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Warp Token update
🕑 Added 2024-04-18 04:46:18 +0000 UTC2.5kwords
***
Roderick tilted his head in a nod, silently brushing past the procession of guards, the men narrowing their eyes at him. These Tileans were all the same…
He crossed beneath the raised portcullises, sconces mounted on either side casting a flickering yellow glow across the masonry. The ceiling was rounded and mostly bare, save for a massive trap door built towards the inner gate, the mechanism split into two halves. Roderick had been in more than enough sieges to know that this trapdoor made an excellent vantage point for defenders to shoot arrows, or drop rocks, on any would-be attackers.
Two more militiamen were posted just beyond the inner gate, but they paid Roderick no mind as he walked out into the street, taking a moment to admire the city proper.
Before him was a paved road, splitting off into two distinct paths as it distanced from the wall. Lining either side of the pavement were marble buildings three or four stories tall, their facades decorated with green window shutters, shaded by teal cloth awnings. Projecting balconies were decorated with lush gardens, carpets of vines trailing down some of the more ornate establishments. Even in the dawning night, the saturation of colour was breathtaking.
Smoke trailed from the chimneys jutting form the sloping rooftops, the tiles painted a rusty orange that contrasted with the mustard-yellow walls of the buildings. While not near as luxurious as the Imperial capital of Altdorf, where one couldn’t walk ten feet without seeing some elaborate carving or ornate pillar, Portomaggoire seemed to be doing well enough for itself.
“Psst! Man-thing!”
Glancing to his left, he spotted a short alleyway driven between two of the tall dwellings, a conspicuous pink nose sticking out of the shadows. Relieved, he checked both directions of the street, then hurried over, leaning a hand on the corner of the wall.
“Over here!” the voice hissed. “It’s me-me! Skyseeker!”
“I’m right here, you can stop whispering,” Roderick said, peering back up at the great wall. “See you made the climb. Any trouble?”
“Nah, only had to kill two guards. Tried to ring alarm-bell, but I stopped them quick-quick!”
Roderick’s jaw hit the ground, Skyseeker snickering as she pointed a claw at him.
“HA! Look at face! Skaven only jokes with Rick-rod. Climb was no trouble.”
A half smile, half scowl touched his face. “Thank Sigmar for that. Now then, let’s see what we can do about your disguise. Turn your cloak inside out.”
“What was cover story-tale again?” she asked, shrugging off her garment.
“You’re a dwarf, hailing from Clan… Angrund,” Roderick said. “You came here in search of adventure, but keep your lips sealed, you don’t exactly have the most inconspicuous speech, lass. Shouldn’t be an issue, though, it’s not like someone will just up and start talking to you, unless there’s actual dwarfs here.”
“Why do I have to be stupid beard-thing?” she sulked. “Don’t even have beard!”
“Who would you rather disguise yourself as?”
“Uhhhmmm… Skaven?”
“Just stay close to me and you’ll be fine… I hope.”
He was once again treated to her slim body as she pulled her cloak over her narrow shoulders, her belts and straps clinging to her athletic figure. Skyseeker flipped the cloak so the foliage was on the inside, taking a few minutes to empty the pockets of knifes and warp-stars, stuffing them into the satchels vested to her chest.
“Tuck your tail away,” Roderick added, watching as she stuffed the appendage out of sight. The cloak trailed down to her thighs, hiding most of her torso, but leaving her digitigrade feet in open view. That was to say nothing about her ears, sticking out of the cuts in her hood.
“This is... going to be harder than I thought,” he admitted. “We need more cloth. Perhaps there’s a tailor nearby.”
“Tail? You just said put tail away!”
“No, tailor, it’s someone who sells clothes.”
“Why buy when you can steal?”
“What do you…” Before he could finish, she scurried up the far wall of the alley, leaping up the façade using the window sills as leverage, Roderick checking the street for any onlookers.
“Sky!” Roderick hissed, and now it was his turn to whisper. “What are you doing? Get down from there!”
“One seconds!” she declared, not bothering to keep her voice down. She reached a balcony up on the third floor of the building, balancing her feet on the short railing. The double doors leading into the dwelling were shut, luckily, the Skaven turning her attention to the tarp sheltering the jutting balustrade.
Pulling out her weeping blades, she hacked at the corners where the cloth connected to the awning, soon freeing the fabric from the structure. She let the tarp drop, where it hit the pavement by Roderick’s feet with a loud slap, then she clambered back down the wall, dusting her hands proudly as Roderick scowled at her.
