Tales of Sigmar's exploits generally summarized in a few words the epic battles, and chroniclers never lingered on detailed descriptions of fights between the protagonists of the different armies. The most likely explanation for this simplification was the lack of information: no sane historian would risk his life on the frontline. So was there a gap between what students used to read in their imperial university textbooks and harsh reality. Hallbjörn Ludviksson knew it so well.
Norscan mercenaries were less well protected than the fearsome Chaos Warriors, but their liveliness coupled with their fury lined up for this handicap. With two hammer blows, the captain crushed the first heavy armoured enemy soldier equipped with a heavy axe. His faithful lieutenant Votiak stood to his right. Despite the years, the veteran was not left out, and stroke with his flail masterfully.
Each shock was accompanied by a wild cry, a curse to the enemy, or a call to one's god. Blood spurted at the slightest wound, and blades slashed flesh. The Norscan captain growled in frustration at seeing his comrades falling. He didn't lose his fighting spirit and was determined to eliminate two Chaotese for each defeated mercenary.
At the top of the rampart, Vellux followed the progress of the battle. The men-things were seriously hampered by the weird-things armoured warriors, and the warplock Jezzails continued to laminate the twisted creatures. At his side, Master Mutator Skilit chuckled.
- Grey Seer Vellux, I think it's time to zow you my latezt operation of surzery.
- Do it, ordered Vellux, who inwardly cursed the creative madness of the Moulder.
With a gesture that was meant elegant, the lanky Skaven dropped his coat to the ground, revealing a large pair of membranous skin wings, covered with white fuzz.
- That's it! A sample on a Warp bat, zome flesh, cartilazes, and voila! Now I can fly!
Warp bats were animals of the Under-Empire, huge bats with a body as great as a pony. The Grey Seer hissed in annoyance by reminding a small problem due to their massive proportions.
- I thought Warp bats couldn't fly?
- True-true, your zublimizzime holiness, but I applied to reinforze muscles and nerves. It can work!
- And you've tried it? the White Skaven growed.
The Master Mutator raised a triumphant index, but he froze.
- Uh... actually, no. But it has no importanze! You'll see!
For the second time, Vellux heaved a deeply annoyed sigh, and walked away a few paces. Skilit stretched out his arms and rolled his shoulders. He deployed his new wings, brewed air several times, and finally rose a few feet up of the stone slabs. With an excited cry, he flew over the parapet, and disappeared into the night sky.
Stood back, Psody, Romulus, Tomas and Steiner didn't lose a crumb of the confrontation. Nedland Barnrooster was lying on the grass a few yards away, his sniper rifle ready to shoot.
- What will you do? asked the merchant.
- First, I have to identify where Heike is. Then I can act. I can't throw myself in front line like Hallbjörn's boys.
- That would be suicide, muttered between his teeth the clerk of Verena.
Tomas continued to ogle the action of his telescope; he suddenly frowned.
- What's that?
- Yes, what's that?
Grey Seer Vellux had also noticed something even more unusual. The weird-things were bringing catapults, but also a large wooden box on wheels. Vellux knew about war machines of the sub-creatures of the surface, but didn't remember ever seeing simple boxes be dangerous.
- Probably war beasts inside, as our rat-ogres, the Plague Deacon observed.
- Hum...
Think... this box is too far for warplock Jezzails or warpfire throwers, and we don't have cannons. I'm going to shatter-wreck it thanks to magic!
He raised his arms, stretched his fingers as much he could, and concentrated. He felt the power of Warp through each hair of his fur up to concentrate into his heart. He thought of the words that would free the mighty wrath of the Horned Rat, when he stopped short.
No, you idiot-moron! If you do that, they'll spot you right away!
The Grey Seer, who was not a sunk fool, knew when to be discreet to lengthen his lifetime. He judged it would be more prudent to wait and see what it was. Things didn't drag.
- They open the box, mein herr!
- And what was he in, Tomas?
- Wait, Romulus, I have to focus... Oh!
- What, what?
