Ikkred Pyrhelm:
The Rat and the Bull
Intro
Part One: Of back plates and flasks
After the third wave of clan rats and slaves had been driven off by the intruders, Warlord Frzsnee decided to try and make a deal with the dwarf, or at the very least crush him under the iron paws of his Clan�?Ts stormvermin. As much as Frzsnee was loathe to waste his best warriors if the dwarf turned out to be as deadly as the retreating Skaven had claimed. Frzsnee was however confident, his stormvermin were at the peak of Skavenkind, their blades able to hew anything, their armour able to withstand the strongest of blows. And should the unthinkable happen, Frzsnee knew himself to be a peerless warrior, the better of any other creature in existence. He ignored the twinge of doubt that began to creep in as the scent of blood and the musk of fear wafted down the tunnel.
�?oCompany again!�?� chortled the dark bearded dwarf, placing his dark iron helmet back on his head. Nibtrik cursed loudly and snatched up his bow. The dwarf gave a humoured sneer at the hobgoblin. �?oYe aren�?Tt scared are ye, Nibtrik?�?�
The hobgoblin bit his tongue. �?oNah boss, itz jus�?T dat I be runnin�?T outta arrers.�?�
�?oYe knees are shaking, Nibtrik.�?�
�?oHuh, so dey are, boss. Ya got me.�?�
�?oBesides, looks like ye won�?Tt need that bow. Looks like a meeting party.�?�
�?oDey iz well armed, boss.�?�
�?oIt�?Ts a show of strength, Nibtrik. If ye weren�?Tt as spineless as this rat was�?� the dwarf toed a dead Skaven that seemed to be missing said spine, �?oye�?Td see that. Psh, not very intimidating if ye ask me, most of their armour looks wafer thin or liable to fall apart.�?�
A ratman larger than the others emerged from the group. It kicked a smaller Skaven forwards and chittered something to it in Queekish. The smaller ratman began to speak a poorly accented Khazalid. Had the dark bearded dwarf been one of the Dawi, the butchering of his language (let alone a filthy vermin even grasping some of the secret tongue) would have brought him to an unrelenting fury. The chaos dwarf merely rolled his eyes and began to speak to the hobgoblin instead. Nibtrik nodded and began to translate his master�?Ts words into Orcish.
In truth, the dwarf had enough of a grasp of the greenskin language to get by with, but a proper greenskin, even a hobgoblin, was infinitely better. The dwarf�?Ts grasp of the language also meant that Nibtrik couldn�?Tt try any sneaky tricks.
�?oTell that snivelling rat that I wish to offer him a deal.�?�
The Skaven translator with some effort conveyed Nibtrik�?Ts translation to the Skaven Warlord whose tail was lashing the ground.
�?o�?~E squeaks dat �?~iz name iz Warlord Frzsnee…Dese ratties like ta repeet dere werds don�?T dey? Err…sorry boss. �?~E wants ta noo wot yer off-offering. Great, now dey�?Tve gotten me double speeking!�?�
�?oTell Warlord Frzsnee that I have a gift for him.�?�
As the hobgoblin translated this, the dwarf removed a slightly curved plate of blackened metal.
�?oI know you Skaven like to backstab each other, this plate of armour will protect your back many times more than your own armour smiths can. If ye don�?Tt believe me, order your elite guard to try and break it.�?�
As soon as this was translated, the dwarf tossed the plate to the Skaven. The Warlord eyed it warily and ordered his translator to pick it up and study it. Satisfied it wasn�?Tt clearly poisoned or booby trapped, the Warlord took it and laid it on the tunnel floor. He then chittered something to his translator.
�?oDa Warlord sez dat �?~e�?Tll take yer up on yer wager�?� Nibtrik translated. A couple of burly stormvermin with a hesitance that belied their build, crept to the plate and with a cry began to smash at it with their halberds. The dwarf watched with an amused expression as their blades quickly fractured and shattered into shards of poorly forged metal. The furious Skaven snatched another pair of weapons and resumed striking the plate with the same inevitable result. Finally the two ratmen grudgingly gave up; shooting angry glances at each other like their partner was somehow to blame.
The dwarf took a glug of dark liquid from his flask as the Warlord tentatively retrieved the plate and inspected it. Apart from a couple small dents, the plate was unharmed. The Skaven Warlord�?Ts tail twitched with joy and he began to speak to his translator who then relayed the message.
�?oDa Warlord iz very �?~appy wiv yer gift, so �?~appy dat �?~e wants ta…er…�?�
�?oTranslate all of it, Nibtrik�?� growled the dwarf.
�?o�?~E�?Ts gonna lock us up so yoo can make �?~im more shiny stuff.�?�
The dwarf snorted. �?oPredictable�?� he muttered, �?oask the �?~honourable�?T Warlord Frzsnee what I be holding in me hand.�?�
�?o�?~E sez itz a drinkin�?T flask.�?�
The dwarf took another gulp from said flask. �?oAsk him if he knows what daemons are, specifically daemons bound to let�?Ts say, �?~drinking flasks�?T that on activation or their bearer�?Ts death will be freed into the material world?�?�
The hobgoblin was silent.
�?oI strongly suggest ye translate that�?� the dwarf growled with a dangerous edge.
The hobgoblin gulped, unsure if he preferred the frying pan or the fire. Before he knew it, he found himself translating the dwarf�?Ts threat.
�?oOh and add that if someone had such a flask and it was activated, the daemon would probably destroy most of a clanhold…kind of like this one…�?�
The visibly paling Skaven grew several shades paler as this last part was translated. He ran a shaking paw over his face; several of his guards had already backed away and already strongly smelt of the musk of fear. The Warlord finally said something to the frightened looking translator.
�?oWell boss, it wurked. Da Warlord claims it woz a joke, �?~e wantz ta kno�?T wot ya want. Slaves, Warpstone, whatevah dese �?~breeder-thingz�?T iz�?�
Junior Daemonsmith Lukt Flametooth smiled as he took another gulp from his mundane flask. �?oTell him, I want a tour of his clanhold.�?�
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