“Do you always just do the first thing that comes to mind, lass?” he asked. “You could have been spotted just now.”
“But I wasn’t,” she pointed out, as though that was the end of the problem. Shrugging, she turned her attention to her stolen prize, using her enchanted blades to cut the cloth into smaller pieces. “Need Rick-rod’s knitting thing,” she added, holding out an expectant paw.
“It’s sewing needle,” he sighed, fishing into his pack. It took about ten minutes, but once their work was done, Skyseeker was mummified in the fabric of the tarp, every part of her save for her muzzle draped in thick, dark material. The added layer of cloth gave her a slightly bulkier appearance, making her look more like a monk than a dwarf, but hopefully the added bulkiness would help sell the image.
“Guess that will have to do,” Roderick said, hands on his hips as he appraised her. “At least until the stitches break, or you start talking.”
“Hey!” she complained. “Heard-listened to many beard-things in my day, know their stupid speech! Want to hear my impression?”
“Not really.”
The Skaven cleared her throat, ignoring him as she held a hand to her breast, posing like an actor about to recite some poetry.
“Greetings, fellow beard-things! I’m holding a grudge, several in fact! He-he! Oh, I really hate the pointy-ears! Stink of trees and flowers and… trees. Not surprising if they breed-mate with trees, disgusting surface-dwellers.”
“Please let me do the talking from now on, okay lass? For both our sakes.”
They moved back onto the street, Roderick taking the path leading furthest from the gate, Skyseeker struggling to adjust in her heavy clothing and the lack of counterbalance with her tail.
As they turned the next corner, Roderick tensed, spotting a young man coming the other way. He seemed to be on his own, which made as good a test as any to see if Skyseeker’s disguise would work.
“What do I do?” Skyseeker demanded, sidling up to Roderick’s left.
“Just act natural. You’re a dwarf in a human city, you’ve nothing to fear.”
They kept their pace as the stranger walked closer, Roderick cringing as Skyseeker began to whistle out a tune. It wasn’t really a whistle, nor a tune for that matter, Skyseeker sounding like she was trying to shoo a fly away by blowing air on it.
Fortunately, the stranger didn’t even bat an eye, Roderick keeping the Skaven as much behind him as possible as the young man walked by. Clearly the people were content, here in civilisation, and Roderick couldn’t blame them. After so many months roughing it in the wilds, it felt good to be standing behind some city walls.
“So where is Rick-rod’s ship?” Skyseeker asked, stopping beside a mailbox, giving its metal lid a tap. “And what is this thing?”
“Over in the port district, and that’s a letter box,” he answered.
“Oooh,” she gasped, bending over and giving the box a curious once-over. She pulled on the handle, the lid opening in such a way that one couldn’t easily reach in to grab its contents. Fortunately for Skyseeker, her arms seemed to be more muscle than bone, and after a bit of fiddling she was elbow-deep into the box.
“Which way is port?” she asked, the sound of rustling paper reaching his ears as she pushed her bicep into the lid. He considered telling her that she was invading people’s privacy, but she probably wouldn’t care. Or understand for that matter.
“West side of town, I’d imagine, but that can wait. We just spent several long weeks sleeping out in the wilderness, I plan to take advantage of this change of scenery as soon as possible.”
“But what of mission?” Skyseeker urged, pulling her hand out from the lid, a letter with a red seal clutched in her paw. “And ship? And relic? Time is of essence!”
“We’ll be saving plenty of time travelling by sea, lass, and sleeping in an actual bed with a hot meal will do us both good. Anyway, who knows when we’ll get the chance to rest up like this again?”
“Point made,” Skyseeker conceded, ripping the seal of the letter with a claw, slowly prying the parchment out. “Relic not going anywhere. Perchance we do some… explorations of this city, too?”
“Sure, we’ll wake up early, show you around when there’s less people.”
Skyseeker shrieked, Roderick’s eardrums bursting as she hopped on the spot. “Splendid! Always wanted to explore man-thing places. Well not really, but now I do! Is Portstagmire like where Rick-rod grew up?”
“Our dwellings aren’t so different from these,” he answered. “A little less colourful, perhaps. If you’re done fiddling around with that letter, we should go find someplace to rest up.”
“Just making sure enemies aren’t plotting, stupid!” she snapped, bringing the letter to her face. The way her eyes moved from side to side suggested she was reading off the script, but Roderick was fairly certain she was just pretending.
“Well?” he asked after a few moments. “Any plots we should be aware of?”
“Not on this one,” she replied, tossing the parchment over her shoulder. “Felt more letters inside box-thing. Let’s check another.”