Psody focalised his pupils on the cubic form. Admittedly, it was dark, and the distance was great, but his accustomed to the darkness Skaven heightened senses were not bothered. Something came out of that box. One... two... three forms. Three silhouettes he had no difficulty to recognise, despite the distance. His heart leaped in his chest.
By the...
Amidst the horde of twisted creatures, there were three Skaven. But they were not miserable scrap. Three nude, beautiful, perfect girls. Three invitations to live an experience of pleasure as he had never live. He imagined the soft touch of their curves under the softness of their fur, the delicacy of their graceful hands, their eyes as deep as twin oceans in which he felt ready to drown. A furious heat strike irradiated his abdomen, and shook his whole body.
They even seemed to have seen him, and encouraged him to join them. They were laughing, giggling, singing, and their fragrance, which came to his nostrils, succeeded to convince him to abandon everything to spend the most passionate, most sensual moment of his whole life.
He was not the only one who succumb their charm. Already, many Skaven gathered on the wall literally threw themselves into the void to reach the females and enjoy their favours.
Oh no! You won't spoil me!
He didn't hesitate more time. Literally spellbound, he advanced towards these three graces, unaware of anything else. He even didn't hear Steiner's voice calling him.
- Psody? What are you doing? Are you crazy?
- No, mein herr! Tomas moaned. He's bewitched by females!
Romulus didn't need further explanation. He jumped from his horse, and ran to the little ratman. Unfortunately, the latter appeared increasingly impatient, and accelerated, to rush to the melee like hell. Even a young White Skaven could be faster than a Human. Romulus tried to catch him up, but winced in spite seeing his protégé away more. In desperation, he jumped, hands outstretched, trying to catch the little ratman by his tail, but he didn't succeed, and fell on all fours. He raised his head, his mouth full of grass, and whispered, breathlessly:
- Don't do it...
Vellux had also spotted the disturbing cargo of the Chaos battalion. Seeing danger, he picked out of his pocket a handkerchief, rubbed it vigorously under his armpit, and wedged it in his nose. He spat angrily. He wouldn't get caught up in such an obvious trap, unlike all the Clanrats rushing towards death as shabby as them. Skaven jumped right over the slots to throw themselves into the ditch. Others were furiously fighting themselves to prevent them from joining the breeders.
The Grey Seer wanted to put an end to this madness. Anyway, he wouldn't risk leaving his hideout and revealing his presence. He called loudly:
- Deacon Soum! Here!
The old Skaven of Clan Pestilens had scarcely removed away from the Grey Seer.
- What do you want, o supreme superior supremacy?
- Get those damned breeders off! Quickly! I'll try to hold these incapable!
Vellux rushed up the stairs and hustled the Skaven who were climbing. His raging screeches proved very convincing. Soum coughed, spat sticky glairs which remained glued to the tissue of his hood, and thought to the spell he would cast.
Psody was delighted. After all, he wouldn't have twice the opportunity to experience something so intense! Of course, he had to dash around the compact mass of mercenaries struggling with Chaos Warriors.
No matter! I'm coming, beautiful ladies, I'm coming! Don't worry, I won't tell...
A small puncture in his stomach then made him wince. Unconsciously, he slowed down. What was he thinking about? Why should he not talk about it, and to whom?
He stopped, stunned by the question, and stood in the middle of the plain, dazed, his arms dangling.
Wait a minute... I feel that if I throw myself into the arms of these three girls, someone would not be happy...
Indeed, but who?
Romulus? No, he wants the happiness of everyone. Steiner, maybe? So what? I owe him nothing! If I want to play with a breeder, I don't care about the opinion of this man-thing... this man-thing?
He understood he was talking with a language that he hadn't used for months. The sensation in his bowels became more and more painful when he realised he was reasoning again like a Skaven of the Under-Empire.
But... why? How could these three females... females... you fool! These are Karkadourian's monsters! He probably enhanced them, make them irresistible! They are deadly, like the one that killed Skahl! And yet...
And yet they were so attractive, so desirable! There was probably no more pleasant way to leave this vale of tears in which Skaven and men-things were eternally condemned to struggle each against the other, whatever could think a vague and lunatic White Skaven exiled in Lustria.
