Hans shivered slightly as he made his way through the sewers beneath the
city of Arkenbrand. Holding aloft a flaming torch in his left hand, and his
battered iron sword in his right, he scanned the sides of the sewer tunnels
for signs of movement. The flickering of the torch cast eerie shadows upon
the walls, making Hans wish he was back in the comfort of his house, rather
than down here, running a fool's errand.
Once again Hans cursed his misfortune. He had been the only one in the guard house when old Jeremiah had burst inside, screaming at the top of his lungs about the rat-men who infested the tunnels beneath the city, who were planning to launch an attack some time soon. Hans would have simply ignored him, had it not been for the growing crowd converging around the guard house door. Feeling bound by duty to put their fears to rest, he had set off into the sewers, to prove that there was nothing unnatural stirring there.
He was unsure of how long he had been down in the sewers. It seemed as though he had been there for hours, although it was probably little more than a few minutes. He had just decided to turn back - after all, he hadn't found anything strange, so who could complain? - when his ears picked up a sound in the distance, echoing from the walls of the sewers. It was a steady, rhythmic beating, similar to a drum. But who - or what - could be beating a drum down here? At the back of his mind, a niggling little thought formed, and he remembered the ravings of old Jeremiah. Taking a deep breath, he pushed this thought to the back of his mind, and walked onwards.
Turning a corner, he witnessed a sight that very nearly made him retch. Indeed, a lesser man would have, but Hans wasn't one of the highest ranking officers in the town guard for nothing, and he had seen his fair share of dead bodies. Even so, this particular body was - it was just wrong. It was a human, but only just recognisable. Many of the limbs, as well as the head, had been forcibly removed, essentially leaving just a torso. Into the naked flesh had been inscribed runes of some sort. Hans was not a well- learned man, but even he could tell that these runes were a source of Dark magic. In addition to the runes, small chunks of glowing green stone had been hammered into the flesh, causing the skin around them to rot and decay, and giving off a foul stench which permeated every inch of Hans' clothing.
At this point, Hans felt a strong, completely rational urge to go back, to leave the sewers. Indeed, this would have been the most sensible course of action - to inform the other town guards of what he had seen, and to organise an official search of the sewers. But Hans had always been curious, and, pushing aside his fear, he ventured onwards, towards the ever louder sounds of drum-beats.
As he walked onward, Hans noticed that the light from his torch was steadily growing dimmer, as the flame began to die out. The smaller light caused the shadows around him to grow larger and larger. Despite his limited imagination, it was impossible for Hans not to think of creatures that could be lurking in these shadows. All the monsters from his childhood nightmares could be lurking here, all the creatures he had laughed about, thinking they didn't exist. Down here, all could be real. They could be lurking around the next bend, waiting to feast on him. He could die down here, all alone, and no-one would ever know.
With a strength of will that even Hans himself did not know he possessed, he managed to shake these thoughts from his mind. He tried to focus his mind on happier things, such as his wife, and his young son. The boy was only seven years old, but he could already wield a sword with some competence, and Hans hoped that he would follow in his father's footsteps. He was continuing in this line of thought when he noticed the noise, or lack of it.
The drumming had stopped. Hans had been so deep in his thoughts that he had not noticed. As he approached the next turning in the sewer, he imagined that he could hear voices chattering, sometimes raised as if in argument. The voices sounded human, but strangely high-pitched, and were occasionally punctuated by irritated squeaking. The ravings of old Jeremiah, which Hans had pushed deep into his mind, now resurfaced again, reminding him of the so-called "rat-men".
"Pull yourself together man," he muttered to himself, "you're imagining things now. Whatever would the lads think if they could see you now? It's probably just a few rats. Aye, that'll be it. Rats." Steadying his arm, which was shaking uncontrollably - due to the cold, he told himself, not fear - he stepped round the corner.
