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Two Sides of the Warp Token Update
🕑 Added 2024-01-30 10:50:31 +0000 UTC2.8k words
***
He fixed the saddlebags to the horse’s flanks, brushing off the stray bits of hay, tugging the belts so they wouldn’t come loose when he started riding. When he was as ready as he could be, he slid his weapons and helmet onto the loops, fastened them, then moved over to untie the horse from its hitch.
“Keep still, damn you,” he muttered, the mare shaking its head as he placed the bit in its mouth. Perhaps it had been too shaken by all those ratmen by the river, and he couldn’t blame it. He’d steal another horse, but the tack was ready to go, and he didn’t have enough time to redo it all.
He calmed the mare as best he could, then led it out into the moonlight. Sneaking around camp with a mount was bound to draw attention, so his plan was simply to ride out before anyone could react in time.
As he lifted a leg into the stirrup, he paused, noticing torchlight out of the corner of his eye. A group of four men were ringing the fence, stepping through the gate and into the paddock. All of them were dressed in full plate armour, their faces were obscured behind helmets, all save for one, his features slowly defining themselves as he drew closer.
“Tell me one thing, Captain,” the Commander began, passing his torch from right hand to left. “In the Empire, what is the punishment for absconding with military property? Ten, twenty lashes?”
The three soldiers fanned out, creating a loop around Roderick, hands on the pommels of their swords. His horse shuffled on the spot, Roderick stroking its neck as he replied.
“How did you find me?”
“Do you take me for a fool?” the Commander asked. “I’ve had your tent watched since the day you showed up. I really am disappointed in you, Captain, you could have been my right hand, we could have accomplished many great deeds together.”
“Killing rodents, and slaughtering your own countrymen is no ‘great deed’,” Roderick countered. “Then again, it’s difficult to tell Tileans and Skaven apart, so you’re commendable in that respect.”
The Commander frowned, his usual stoicism faltering at the insult. “I gave you a chance of a lifetime,” he growled. “and you threw it away, all for what? Your pride? Your duty to your Emperor? Your Empire is dead, Imperial, it cannot even hold its borders from simple beastmen, chaos spreads through your lands unchecked, while your idle governments do nothing but bicker like children. The very gods have forsaken your world.”
“As long as even one Reiklander lives, so does our Empire,” Roderick defended.
“Then your homeland will lose one more of its sons this day,” the Commander replied. “Unless you’d rather take the lashings. Come quietly, and I may yet show you mercy for this little transgression of yours.”
In response, Roderick drew his shortsword out of the saddle, brandishing the blade defiantly as he took up a defensive stance. Two of the soldiers were moving round his flanks, while the third stood between him and the Commander, their blades scraping their scabbards as they unsheathed their weapons as well.
The Commander shook his head. “Fool,” he muttered, waving his hand. “Chance after chance I give you, why are you Imperials so stubborn?”
“Part of being Sigmar’s servant I’d wager,” Roderick replied, turning to the men advancing on him. He couldn’t afford to let them surround him, so he took the initiative, pouncing on the one to the right with as much speed as he could muster. Perhaps he should have grabbed a warhammer instead of a sword, fighting men wearing plate wasn’t the best matchup for a blade, especially when he was outnumbered, but he’d hoped he could avoid confrontation during his escape.
The soldier met his charge with an underhand swing, Roderick side-stepping out of the way, the miss causing the soldier to leave him open. Gripping the blade of his sword in his gauntlet, Roderick struck with the pommel, the soldier’s helmet ringing out as he stumbled back. He followed up his attack with a savage kick, planting his foot into the soldier’s belly that sent his opponent tumbling onto his back.
The soldier reached for his dropped weapon, but Roderick kicked it out of his reach, angling the tip of his sword towards the fallen man’s visor. Before he could finish him off, Roderick turned his attention to his rear, the two other soldiers circling behind him, their armour creaking. The one closest to him delivered a swift strike to his arm, Roderick gasping as pins and needles travelled down his limb. The armour would save him from being cut and slashed, but being hit by a sword was still a painful experience.
The soldier came at him again, thrusting his sword out in a stab, but Roderick was ready this time. He let his weapon rest in one hand, using his free glove to catch the soldier’s weapon mid-strike, the segmented plates on his digits keeping him from slicing off his own fingers. He pulled the solider off-balance, driving his sword into the wrist joint of the soldier’s gauntlet.
The soldier dropped his weapon, loosing a pained cry as Roderick’s blade poked out from the other side of his hand. Roderick tugged, ripping the man’s hand off with all the ease of slicing off a piece of pork, the soldier falling to his knees as he nursed his ruined arm. The severe red hand hit the grass with a thump, the index finger still twitching.
