OLD REMEDIES
Chapter 1:
The mission was not unfolding to plan. Improvisations would need to be made to correct the failings that had taken place and lead to the current situation however given the circumstances of the current situation patience would need to be at the fore front of the new strategy and so he walked onwards. He did not know where he was being taken or by whom but this he could use to his advantage. His mission was, after all, to exterminate an unknown xenos threat which had taken foot on the planet Tarn.
Tarn. Now there was a planet. It was once alive with flora, fauna, culture and intelligence during the times of the great crusade. It had complied with out issue and accepted the truth of the Emperor and embraced. Its rivers flowed and mountainous ravines kissed the clouds as healthy villages dotted the land scape with a humble and comfortable people who cherished peace, knowledge and simple pleasures. Now Tarn was a rad land of bone dry mountains and dirt valleys. Records of the fall of Tarn had been long lost and the planet was deemed unsuitable for habitation and so no expeditions were ever undertaken to uncover the history of Tarn's demise. It was a myth. The life, the beauty. All of it. Passed down amongst Imperial Guardsman who claimed a long lost heritage they could never prove and whose blood was far too watered down with generations of interbreeding amongst other populations that the records formally considered the population of Tarn extinct. Only those from the rare blood line were told the tales of Tarn, but even they had to question their validity in the face of a lack of evidence.
He was being lead down a corridor he knew that much. The temperature was falling the further he walked. He could use this to his advantage. He was captive but in his eyes it gave him the opportunity to learn about his foe. When he was free the information could be valuable to persecute this xenos with ruthless efficiency.
Aside from the temperature he noticed the smell. A decrepit shit stink that filled his nostrils and even engulfed his taste buds. His saliva glands swelled. He wanted to spit so bad but knew that would not be to his advantage. He maintained his composure and began to try and piece together the mystery of his captors.
Before long they stopped. There was a sound of heavy chains which ceased when they did. They were binding him. A door opened on rickety hinges.
"Hinges?" He thought. "Who uses hinges anymore?" Was this xenos beneath the technological capabilities of the 6th legion Astarte's? He couldn't say for sure but married with the odour permeating the bag his captors had placed over his head the picture he was painting visually was looking more and more human as it unfolded.
He was pushed in the back. He flew into the room face first and stumbled forward.
"Their strength is equal to ours." He thought, knowing his strength was superhuman.
"Orks perhaps?" No. He'd of heard grunts and snorts as he was being lead away and they wouldn't of had the sense to have covered his face. Or could they?
"The Orks would have made themselves known on the field of battle." He thought. He hadn't fought a stampede. He tried to piece together his memories to make more sense of this.
He remembered his battle brother picking up a huge mass on a radar read out which was heading straight towards them but physically, visually, they could see nothing. Not over the horizon, not next to them, not across the mountains, the fore ground, the background the flanks… Nothing. Then, he was blinded and lead away.
He remembered the sound of bolters blazing and chain swords rattling in the moment as his brothers screamed hell to the enemy upon them but that was it. There certainly was a fight, but he'd never had the chance to be a part of it. What had happened to his brothers?
He tried to think more. He'd heard the chains scraping on the floor but there was a chittering, a gnawing sound which was always prevalent in the back ground. The mystery continued to perplex him and before he could catch his next thought he felt the crush of a fist across his face packed with all the might of…
An Astarte's.
"Yolder, when I'm free…" He began to say before another punch careened into the other side of his face. Blood filled his mouth. He chuckled underneath the cover of his hood.
"You hit like the women of the Tau." He mused as a third punch bellowed into the right side of his head. He noticed their laugh. The chittering noise. It was louder when they laughed. They were laughing at his pain and when they did, they chittered.
Then there was light. A deep, warm glow of a fire light. It glowed in the corner of the room and was the first thing the Astarte's saw as a hand ripped the hood off Bodolf Aegir's head.
He spat a mouth full of blood onto the floor and levelled his eyes away from the light glow to the centre of the room where his captors stood before him. His arms were bound behind his back and his armour was powered down.
