Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

That was Kruk’s truest and best secret — pain was his ally. Unlike many plague priests, his nerves had only grown all the sharper during his service to the Great Witherer. He felt every clogged pore and peeling scab, every leaking sore and rotting fang. He felt the weight and pressure of the thing growing in his head, pressing down on his cunning brain. That was the Horned Rat’s greatest gift to him, for the pain kept him sharp, kept his thoughts flowing like the most cunning and quicksilver lightning.

He could almost feel the weight of the Liber in his claw. The weight of its power — a power undreamt of save by those who’d felt the withering touch of the Grand Corruptor — dragged him forward and set his claws on the path of glory. The world would be remade into a rotting husk, and Kruk its king, on a throne of sour meat and stacked corpses. He was Kruk and Kruk was him, and Kruk was the best beloved of the many-horned god. Kruk would be Archfumigant and Pox-Master, Kruk would–

‘Yesss Kruk, all this and more. So swears Skuralanx.’

Kruk blinked. They’d reached the high chamber where Vretch had obviously made his lair. It was circular and open to the elements on almost all sides. Tools and cauldrons lay scattered everywhere, among empty cages. There were no books, no scrolls, and certainly no Libers, Pestilent or otherwise. The only signs of life were the whimpering things in the gibbet-cages which hung from the domed roof. ‘Where are the books?’ he hissed.

‘You did not seem interested in books before, Kruk,’ Skuralanx’s voice hissed from the darkness above. The gibbets suddenly rattled on their chains as something heavy moved over them. A familiar stink filled Kruk’s nose.

‘Where are they, Skuralanx?’ Kruk growled, trying to spot the daemon among the shadows. His anger flared out of control. Tricked! He had been tricked! ‘Where is Vretch? You told me to come here, but Vretch is not here… the Liber is not here!’

‘No. He has gone below,’ Skuralanx said, prowling across the top of the gibbets. ‘But I know where he will appear next. There.’ The daemon flung out one long arm and pointed towards the window, through which the distant lightning storm which flickered about Shu’gohl’s head was visible.

‘You told me he was here,’ Kruk said, stubbornly. The daemon had lied. That was the only explanation… the daemon had lied to him. It was playing a game, testing him, but Kruk was not one to submit to such things. He had the weight of destiny on his side, yes, destiny and fate. He did not need a conniving daemon to lie to him and tell him falsehoods, no-no, he was Kruk. Kruk! And Kruk was surrounded by traitors. He glared about him, his remaining claw clenching. He longed for a throat to tear out. Sensing his mood, Skug and the others edged back, rattling their chains nervously.

‘And so he was,’ Skuralanx said. The daemon fixed him with a glare. ‘But he is not here now. He is there, Kruk, and he has the Liber — take it for me! Take it and you will be rewarded beyond all skaven.’ The verminlord leaned towards him. ‘Do as I command, Kruk… or face the consequences,’ the daemon growled, his bifurcated tail lashing.

Kruk hunched forward, shrinking into himself. He was not afraid of the daemon. Kruk feared nothing. Not the daemon, not the storm, not even the star-devils. He was Kruk. He exposed his fangs, but did not meet the daemon’s eyes. No, he didn’t fear it, but neither could he win a fight with it, not yet at any rate. When he had the Liber, though, oh yes, then he would challenge the daemon. He would show Skuralanx who was in charge, oh yes-yes.

‘I will do as you command, O most cunning of shadows,’ Kruk said, casting a challenging gaze at his followers, daring them to snicker or enjoy his humiliation in any way.

Screams and squeals rose from outside. Kruk heard the sizzle-crack of lightning-wings and something swooped by the open chamber, hurtling towards the courtyard below. Alarm bells rang and doom gongs sounded.

‘The enemy are here. Run, Kruk, run now-now,’ Skuralanx snarled. He sprang into the shadows, vanishing in a moment. Kruk sucked on his teeth.

‘They are coming, hrr? Yes-yes,’ he grunted, glaring at the shadows. He was beginning to suspect that the daemon was not so cunning as he’d first thought. ‘Yes, I will run. I will claim our prize, daemon. But…’ He swung his head about, and fixed Skug with his eye. ‘Vrrretch has left us a gift, Skug. It would be foolish to ignore it, yes? Yes-yes.’

‘I do not understand, O most gaseous one,’ Skug grunted, peering at him in confusion.