2k words. Sorry for the long absence, I became addicted to arc raiders lol. Will try and curtail my obsession and get back on the skaven grind.
***
Before Ironsnout knew what was happening, her fist came down from above, and clutched in her pink fingers was a rock. She turned so that the sharp end angled just the right way, the sound of cracking glass filling the room as her hit connected.
Ironsnout grasped his helmet reflexively, Skyseeker dropping with a thump. She wasted not time, scurrying between the stout pistons he had for legs, emerging from behind him with a roll. She shot for the exit, a breeze disturbing her fur as the warlord swiped to grab her, but she was inch too far to reach.
She escaped the confines of Ironsnout’s chambers, but she didn’t stop, rushing back into the prison area as fast as she was able. Ironsnout rushed after her, yet when she glanced over her shoulder he did not give pursuit beyond the threshold of the door.
“Insolent runt!” he roared, a wisp of steam hissing from his broken eye. “Flee if you can, breeder, but know this. One paw beyond my pit, and you will wish you had pleasured me. A thousand clanrats stand outside, and most have wished all their pitiful lives to spread their seed. I would have been gentle. Come back here, and I might forget this transgression.”
When she scuttled off between two cages, ducking beyond his sight, she heard the warlord curse under his steamy breath. When she dared to peek back, she was astonished to find that Ironsnout had turned around and vanished back into his chambers, shutting the doors with two wooden clunks. Was he giving up? Had she hurt him more than she’d realised?
She twisted her head round, searching for those giant doors the warlord had come in from. They were so large and imposing, no doubt so Ironsnout could walk freely through without obstruction, with two giant handles built at around chin height. She searched for his two guards, but she couldn’t smell nor hear them, perhaps they’d taken Ironsnout’s leave literally.
The way was open to her, and Skyseeker didn’t look back, rushing up the steps two at a time, her tail flicking behind her in excitement. Perhaps her time as a prisoner would be shorter lived than would seem, though Ironsnout’s words gave her pause. Beyond the doors lay the surface, and those thousands of clanrats that made the vermintide. She no longer had the element of surprise, and she was without her weapons besides. Escape would not come easy, but one thing at a time…
She straied to lift her pause up to the handles, and summoned all her strength into a pull. The door rattled, unmoving. Cocking her head, she tried again, then harder when they didn’t give. Try as she might, the doors barred her way, Skyseeker beginning to panic as she searched for some hidden mechanism. There was a latch above where the handles joined together, with a small slot for a key of sorts.
Had the warlord been holding a key? She struggled to recall, fear clouding her thoughts. He must have some way of opening these doors, but that would mean getting close to his filthy, metal hands, and she doubted she’d get away a second time if they caught her.
Skyseeker turned and sulked against the door, sagging to her haunches. All that separated her from freedom was a thin layer of wood, and that just made what lay before her so much worse. A vague memory of the breeding puts she’d been born in flashed through her mind. All damp crevices, with hungry rats skulking between, searching for prey or amusement, and Skyseeker was both. She was a pup again, alone, naked, harmless.
She clutched her knees against her chest, wishing for her dagger, wishing for Roderick, wishing for the warmth of the sun on her fur again. This could not be happening, she had come so far, explored a new world, only to be shoved back into this nightmare of a place. She could still feel the way Ironsnout had groped her, as though ghosts of his iron hands were still stroking her, squeezing her…
The tears started to come, but she forced them back. What had Roderick said to her, on the eve of the naval battle? You are Skyseeker, you should be the least worried one here. Something told her that wasn’t the exact words, but the meaning behind them was obvious enough. This wasn’t the first time she’d been taken captive, but unlike last time, she was not a pup, but a breeder full grown, and she had the experience of many battles to back her claim.
If Ironsnout was stupid enough to let her roam free, then she may yet find another way out. She had no idea where to start, however, this pit was dark and full of other near-do-wells that the warlord took a special liking to. That gave her an idea…
She retrated down the incline, moving back into the rows of cages. Kretch looked bewildered to see her again, Skyseeker allowing herself a slice of pride for having impressed the rat.
“Hello again,” she began, kneeling nearby. “Not every day you see Skaven hurt Ironsnout, yes-no?”
“You are stupid and dumb, Skyseeker,” Kretch grumbled. “You know what you did? Warlord going to do lots of bad things to rats now.”
“He won’t, because Skaven will outmanoeuvre him again,” she declared.
“Not talking about you, stupid. If the Snout won’t catch you, he’ll turn to Kretch and other slaves instead.”
“You can just leave, rat-bag, your cage not even locked. See?” The hinges squeeked as she gave the bars a nudge, four of the six bars opening.
“Leave?” Kretch scoffed. “and where would Kretch leave-run? No rat escapes pit without Ironsnout’s word-words, didn’t Kretch tell you this before? You should have stayed where he put you,” he added, glancing up at Ironsnout’s chambers. “Any rat caught on those steps dies without even a reason, the Snout shocks them with his suit until they sleep forever. Even stormvermin squirt fear-musk when they get close to his breeding cage.”
Skyseeker followed his gaze, silent for a time. The warlord had not emerged from his chambers, what he was doing with those other breeders in there, she did not want to know.
“Do breeders ever leave that place?” she asked with a gesture.
“Ironsnout never lets breeders go anywhere he isn’t. He keeps them for himself, and Kretch doesn’t blame him. If I had a breeder I’d never let it go free.”