"By the gates of Asaheim, did you shit your armour?" Asked Bodolf trying to be defiant in the face of his captors whilst all the time trying to hide his surprise and dismay. Astarte's. Astarte's stood before him. At least 3 of them. All in black Corvus Pattern Mark VI power armour.
Fighting Astarte's wasn't new to Bodolf. He'd battled heretics for hundreds of years and cleansed the cosmos of their presence but he'd never seen any like this. The signs were instant. This wasn't xenos. This was Chaos.
Chapter 2:
The chittering flared up again when he spoke. His words met with a knee to the gut which made him double over. Who, or what were these warp spawn? Corvus Pattern armour? The chittering? The knee. His memory froze the moment of impact in his head. He winced in pain, opened his eye and looked down at the knee. The armour was black. Tears and ruptures in armour were common for Chaos marines but he'd never seen any with tufts of hair protruding from them.
"You know the wars over?" He asked. "Horus lost." He said, making reference to the age of their armour and in doing so was rewarded with a whip across the face.
"Hold your tongue welp." Commanded the leader of his captives. His words hissed and slithered. Almost like a snake. The other two laughed that damned annoying chittering laugh.
Bodolf looked at the three as they turned to talk amongst themselves. No doubt they were deciding his demise. His eyes wandered to the floor as his head sank. He saw the weapon that split a ravine of blood across his face. It was no whip. It was a tail.
"Emperors balls." He thought. They all had long tails. Where tufts of hair poked through the joints of the armour the tail was bare of it.
"What in the Emperor's galaxy could possess such traits?" Pain began to dull him as his face began to heal. He winced.
"Awwww." Murmured one of his captors as they began their intrepid chittering again. Finding amusement in his pain. Bodolf held his tongue. The three anomalies left the room, their tails dragging behind them.
Bodolf was alone now. Bound in chains with his hands behind his back, but alone. He took in his surroundings. He was on Tarn, in a hot room. It couldn't of been on the surface because the surface was a baron wasteland. Underground. He'd been taken underground. That explained the fall in temperature and at least part of the smell. He had ascertained the species he was sent to annihilate was either not xenos as he and his brothers had first suspected but most probably Chaos or even perhaps an intelligent form of xenos which at some point, possibly during the days of the Heresy (judging by the age of their armour) had made contact with the Imperium somehow and imitated their technology.
"Bloody good imitation." He thought, knowing full well the armour that adorned his captors was not a parody of Astarte's armour. It was the real thing.
Tufts of hair, bald tails.
"Warp spawn." Was his next thought. He stopped thinking about it and began to focus once again on his surroundings.
The walls. They were made of the soil of the land. He was in a cave. Rocks and dirt had been dug away. It was damp. These bastards had a water source and it was sustaining them. They either seemed to lack electricity or had no real need for it as his quarters were illuminated with fire.
"Ignorant bastards." He thought, as he manoeuvred over to the oil lamp on the wall.
"Thank the emperor there's no one here to see this!" He said to himself as he dug his head into the ground and attempted to stand on it in an attempt to get his wrists up to the fire.
The metal didn't seem too strong. Certainly too strong for even an Astarte's to muscle through but the rocks on Tarn were weakened by whatever horrors history had wrought upon them. Their metals were not of a high standard. If he could heat them, perhaps he could weake…
Too late. The door opened.
"Tee hee hee hee."
"Oh bloody shit." He said, as his captors returned and found Bodolf with his ass in the air looking like he was trying to ignite a fart.
"Trying to add to the smell?" Asked one of his laughing captors as he walked over to Bodolf.
As he approached a new sound enter the dungeon. The sound of a chain sword.
The teeth of the chain sword bit through the ceramite of Bodolfs Mark VII Aquila armour. It echoed and boomed around the small room; the reverberations making the fire light flicker.
Bodolf spat blood.
