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Warp Token Update
🕑 Added 2024-04-21 01:00:39 +0000 UTC2.5k words
***
“The… Crippled Gryphon?” he muttered, chuckling to himself. “Now that’s ironic, isn’t it lass?”
As they moved up to the tavern door, he pulled Skyseeker aside, the pair stepping into a nearby alleyway. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he started, keeping his voice down. “You wait here, while I head inside, buy us a room for the night, then we’ll figure out how to get you in. Shouldn’t take two minutes.”
“Counter scheme,” she replied. “I go in, while you wait here-here. Master of disguises, I am!”
“Your tail’s showing,” he pointed out, Skyseeker squeaking as she quickly shoved the appendage back into her cloak. “I know you were a trader, but I think bartering with a fellow human should be my task.”
“Whatever,” Skyseeker said, turning around. “Alley much more interesting anyway. Hey, look-look! Rubbish bin! Ohhh, I hope there’s food inside!”
Their hands still together, Roderick stopped the excited Skaven from launching herself into the nearby dumpster. “Please don’t eat that, Skyseeker. I’ll buy you food, alright? Proper human food, you’ll love it. Just be a bit patient.”
He didn’t like the way she was looking at the pile of rubbish, but she stayed on the spot once he let her go, Roderick dipping back out onto the street.
“Two minutes,” he insisted, Skyseeker offering a thumbs-up as he rounded the corner.
Mounting the short flight of steps, Roderick pushed the batwing doors open, the chill of the night replaced by a cozy warmth as he stepped inside. The music he’d heard from the street grew louder, his eyes falling on a trio of musicians gathered on a stage built into the left side of the room. Two of them were men, one holding a jingling tambourine, the other tucking a fiddle beneath his chin. The third was a woman, her lips pursed over the end of an ornate flute, the three of them filling the tavern with a jolly tune.
A wooden bar occupied the right wall of the room, the countertop’s edges smoothed into curves, the corners carved with intricate patterns. It was flanked by rows of colourful bottles, and even a few tapped kegs of beer. Between the bar and the stage were dozens of chairs and couches, the walls supported by table booths where patrons were eating and chatting.
Humans were the majority of the guests, but Roderick could pick out a few of the other races. A group of dwarfs were lounging around in one of the booths, their hearty laughter loud enough to overpower the music, and there were a pair of elves leaning against the far windowsill, their pointed ears open for all to see.
Roderick made his way over to the bar, shouldering his way through the crowded floor. A stout man wearing a dirty apron over a white shirt was wiping mugs down with a cloth, Roderick catching his attention with a thump on the bar-top.
“Greetings, innkeep,” Roderick said, nodding to the man. “Looking for a room. Preferably one with a bath.”
“You’re telling me,” the innkeeper replied, pinching his nose. “You look like you’ve just gone to the chaos realms and back. What’s your story, stranger?”
“Let’s just say I’m not picking up hitchhikers ever again,” Roderick said, placing a pouch on the counter, the coins inside it jingling. “How much?”
“You’ve come to the right place. Bed and bath’ll be fifteen gold for the night. There’s a limit on the water, so use it well.”
Roderick blinked. He’d taken a modest sum from the mercenaries on the night of his escape, but that was a steep price for an inn. “And for two beds?” he asked.
“Another ten,” the innkeep replied. “You here with company?”
“No, just curious,” he replied, setting the coins down. Things might get a little cramped, sharing a room with the Skaven, but he needed to spend his money wisely – who knew when the next bribe might come up.
“Also in the mood for a good meal,” Roderick added. “The road’s been long, and I feel like I could eat for two.”
“In that case, six gold will get you our heartiest dinner. We’ve got a roasted boar tonight, fresh off the spit.”
“I’ll take it.”
The innkeep whisked up his money, stashing it below the counter. “Thank you, stranger, I’ll have a maid prepare your room. Drink while you wait? First ale’s on the house.”
Roderick nodded, the innkeeper turning to one of the kegs, tankard in hand. When he turned back, the mug was filled to the rim with creamy froth, Roderick feeling the cool ale through his glove as he took it. He raised the drink to his lips, taking a small sip, his eyes going wide as the bitter liquid parched his throat. Emboldened, he took a less restrained gulp, raising his head to the ceiling. By all the gods, it felt delightful to have his belly warmed with ale such a long absence.
