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Warp Token 2 Word Update
🕑 Added 2025-10-08 12:12:13 +0000 UTC2k words
***
He leaned his metal paws on the table, rasping as he smoothed out a piece of parchment detailed with a map. Skyseeker couldn’t believe it, her target was completely alone, a quick scan throughout the room confirming his isolation. She’d timed her intrusion perfectly, all she had to do was slip the knife in before Ironsnout took note.
She crawled across the beam to the next, her belly gliding against the wood. Silent as a Skaven, she repositioned until Ironsnout hunched directly beneath her, the drop to his head perhaps eight or so meters. She gripped the hilt of her blade, her heart beating faster as she waited for her moment to strike.
“I know where you are, breeder,” Ironsnout hissed.
Her racing heart missed a beat, Skyseeker just barely holding in a gasp. She hadn’t made so much as a sound, how had he detected her?
The hulking Skaven tilted his head, his visor zeroing in on her position. Skyseeker leapt to her feet, turning sideways so the thin length of the beam concealed her, or so she hoped.
“Lord Gnawdwell had much to say about rat-thing,” he rasped in his synthetic voice. Heavy steps told her he was moving, but she dared not look. “Told us you are cunning thing - for a breeder, and a traitor. Started to suspect the vermintide would never find you, but now you walk into my paws of your own will. Perhaps my Lord was wrong about you.”
Skyseeker moved to the beam that crossed with this one, Ironsnout stalking to within her sight. He lumbered to a halt towards the center of the room, tilting his chin towards the ceiling. The strength of the sconces below barely reached these rafters, and her fur and cloak would help to blend her into shadow, but there was still daylight outside that would make camouflaging difficult.
“What did the breeder hope to do?” Ironsnout continued, his visor sweeping across the rafters. When his gaze met hers, she sucked in a gasp, but it passed over her before she was found. “Gnawdwell gave you a mission that could have brought the Clan ultimate supremacy, but you did more than lose-fail, you gave relic-thing over to the man-things! Was living as Mors’ greatest failure not enough for the breeder?”
He stomped across the room, every clunk seeming to make the building vibrate.
“Yes-Yes, the Clan knows how you fled with the surface-things,” Ironsnout growled. “And we know about your man-thing pet, the one you let steal Gnawdwell’s prize. Was the hole between your legs not enough? Breeder had to give away the relic too?”
Skyseeker moved from beam to beam, trying to stay above and behind him as he searched. If he moved a little more to the left, she might have a chance at taking a leap at him. She could try throwing a warp-star, but she doubted the little devices would penetrate his suit.
“Depraving yourself to mating with one of them,” Ironsnout scoffed. “You are more shameless than Kretch, but what else could I suspect from a breeder? Did you breed with it when my fleet came for you? Wasted if not, your pet is dead now, the relic drowned with it. Perhaps I will take you into my harem, make you remember what it’s like to breed with a Skaven. I have so many warp-masks for you to try…”
Skyseeker clenched her paws harder around her dagger, so they wouldn’t shake so bad. It was lies, all of it, she would not believe otherwise.
“Masks, just as the one your broodmother wore,” he rasped. “You’ll be reunited with her soon-soon. I’ll breed all my whelps into you right in front of her, so you both learn what happens to traitors.”
Skyseeker’s anger could take no more, and she took her chance. She lepat into the air, her lips peeling back over her mouth in a snarl, lunging into the air like a swimming before a pool. He was a little too far to the right for a square landing on his battery pack, so she pushed off a little harder from the beam to compensate.
She had spied a joint between the shoulder plating and the neck, one that moved open just a tad when Ironsnout moved his arm. With enough force and the right angle, she could plunge her knife straight into his heart. She could end this pursuit, and avenge her comrades in one swift thrust.
She was barely a pawful of inches away from this when Ironsnout sensed her presence, his hulking body whirling on her. From above, her minute adjustment had seemed barely worth considering, but as Ironsnout moved away, it was as though she’d leapt clear from a mile off, and her cut met nothing but air.
She landed hard on her pink feet, but she translated that into a roll, pushing herself into range of the war lord. She held her knife in both paws, bringing it out and round from the side.
She was blocked, an iron gauntlet bracing against her forearms. It was like striking marble, her feet skidding a little upon impact. This was impossible, she had come down on him as swift as she’d ever been, but he’d reacted faster, not once, but twice. How had this lumbering half-machine outpaced her?
For a couple of moments, there was no movement, no sound except for Ironsnout’s harsh breathing. Suddenly there was a metal crunch, the boots of the warlock’s foot decompressing like gas pistons as he lifted a leg, planting the iron base into her stomach.
She was sent careening back, her legs giving out beneath her, skidding a couple feet along the ground. She planted her feet, refilling her lungs with sweet air.
“Finally, you scurry out from the gutter,,” Ironsnout sneered. “Almost suspected sending off the stormvermin wouldn’t be enough to lure-bait you. Now I have you.”
