied to with a nod.
“Salutationings,” Skyseeker began, waving a paw. “I… am Skyseeker of Clan Mors, Master Assassin, chosen of Lord Gnawdwell, and disguise extraordinaire! See?”
