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  1. #1
    Member The Greenskin's Avatar
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    Jun 2006
    Charlottenberg, Sweden
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    The Assassins Job 3

    The Assassins job
    Part 3

    After having fled the assassin, the manling general was now sitting safe in the guardsmen’s house. He had ran to them as soon as he was out of the castle, told them everything, and now the great bells were ringing to warn everyone. The bells could however not precise the exact danger and a great part of the guard force were out on the streets to tell people what was happening. Inside the house, 20 guardsmen and handgunners were protecting their king, forming a circle around him.
    The king himself was unable to do anything but fear for his own life. As he ran trough the castle, he had not warned anyone, not even his son. He only cared for his own life, and the soldiers that stood around him looked at him with doubt and dismay. Seeing a king shaking and incapable of speaking is indeed a sad sight.

    Out in the streets, lots of soldiers were walking around to inform the population about the “unfortunate event? as they called it. It was night, and a heavy fog was lying over the town. The soldiers were freezing, and the heavy, wet fog penetrated their clothes. But they had to do their job.
    -“Go back to your homes! Lock your doors and windows! Do not try to play heroes!?
    - “Because that’s our job...!? Whispered a soldier to the one who had shouted. The soldiers were indeed not that serious about this job, knowing that an assassin rarely cared about common soldiers and even less about the commoners and peasants they were protecting. The officers kept screaming the message while the other soldiers searched the streets and talked to the people.

    The shouting soldier, Gerard blunt, suddenly fell silent. A figure, totally wrapped in a dark cloak, pulled in his uniform, seeming to want something. “Another peasant wanting money?, he thought. But the peasant did not care about the coin he dropped to the ground, instead, he gestured wildly towards the main gate, also known as the blessed door of the wall.

    - “What do you want from me, peasant?? Said Gerard, pulling his sword and pointing it towards the peasant’s troath. Gerard was not in a good mood, being waked in the middle of the night for such a ****ty job.

    But the dark figure didn’t react at all; it just kept on pointing towards the wall. Gerard looked at it, but couldn’t see anything. He figured he should ask the guards on the wall.
    - “Hey, guards of the wall! What do you see?? He yelled loudly. There was no answer.
    He yelled again, but there was nothing but silence. That was strange, the guards were working in shifts both night and day. He turned around to face the peasant, who apparently knew something.
    But to his great surprise, the peasant was gone. He looked around, but saw nothing but his own soldiers.
    - “Hey, Lars!? Where did that peasant go? He asked the closest of them.
    - “No idea.? said Lars, not interested at all. Lars was indeed the most lazy soldier in the force, and now stood leaned against a tree, half sleeping. Gerard was annoyed about the always so sluggish soldier, and figured he would teach him a little something.
    - “ Lars, since you don’t have much to do, couldn’t you go to the wall and ask the guardsmen there if they want a cup of juice??
    - “What?!? Moaned Lars, knowing that his officer was messing with him. “You cant be serious!“
    - “Yes, I am very serious! And don’t you dare come back until the guards themselves yell to me that they hate juice!!?

    Lars looked utterly surprised and unwilling to do the weird task, but there was something in Gerards eyes that told him that this was not to be discussed....
    Lars walked away, muttering a word that wasn’t meant to be heard by anyone. Gerard watched him walk, until he disappeared in the fog.

    Scretchur sat hidden in a dark corner between two small houses. He watched the officer yell at that slow-minded soldier, which had not even noticed that Scretchur bumped into him as he walked by. The dumb one walked towards the wall and the officer was yelling at him.
    “ I made it? thought Scretchur. “The soldier will see the skaven army and warn the others.?
    Or maybe not... Surely, it was gutterruners who had taken the guards on the wall out of action, and they would have no problems with such a stupid excuse of a man. Screthur figured that he had to help him, but this could mean that he had to kill the ones from his own clan, maybe even his own group. “It didn’t matter? he thought and looked around to find a secure way to the gate. There was none, as a huge open ground was between it and the city. He could never walk by without being seen, and he might even get killed. The fog wasn’t that thick, and the soldiers were too many. A normal assassin would probably have waited for the guards to fall asleep, or kill them one by one with the stars. But he could not.
    Without hesitating, he pulled the cloak from his face, and tossed it to the ground. He arose from his corner and walked out right in the open, one hand with fightingclaws and the other bearing a dagger. Determination and cool hate was shining in his otherwise so calm eyes. This was his most important and very last mission, for once not by some others will. He couldn’t be stopped.

    Skudd Grimclaw and the leaders of the warlord-clan was preparing for the attack. A large hole had been opened in the ground, and many hundreds of slaves were pulled in long chains towards the sun above. Many slaves had never seen the sun, and many more would see it for the last time. After the slaves came lots of clanrats, all armed with rusty spears and shields that displayed the horned rat, the foul god of the skaven. Skudd Grimclaw watched the enormous army pour up from the hole, and he could not have been more satisfied. The city wouldn’t stand a chance and as soon as this huge battle was over, he would assassinate his “friends? from the warlord-clan, and lead the army by himself.
    He had it all figured out, and he had gotten a secure place amongst the bodyguard.