After three seconds, he’d downed the whole thing, setting the empty tankard down, the movement disturbing some of the bottles on the racks. Screw being stingy with his money, he’d earned a few luxuries after his perilous trip from the Empire. He ordered another, thanking the innkeeper as he turned away, the wonderful music capturing his attention. The musicians were building the tune towards a crescendo, the woman with the flute getting up from her stool to parade about the stage, never missing a note as she began to dance. Some of the more boisterous patrons started to join her, shoving aside the chairs to clear a floorspace, their drunken twirls and twists making the group of dwarfs hysterical.
Roderick grinned, taking up a spot in one of the unoccupied corners, leaning against the wall as he sipped at his drink. Watching the guests stumble and laugh reminded Roderick of the many times he and his warband had returned home after many months of war, ready to celebrate all night long.
His smile faded. That had been long ago, when there had been time for parades and benders that went on from dawn to dusk, before all the threats to the Empire had begun to get out of control. Could one forgotten relic really save the Imperial people? The Empire needed good soldiers, not magical artifacts, though from what Skyseeker had told him of the relic, he imagined the Conclave would be very interested to use its power to turn the tides…
“Psst! Man-thing!”
Roderick yelped, drawing the eyes of several nearby guests. Trying to compose himself, he turned his head slowly to the right, finding himself staring right into a familiar ruby-red iris, the globe framed by a small crack in the brickwork.
“S-Skyseeker?” Roderick whispered, making sure no one was looking. “What in the… How did you get in the wall?”
The Skaven’s answer was a nefarious cackle, her pink nose appearing through the gap as she angled her muzzle through. “Rick-rod get room yet?”
“It’s being prepared right now,” Roderick answered, raising his drink. He wanted to chide Skyseeker for not waiting outside, but at least she had the foresight to be discreet.
“What’s that you’re drinking?” Skyseeker asked.
“Beer.”
“Can I have some?”
“You drink alcohol where you come from?”
“Oh yes! Lots of alhocol. Huge amounts!”
Roderick suspected it was a tall tale, but shrugged his shoulders, seeing no harm in it. He fetched a straw from the bar, dropping it into the froth as he returned to the corner. He brought the tankard to the crack, Skyseeker’s muzzle pressing against the sliver as he angled the end of the straw towards her mouth. She pursed it between her two front teeth, taking a noisy slurp. Just like him, her enthusiasm grew with each sip, Roderick having to pull the mug out of reach when she refused to stop.
“Steady on, lass,” he chided. “drink it too fast and you’ll-”
Skyseeker belched through the gap, Roderick dispelling the stench with a wave of his hand.
“So bitter!” she complained, smacking her lips together. “Feel even more thirsty now. That not make sense.”
He resumed watching the musicians, offering Skyseeker a sip every now and then, if only to keep her occupied so she didn’t draw unwanted attention. He wondered how much tolerance a Skaven had for alcohol, and if he wasn’t making a terrible mistake indulging the rat woman.
“Room’s ready, stranger,” the innkeeper called, gesturing to the back wall, where a passage led off deeper into the building. He slid a bronze key onto the bar-top. “First one on the left. Bathe well.”
“My thanks,” Roderick called back, turning his gaze to the crack. “You catch that, lass?”
“Be there in jiffy!” she hissed. “Need to plan escape routes first.”
With that, her eyeball swept away, Roderick just able to pick up her scurrying as she navigated the wall’s interior. Shaking his head, he retrieved his key, moving towards the passage, walking by a staircase leading to the upper floors.
He turned into a long hallway, the music fading into a comfortable backdrop. Candlelight flickered across half a dozen doors, three to a side, the furthest on the right the only one that was open, the sounds of clanging pots and pans spilling through the gap. That was likely the kitchen.
Roderick pushed the key into his assigned room, the lock turning with a click. Inside was a modest, if a little cramped space, with a bunk on one wall and an empty tub on the other, the receptacle made up of vertical planks of wood, rather than the traditional ceramics he’d expected, making it have more in common with a sauna tub than anything. A faucet was suspended over the bath, mounted to the wall alongside two valves, one blue and one red. There were bars of soaps and cleaning oils placed on a nearby shelf.
What really caught his attention was the table, and the giant silver platter with a rounded lid resting on its top. This must be the meal he’d ordered, the scent of cooked pork making his mouth water.