"You know who will be laughing last don't you?" He asked in defiance as he bit down on the pain trying to give his captures no satisfaction.
"Who?" Asked the leader. He made a mocking wolfs howl noise as he continued to drag the chain sword across Bodolfs power armour.
"Not too deep Inthol… We need him alive for now." Said one of the by standing captors.
"Good. Time." Thought Bodolf. They'd given away that they were granting him time. This meant he could formulate a plan.
"I'll be back for you later." Said the leader as he un triggered the chain sword.
"I look forward to it." Said Bodolf. "I find these interactions, rather kinky." He added as he bit through the pain and heaved a wad of blood across the floor.
"Now, now." Said the leader. Bodolf had ascertained this one's name was Inthol. "Best not bite the hand that feeds you."
"Oh Inthol." He said, making a mockery of his captor's name. "It's not your hand I'll be biting."
The other two began laughing. "Maybe our balls." Said one as he walked through the door.
"Nooooo." Replied Bodolf under his breath.
He glared his eyes up at his captors. "Maybe, your throat."
They began to laugh again.
"Hush welp." Said Inthol. "Trust the dogs of Fenris to revert to such primitive means of murder." He said as he left the room.
"They should have murdered your mother while you were on her teet." Bodolf thought to himself.
As he returned to his solitude and his body began to mend he knew he must re-commence his toil and make good his efforts of escape. He thought of an ancient Terran saying that one of his brothers had taught him one night in the Ite when they had broken open some ale in the absence of their commander.
"While the cats away the mice will…." His thoughts paused and like a tonne of ceramite to the face, there it was. The identity of his captors.
The thought perplexed. "No. This can't be truth?" He thought. He needed to test this his theory.
He would wait for their return.
A few hours later his captors returned. Bodolf had made some changes to his surroundings so that his captors would be forced to comment on it, at which point he would reply with the ancient Terran saying and then fane shock on the final word.
Bodolf had cried out, pretending his injuries were far more substantial than they were to try and attract the return of Inthol. It worked.
Inthol walked into the room and saw a foot print on the wall and noticed Bodolf standing strong, defiant and for his situation, appearing much more healthy than what his cries of pain had lead Inthol to believe. The other two entered behind Inthol and saw what had happened.
"Don't they teach you the story of the boy who cried wolf on Fenris?" Said one of the Astarte's. His black armour gleaming in the damp light of the small fire.
"When the cats away the mice will…" Bodolf began.
"Winds of Fenris!" He began. "Yolder no, you can't be?" He plied his acting abilities, honed in the great halls of the Ite when he and his brothers would gather around to tell tall tales of battles, brotherhood and malificarum.
His captors took in the dismay of Bodolf as he hung on the words.
"Welcome to Neo Skaven-Blight" Said Inthol as he and his cronies laughed and slammed the door shut behind Inthol, leaving Bodolf bound on the ground to soak in the all the questions that now followed.
"Rats?" He thought. "It can't be? Neo Skaven-Blight? Yolder, the Skaven are myth? How could this be?"
… It most certainly was. He lifted his eyes off the floor and gazed forward. Low and behold a big dirty rat sat in front of him, gnawing at its fingers. His eyes looked in the corner… There they were. He'd never noticed it before. The room was full of rats. Not so many that the floor was moving, but enough to make their presence felt. They sat on shelves and in corners. They scurried into cracks between the floors and wall.
"Shit of the Eldar" He thought.
The rat that was directly in front of him hissed aggressively, showing its teeth. Bodolf jerked forward and caught the rat in his mouth, biting down on its neck. It cried out in agony as his k-nine fangs dug into its flesh. It cried its high pitched whine and slowly died in his mouth.
He spat the rat out and as his flesh started to repair itself. He began to drag himself into the same awkward and inappropriate position the Skaven commander had found him in earlier.
"This is useless!" He thought. "Patience can bite my hairy ass." He said to himself. "Or maybe theirs!" He looked up. His helmet was on a table nearby. He couldn't reach it.
