Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

The rats would divert some of the hunters, at least. For the rest, he would have to take matters into his own claws. He sped on, loping from shadow to shadow, winnowing through the rat-holes in reality, trying to get ahead of the main contingent of seraphon pursuers. He and his kin had gnawed tunnels through the walls of existence for millennia. One simply had to know where to look. The Scar-roads of the Crawling City were similar things. He saw movement below, and heard the clangour of bells.

Predictable, he thought. And out in the open as well. Vretch is right — Kruk is a fool. But, unfortunately, a necessary one. Vretch, though cunning, was too treacherous to be trusted with the secret of the Liber for long — that one was undoubtedly already planning to betray Skuralanx for his own gain. Kruk, should he survive, would make a more suitable figurehead for the glories to come. He was too simple to plot against his master and too durable to die.

Skaven spilled out of the stump of a ruined setaen tower like insects out of a rotten log. With angry squeals, they pursued a stumbling mortal into the open plaza beyond. Even from so far above, Skuralanx could tell that the human, one of the last surviving members of the Order of the Worm, was dying on his feet. Blood poured from his wounds, and his breath came in harsh rasps. Skuralanx leapt from shadow to shadow, descending in the blink of an eye.

He dropped to the ground in front of the mortal and slapped the unlucky human from his feet. The mortal fell to the floor, body contorted in agony.

Kruk, at the head of his followers, leapt on the fallen human with a triumphant growl. ‘Thought you could flee-escape, yes-yes? No! No! No-one escapes from Kruk,’ the plague priest snarled, crushing his captive’s skull with a blow from his censer.

‘A brilliant stratagem, Kruk,’ Skuralanx said.

Kruk looked up, scarred muzzle wrinkling in a snarl. ‘He tried to escape,’ he said. He still held a handful of the dead man’s robes.

‘Yes, captives tend to do that,’ the verminlord said. He straightened to his full height as he heard the roar of the carnosaur. The air filled with the musk of fear as Kruk’s followers looked around in panic. ‘You must run-fast-scurry-quick fool,’ Skuralanx hissed, glaring down at the skaven. Kruk dropped the dying human and wiped his bloody claw on his robes.

‘Yes-yes,’ he growled. He turned, as if seeking the source of the roar. ‘But the enemy…’

‘I will deal with them, Archfumigant. You will do as I command,’ Skuralanx snarled. His tails lashed in fury as he glared down at his servant. ‘Maybe I should have let Squeelch kill you, yes? Maybe Squeelch would have listened to his most wise and cunning master, rather than questioning me at every turn like the addle-pated fool before me,’ he hissed, snapping his jaws in frustration. ‘Get to the palisades, take them for me, take them from Vretch!’

Kruk opened his mouth as if to argue further, when a sudden shriek interrupted him. Star-devil lizard-riders loped across the open plaza before the ruined tower, heading straight for the gathered skaven. Skuralanx spat a deplorable word and a wave of sickly light washed across the plaza. As the plaza gave way, dissolving into tarry ichor, the worm writhed in agony. Setae swayed, slamming together with deafening crashes, as the street rolled upwards with a surging motion. The bipedal lizards screeched as they were sent sprawling. Some were hurled into the bubbling ichor, where they and their riders struggled helplessly against the viscous liquid as it ate at their flesh. Kruk cackled and capered. Skuralanx whirled and shoved him back. ‘I said go, fool,’ the verminlord shrieked. ‘Go or all is lost.’

Kruk’s followers caught his arms and dragged him back. Satisfied, Skuralanx turned back to the plaza. The blight had spread, and the worm’s thrashing grew worse. Across the plaza, the massive reptile stalked into view. Its rider thrust out a golden gauntlet and unleashed a burst of blinding energy in the verminlord’s direction.

Skuralanx ducked the blast and bounded forward, plaguereapers held low. He leapt over the bubbling ichor, racing across the thrashing bodies of the beasts and their dying riders. The giant reptile roared and lunged, jaws wide, as it caught sight of him. Skuralanx dove aside, narrowly avoiding the beast. He rolled to his hooves and sprang between the monster reptile’s legs. His blades slashed out, slicing easily through the monster’s tendons. The wounds turned black and gangrenous.

The great beast toppled forward with a despairing shriek. Skuralanx deftly avoided its pain-wracked thrashing, and drove a blade into one rolling eye. The orb burst with a hiss and the giant reptile shrieked again, its jaws savaging the air. It squirmed across the dissolving plaza, snapping blindly. Skuralanx sprang onto its skull and raced towards the dying beast’s rider. He slashed out, hoping to kill the seraphon before it could free itself.