The third soldier, looking to save his wounded comrade, charged in from the side, Roderick batting the swing aside, metal clashing on metal. The soldier threw his weight into an attack aimed at Roderick’s unprotected face, but switched angles at the last moment, pulling their swords to the side and smashing Roderick’s jaw with his elbow, his mouth filling with blood.
Roderick lunged for the solider, their armour clacking loudly as they interlocked arms, the two men trying to overpower the other. Roderick managed to twist one of the soldier’s arms, punching the man with his armoured fist. The blow sent the soldier reeling, his head banging against the inside of his helmet.
He shoved the solider back, giving himself enough breathing room to draw his dagger, holding it in his off hand. Between the pauldron and the cuirass was an exposed joint in the armour, and Roderick plunged the knife into the soldier’s side there, burying the blade up to the crossguard. He gave his wrist a pointed twist, the soldier contorting as his internal organs were ruptured.
The soldier dropped to his knees, clutching his side in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding as he keeled over. Roderick turned to see the soldier he’d engaged first had picked himself up, reversing the grip on his sword so the pommel was facing away from his body, swinging it like a mace. He tried to parry it, but Roderick reacted too late, the air emptying out of his lungs as the soldier struck him on the belly.
Roderick took a few steps back to keep distance, sheathing his knife and holding his sword out as he waited for the soldier’s next attack. Roderick was getting short on breath from all the hits he was taking but his opponent was leery of engaging him, glancing at his companions lying on the ground around him, one wailing in agony as he clutched his stump of a hand, the other relaxing as a circle of blood pooled beneath him.
“You say I slaughter my own countrymen, but look how you butcher your former men!” the Commander snarled. “Hold back, Amici, I’ll kill this traitor personally.”
He stepped over the soldier who was minutes from death, reaching down to pluck his weapon from his stiff fingers. Roderick might have gotten the better of the soldiers, but the Commander was an experienced warrior, and if it came down to a duel of attrition, Roderick was at a disadvantage.
“Nobody else has to die this night,” Roderick said, wiping his bleeding lip as he addressed the soldier. “Amici, right? Step aside, I’ve no quarrel with you, I just want to take my leave.”
“Alert the camp, soldier,” the Commander interjected, his gaze never leaving Roderick’s. “Awake the whole garrison, I want everyone to see this traitorous Imperial fall by my hand.”
As the soldier turned to flee, he was frozen in place. In the corner of the paddock, the land started to bulge, like a giant plant ten feet across was rapidly growing from out below the earth. Roderick could feel vibrations travel up his armoured legs, the sensation growing and growing until it felt like the beginnings of an earthquake. The Commander felt it too, looking over his shoulder as he watched the protrusion of dirt rise and rise, until its very peak was as tall as a man’s waist.
Like a burst pimple, the bulge splintered and ripped, a shower of dirt and rocks spraying out of the cracks and into the air. As the debris began to cascade back down, muzzles and whiskers emerged from the breach, pink ears twitching as a creature emerged into the moonlight, its face covered in ash and dirt. It turned its beady eyes in every direction, stopping when its gaze settled on the three men, gesturing with a clawed finger.
It unleashed a guttural snarl, exposing its long fangs as it brandished a cruel, black sword, hacking at the grass surrounding the breach. It was joined by another of its kind, then two more, then a whole swarm of ratmen crawled over each other, oozing out of the newly formed burrow like a blight, their furry, brown bodies flooding the paddock.
“Skaven!” the Commander bellowed, raising his voice. “To arms men! To arms!”
He was trying to awaken any sleeping soldiers in the area, not that he needed too, the Skaven weren’t exactly being subtle. The ground shook again, another burrow appearing out of the ground on the other side of the fence to the right, the high-pitched war cries of the ratmen carrying over the camp.
The Commander and Roderick all but forgot their duel as the vermintide washed over the paddock towards them, the Commander swinging his sword like a scythe, cutting down a pair of lunging ratmen. Roderick braced himself as a Skaven turned in his direction, the creature duel-wielding a pair of shortswords and flailing them in his made sprint. His movements were telegraphed, and Roderick cut the rodent down with a precise swipe across its muzzle.
Bells were carrying on the wind from all directions, the Skaven must be hitting all parts off the camp in an attempt to overwhelm the band, a common tactic employed by the numerous ratmen. Roderick was engaged by another Skaven, he and the creature exchanging blows as he started backing up. His horse had stood witness nearby during his fight with the soldiers, but seeing the vermintide was making it restless, Roderick snatching it by the reigns before it could bolt.