    The one who would lead the great force was Gorefang, the most ambitious of the warlords, and the only one who was a successful warrior. He was wearing the finest armour that existed amongst the clan, and it was not crafted by the skaven. Gorefang had stolen it from a vampire, or rather taken it from the remains of him. Gorefang had defeated the beast with the mightiest weapon that was ever crafted; the fellblade.
    It was an ancient weapon that had been made a long time ago, its only purpose to kill the lord of necromancy, the dark master himself, Nagash. How Gorefang laid his paws on this relic nobody knew, and the same day after he defeated the vampire, it was gone.

    Gorefang was a great general, a master of tactics and sneaky cunning. He awarded loyalty greatly, and was infamously harsh to the ones who dared to flee under his command. For him, this was yet another battle that needed to be fought, but he had still not forgotten the joy of killing. He was leading a unit of stormvermin, even if not that fine as the ones in the bodyguard. Gorefang was head and shoulder higher than his unit, and he radiated power and respect. He was a true leader, a champion who would rather die than admit defeat to any foe, no matter how powerful.

    The skaven army was now ready to leave. It was a massive hoard, filled with clanrats and slaves, but also some of clan Skryres engines of war. Between the great blocks of rats, warpfirethrowers and the infamous ratlingguns were placed. On the right flank, 3 warplightning cannons stood out amongst the brown furred ranks, accompanied by a warlock-engineer, the very same that they had to pay to get this technological aid. Huge swarms of rats scurried amongst the entire army, covering the ground and swarming at the feets of it. And at the back, behind the entire army, the bodyguard stood. The bodyguard were the very best of the stormvermin and they were the ones who would protect two of the warlords, and also Grimclaw. This large unit was the army’s pride, and so had taken the most honourable place; at the back.
    When the army was ready, great bells rang and the hoard began to move. They marched towards the castle, rotting banners and beating drums amongst their ranks. The land seemed to shrink as the enormous masses went forward, and huge clouds cowered the sun; clearly a good sign from the horned rat. The army gained courage from all their numbers, and they had nothing in their minds but killing and destruction. War was about to begin.

    At the wall, gutterrunners were hiding. They had been sent before the main force, to kill anything that could raise the alarm. They had destroyed the guards, silent and swift. They were the finest infiltrators in the clan, taught by Grimclaw, and led on many missions by Scretchur. Now, they saw another guard, one from the city. He was apparently on his way to the gate. The leader of the group raise his hand and pointed in two directions. The group formed up as planned, 5 to the left and 5 to the right. They were about to throw their poisoned stars when they heard screaming in the city.
    - “The assassin!? Help m..
    - “To arms, to arms!?
    - “ The killer is here!?

    Sounds of battle and screams of dying men followed these words. However, it didn’t last long, and a painful silence was laid over the city. The man, Lars, turned around and yelled for Gerard and the others.
    - Gerard! Leonard! Don’t you mess with me! “Juice for the guards?, yeah right! Stop kidding, I’m not falling for it!?

    He wasn’t answered, and he waited patiently. He was about to walk back to the city, when something appeared before him in the fog. A dark-clad figure, like a ninja, but with the disturbingly face of a rat. Lars screamed like a girl, yelling and waving his sword in all directions, almost knocking himself over. The assassin hissed viciously at him, and Lars ran to the wall again.
    - “Guards!! Guards!! The assassin! He is after me! Help!?
    He ran to the big ladder that the guards used to get up on the wall, desperate to put distance between him and the murderer.

    The gutterrrunners atop the wall hesitated as they saw the dark figure that scared the poor manling.
    - “Wait?... whsipered the leader of them.
    The group looked curiously at each other and waited for commands. The leader pointed downwards and the others obeyed, sinking to their knees and hiding. They heard the scared manlings cry’s as he climbed the ladder. The leader signalled for the others to wait, and himself, he drew his blades. He arose from his position and looked down at the man, now halfways up the ladder. The leader took one of his poisoned throwingstars from his pocket, and aimed for the mans skull. The man looked upwards towards him, his eyes filled with the deepest fear.

    Just as the vicious ratman was about to throw his star, something hard and tiny hit him square in the chest. He stopped in his move and looked beyond the scared man. An assassin, without his cloak, was looking up at him. The leader looked at the throwingstar that was half-buried in his flesh, finding it almost identical to those he used himself.
    He tried to find words, but his brain failed him and he fell down, past the man and smashed into the cobbled ground.
    Lars was too terrified to react at all, and simply held on to his ladder while praying to Sigmar for a good death, snivelling loudly.
    The gutterrunnners at the wall looked down at the one who had slain their leader.
    It was dark, and fog covered the air, but there was no mistaking. It was Scretchur, their much loved leader from the past days.