And then, after all, no one won't regret me. No one. No, no... well... wait a second... I... I... Of course, someone will! There is at least one person who shall be very sad!
He opened widely his pink eyes and cried, distraught:
- Heike! Damn, what am I doing?!
He violently slapped himself to be sure that he would recover out of his stupefaction. He realised in which position his contradictory behaviour had led him. He turned around and sped toward the three Humans. They were relieved to see their young friend resist to the deadly trap of the sorcerer.
- I.. am... really... confused, whispered the young ratman between two noisy inspirations.
- Forget it, Steiner replied. We must do something more constructive, now!
- Yes, you're right. I must... I must first understand where your daughter is!
- What would Vellux have done with her, in your opinion? Romulus asked.
- I... I think he wanted to keep her close to him. Without his personal lair, he can't take the risk to leave her between the paws of other Skaven.
- So, she would be at his side? During a battle?
- No, Tomas. He put her in a safe place. A woman is the most precious thing according to the Skaven. He locked her where he took place, for sure!
- Okay. Where?
Psody thought, with all his might. Nedland quietly approached the small group while the little ratman said:
- The cellar? No, too shabby. Lord Gottlieb's bedroom? Not too human. Or maybe... The throne room! There he can appear in the most powerful position.
- The throne room is at the top of the highest tower, Romulus explained, pointing to the dungeon.
- Then I must go there!
- And how will you?
- Thanks to magic, master Steiner. I can teleport myself on the roof!
- And if there is someone up there?
- I turn into powder with my magic!
Psody began to make movements, shaking his hands, when the Halfling scout interrupted him.
- Wait!
- What-what?
- Can your magic bring us into this castle?
- No, it works only for myself.
- Damn! It would have... hey! Can you break down a door?
- Uh, it depends. What is your idea, exactly?
- The portcullis behind the drawbridge, you could destroy it?
- For this, I would have to see it. If the drawbridge remains lifted, I can do nothing.
- Don't worry about it. So?
- Yes, if I see the portcullis, I can invoke a rotting spell to weaken it.
- Perfect! Then listen. Wait until the drawbridge is lowered, destroy the portcullis, and after, go and save your girlfriend.
- Hurry, please!
- Trust me, master Steiner. I have an idea.
Nedland put his musket back in its holster, and joined the rearmost Norscan warriors as fast as his little legs allowed him. Psody turned to the three Humans in turn.
- Might as well, in the meantime, I'll wait on this small hill-hill yonder. The closer to the sky I am, the easier the trip will be.
- Mount, I will take you there, Romulus offered up on his mare.
The Shallyan priest reached out, and the little ratman was on the rump of the animal in a jump. Both went off at full gallop.
Nedland Barnrooster was trained to run fast and long without falter. Finally, he reached one of the greatest warriors of the company. This one favoured the sword-shield combination.
- Jorund!
- What? the Norscan barked between two blade strokes.
- It is imperative that I get on the wall to lower the drawbridge!
- And what do you want me to do? How you gonna do? Flying?
- Exactly!
The Halfling handed finger forward.
- Over there, look! You must accompany me there!
The blond warrior looked, and immediately understood what the scout wanted to do.
- You can't be serious?
- You got a better idea?
Jorund split up and down the head of a four-armed Chaos Warrior.
- The Lustrian sun really scalded your face!
- And this is only the beginning! chuckled the little man.
Jorund suddenly widened his eyes, surprised.
- Look, over the door!
- Huh? By Esmeralda's toes!
The two mercenaries saw above the motionless mass of Chaos spawn at the front door a so destabilising phenomenon: a green cloud, consisted by swirling scrolls, poured heavy rain. A few seconds later, the growls and screams became more acute.
- Damn, it must probably very painful.
- What's going on?
Tomas distinguished the three Skaven females. Even if they were corrupting and tempting creatures, he couldn't restrain a small grimace of compassion. The unfortunate beings melted visibly because of the influence of acid rain, their fur fell, their skin slid along their raw muscles. They collapsed and died away in unenviable suffering. Like the other slaves of Chaos.
