2k words
***
“Perhaps, we all got off on the wrong foot,” Roderick suggested, gently easing away from Mazka. “Why don’t we start from the beginning? We were just about to head inside for a meal…”
“And you’re NOT welcome to join us,” Skyseeker grumbled.
“I could go for a bite,” Mazkha said, brushing the comment off with a smile. She took Roderick’s arm into hers, guiding him through the doors. Already the Keg was starting to become busy, the new arrivals starting to overwhelm Albert and his maids, who were clearly unused to so much attention, even before the roaming bands of Chaos.
There was a vacant booth in one of the back corners, Roderick sitting down with a creak of leather and steel. Skyseeker went to scooch next to him, but Mazkha barred her way with her bulk. She was too big to squeeze even her thigh into the seat, so she sat on the floor nearby. There was no mistaking her intention of blocking the Skaven’s way.
Skyseeker slunk into the boot across from the, staring daggers at Mazkha all the while. He couldn’t stand bbeing in the tension a moment longer, and he gestured for one of the maids, a few moments passing before he was noticed.
“A pint of ale for me,” he said. “What about you two?”
“The same. You got mugs in orc sizes?” she asked, winking at the woman. Even sitting she was at eye-level with the woman. Human cups are kinda like thimbles to me.”
“I can bring you the keg if you wish,” the woman replied, more curious than alarmed by the giant orc. She must not have ever seen one before, few would have, as the Warrgh’s never oft ranged this far to the west.
“Bring Skaven your finest stock,” Skyseeker added. “My throat is parched.”
“I think you should get some juice instead.” Mazkha smiled demurely. “Maybe water? Someone of your size, a pint would knock you off your hairy feet.”
“Skaven can handle all the liquor!” Skyseeker protested “Right, Rick-Rod?” She turned to him expectantly.
The last time she’d been drunk, Skyseeker gone off on a bender and robbed a store in an effort to get him a present, nearly sending half the town into a panic when rumours of a Skaven had spread. He didn’t think she’d appreciate him telling the truth, however.
“She’s no stranger to a strong drink,” was the most diplomatic thing he could think of.
“I’ll be right back,” the maid replied, moving towards the bar. Skyseeker wrapped her nails against the wood impatiently, glancing between them with narrowed eyes.
“So!” Skyseeker said. “Where’d you pick this thing up, Rick-Rod?”
“We met during our bargain with the Warboss,” he said, glad to have something to occupy himself with. “The Brettonians hire her Warrgh as mercenaries for their campaigns, and we were pointed their way.”
“I’ll never forget how you spoke to my little brother,” Mazkha added in. “You implied he was afraid to get off his ass, and ya didn’t even blink when he threatened to butcher you then and there. Most orcs woulda pissed themselves, but not this little humie.” She reached across the ruffle his hair again.
“I simply appealed to his respect of strength,” Roderick replied, nudging her away. “After that the orcs held a welcoming feast, and it was there I met Mazkha.”
“I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet an interestin’ little human,” Mazkha replied.
The maid returned with their drinks, sliding the cups onto the table. She’d even brought a small barrel at Mazkha’s request, the orc quickly pouring herself a drink from its valve.
“It was the last time we had proper rest since our journey across the country,” Roderick continued. “But we found the time to become friends.”
“Good friends,” Mazkha reiterated. “Weren’t easy getting’ into yer pants with all the war and death, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothin’ like a good fuck and a fight on the same day.”
Skyseeker had been quietly nursing her drink, but it all came out in a violent spray as she spat int surprise, Roderick shielding his face from the spray.
“What!?!” she sputtered, froth spilling down her snout, her tone raising a few heads from the nearby tables. “You bred with this overgrown spinach? Betrayal! How could you do this?”
“I… Forgive me, lass,” he stammered. “It was a long road, and without you or Wilfred, she was the only one I could turn to…”
“No-No! Listen, I asked how - could you breed with this giant, cabbage-looking, bint? She not even look like a breeder, she look like a pig, and snorts like one when she breathes! I knew your musk smelled strange,” Skyseeker muttered. “This is outgregious! Do you breed with every breeder you come across, Rick-Rod?”
“Can you blame him for raising his standards, rat?” Mazkha chuckled.
“That’s enough, both of you,” Roderick put in. “I know this is far from ideal, but we need not be rivalling against each other.”
“I ain’t got a problem,” Mazkha said, giving the Skaven an insincere smile. “I don’t see this little Skyseeker as a rival at all.”
Skyseeker knew she’d been slighted, her teeth baring in a snarl. Perhaps this had not been such a good idea after all. Fortunately, the maid returned before long, carrying a pair of dishes to their booth, and the food was enough to distract the women from going at each other’s throats.
There was a roast chicken surrounded by steaming vegetables on one plate, and an array of fat sausages on the other. The maid took one more trip to deliver a side of tangy cheeses and crusty bread, Roderick’s mouth watering at the sight. After the long march across the region, tavern food had never looked so sweeter.
“Compliments of the chef,” the maid explained, withdrawing to serve one of the other tables.
“Now that’s what I call service,” Mazkha chimed, helping herself to a chicken leg. The skin was audibly crispy, the orc all but devouring it in two bites flat. Roderick used his cutlery to fish out some of the vegetables and the sausages, washing every other bite down with a drink.
“You like it, eh?” Skyseeker asked, Mazkha frowning at her suspiciously.
“Yeah, why’s that?”