He pulled up one of the chairs, tossing his plumed helmet on the bed, working to remove his gauntlets. As much as he wanted to dig in right away, manners dictated that he wait for his companion first, Roderick freeing first his left hand, then the right, giving his clammy palms a flex. Only now was he aware of all the grime he’d accumulated during his travels, Roderick turning his gauntlets over to see dirt and blood splattered across the steel. It was a wonder the gate guard had let him in at all.
Before very long, he heard the telltale panting he’d come to associate with Skyseeker, Roderick glancing at the walls for any gaps she might poke her nose through. He blinked when from between two of the floorboards, a clawed finger broke through, the digit soon followed by a whole paw. The padded hand felt around for the other side of the plank, gripping it tightly and wrenching it to the side. The nails came loose with little pops, the plank lifting away from one end as Skyseeker used her head to leverage it away.
The gap was thinner than the breadth of her muzzle, but once again Skyseeker demonstrated the flexibility of her bones, squeezing her torso through the floorboards, her countless belts catching on the wod. With a twist, she succeeded in squeezing out, flopping onto the ground with a tired look on her face.
“Welcome,” Roderick said, gesturing to the platter. “Hungry?”
“Positively,” the Skaven replied, climbing into the seat next to him. Her stature put her head at just over the table’s level, Roderick smirking as she struggled to peer over the lip.
“Let’s see what we have,” Roderick announced, gripping the lid by the handle. He pulled it away, exposing an assortment of foods that looked intended to feed a whole family of people. There was an overflowing lump of browned, sliced pork, wisps of steam gently curling away from the meat. Sitting next to it was a generous pile of roasted vegetables, the potatoes and pumpkins sprinkled with crispy herbs. Glass bottles of creamy sauce stood to one side, alongside a whole loaf of toasted bread and a stick of butter.
Skyseeker’s mouth was a small ‘o’ of wonder, the Skaven watching as Roderick picked up a set of provided cutlery. She looked too stunned to speak, perhaps she’d never seen so much food in once place before, or maybe she just didn’t know what anything was.
“This is pork belly,” he said, slicing into the meat with his knife, dumping a generous portion onto a plate and sliding it over. “The orangey skin on the side there is very tough. We call it crackling.”
She took an experimental bite, her wicked teeth slicing easily into the skin despite his warning. Her expression shifted into awestruck, her face brightening as she chewed loudly.
“Good?” he asked, chuckling as she nodded her head vigorously. While she destroyed her portion, Roderick set aside a handful of vegetables, popping open one of the sauce bottles. He drizzled the steaming pile with gravy, then dug in, his stomach grumbling its approval.
“Wash tha’?” Skyseeker mumbled over a mouthful of food, pointing to the butter.
“That’s butter,” he explained. “You spread it on that bread there. Supposed to be eaten as an appetizer, but who cares at this point?”
“Bread?” she echoed, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “Bleh. Remember eating man-thing’s bread earlier. Too chewy.”
“Unlike my rations, that’s freshly toasted bread,” he explained, bringing his knife over, the loaf giving off a satisfying crunch as he took off a slice. He smothered it in butter, the crust melting in his mouth as he took a bite. Convinced by his expression, she took her own sample – Roderick stopping her from using her weeping blade to do so – and while she enjoyed the crust, she wasn’t all that fussed over the butter after a few experimental bites of it.
They were mostly quiet during their feast, too busy wolfing down their appetites to speak, but the silence wasn’t unpleasant. Just the act of sharing a proper meal for once was a nice experience, practically novel by Roderick’s recent standards.
“You know what we need?” Roderick asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. “More drinks. Want something, lass? Pitcher of water, perhaps?”
“More ale!” Skyseeker answered. “Skaven needs refreshment.”
Shrugging, Roderick stood up, the chair squeaking as he pushed it out of the way. Locking Skyseeker in the room, he hurried back to the bar, ordering a bottle of beer that the two of them could share.
Balancing two tankards in his other hand, he made his way back, finding that Skyseeker had devoured over half of the platter in his absence, the little Skaven showing no signs of slowing down. He’d expected her to be paunchy as a result of her appetite, but at a glance her stomach was still flat and lean. It was as though she was burning off all the calories she was putting on.
“Take it slow on the beer, lass,” Roderick said, placing a tankard in front of her, pouring her drink until the foam reached the rim. “It’s not a competition.”