- Concurrence for your daughter is spread on the grass, mein herr.
- Glad to learn it, quipped the merchant. How's it going?
- This is all very confusing. Chaos and Skaven at the same time... Fortunately, the demons don't attack our men only, and vice versa!
- I wish I could do a little more!
Tomas parked his telescope, and hesitated before observing:
- No offence to you, Master Steiner, you may not be in condition to fight in the middle of such a fray! And I remind you that you are still recovering.
- I know, brother Tomas, but it annoys me. And if it was your daughter, you would think like me!
- I don't have any doubt on... what?
A bloodcurdling screech sounded just above the two men. Suddenly, something fell on Tomas and rushed him down his horse. The merchant widened his eyes. He tried to distinguish what was assaulting the clerk, but couldn't completely. It was confusing, as a mass mixing a large pair of bat wings, white fur, claws, a long pink tail and mad hisses over the groans of the young man. But he didn't want to waste any more time. He drew from his belt an ornate pistol and opened fire.
The creature was thrown back with a mewing, and stopped, camped on its two hind legs. Steiner saw a large, very thin Skaven, with a flexible body, with a large pair of skin wings. Blood flowed from a wound on its thigh, caused by the bullet.
- What is this horror?
- A zampion of the Horned Rat, man-thing!
With a loud snap, the Master MUtator Skilit drew a six feet long tongue, which lashed the air. Its barbed end wrapped around the neck of the merchant. He yelped in pain, fell to the ground and slowly slid on his belly to the Skaven. He got up, grabbed with his both hands the moist flesh appendix, and bent with all his weight back. The tongue was pressing harder and harder, he lacked of air. Despite all his efforts, he took a step towards the Skaven, then another. He cringed when he saw the disgusting ratman raising his right paw, and show sharp such as razors claws. This sight provoked in him a renewal of adrenaline. He picked up in a motion a dagger hidden in his thigh, and cut the Skaven's tongue.
The ratman fell backwards and found himself on its backside, squealing in pain, its hands over its mouth. Steiner ran to it and kicked it with all his strength on its muzzle. A sheaf of hot blood spurted on his clothes, and the Skaven finished on its back, lying at full length.
Master Mutator Skilit up painfully his head, spat reddish, frothy saliva, and chuckled in a broken voice:
- I... I am a true Fon of the Horned Rat ! He protectf me, and I... fill him wiv pride-pride!
With a contempt look, Steiner drew his sword from its scabbard, and planted it into the heart of the ratman. He leaned toward it, and growled:
- Then go to him!
The Skaven vomited flows of blackish bile, and stopped moving, a frightful grimace mixing pain and pleasure stretched its facies.
Steiner retired in a gesture the blade from the still wriggling body of the Skaven, wiped it on his handkerchief, put away his weapon and walked quickly to Tomas. The young clerk had nasty streaks on his chest, and his face was slashed by a long scar coming down from his forehead to his chin, but fortunately he had enough defended himself to prevent the Skaven mortally wound him. The merchant helped him up. He remarked bitterly that the young man had a gaping wound instead of his right eye.
- I tell you this is a very bad idea!
- I can do it!
- You're gonna crush you like an overripe fruit on Sjoktraken walls!
While the Norse spoke, he turned the wheel around which the chain that stretched one of the Chaos troops catapults wrapped – it had only taken to the Halfling three bullets fired one after another to kill the three worshipers. To combat his nervousness, the scout decided to tell one of his many "family stories".
- It reminds me of a anecdote I've been told about my great-great-great-grandfather. He was nicknamed "The Imp". He would have confront a queen who got rid of her enemies by throwing them into a chasm just below the throne room of her castle. Each time, her son asked "will the bad man fly?" And his mother said "Yes, dear, yes, my treasure". What a twisted family!
The safety catch interlocked. In a movement, Nedland stood on the spoon. Jorund turned his head toward the little man.
- So what?