He was staring at her chest again, Skyseeker’s expression darkening. “You put a claw on Skyseeker, I eat it.”
“K-Kretch was just hypothesising,” he stammered, turning his eyes down in submission. “How did you do all these things?” he asked.
“Huh? What things?”
“Kretch heard many rats talk about you. How Gnawdwell chose you to be his assassin, how you got his relic, and stole it from right under the snouts of his vermintides.”
“Am I famous?” SKyseeker pressed. “Oh please say Skyseeker is famous!”
“You were in Kretch’s earholes every day the vermintide marched to this man-thing place.”
“Yes…” Skyseeker pumped her fist a little. A good piece of news, at least.
“So how you do it?” Kretch asked again. “You scheme like a warlord, fight like one too… how you do that and not wind up a dead rat?”
“Practice. And by practice, I mean I was hunted since the day Skaven was born, and I’m used to covering tracks and hiding identity. Any rat who found out what I was, I had them killed, at least….” Until Roderick, she thought.
“But, you’re a breeder,” Kretch replied, confused. “You are supposed to be fat, little thing with a warp-mask and rat pups in the belly. Kretch on the other paw, is also Gnawdwell’s chosen rat, but now I’m in a pit, stuck with you.”
“What can I say,” Skyseeker said with a shrug. “I’m a breeder and a killer, and I’m better at one or the other. You should stop making that face,” she added. “be grateful you’re alive, one more day of living is a day you can spend escaping.”
“That also confuses Kretch,” the rat man muttered. “You let Kretch go back there, when you could have killed him. You could have followed other rats back to camp, Kretch was not only survivor against man-things, but you let Skaven go. You explain this.”
“I learned from a good friend-ally that mercy is viable strategic option,” she replied.
“What’s that mean?”
“A strategic option? It means a alternative that gets you the upper paw.”
“No, fool, what does mercy mean?”
“Imbecile,” she muttered, though she could vaguely recall having the same reaction herself. “It means to give… compassioning to someone who is worse off than you. Don’t get Skaven wrong, I love taking advantage of people as much as the next rat, but a living friend is better than all the hassle of fighting things.”
“And that is the source of breeder’s strength?” Kretch asked. “You make rat-things into friends?”
“Better a new friend than another enemy on the list, and I have a long-ass list let me tell you that, Kretch. Oh, here’s a brilliant thought – you can be my next ally!” she said. “How about it, Kretch? Buddy? You can have all this on your side, all you need to do is give me informations.”
“Kretch has… never had a friend before,” the rat man mused. “Maybe… no,” he suddenly said. “No! Kretch is already taking risk-risk just from speaking to you, Ironsnout would punish Kretch if he knew we…”
“He won’t find out things,” Skyseeker insisted. “because when I put my knife through his stupid steel heart, he won’t hurt any Skaven anymore.”
“And how you going to do that?” he scoffed. “You are one breeder, and you have no knife anyways.”
“Then I will find one,” she insisted. “And I will find allies. There must be other rats who are not happy-pleased with Ironsnout, some who can help breeder get revengeance. You not have to be a part of it,” she said when he scowled at her. “You just have to say some itty-bitty words, like how to get out of pit for example, and I’ll tell you more about how Skaven became a damn fine piece of breeder wrath. Deal…? Friend?”
Kretch thought so long she suspected he’d popped a vein in the effort, but he eventually conceded.
“There is tunnel, that way,” he said, suing his tail to point. “When Ironsnout leaves, slaves allowed to leave-go. Clawmasters down there, they give food to rats who work.”
“And I can escape from there?” she asked.
“Not know, tunnels twist round and round and round, Kretch has never explored. Clawmasters whip slaves who do anything but work in there. You won’t get away, breeder, Ironsnout has eyes all over pit, he’ll know if you try.”
“I got into camp undetected, and I will get out too,” she declared. She began to stride off but Kretch called after her.
“Wait-Wait! You not go now, Snout’s rats lock the way at nap-time. Are you dumb?”
“How does breeder know when nap-time is? Can’t see the sky!”
He looked at her as though she’d just spoken another language. Of course, Skaven didn’t tell the time like humans did, who called the time things like night and day, suing stars as reference. Such concepts were foreign to Skavenkind, who lived mostly underground. Perhaps she had become less of a Skaven in that way, and that was why Kretch seemed to view her as queerly as he did.
“Fine,” she relented. “When do they open the tunnel?”
“When other slaves go to work,” he explained, slowing his words in a slight mock of her intelligence. “Not until nap-time is over. You should do same. When other slaves realise there’s a breeder on the loose…”
He let those words hang, laying down on his back, apparently done talking. Skyseeker had enough too, even though she’d hardly been awake all that long, but so much had happened in such little time. She was feeling a little better now that she’d moved around, her muscles less knotted and the swelling of her jaw more tolerable.
She looked round for a safe place to rest, but reconsidered, tucking herself into the crook of Kretch’s cage and the floor. This entire pit was hostile, she may as well stay close to her only friend, he may even warn her if someone tried to sneak up on her.
She laid her chin on her arm, electing to sleep lightly – Ironsnout would be heard long before he would be seen, and she would be ready to flee should he come back into the pit. Skyseeker closed her eyes, electing to replace her surroundings with a soft bed, and a warm Roderick to hold her close.