Felling the Skaven with a backhanded swing, he turned, lifting one leg into the stirrup and hoisting himself into the saddle in one quick movement. The Commander and the soldier, Amici, were putting themselves between the wounded men and the Skaven, but they were outnumbered ten to one, the odds only getting worse as more Skaven still continued to emerge from the burrow. Roderick’s first reaction was a deep guilt in his chest, a part of himself insisting that he should dismount and help his fellow men, but he reconsidered. He had been simply defending himself, they’d chosen to fight him, not the other way around.
His reasoning didn’t make him feel better, but it gave him the willpower to spur his horse on, his mount dipping its head as he kicked its flanks, bringing it to a steady gallop. A pair of ratmen were flung clear as the horse barrelled through the tide, Roderick blocking an errant strike aimed at his leg as he fled the paddock. He could hear the Commander call out to him, naming him a coward and a traitor even as he fought off the tides, the words growing faint as his horse leapt over the fence.
He pulled the reigns to the side, the horse turning about. The east gate leading out of camp was a straight shot from the paddock, Roderick spotting archers posted up on the palisades, the men loosing arrows down at a group of Skaven scurrying about the foot of the walls. How had the Skaven found the camp? And how had they recovered so much to stage an ambush? He couldn’t hear the telltale sound of weapons teams, maybe this was an entirely new force? In any case, his best chance was to get clear, and leave these mercenaries to their fate.
“SNEAKY ATTACK-ATTACK!”
Up and behind him, Roderick watched a Skaven leap from the top of a nearby tent, its hooded figure framed by the moon as it reached the peak of its jump. For a moment it looked like it would land a good few feet clear of him, but its outstretched arms gave it the reach needed, seizing the horse by the saddlebags.
The mare loosed a terrified cry, the last of its resolve crumbling at the unexpected sensation of the newly added weight. It began to bolt, its hooves thundering across the path as it made for the gate, Roderick pulling on its reigns in a bid to slow it down.
He heard the Skaven cackle under its breath, looking down to see the rodent brandish a wicked dagger, most of the blade glowing a sickly green. It held the dagger over its head, aiming the point towards his leg, Roderick intercepting the strike with his sword, swiping the rodent’s weapon aside with such force it almost lost its grip. The ratman’s dagger must be corrosive, because the part of his sword that had touched its weapon started to slag, Roderick watching with a perplexed expression as solid steel liquefied before his very eyes.
The Skaven’s cloak rippled as the horse sprinted at full-kilter, the world around him seeming to blur as it picked up speed. He parried another swing from the ratman, the rodent clinging stubbornly to his saddle even as the movement from the horse caused it to flail around wildly.
As dextrous as a snake, the Skaven crawled over the horse’s flank until it stood upon its spine, hunching down so it didn’t lose its balance. Roderick batted it away as it made to close the distance, the snivelling creature squeaking when his blade came within an inch of its pink nose.
It was hard to face the rodent with it placed squarely at his rear, making his swings awkward and unbalanced, and the panicked horse wasn’t helping either. At least the Skaven was similarly affected, its attention divided between clinging to the horse and fighting its rider. As they exchanged hits, Roderick was just barely aware of the palisades shrinking away in the backdrop, the horse charging through the gate and into the wilds hugging the camp, the blue and white tents vanishing from view as it bolted over a hill.
The sounds of battle gave way to the calls of crickets and other nocturnal animals, Roderick starting to see trees in his peripherals. He wanted to slow the horse down, but the Skaven hijacking his mount was all he could focus on. He was exhausted enough with his fight with the soldiers, and his sword would melt clean off if he continued to parry and block its corrosive dagger, he needed to deal with this thing quickly.
The rodent seemed to follow the same train of thought, Roderick watching with wide eyes as it produced a second, identical dagger from its belt. Roderick prepared for an attack from two angles, but the Skaven surprised him but turning its blade upside down, plunging it into the horse’s spine right through the saddle.
The mare threw its head back, its mouth parting in a wail as its legs gave out, Roderick feeling his stomach fly up into his chest as it crashed to the ground. He was thrown clear out of his saddle, his feet slipping out of the stirrups, his world turning upside down as he arched over the horse’s head.
He felt something crack as his chest met the ground, Roderick bracing his hands in front of his face instinctively as he began to twist and roll. He felt the fronds of a bush encase him, a wall of sharp branches bringing his fall to a halt, his head swirling with dizziness and pain.