"Tits of Fenris!" His frustration grew. He roared in rage and stood up right. He leaped high into the air and kicked the torch out of its holdings, his arms still bound behind his back.
As it fell to the floor the rats scurried in all directions to their numerous holes around the dungeon and now, as the torch law on the floor lighting a more central area of his surroundings, he had pieced it together. It most definitely was a dungeon. Instruments of torture were fastened to the adjacent walls. Whips, blades… All this he could use to his advantage.
He had to keep quiet. He knew Inthol had heard his rage earlier when he'd kicked the flame, but why hadn't they bound him when they found he'd moved from the wall they had first propped him up against when they brought him in?
"Because they think themselves tough." He thought. "Insecure little bastards."
He tried to back himself up against a serrated blade fastened to the wall. He had hoped he could hacksaw his fastenings off. No luck. His back pack wouldn't allow him to get close enough.
"Bloody useless!" He began to think when suddenly, he heard a hum.
In his attempt to rub his chains against the blade he'd managed to turn on the backup power supply to his power armour.
"Russ be praised!" He thought as he felt the surge of energy re-invigorate his limbs.
Still stuck tight though, he slowly bounced the blade off the hook with his knee and caught it between his legs before it could hit the ground and make a ringing noise.
"Nearly lost my gene seed." He thought immaturely.
He arched back. He would have to contort hard if he was going to pull this off.
"I must look like one of Fulgrims pleasure slaves." He thought.
He dislocated his shoulders and hissed the pain through his teeth. It gave him just enough leverage.
If he could move his ankles back and forth he could slowly cut through the chain. He began.
Chapter 3:
More hours passed. It may have even been days for all Bodolf knew. He had no way of knowing how far into the chains he had cut. The flame on the floor, though small, was now starting to die. He had no other choice. He would have to take a risk. He'd only have a few more hours to pull it off. He could feel the chains were falling slack upon his wrists, but not too slack. The flame was far too weak to heat them to any great degree. He slid the rusty blade from his ankles carefully into his palms and with minuscule movements of the muscles in his hands, delicately positioned it so he could have a feasible grip on it to use it as a weapon. When he had a grip, he popped his shoulders back into place and tried to heat the chains despite the weakness of the flame. The warmth began to permeate the weak steal. He breathed hard. He was almost ready to make his move, he just needed one more advantage.
Bodolf blew hard on the flame to blow it out. Though he was a space marine his talents were limited and he only had one mouth, he could have taken his next action first, but then that would have meant he'd have to blow the flame out with his arse and thought it would probably do more damage than good and so, he blew out the flame and entered total darkness.
He used his keen sense of scent to sniff out the rat whose neck he'd bit into earlier. The smell of decomposition was everywhere but in the darkness he was able to find it and again take the vermin into his jaws. Now he was ready. He bit down on the mouse and kicked the table his helmet was sitting on. He knew the sound would get their attention. The crashing of the table and bellow of ceramite rang out as Bodolf quickly took his place with his back against the wall his captors had first propped him up against. His hands, still behind his back and his head down.
Moments later the door flung open, hard, but it wasn't Inthol who entered.
Something small of stature entered the room. It was hunched over, barely five feet tall. It was armed. In one hand it gripped a long staff with a horned skull a top it. It was taller than the figure. In the other, a rusty sword. Blunt chunks had been left in the un mended blade. It wasn't only designed to cut but to infect. The small being trotted and limped around the room. It was murmuring under its breath. Not murmuring. Chanting.
His hooded features hid from Bodolf. Bodolf waited. He waited for the precise moment to make his move. The being, after having made several rounds of the room murmuring his chants stopped at Bodolf. Bodolf kept his head down.
"Is this some kind of priest?" He thought.
The little vermin banged the butt of his staff on the ground three times then fastened his blade and took Bodolf by the jaw. His long, yellow finger nails curled up around Bodolf's jaw line and finally, Bodolf saw its face peering back at him.
