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The continuation of the first one. Didnt think anyone would want to read the rest, so I didnt bother posting it. But here goes.
THE ASSASSINS JOB
The assassin, never called by name since he began his training, had been given a hard mission. A mission which he would fail. Those were the evil thoughts of Skudd Grimclaw, one of the eldest members of Clan Eshin. He had personally mad sure that the two clans, The warlord clan, Gatoul, and his own clan, one of many split-ups of Clan Eshin, named Shadows paw, had united. United was perhaps a strong word for such a fragile attempt of combining forces, for there were no honour or trust whatsoever in the skaven race. Still, they had combined their military powers and created a large army, fully capable of destroying a city. Some resources had also been spent on buying the twisted arcane weapons of Clan Skryre, enabling the force to bring down the buildings without getting near. A favoured way of destruction amongst the both clans. They would easily overrun the citys defenses, and take the land and riches as their own.
But as they were ready to strike, Grimclaw spoke. He convinced the others that victory would be hard-earned while the manling general was drawing breath. And they did not want a hard battle if they could avoid it. So they would send an assassin. A skilled one, cause the mission wasn’t easy at all, rather a suicide-strike. Many thought that Grimclaw was the best choice; after all, he was the best. But Grimclaw had other plans. He accepted the mission, ensuring everyone that he would sacrifice his life for the clan, sure, but he didn’t leave for the castle that night. Instead, he sent another assassin to do this job, he sent his greatest rival, the next best murderer that existed in the Shadows paw, Scretchur Dusk. He was a pure killer, and a good fighter as well
. Grimclaw had seen him defeating three ratogres with just his fightingclaws and his deadly stars. It was a master moulder who hired him to kill one of his rivals. Scrretchur did the job, but the moulder refused to pay, and sent the hulking monster after him. Dusk slew them all, and the moulder fled, hiding in his fortress with tons of stormvermin guarding all entrances. Still, the moulder was found dead the next day, and all the stormvermin slaughtered.
Grimclaw had always been afraid that this young and undeniably skilful figure would take over his position of power. Dusk had many times proved himself a worthy leader, as he had always been guiding groups of gutterrunners to successful missions. Yet, he had never claimed the respect or power he deserved many times over, but Grimclaw couldn’t take the chance. He had to die.
Scretchur ran trough the corridors. It was dark inside the castle, the hour being too late for having torches burning amongst the walls. He ran as quick as he could, determined to catch the cowardly manling, and end this mission. He heard people in the rooms he ran past, and some of them looked at him, but without catching anything except a glimpse of a dark cloak.
The general had surely waked the entire castle with his screaming, and it wouldn’t take long until the rest of the city would be alerted. He scurried down some stony stairs that was covered by a red carpet when he caught a glimpse of a blue mantel. The general! He almost said loud. This manling was really slow, Scretchur thought. Even a dwarf would have gotten further.
The figure was three stairs below him, and seemed to be walking! How strange, the assassin thought. Maybe it wasn’t the general.... but a person with a mantel is always worth to kill!
Scretchur made a quick decision, and did something extraordinary even by his standards. He took a deep breath and estimated the distance carefully.
Then he jumped down in the gap between the stairs, a fall of over 30 feet if he went all the way. It was going very fast downwards and he fixed his gaze on the blue mantel.
He had his claws ready, and when he passed the stair that his victim was walking in, he stretched his arm out and punched his claws trough his troath, undoubted delivering a killing blow. He had intended to keep falling for a while and grab a stair on the way, but something went wrong. His claws had dug themselves deeply in the victim, and dragged the body over the edge of the stair....
The assassin lost his balance and the dead body was still attached to his claws and pulled him down. The floor came closer very fast, portraits and shiny weapons on the walls flashing by, and Scretchur struggled to grip some sort of edge. He reached towards the stair, but his claws just scratched the stone-surface. In a last attempt to avoid death, he pushed the still attached body below him to absorb the blow.
The impact was so great that he and the body fell trough the wooden floor, and crashed in a stair below it. The body fell of the assassins claws and tumbled down this stair, and the assassin himself stayed at its top.
Scretchur laid still for a second or two, and then realized he had survived. He had no broken bones, but felt rather dizzy and tired. One of his fightingclaws were broken, but he could use on of his daggers instead. As he stood up and looked down at his victim he saw something moving. Far down, another blue mantel was whirling down a stair, probably the general. But the stair was even further away than the last one, and he didn’t want to do that trick again.
But he had to admit that this spectacular move had brought him down pretty fast, leaving him a small chance of catching the general. He began to run down the stairs, trying to keep his eyes on the blue mantel. But the fall hadn’t left him unmarked, and his legs just didn’t want to move that fast. The blue mantel was getting closer very slowly, and the assassin felt doubt and despair.
Many stairs later, the assassin was on the ground floor, and he hurriedly ran for the main door. He swung it open and saw nothing but empty streets and dark houses. He looked around desperately, feeling a strong sensation of disappointment. The general was gone. All was lost and his mission was failed.
Screthur sat down on the stair that led to the main gate, vaguely lit by two small torches on the castles wall. He rested his sore body and tried to think. He didnt know what to do next. Going back to his clan was out of the question. The jealous leaders would kill him for this mistake, just to set an example for what happens to those who fail. They would also get rid of a great rival that way, even if Scretchur didn’t want power at all.