- He saw his death very close, but was able to save his skin at the last moment. The brat asked: "will the little man fly now?" Can you guess what my great-great-great-grandfather answered?
Unwilling to hear the answer, Jorund pulled the lever with a firm gesture. The catapult unbent, and sent Nedland directly into the air.
Although lighter than a steel ball, the Halfling rose above the battlefield, with a long scared cry. He focused on the parapet to which he was heading at full speed. He wanted to stabilise his flight by flapping his arms, then he at the last moment made a movement forward. He did a somersault in contact with the stone, and received a bit abruptly, but it was nothing more than a few bruises. His crazy idea was successful. He got up, dusted himself off with the greatest possible dignity , and muttered:
- "Not this little man! This little man is going down in the turnip hoist, thank you very much!"
He adjusted his hood, and remained bent, partially wrapped in his cloak. He looked around. Skaven rifles were the first to have succumbed to the lure of Karkadourian's weapon, there was nobody on the ramparts. However, he saw in the corner of his eye a curved and hooded figure which disappeared through the opening of a door.
He shook his head. No way to get distracted. He spotted thirty yards farther the lever which allowed to release the safety catch of the drawbridge chains. But he hardly took a step in this direction a detonation boomed. By reflex, he jumped back. The warpstone bullet made burst the stone exactly where his foot was a quarter of a second earlier. The Halfling scout had only time to hide behind a barrel of water.
Wow! I was a toe to write the word "end" for me!
He cast a quick glance to the side where the shot came from. He saw a partially concealed by a reversed chest silhouette. Brown coat, patched leather jacket, and a particular musket. Nedland could recognise in a heartbeat a weapon of exceptional quality when he saw one, even at this distance.
This one is going to give me a hard time. Wait a minute, man...
Very gently, he picked out of its case his own gun. A second shot rang out, and the projectile hit full force the barrel of the weapon that had slightly pointed from his improvised shelter. The shock was so violent that he dropped his gun. Nedland shouted thousand insults to the attention of his opponent when he saw the gun twirl above the parapet and falling into the pit.
I don't believe it!
The scout felt stuck. The opposing shooter was really hard. He turned his head towards his goal. There were only a few seconds of racing to go to reach the lever, but the road was completely uncovered.
Nedland heaved a deep sigh. Was it better to stay there until other ratmen should come uncover him? Or would he take the risk of being stopped by a warpstone bullet and foul up any plan to get the others into the place?
Too bad... After all, it is a good day to die. Sorry, Gramps Proudfeet!
Slowly, with a small touched tear in his eye, he picked out of the pocket of his vest the tobacco pouch that the men in his family for four generations passed from one to another, and threw it in the air. Immediately, the brown Skaven had the reflex to shoot the small leather purse. Nedland sprang from his shelter, and ran as fast as he could, taking advantage of the slightest second needed by his opponent to reload its jezzail. When he considered to be a good distance, he made a huge jump, and fell with all his weight on the lever. The wooden cylinder leaned back with a powerful click, and all the mechanics was released. The drawbridge came down hard on the ground.
Now, it's up to you, little white rat!
He had no time to be delighted. As he had prepared for it, he was thrown on the cold stone paving by a bullet shot by the brown Skaven. Just one, right between his shoulder blades.
- Diassyon of Clan Skryre is champion-best, half-thing! inveighed the ratman.
Hallbjörn and his men had seen the drawbridge down, and had immediately understood what that meant. The Norscan captain didn't want to take the risk to try in turn the acid rain. Thanks to the stubbornness of his troops, the regiment of Chaos Warriors which barred their way from the beginning of the battle was almost wiped out. Therefore, the risk of becoming the new priority target of the Skaven was growing.
- Let's go!
- In their stronghold? Votiak wondered.
- The Chaoteuse have already destabilized them!
- Yeah, but how we get in? The portcullis is still down!
Psody visualised the wooden iron grid. He raised his arms and shouted loudly a few words in queekish.
Hallbjörn's men then heard a loud crack. The Skaven gathered in the courtyard, stupefied, saw the portcullis crack, rot in a few seconds, then collapse under its own weight with a crash. Votiak chuckled.
- By Ulric's fangs, I'd rather have the little white rat at my side!
- Let's finish with the Chaotese. These giant rats can't stay hidden forever.
Good! Now I go-go!
The little White Skaven concentrated again, and whispered the magic formula that had saved his life in Lustria. Once again, the magic of Warp operated. In a blink, he found himself just above the dungeon, one yard above the floor. He prepared to receive on his two feet, but at the last moment, he distinguished on the stone slabs a greenish oily stuff. His toes slipped on the puddle of warpstone fuel stagnating there for three days. He swung back and his head violently hit one of the niches. He heard a brief crack and felt an unimaginable pain lacerating his skull, such a violent pain he immediately lost consciousness.
Grey Seer Vellux felt overwhelmed. First, some of his ratmen disappeared in the gap or cut to pieces by the weird-things, and now the men-things at the door of his castle! He wouldn't stay without doing anything. And as with many of the Sons of the Horned Rat, pride and anger overcame all logic, instead of letting his troops between the walls of Gottliebschloss, he decided to send them to attack.
- Fangleader Semik! Gather your Stormvermin! Deacon Soum! Excite your Censer Bearers! Master Technomage Mabrukk?
The sand-furred Skaven was hidden behind one of the cages, and trembled with fear. With three bonds, the Grey Seer was in front of him.
- So, Master Engineer! You tan-tire me for a long time to have an opportunity to flaunt your scientific gifts! This is the time!
- But... my Skirmishers have already...
- And the Wheel of Doom, you think I'll drive it, don't you? Come on, this is your machine, now you're going to use it!
- M... Me?
Master Engineer Mabrukk had never driven Ikit Claw's invention in real combat conditions. He searched feverishly someone with a look, any Skaven of Clan Skryre, to seat instead. But the White Skaven guessed his intentions and cut short.
- Yes, you, and nobody else! You are the only one who can use it, with Diassyon, and I don't see him, then you move your bottom and you destroy these men-things, at once! Go and turn on the Wheel!
- But... I'm not worthy, o mighty-great...
Vellux spanked the Skryre on his muzzle.
- Shut up! Fight, or I scatter you! he yelled, pointing to the war machine with an energetic finger.
Mabrukk swallowed, but there was nothing to do, he had to choose between a hypothetical heroic death on the battlefield against the men-things, or a very unpleasant, certain and immediate end by the hand of Grey Seer. He wasn't long to make a decision. A minute later, the Wheel of Doom awoke again, rolled and roared to the entrance porch. The Master Engineer's courage gradually recovered, and quickly, he felt invincible.
- Captain, what's that?
Hallbjörn didn't like not to know his opponent. While he had already faced Skaven several times, but only during skirmishes. In no case he had to deal with such a complex technology, of this size. But like any professional warrior, he used to listen to his instincts. And his instincts were screaming at him that this machine was particularly daunting.
- May Ulric's beard catch fire! Ranulf barked.
At the second the machine was engaged on the drawbridge that lightning sprang out from the spines arranged in front and on the hubs. Four men fell instantly, their heart clenched to explode. Hallbjörn ordered:
- Bowmen! Aim this thing!
Votiak blew two short blasts to transmit the order to the archers. A volley of arrows fell to the vehicle.
Master Engineer Mabrukk spotted the deadly darts spinning in his direction. He pressed nimbly with his foot a pedal, and torrents of sparks crackled simultaneously from the three spines. The arrows were reduced to black ashes without even scratching the wooden structure. The sand-furred Skaven jumped on his seat and squealed with excitement.
- Look well, o Horned Rat! Mabrukk of Clan Skryre will offer you a feast of men-things!
Note from the author: today is the last day of 2013. Since the beginning of this publication, almost a year ago, the English version has received a total of 5441 views. The original version in French, less consulted, reassembles only 726 views, but inevitably, its readers are less numerous.
I would like to thank you, all my loyal readers, and I wish you spend a good Hexensnacht, then live the best of the 2014 years.
Glory to the Horned Rat!