He got a split second to glimpse a snout covered in fur and long rotted teeth before he spat the dead rat he had clasped in his teeth at the Skaven priest and broke the chains behind his back. Even as he was breaking the chains he lunged forward, knees first, driving them into the midsection of the vermin priest sending him flying against the weapons mounted on the wall. They fell to the ground with a horrendous clang of metal on stone. The priest was dead before he'd even hit the floor. His ribs driven hard up into his organs by the force of Bodolf's knee. Never the less, Bodolf took the tiny blade he had used to free himself and confirmed his kill by slitting its throat. Blood trickled out onto the floor and dozens of rats flocked to the pool from their various hiding holes as they began to drink the priest's essence. Bodolf quickly fastened his helmet and took the Skaven priests blade. He knew what was to happen next.
Inthol and three other Skaven Astarte's burst into the room, chain swords roaring and bolt pistols blaring. Their skill lacked. They were a horde of numbers and took upon similar tactics to those of the Ork's. Quantity of quality. Bodolf would exploit this.
Bolt rounds rang out against his ceramite pauldron. One slammed straight into the eye of the wolf that adorned it. Bodolf charged with the bulk of his armour protecting him from the rounds and slammed into the one brandishing the bolter. They crashed to the ground and before he could even roll over the other two were stabbing chain swords down at him. "Poor technique." He thought as he rolled out of the way and wedged the small serrated blade that had freed him under the armpit of Inthol as he tried to drive the chain sword down. Inthol screamed in pain and Bodolf ceased the moment to grasp housing of the chain sword with a double open palmed vice grip and yank it free.
He kicked at the greaves of the other two and span up onto his feet now armed with the chain sword. He howled as he charged into the melee, the chain sword swiping hard and deep across the Skaven Marine with the bolter. Much harder and much deeper than what Inthol had dragged it across his own armour. Bodolf followed through with an upward swing and severed the Astarte's limb from his torso. The limb that held the bolter flew into the air as blood rained in the dungeon. Bodolf kicked the third marine aside and grabbed the arm as it came down. He seized the bolter and shot the marine he'd just kicked square between the eyes. Two were still alive. Inthol, who was recovering and the now one armed marine. Bodolf gunned the chain sword and dragged its teeth across the neck of the one armed marine. He turned and saw Inthol crawling towards a weapon that had strewn across the floor. He instantly levelled his bolter at him.
Bodolf walked up to Inthol and held the bolter at his head. Point blank range.
"What a lovely horde you have." He said. "I think it's time you met my pack!" And with that, he slammed the butt of the bolter into the tip of the beak of the Corvus pattern armour.
Chapter 4:
Bodolf sat in the darkness of the dungeon and waited for Inthol to come around. He had taken no risks in securing the Skaven marine and allowed him no liberties. "Look where that got you." He thought.
Inthol was stripped down entirely but for a loin cloth. His armour propped up against the wall to look like someone was in the room. Inthols arms were bound at the biceps, hard and tight. Also at the wrists which were then hogtied to his ankles. His mouth was clamped shut, he was completely immobile.
Hair covered his body and elongated nose. His hands were claws of yellow nails and his ears pointed up like a wider, hairier version of the Eldars.
"Good, you're awake!" Said Bodolf. "Let's get started."
Bodolf grabbed Inthol by the tail and dragged him along as he slowly opened the rickety door and checked the tunnels directly outside.
He couldn't depend on Inthol for directions. Even in the 41st Millennium everyone knew you can't trust a rat. Bodolf would have to rely on his smell to earn his egress. He figured if he could separate the particles of shit from the particles of the eradiated air of the surface then he could ascertain how close he was to the surface. The journey commenced.
Bodolf made his way through tunnel after tunnel dragging Inthol behind him. Before long Inthol had become resigned to his fate and stop squirming. Bodolf was smarter and didn't chalk it up to 'resignation.' Inthol was up to something.