Skyseeker faltered. She had been so confident when the guards had vacated, thinking Ironsnout easy prey. She’d used Kretch to get close to the war lord, but Ironsnout had flipped it back on her, knowing he could draw her out if he made himself just enticing enough. It had all been a trick, and now she was fighting in the open.
Skyseeker steeled herself, spreading her legs as she prepared her combat stance. She could not let Ironsnout sense her fear, he already had an edge over her already.
“You talk wayyyy too much,” Skyseeker snapped, fighting to hold back a building tremor in her voice. “Hope that when I put my knife in your stupid metal face, Skaven will finally have peace and quiet.”
“Living with the man-things has made you weak and stupid,” Ironsnout replied. He turned and lifted something from the table. When he whirled around, she saw it was a giant battleaxe, its curved head glowing a pale green, not unlike the blade of her weeping dagger. “I am a lord of the warp, commander of Gnawdwell’s vermintides. What are you? A breeder that simps for man-things, and repays Gnawdwell’s generosity with betrayal.”
“That is mostly true, but this simp has a name – Skyseeker!”
“No one will remember your name after the things I’ll do, breeder. Not even you.”
Ironsnout took the initiative, pulling his arms down and to his sides. He thrust out his paws, launching his titanic body five feet into the air, the mechanics on his suit whirring. His suit looked to weight more than a carriage, but the warp power flowing through the armour must be powerful enough to counteract his mass.
He brought his battle axe above his head as his mask sputtered with leaking gas, squaring his landing right on top of her. Skyseeker rolled out of the way, Ironsnout coming down on the cobbles she’d been standing on, his axe slamming with enough force to shatter the rock into a small crater.
His weapon was lodged, and this time, Ironsnout couldn’t react fast enough. Skyseeker stepped in, thrusting her weeping blade into his barrel chest, his torso twice as thick around as her own. Her weapon met resistance, but when she ripped it free, no entrails or blood came out, only melted sparks. Was there really a rat inside that suit, or was Ironsnout pure metal down to his core?
She was caught by a savage elbow as she retreated, the blow lashing against her cheek. She stumbled away, hot pain coursing up her face, narrowly avoiding a follow-up attack as Ironsout tried to deck her with a curled fist of metal.
Skyseeker lashed out with her dagger, but dropped it into a feint at the last moment, passing it to her other paw. The corrosive edge bit into the steel on the war lord’s bicep. When she’d stabbed flesh in the past, the blade sank through flesh like it was water, but with Ironsnout she had to apply pressure. His suit burned around her knife as it sank, becoming molten, but if it tasted his flesh, then the Skaven did not voice it.
Ironsnout stepped away, giving himself enough breathing room to swing his battleaxe from left to right. It rushed over her head as she ducked, the wind it made in its passing tugging at her hood. He followed through with a sudden jab with the handle end, the weapon crunching into the spot she’d been shot. She could feel the healing wound bruise and swell beneath her fur.
She staggered out of the path of another attack, but Ironsnout continued to push her. He raced forward with his axe outstretched, holding it like a charging pikeman, its curved tip aimed at her gut. She parried it, the two warp-blade touching with a kiss of green sparks, Skyseeker losing her balance as Ironsnout’s weight overpowered her.
“Swift little breeder,” Ironsnout breathed, missing another attack as he lashed out with his weapon. “You can’t outrun-run the power of the warp!”
She skipped out of reach of his weapon, but Ironsnout didn’t try to close in. The battery pack on his shoulders began to cough and spark, electrified warp energies running down the copper wires in his suit’s outlining. They were concentrating around his right shoulder, where a panel opened up, where a gun barrel rose up into view. It looked like lightning cannons mounted on the clanships, only scaled down to perhaps the size of her skull.
The roiling energies gathered along the metal rings packed along the barrel, the armament swivelling to square its sights over her face. Ironsnout cackled, his laughter drowned out by a powerful report of a warp-bolt. Skyseeker leapt out of its path, the shimmering projectile crashing into the wall behind her, chunks of stone and old wood crashing down.
A second shot followed the first, Skyseeker taking cover behind one of the wooden pillars lining the old building. The obstacle was obliterated, but it stopped the projectile in its tracks, saving her from being melted. Shards of detritus fell on her head, cutting into her arms and back and drawing blood, the air backing with warp-heat.
Ironsnout kept his distance, intent on peppering her with rounds from afar. She retaliated with her own volley, clutching three warp-stars to a paw and flinging out her arms. As she’s suspected, the stars did not breach enough of the armour to make a difference, save for one. A star had found its mark in Ironsnout’s paw, lodged through one side, one of the teeth poking out the other. The war lord reacted to it, pulling the throwing star from his glove,. It came out bloody. At least now she knew this was a living rat she was facing.
The star clattered as Ironsnout let it drop, rolling his wounded wrist. It leaked blood with every heartbeat.
Comments
Stirling
I pray for someone more artistic than I to make artwork of this absolute unit of a Skaven.