“Let’s not,” Roderick said, placing a hand on her back, ushering her away from the mailbox. “Neither of us have ever been here before, lass. There’s no enemies, plots, or schemes. We’re safe here.”
“For now!” Skyseeker added. “Man-things very tricky creatures. Walls keep enemies away, yes-yes, but also keep others from escaping! You’ll see!”
They rounded another bend in the road, the sunlight grazing the very tips of the rooftops, the encroaching darkness making it hard to see. Here the path forked into two directions, splitting past a triangular flank of a building. The junction was marked by a tall post, which was capped with a glass container. The place deserted save for a woman leaning against a door to the right, Roderick catching her features as she lifted a burning cigarette to her lips. She was an attractive woman, if a little on the elderly side, her cleavage proudly displayed though the low-cut neck of her dark dress.
“Why that man-thing over th- BAH!” Skyseeker suddenly shrieked, scurrying behind Roderick’s leg. The mantle of the post had flared to life, a brilliant point of yellow light blooming through the glass container. Roderick could see no mechanical means to suggest it was powered through steam, like the lamp posts in Reikland. Perhaps the Tileans used some other mechanism?
“Relax, Sky, it’s just the lights coming on.” He glanced back the way they’d come, seeing more mounted posts flaring to life, more light driving back the dark.
“I-I knew that,” Skyseeker mumbled, dusting herself off as she took up her spot again. “Anyways, what was I saying? Oh! Why that man-thing looking at you?”
“She probably thinks I’m looking for some relief.”
“That’s a SHE?!” the Skaven exclaimed, tilting her head in the woman’s direction. “GASP! A man-thing breeder… Not thought I’d see day…”
“Did you just say gasp?” Roderick asked. “Never mind. Let’s go this way.”
“But I want to ask it questions! Breeder to breeder!”
As they approached the fork, the woman spoke up. “Where you off to, honey?” she asked in a breathy voice, gesturing with a gloved hand. “All your night’s desires are right here~…”
“Sound like good deal,” Skyseeker whispered. “Rick-rod! It’s talking to you-you! Take the offer!”
“I’ll have to pass on that one, madam,” Roderick said, turning to address the woman. “Good day.”
He hurried a protesting Skyseeker along, only resuming their prior pace once the woman was out of sight. The Skaven gave his thigh a slap, frowning up at him from beneath her hood.
“What was that about?” Skyseker demanded. “She-man-thing gives you deal-offer and you just walk away? Why!”
“I wasn’t buying what she was selling, let’s just put it that way.”
“What way? Explanations!”
“Well,” Roderick began, running a hand through his hair. “Up here, everyone has to find a way of making a living, and some women like to... offer themselves to people.”
“Just spit it out, Rick-rod! Simple words!”
“She was asking me for sex,” Roderick relented.
“Sex. I see. That makes sense. Wait, I don’t follow. Why did she want to have sex with you?”
“Take a wild guess, lass. Everything out here costs gold, and that’s her way of earning it.”
“Hang on,” Skyseeker began. “You said female man-things not like Skaven breeders, but female back there has breeding as profession!”
“Some simply have no other choice,” Roderick explained. “It’s a tough world out here for women. With every other husband and son coerced into these never-ending wars, it’s left a lot of poor widows behind to fend for themselves. It’s a pity.”
“If you pity her, why not take deal?”
“Paying for sex is not exactly a good look for a general,” Roderick answered. “Plus, I prefer my lasses to be a little on the younger side.”
“Do you have a breeder, Rick-rod?” Skyseeker asked, peering up at him from behind her hood.
“You mean a wife? No. Between my exile and this mission, I haven’t had much time to woo the wenches.”
“Interesting,” she muttered.
“Indeed? How so?”
She ignored him, lifting her muzzle up and taking a loud sniff of the air. “Oh! Food-things nearby! This way-way!”
She took him by the hand, guiding him further up the road. Roderick took a whiff, but all he could smell was the faint stench of body odour and motor oil. As they turned the next corner, that began to change, one of the buildings further up the street catching his attention.
Muffled music leaked out of the windows of a unique dwelling, this one sporting a pair of batwing doors one might find in an outlying settlement, not in the heart of a city. Its stone façade was painted over a rusty orange, the building five levels high, making it far taller than any of the surrounding dwellings. A rickety sign plastered above the doors swung gently in the breeze, a nearby streetlamp providing enough light for Roderick to read off the letters.
“The… Crippled Griffon?” he muttered, chuckling to himself. “Now that’s ironic, isn’t it lass?”