Every corner, twist and turn, ascent and decent had to be taken with the utmost care. There were Skaven marine everywhere. Menials would walk up and down the halls some brandishing simple auto guns and others swords similar to the Skaven Priest who had tried to initiate a ritual earlier. A vast army was housed in the tunnels.
Finally, one of the tunnels came to a sheer drop. Inthol began to chuckle through his muffled snout.
Bodolf looked out unto a vast city wrought with huge towers and domed by a sky made of soil.
"Neo-Skaven Blight." He thought. The incessant chittering drowned out all other noises. The smell finally had room to breathe and wafted off into the cities peaks. In front of him were all manner of Skaven. Males, females and children. Rats scurried everywhere.
He would have to cross this vast complex. But how?
Stealth? The wolves of Fenris were avid hunters. Their death world bred it into their senses but there was far too much activity even for an Astarte's of the Space Wolves to go through such a populated area un noticed. He pondered perhaps the opposite approach. A distraction. Perhaps he could cause an explosion and dart for the other side in the confusion? "But what if one of these little bastards also had the sense to see something was astray?" He thought.
He was stuck. He couldn't spend much longer at the end of this tunnel for surely a small rat would sooner rather than later notice him being there and he was uncertain of the relationship held between the Skaven Marines and the rats. Could the communicate? How intelligent were the rats?
Then a silly thought entered his head. An old tale from Terra told to him by Uln Misfjord a long time ago. "The piper." He thought. "Yolder no. Surely such a technique won't work?"
The tale told of a man who played his flute in a town over run by rats. The flute hypnotised the rats and the piper lead them into the sea. When the governor wouldn't pay the pipers fee the piper had hypnotised the children of the town and lead them into the sea also.
"Bah, if only I had a Fenrisian pan pipe." He thought. No pipe but Bodolf was a Space Wolf.
With no other choice he took a mighty breath. "For the emperor." He muttered whilst holding it in stuck his head out of the tunnel into the vast expanse where he unleashed an all mighty wolf howl.
The howl echoed the across the buildings like sonar. Before the echo had even finished reverberating he sprinted along another tunnel, Inthol in hand and done the same again.
He kept howling and howling until his voice filled the huge expanse and all the mice of Neo-Skaven Blight were taken unto what was happening. Then he made his move.
Bodolf leapt out of the ravine dragging Inthol behind him. Even when he landed he continued to howl as he moved. He bounced from building to building clawing and clawing. His cover was blown, he knew that, but if he kept on howling he could keep these rat bastards at bay. Inthol cried out as his body thudded and slammed into where ever Bodolf landed. Before long he was at the top of the start of a tunnel with an upwards trajectory at the far side of the city. He sniffed. "Land!" He bound for the tunnel but was grabbed around his leg by a tight grip. Inthol!
The thudding and bashing of the leaps must have loosened his restraints. Bodolf punched Inthol square in the head with all the force of Fenris behind his fist. No sooner had he delivered the punch a bolter round ricocheted against the wall of the tunnel creating a spark. They were onto him.
He snarled at Inthol and bit down into his throat as he bound up the expanse of the tunnel on all fours. He had to make sure not to bite down too hard. He didn't want to kill Inthol. He would need to toy with his hunt first. More bolter rounds filled the tunnel. Now they were scaring his armour and with a final leap Bodolf broke the surface.
The effect was instant. Light filled his sensors. No longer the dull flame of Neo-Skaven Blight, now the hard shine of the rad desert of Tarn.
Inthol woke instantly and screamed through the chains as the heat of the sun burnt his fur.
He was unprotected against the elements.
"Not much time if I have to keep this vermin alive." Thought Bodolf as he sprinted into the dunes searching for the scent of his battle brothers.
Chapter 5:
Bodolf crossed the desert for a few hours dragging Inthol behind him. He was forced to snap the wrists and elbows of Inthol shortly after they'd surfaced in order to keep him at bay now that his restraints were gone. For good measure he broke his knees and ankles also. Inthol lost consciousness as the pain of his bones reknitting wrought his body. "Good." Thought Bodolf. "This will buy me some time." Which of course it did but not enough and so, once again Bodolf drove his fist into Inthol's snout and proceeded to snap all four of his limbs... Again. "A good way to keep the mice at bay" He thought.