He looked down on the fighting claw that was left. Some poison was still there, more than enough to kill ten humans. He considered this choice, figuring that it was the easiest way.
Very slowly, he put the fightingclaw at the base of his troath........
Just as he was about to take his life, he saw something in the corner of his eye. He turned around and saw a black figure that hid himself behind a stone pillar. The dark figure wore some sort of cloak, almost like his own. Had the manling sent an assassin after the assassin? Best to find out. Scretchur pretended he didnt see him, and when the curious figure came closer, he made his move. Swifter than a lightningstrike, he drew a star from his pocket and threw it towards the dark figures chest.
He was awarded by a loud squeal, and the victim fell, tumbled down the stairs, and lay still at the ground. Scretchur was a bit surprised. The scream was undoubtley from a skaven, but who would dare to spy on him? And why?
He walked down to the creature, and firmly grabbed it by the neck.
- “Who are you?” Scrretchur hissed in his ear. Scrretchur turned him around and looked at his face. He was still alive, but not for long, as the poison would soon reach his heart.
- “ I-I don’t know!” the poor skaven studdered.
- “ Yes you do! Tell me quick-quick or I will stab your eyes out!”
Scrrethur had his claw just inches away from the spy’s eyeball, and skavens were not the one who stands torture very good. Their own life is much higher rated than any secret.
- “Wait! I-im nobody! I was sent to spy, spy on you! Please!”
- “Who sent you?!“ Screamed Scrretchur is his face.
- “ Grimclaw, he sent me! Im just....” CRACK. Scrretchur broke his neck, sparing him the poisons effect which would have lead to a far more painful end.
Scrretchur Dusk, right hand of the shadows paw, had been betrayed. He sat down and let the feelings wash over him. They had planned to kill him, they wanted him to fail and die! Anger. Revenge. These were the only words that existed in his boiling mind. He would kill Grimclaw. He would kill them all. He would kill the entire clan!
He had never felt such a powerful anger, and his entire being screamed for the blood of his betrayers. He stood up and walked down the stairs, with only one goal left in his life, no matter if he died trying.
Meanwhile, Grimclaw himself was preparing for his “return”. The leaders thought that Grimclaw had left to the city, so he couldn’t be walking around freely. He was clad in his assassin-shrud, and he had stained his twin-swords with blood of some slaves. He was outside the hole that lead down to the temporarily skaven camp, but before he went down, he wished to know how Dusk was doing. He had sent a spy after him, a much talented nightrunner who would lick his feet if he asked him to. He asked him to kill Dusk when the right opportunity came, and come back with his head. This spy had not returned. Maybe both the spy and Dusk was dead, Grimclaw thought. A long time had passed, and he could not wait longer, since the sun was beginning to rise. He went down the hole, to meet the leaders and tell them about “his” successful mission to murder the general. Dusk was surely dead, and the nightrunner wouldn’t dare to tell about the secret. His plan had worked! He sniggered for himself as he walked to the council’s room.
The leaders of Clan Gathoul, Echurr Deechs, Sticht felltooth, and Skeek Gorefang were waiting impatiently for Grimclaw to return from his assignment. They were told by Grimclaw himself that if he did not return when the sun arose, they would consider him dead and attack the city.
All three leaders where sitting in the council’s room and Grimclaw had not yet showed up.
The sun was soon going to rise and they all prepared the attack carefully.
- “Grimclaw is dead-dead! Lets attack!” yelled Sticht to the others.
- “No, we could be suspected for treachery if we attack too soon!” said Echurr.
- We shall wait just a bit longer. He will turn up. Said Skeek.
Just as he finished that sentence, the door was opened. Grimclaw stepped in, panting heavily.
All leaders turned to him and waited for him to calm his breathing down.
- "So?" Said Sticht impatiently.
- "He is ...dead!" said Grimclaw and showed them his bloody swords.
- "Good! Very good!" said Skeek and arose from his chair. He walked up to Grimclaw and turned to the other two leaders, smiling broadly.
“ Lets attack!”
The rest has not been written yet. And Im not that fast at writing, especially not english since Im from Sweden and all. ( fully legal excuse approved by the WHINE-company(TM)
And yes, I know, there is no divisions of the 4 greater clans...... but the thought of the entire clan Eshin joining with a common warlord-clan was a bit too much.
Last edited by The Greenskin; August 26th, 2006 at 10:23.
Don't worry about the slow pace, we're just happy to keep reading them(Y)
When you have written all the parts to this story you might want to think about moving them (or getting someone to move them) to the completed fiction forum, so they can be read as one completed piece of work
That forum isnt used so much, eh? Maybe Im wrong, I just got that impression.:shifty:
Its looks more like an archive,( new threads will stay on the first page for years) but thats just fine when the story is done. Who can move such things by the way?
And one more thing. I have read that guradtower-story-contest post. Is it like 10 000 expert writers who compete and write their fingers of for this contest, or is it something that common people can join?
Last edited by The Greenskin; August 26th, 2006 at 14:50.
Very awesome job Greenskin. Hope u finish the rest soon:yes:
liked the first part and like the second part still
great job, keep writing
"Ask not the Eldar a question, for they will give you three answers; all of which are true and terrifying to know"
Da third part is done. I will write the last soon enough, and then I wont write again for a large amount of time. Its annoying to write in english, but with all this practice Im sure I will get top-grades in English at the highschool.:w00t: