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Erntezeit-32-2492
"Shit… too many of these damned Skaven," I growled, leaning against the damp stone wall, trying to catch my breath after what felt like an endless night.
Marienburg was infested. This wasn't just a handful of rats hiding in the sewers—it was an organized horde: screeching slaves hurled at like fodder, clan warriors in filthy armor, rats ard with rusted muskets, and worst of all, those thrice-damned warpfire throwers.
"Good thing my armor held against that filth… burning to death wasn't on my plans," I muttered, eyeing the blackened sar on my vambrace, a reminder of the infernal jet that had nearly caught .
I had been fighting for hours without rest. The only reason I still stood was the Dwarf ring on my left hand. I didn't fully understand how it worked, but it gave unnatural control over the winds of magic: what once demanded rigid discipline and exhausting focus now flowed with a re gesture. With only twenty minutes of deep sleep, I felt renewed, as if fatigue had no right to claim . And of course, the jewel repelled hostile magic with brutal efficiency, turning aside spells that would have ended otherwise. No surprise—it had been forged in the War of the Beard itself, filled with the eternal grudge of the dawi against the elves.
I descended further and further, each level deeper than the last. The cursed warren of tunnels seed endless, as if the Skaven had burrowed to the very guts of the world. They had thrown rat ogres at , beasts whose only joy was breaking bones—but my mace answered better, every strike cracking skulls with a satisfying crunch. I had cut through waves of black-furred assassins, dead before their daggers reached my flesh. The experintal weapons of Clan Skryre's engineers usually exploded in their own hands, bathing them in green fire. Even Grey Seers, horned rats with maddened eyes, had tried to bring down with their sorcery, but the ring fed on their magic and let return the favor—lting them under burning tal or turning their limbs into brittle gold before crushing them.
And still, I had not reached the bottom. I had marched for miles, through laboratories, twisted workshops, and underground farms where Skaven slept cramd together like cockroaches. The slaughter had been imnse, yet the question lingered: what now? Even if I killed them all, so of this filth would seep to the surface, and they would link it to the events in Marienburg.
I looked upward, thoughtful. "I could open a tunnel to the sea and drown them… though with so much erosion, maybe the caverns collapse and bring an earthquake to the city," I whispered, weighing options.
"Bah, I'll deal with that later," I said, standing firm to continue deeper.
With a gesture, a dozen ethereal blades spun around , cutting down slaves in a bloody dance. So of the Skaven's jury-rigged machines exploded as I twisted them with my will, preventing them from unleashing volleys against . The labyrinth of tunnels would have lost anyone else, but I could sense the paths ahead, keeping on the right course into the depths.
Then I saw it: a vile chamber where amorphous masses writhed in pools of filth. They weren't rats, but lumps of pulsing flesh, deford spawn fed on greenish fluids that forced them to grow. The stench was unbearable—a mix of rot and sour milk.
"Ugh… how in hell can they nurse in this stench?" I muttered, pressing my arm to my nose.
A group of Skaven warriors erged from the shadows, all albino or pale-grey furred. They marched like an elite guard, well-ard, in tight formation. At their head towered a massive leader, a muscular brute snarling with fury, ready to cut off my advance.
I only had to clench my fist. The tal of their own armor twisted at once, writhing like hungry serpents until it sealed around their skulls and ribs. I heard bones crack, muscles tear, arms and legs bursting. Blood exploded across the survivors, spattering their trembling snouts.
They barely had ti to react. I raised my hand and the tal from the ruined bodies beca razor shards, all aid at their eyes and mouths. They glowed red-hot before driving into soft flesh, punching through eyelids, palates, and throats. The screams were unbearable, a chorus of pain that shook the tunnel as Skaven clawed at their own faces in a desperate bid to tear out the tornt.
Only the biggest one, the albino leader, endured. Even with blood streaming from his snout and rage in his red eyes, he lunged at like a beast. I caught his claws and, turning his own strength against him, dropped backward. Planting both boots in his belly, I hurled him through the air, sending him crashing down the tunnel.
We rose at the sa ti. He held a huge knife, more butcher's cleaver than warrior's blade, and I my runic mace. He snarled, trembling with fury and pain."Co on… what are you waiting for? If they die, you're next," I taunted, sarcasm in my voice, and it drove him to greater rage.
He charged. His cleaver ca down with all the weight of his bulk—but I caught it on the head of my mace. The blade shattered in a rain of shards. The Skaven froze, horror plain in his eyes.
I gave no quarter. I stomped his foot, feeling bones crunch beneath my boot. With my other hand I seized his armor and smashed my forehead into his snout. Blood and teeth flew. I swept his legs out with a sharp move, sending him crashing on his back. Before he could rise, I lifted the mace and brought it down with all my weight on his spine. The crack of his ribs and backbone splitting was so clear it was almost pleasant to hear.
As I turned, I realized it was finished. The rest of his warriors lay dead. So had torn out their own eyes to escape the burning shards I had driven into them, others writhed like scorched dolls, reeking of charred flesh.
Only the Skaven females and their caretakers remained, cowering behind those amorphous masses they tried to protect. The stench was so vile it twisted my stomach with nausea. I stepped forward and drove iron stakes through their hearts in an instant. The caretakers died just as quickly—a dagger straight to the chest silenced their cowardly squeals.
I swept the chamber with my magic. Only a handful of living presences lingered nearby. The entrance stood close, its walls covered in twisted markings—Skaven ritual sigils. Beyond it I found the worst of their horrors: unfinished abominations, hybrids crudely stitched by cruel hands. Horse bodies with rat heads, an ogre split open with organs ripped out, piles of deford corpses abandoned in pools of bile.
In rusted cages huddled beastn. They did not roar or charge as was their nature. Instead, when I entered, they scread in raw panic, slamming against the bars, covering their faces with their hands and shrieking like terrified children. Scars and signs of experints had broken them. They were no longer beasts, only victims stripped of their natural savagery, reduced to trembling shadows by Skaven cruelty.
At the back I found what I had co for, though not in the way I expected. One of the elves already lay dead, the other barely breathing, fresh cuts still bleeding.
It would have been more convenient if both were corpses. The story stayed cleaner that way, no witnesses. I took one of the Skaven torture knives, smashed the lock of the cell with a blow of my mace, and opened the door.
"Tha… thank you… thank you," the elf muttered, clinging to my legs with sick desperation.
"Yes… don't thank too soon," I answered coldly. The elf lifted his gaze, horror dawning in his eyes just as I drove the blade into his chest, piercing ribs to reach the heart. The light in his eyes dimd, then vanished completely.
I could not allow loose ends. No one could know what I had done here. No one would believe it, and I could not risk the truth spreading as an impossible rumor.
After that, I exterminated everything left in the laboratory. Twisted spawn, madly stitched experints, hybrids of beast and man—all perished under iron and fire. With shards of tal I improvised stretchers to carry the elves' bodies, all while searching for where this warren connected to the Skaven Under-Empire.
I climbed several levels until I reached an underground rail line stretching farther than my magic could reach. I did not risk flooding it with seawater: a controlled collapse was safer than an earthquake in Marienburg. So I shifted tons of rock and ore for hours, sealing kiloters of tunnel until it looked like a natural cave-in.
If anyone ca to investigate, they would find only ruins and buried corpses. On this level no one lived to flee, and of the thousands of souls that had crawled beneath the city, only I erged breathing.
I gathered the Skaven bodies into a single heap, working for hours. My magic raised a massive sphere of iron to hold them all. Then I incinerated them with molten tal, ensuring not even a necromancer could raise their remains. The reek of burning flesh dominated the air as I covered every body in fire.
With the elves secured, I began my return. I crossed the sewers and finally reached the surface. The night greeted like balm: fresh air, free of the tunnels' rot. I had spent at least a full day fighting without rest. I only hoped my absence had not aroused suspicion.
I carried the elves to an abandoned house marked for demolition in the harbor's expansion. I hid them under stones and barrels, deep enough they would not be found. Then I returned, making sure the runes of my armor did not shine too brightly, moving in utter silence. I could feel every drop of blood in the area, letting avoid patrols and guards until I reached Jaan's mansion without trouble.
I shed the stinking clothes and found the tub left by the previous owner. "What a fucking day… literally," I growled as I heated the water with red-hot scraps of tal. "Up to my knees in shit… damned rats."
I washed carefully, keeping an eye on the Sigmarite charms in the room—I had no wish to draw the attention of a witch hunter by mishandling magic. Then I cleaned my armor and mace, scraping away the dried blood and foul remains they had endured through the night.
When at last I finished, I dressed in my blue garnts and hung my dallion. The Dwarf ring restored my strength swiftly, yet I still gave myself to deep sleep. The next day awaited with etings with ambassadors… and no one could suspect what had happened in Marienburg's depths.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let know.
Leave a comnt; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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