    -“Scretchur?? hissed one of the gutterrunners. The others watched him from the wall, waiting for his response.
    - “Yes.? He answered, barely hearable. The silence was complete, only interrupted by the manlings moaning. The gutterrunners stared at him, totally overwhelmed by this situation.

    -“ Grimclaw.? said Scretchur with dark voice. “He betrayed me, and I will take my revenge.? “Do not stand in my way.?

    The gutterrunners looked at each other. Scretchur was their mentor, the guiding star in their careers. They had fought with him in many years and he had never led them wrong. The bond they had developed were unnaturally strong, breaking against the normal rules for the Skavens behaviour. They could not disobey him, even less kill him. It was a quick decision.

    - “What do you want us to do, Scretchur??said one of them.
    - “Let the manling climb the ladder.? “Let him see the army, so that he can warn the others.?
    “The humans won’t stand a chance, but they can fight back for just long enough.?
    “Go away, run to the north and never return.? “This is between Grimclaw and me.?

    The gutterrunners all nodded, and all of them looked at him with pride and trust, as he was their one and only leader, the only one for which they ever would feel honour. Then, they turned around and disappeared from his sight.
    Scretchur stood still for a short moment, feeling pride for his old group. But he could not think that way. He had a job to do. The manling was still frozen at the middle of the ladder, shaking and snivelling. Scretchur steeped forward and shook he ladder brutally, and the man gasped and looked down at him. Scretchur smiled broadly and showed his yellow teeth.

    Never, never in his life had Lars been so scared. That thing must have murdered his comrades, and was now chasing him. The foul creature had trapped him at the ladder between himself and the dark clad beings at the wall. Lars prayed to Sigmar when the strange rat-creatures talked to each other in their horrible squeaky voices. Lars thought his life was over, and closed his eyes. But nothing happened and suddenly, the ratmen at the wall walked away. But the assassin at the ladder was still there, shaking the ladder furiously. Lars climbed the rest of the ladder quick as hell, and finally rolled up on the wall, lying completely still. He did not dare to look down at the assassin, but as timewnet by, his fear began to pass, and he squinted over the edge of the wall. The dark creature was gone.
    Lars stood up and looked around, and then, he finally saw it.
    Far, far away, a large brown mass was covering the open field. The fog was immense, but such a large hoard just couldn’t be missed. Lars stood stunned on the spot, trying to realise what he actually saw. It was a large mass of creatures, bearing spears and banners. His slow mind began to work, and he soon realised that it was a great army, probably of the foul rats that he faced just seconds ago. He gasped for breath as he saw how incredibly huge the hoard really was. The city would be smashed aside by such a force!
    Lars finally came up with the brilliant idea of warning the city, and he hurriedly climbed down the ladder. He ran towards the city as fast as his numb legs could carry him, fear giving him strength.

    Scretchur watched the man run away. “What a stupid thing?, he thought.
    As the man had dissapeared in the fog, Scretchur turned towards the wall. With no rush at all, he climbed the ladder. He looked at his fighting claws as he climbed. The one pair, the ones on the left side, was broken. The body of the blue mantled human had been to much for his dear claws. He had a dagger in the left side of his belt, a dagger that he much wanted to stick into Grimclaws back. It would work as a replacement, he thought. Scretchur climbed the last few steps of the ladder, and stood at the wall. He looked at the army, seeing the force and amount he had expected to find, nothing more, nothing less.

    It was the entire force of the powerful warlordclan, probably lead by Gorefang as Grimclaw was surely too cowardly for such a task, Scretchur thought. The great hoard advanced pretty quickly, and he could see the individual slaves in the front. The city was going down, no doubt about it. Only ruins would be left after the battle. But Scretchur didn’t care. The humans meant nothing; neither did his own life, as long as it lasted long enough. He would kill Grimclaw, slay the cowardly warlords, and fight Gorefang in the end. He felt remarkably calm, strange that is, considering what task he had to do. It would be hard to find Grimclaw, but he was probably hiding at the back, together with the warlords.

    He looked at the brown mass again. This was the end of everything, the last fighting he would ever do, and he did it for his own sake, not for some mighty warlord, sneaky chieftain or even his clan.
    It was the last job, his final mission, the only assassination that really mattered, and could not fail.

    I have trouble ending this story, but the next part will be final. I think.

    Greetings from Sweden
    Nice warhammer video

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  3. #2
    The Pointy Eared elfwarden's Avatar
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    Oct 2005
    in the Netherlands, Apeldoorn
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    nice chapter, well written

    am lokking forward on how you conclude the story.

    keep going
    "Ask not the Eldar a question, for they will give you three answers; all of which are true and terrifying to know"

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