Instantly he realised that he had been right about the voices, and that he had been wrong to carry on this far down into the sewers. He also realised - albeit dimly - that old Jeremiah had been right about the rat-men. For a veritable horde of them filled the sewers before him - a seething mass of fur and steel. Each of them was about the height of a man, but their bodies were hunched over, making them appear shorter. From their gnarled hands they held rusted swords and shields, and rotting leather armour was strapped to their bodies. They were covered in fur - varying shades of brown, grey and black - and their tails whipped around their bodies, lashing at each other in impatience.
As if hearing some silent signal, the squabbling rabble fell silent. Hundreds of pairs of glowing red eyes fixed intently upon Hans, each portraying a feeling of deep hatred and hunger. Suddenly, the wall of rat- men parted, and a shorter figure shuffled through, leaning heavily on a staff made of twisted and decayed wood. This figure was accompanied on either side by tall albino rat-men, wearing rusted metal armour of a higher quality than the rest of the creatures, and carrying halberds topped with cruelly curved blades. The smaller creature fixed its gaze upon Hans, and he saw, lurking behind the creature's eyes, a malevolent intelligence, coupled with deep loathing. The creature considered Hans for a few seconds more, before turning away, making its way back through the ranks of rat- men. The two albino rat-men strode purposely towards Hans, lowering their halberds, ready to strike.
Springing into action, Hans lunged at the first of the rat-men, ramming his torch into its face. The smell of singed fur accompanied a high-pitched squeal, which was cut off abruptly as Hans swung his sword in an arc, severing the creature's head from its body. As the dead creature slumped to the floor, the second of the rat-men charged towards Hans. Stepping aside swiftly, he brought his sword crashing down on the creature's head as it passed him, killing it instantly. As he prepared to face the rest of the creatures, Hans heard a soft thud behind him. Before he had time to spin around him, a blade had pierced his back, and tore through his heart.
As the body fell heavily to the floor, Slikritt, assassin of Clan Eshin, pulled out his blade and licked the blood off of it, grinning maliciously. From the back of the horde of rat-men, a cry issued forth. "Forward-forward! Soon the streets of the man-city shall run with the blood of our enemies! The hour has come!" As one, the huge body of Skaven moved forwards, ready to destroy the city above them, which lay blissfully unaware of the danger it now faced...
Once again Hans cursed his misfortune. He had been the only one in the guard house when old Jeremiah had burst inside, screaming at the top of his lungs about the rat-men who infested the tunnels beneath the city, who were planning to launch an attack some time soon. Hans would have simply ignored him, had it not been for the growing crowd converging around the guard house door. Feeling bound by duty to put their fears to rest, he had set off into the sewers, to prove that there was nothing unnatural stirring there.
He was unsure of how long he had been down in the sewers. It seemed as though he had been there for hours, although it was probably little more than a few minutes. He had just decided to turn back - after all, he hadn't found anything strange, so who could complain? - when his ears picked up a sound in the distance, echoing from the walls of the sewers. It was a steady, rhythmic beating, similar to a drum. But who - or what - could be beating a drum down here? At the back of his mind, a niggling little thought formed, and he remembered the ravings of old Jeremiah. Taking a deep breath, he pushed this thought to the back of his mind, and walked onwards.
Turning a corner, he witnessed a sight that very nearly made him retch. Indeed, a lesser man would have, but Hans wasn't one of the highest ranking officers in the town guard for nothing, and he had seen his fair share of dead bodies. Even so, this particular body was - it was just wrong. It was a human, but only just recognisable. Many of the limbs, as well as the head, had been forcibly removed, essentially leaving just a torso. Into the naked flesh had been inscribed runes of some sort. Hans was not a well- learned man, but even he could tell that these runes were a source of Dark magic. In addition to the runes, small chunks of glowing green stone had been hammered into the flesh, causing the skin around them to rot and decay, and giving off a foul stench which permeated every inch of Hans' clothing.
At this point, Hans felt a strong, completely rational urge to go back, to leave the sewers. Indeed, this would have been the most sensible course of action - to inform the other town guards of what he had seen, and to organise an official search of the sewers. But Hans had always been curious, and, pushing aside his fear, he ventured onwards, towards the ever louder sounds of drum-beats.