Finally after many hours his nose picked up a scent. He snarled. He'd hoped for the scent of his battle brothers but instead the smell of ash filled his nostrils. So did the decrepit shit stink of the Skaven however there was a tinge to it. His brothers were close by. Their smell was overpowered by the Skaven but he could cut through it. He broke into a sprint and headed north towards both the fettered odour of his enemy and the sweet scent of his battle company.
The first visible sight that he was close was the smoke. At first it was a black mist on the horizon then it billowed into mini tornadoes of war that licked the clouds. His brothers had either been attacked or were still under attack. He picked up the pace, dragging Inthol by the tail behind him. He breathed hard through his helmet and filtered out scent by scent. The first to go was the shit stink and smell of the decomposing corpses at the sight. That and the black smoke of war were the strongest. Before long he was filtering out individual scents of his battle brothers as their armour signatures blinked online. He was close. Then, he was back at base.
Chapter 6:
"We'd wondered where you got to." Asked Amnor, one of Bodolf's battle brothers.
"These little bastards captured me but I managed to escape." He said as he tossed the body of Inthol to his brothers.
"Who is this?" One asked.
"Why this is my good friend Inthol." Bodolf replied sarcastically. "The rat bastard who held me captive."
"Rat bastard?" Asked Amnor.
"Ai. Rat bastard. I believe our threat is not xenos brother… But Chaos. Behold… Skaven."
"Surely not!" Said Amnor. "The Skaven were long extinct. Even before old night. It was Chaos we fought on the rad plains. Chaos. The snot covered wretches of Nurgle surely?"
Inthol laughed his chittering laugh as he snapped his re-knitted bones into place and regained consciousness.
"Nurgle. The Great Horned rat." He said. "It's all the same."
"Shut your trap vermin." Snapped Amnor as he secured Inthol.
"Wait." Said Bodolf.
"How is it that you and your type came to be on Tarn? The Imperium has placed your kind as extinct for eons."
"I don't answer to you welp." Said Inthol.
"Well, perhaps some incentive then?" Said Amnor as he left the area of the base where they had all congregated on Bodolf's return.
The base had been raided and now lay in ruined tatters. Not completely dysfunctional but certainly the architecture was no longer that of a viable strong hold. More so, a dilapidated mobile base which would soon have to be left to rust in the toxic atmosphere of Tarn as the wolves continued their purge of the planet.
Before long Amnor returned which a big hunk of cheese in his hand. The food storage was relatively untouched. The Skaven hadn't managed to penetrate that deep.
"Chawwwww." Inthol began to salivate.
"Surely you're joking?" Said Bodolf.
"It's worth a shot." Said Amnor. "Maybe you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but can still trick an old rat with old cheese?"
Amnor held the cheese to Inthols face. The parmesan scent filled his nostrils.
"How did you get here? Tell us and it's yours."
"How do you think?" Said Inthol.
"How did rats immigrate from nation to nation on Terra? Since the first fleets travelled to Tarn we came as stowaways on their ships. We've been on Terra almost as long as the Emperor himself. Probably even longer. "
"Keep going." Said Bodolf.
"You intrepid fool!" Lashed Inthol.
"We are the first plague. The Black Death! Just as the Emperor visited Mars in form of the Omnissiah, the Machine God, the plague God visited our ancestors. The Great Horned Rat. He endowed us with the power of the first plague so we could over throw humanity in the year of 1346 and end the Emperors rule before his grasp became too strong but we failed and so our place on the food chain was beneath the heal of humanity for eons. But just as we stowed away then when humanity conquered the oceans, we did the same when he conquered the stars. Before long we were as vast as the Imperium. Where ever humanity spread so did we and when Chaos sort the hand of Horus the great grandfather Nurgle sort out the spawn of his old allies, the rats. Now… I believe you have…" Inthol couldn't finish his words before Amnor through a small piece of the cheese at him which he caught in his mouth.