“No reason.” Skyseeker cackled under her breath. “I’ll be sure to pass along your complementations to the chef-chef. He’s my most promising slave! Oh, woops, I mean my most valued, unpaid volunteer.”
“Rats made this?” Mazkha scoffed, placing her food back on the plate. “I think I’ll take my supper at the camp…”
“I’m sure they washed their hands,” Roderick said, indifferent as he took another bite. Skyseeker used her tail like a third arm to scoop Mazkha’s plate to her side of the table, the Skaven stuffing the meal down her throat.
“These little rats have infested this place,” Mazkha scoffed, watching the Skaven eat with a sour expression. “I’m surprised they didn’t set down some traps and lure you out with a bit of cheese.”
“I was wondering about that as well,” Roderick added. “Albert and his wenches seem pretty comfortable around you, lass.”
“They had no choice,” Skyseeker replied. “This was our new base of operations, whether the man-things wanted it or not. It took all my Skaveny tactics to convince them, and there was little bit of scuffles here and there, but they soon realised accepting Skaven comes with many benefits.”
“Just as we did, all those months ago in Tilea,” Roderick agreed, Skyseeker blushing as she nodded in agreement.
“Y-Yes Yes, hehe! All sorts of benefits to having a man-thing close-close.”
Mazkha turned her scowl on Roderick a little, not appreciative of their flirting.
“How are you finding the ale?” Roderick prompted, gesturing to Mazkha’s keg. “You ever had a drink made by humans before?”
“I dabbled in some wine back in Brettonia,” she replied. “Damn, feels weird saying that. I know the border’s only a couple days’ ride from here, but still. Anyway, wine’s a little too fruity for my tongue, but at least this stuff’s got a little kick to it.” She downed her pint with the ease of someone taking a sip from a water flask.
“Considering your grog tastes like it came straight out of a tank engine, this must be nothing to you,” he replied.
“Tank?” Skyseeker asked. “What is this word?”
“A tank is a very slow, but very sturdy war machine,” Roderick said. “They’re propelled by a steam engine the size of a bathtub, and are capable of transporting artillery pieces across long distances. They’re also covered in armoured sheets that make it nearly impervious to small arms fire. Think of them like ships that can drive on land.”
“Sounds fun!” Skyseeker said. “You ever use one?”
“No, but I’ve seen them on the battlefield a handful of times. They are like mobile fortresses, capable of taking great damage, but able to deal great punishment to anyone in its path. If only we had one now, the war ahead of us would be so much easier.”
“Would you say that you’d be – tankful – if you had one? Eh? Get it?” Skyseeker laughed at her own joke, then she stopped laughing and sat there awkwardly when nobody joined in.
“Looks like I’m out,” Mazkha mused, tipping her keg upside down and watching a few errant drops hit the table. Seeing her put away a small barrel like it was nothing was quite the sight.
“Another round?” Roderick asked.
“Nah, I think I’ll go mooch some grog from the camp. How about coming along, little knight? Get some real booze in ya, somethin’ better than this shite.”
“Not tonight, lass,” he said. “We’re all going to assemble for a council later, and I’d rather not show up plastered.”
“Yeah! Be more responsible, green-thing,” Skyseeker chided, reaching into her cloak and withdrawing a little nail-sized pill. She squeezed it until it broke into a powder, then snorted it right of her palm.
“What was that?” Roderick asked.
“What’s what?” SKyseeker asked, her snout twitching as she shook her head, as though to dispel a sneeze.
“Was that warpstone? Where’d you get that from?”
“I stole it. I mean, bought it,” she corrected. “One of the Skaven pinched a few tokens before we escaped from Snout’s camp. Stupid thing didn’t steal enough, this was my last one.”
“I knew joining forces with a Skaven would be strange, but you’re beyond crazy, little rat.”
“And proud of it!” Skyseeker said, raising her mug in a mock-toast.
“Just pace yourself, lass,” Roderick warned. “You wouldn’t want to show up to the meeting hungover. Or, off your gourd on a trip, in your case.”
“Speak for your self-self,” Skyseeker said, swirling her cup in her hands. “Being in room with that Kessel-man and his goons, I need all liquid courage Skaven can get.”
“I can’t help but agree with you,” Roderick said. Even with Wilfred to keep him in line, Roderick would not forget how easily Kessel had decided to turn his back on their quest. “Ever since his ship was sunk, he’s not been the most agreeable man.”
“And before it sank, too,” Skyseeker mumbled.
“Why is she even coming to this meeting?” Mazkha asked. “How many other Skaven are there? Can’t be many, I didn’t see any tents outside.”
“Skyseeker’s an integral part of our quest,” Roderick said. “Without her help, we wouldn’t be here today.”
“Yes-Yes, I’m pretty important rat,” she said, ruffling her head like a woman might stroke her hair. “and I have nearly two scores of rats, thank you very much, miss-piggy.”
“Two scores? How many do you think the Chaos boys have? What battles do you think a handful of rodents can win? Have they seen any battles at all?”
“We battled the mountains!” Skyseeker shot back. “You see those Gray Mountaintops on your way in? We climbed them, and killed a hundred thousands beard-things in the procession. Did your stupid Waaagghh ever cross them? I think not.”
She pronounced Warrgh without the ‘r’, making it sound as though she was mocking a crying infant. It was hard to tell what part of her answer angered Mazkha more, but Skyseeker seemed pleased with herself.