As he walked onward, Hans noticed that the light from his torch was steadily growing dimmer, as the flame began to die out. The smaller light caused the shadows around him to grow larger and larger. Despite his limited imagination, it was impossible for Hans not to think of creatures that could be lurking in these shadows. All the monsters from his childhood nightmares could be lurking here, all the creatures he had laughed about, thinking they didn't exist. Down here, all could be real. They could be lurking around the next bend, waiting to feast on him. He could die down here, all alone, and no-one would ever know.
With a strength of will that even Hans himself did not know he possessed, he managed to shake these thoughts from his mind. He tried to focus his mind on happier things, such as his wife, and his young son. The boy was only seven years old, but he could already wield a sword with some competence, and Hans hoped that he would follow in his father's footsteps. He was continuing in this line of thought when he noticed the noise, or lack of it.
The drumming had stopped. Hans had been so deep in his thoughts that he had not noticed. As he approached the next turning in the sewer, he imagined that he could hear voices chattering, sometimes raised as if in argument. The voices sounded human, but strangely high-pitched, and were occasionally punctuated by irritated squeaking. The ravings of old Jeremiah, which Hans had pushed deep into his mind, now resurfaced again, reminding him of the so-called "rat-men".
"Pull yourself together man," he muttered to himself, "you're imagining things now. Whatever would the lads think if they could see you now? It's probably just a few rats. Aye, that'll be it. Rats." Steadying his arm, which was shaking uncontrollably - due to the cold, he told himself, not fear - he stepped round the corner.
Instantly he realised that he had been right about the voices, and that he had been wrong to carry on this far down into the sewers. He also realised - albeit dimly - that old Jeremiah had been right about the rat-men. For a veritable horde of them filled the sewers before him - a seething mass of fur and steel. Each of them was about the height of a man, but their bodies were hunched over, making them appear shorter. From their gnarled hands they held rusted swords and shields, and rotting leather armour was strapped to their bodies. They were covered in fur - varying shades of brown, grey and black - and their tails whipped around their bodies, lashing at each other in impatience.
As if hearing some silent signal, the squabbling rabble fell silent. Hundreds of pairs of glowing red eyes fixed intently upon Hans, each portraying a feeling of deep hatred and hunger. Suddenly, the wall of rat- men parted, and a shorter figure shuffled through, leaning heavily on a staff made of twisted and decayed wood. This figure was accompanied on either side by tall albino rat-men, wearing rusted metal armour of a higher quality than the rest of the creatures, and carrying halberds topped with cruelly curved blades. The smaller creature fixed its gaze upon Hans, and he saw, lurking behind the creature's eyes, a malevolent intelligence, coupled with deep loathing. The creature considered Hans for a few seconds more, before turning away, making its way back through the ranks of rat- men. The two albino rat-men strode purposely towards Hans, lowering their halberds, ready to strike.
Springing into action, Hans lunged at the first of the rat-men, ramming his torch into its face. The smell of singed fur accompanied a high-pitched squeal, which was cut off abruptly as Hans swung his sword in an arc, severing the creature's head from its body. As the dead creature slumped to the floor, the second of the rat-men charged towards Hans. Stepping aside swiftly, he brought his sword crashing down on the creature's head as it passed him, killing it instantly. As he prepared to face the rest of the creatures, Hans heard a soft thud behind him. Before he had time to spin around him, a blade had pierced his back, and tore through his heart.
As the body fell heavily to the floor, Slikritt, assassin of Clan Eshin, pulled out his blade and licked the blood off of it, grinning maliciously. From the back of the horde of rat-men, a cry issued forth. "Forward-forward! Soon the streets of the man-city shall run with the blood of our enemies! The hour has come!" As one, the huge body of Skaven moved forwards, ready to destroy the city above them, which lay blissfully unaware of the danger it now faced...