"Disgusting." Said Amnor. This whole time an ancient threat has been brewing right beneath our feet. All of us none the wiser."
"We must eradicate it here and now." Said Bodolf.
Inthol chittered.
"What are you? The Emperors pest control?" Bodolf raised a fist to beat the vermin.
"No!" Said Amnor as he pulled Bodolf aside.
"You can't trust a rat." He said in secret. "But these fools seem, easily manipulated."
"You're right." Said Bodolf.
"I have seen what they call 'Neo-Skaven Blight.' They outnumber us greatly but their skills are almost non-existent."
"Ai." Said Amnor.
"When they made their presence known here their tactics lacked sophistication. They were as sophisticated as a green skin horde."
"We need to trim their numbers." Said Bodolf.
"I have seen the base. We have to deal with their numbers in smaller amounts one horde at a time."
"Ai" Agreed Amnor. "But how?"
Bodolf gestured to the rat gnawing on the cheese. "Our food supplies are plentiful. We could manipulate the reality of our situation a bit." He said.
"You sly fox." Said Amnor. "I'll have the men prepare an ambush. You, don the sheep's skin."
And with that, Amnor left Inthol alone with Bodolf.
Chapter 7:
"So it seems the tables have turned now." Said Bodolf.
Inthol sniggered at the remark.
"Why did you kidnap me?" Asked Bodolf with no emotion in his tone.
Inthol refused to speak. Bodolf looked over at the cheese. "Really?" He said.
He walked over and broke off another wedge. "Speak first."
"We wanted to know who our invaders were." Said the Skaven Marine.
"Maybe hold you to ransom."
"What ransom?" Asked Bodolf. "Why me?"
"Because of your rank."
"My rank?" Asked Bodolf.
"Fool." Inthol pointed his nose and gestured to the Astarte's pauldron. Runes inscribed the rim of it.
Similar runes to what Bodolf had seen around Neo-Skaven Blight but had not taken time to analyse.
'Bodolf Aegir.' Translated, meant 'wolf leader of the Gods' and that is what was inscribed on his pauldron.
"But you and I know the Gods don't exist." Said Bodolf.
"Oh." Said Inthol. "I think we both know they do."
"So you mistook my rank and thought me of some other worldly value that would command a large ransom? A ransom from who?"
"I don't know." Snarled Inthol. "Anyone. Everyone. I've said enough."
Bodolf broke off another wedge of cheese and through it to the Skaven Marine.
"You are now my prisoner." He said to Inthol.
"Unfortunately we are bound by sacred laws to treat you with a level of respect afforded to all Astarte's in times of war granted by the edict of…" He paused. "The edict of Uranus."
"I'm so full of shit." He thought to himself as he made it up a false edict on the spot.
He unchained Inthol. "You are welcome to our food and water and free to roam however should you try to escape you will be executed." Advised Bodolf. Inthol hurried free of his holdings and made his way over to the wheel of cheese where he ravished it.
Amnor, in his wisdom had left a indiscrete trail of crumbs leading to the Space Wolves food supply. A little clue here or there so that Inthol could find his way to the conveniently unlocked
treasure trove.
"Now we watch." Said Amnor.
"We need to make this look real." Reminded Bodolf. "When he makes his escape, sound alarms and fire bolter rounds into the air. Make sure the alarms aren't at the frequency of our war cry then when he's gone, change the alarms so they ring at the same frequency as our howl."
Amnor looked puzzled.
"Explain brother Bodolf."
"The tale of the piper." He said. "When this dog shit returns with his horde we'll startle them with an amplified howl and tear them to bits… Then we'll descend onto Neo-Skaven Blight."
Amnor smiled and a fang hung over his bottom lip.
"Cunning brother. Very cunning."
To be continued.
11