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They began their march through the warren, their feet finding purchase on either stone, dirt, or the makeshift horrors that were Skaven workmanship. Lucian was fearful for himself for every step that he made caused the wood to seemingly creek with an unbearable strain. It was like the method used to shape the wood, instead of simply setting its there, was being contorted to the mishapen wreck that supported them now.
He saw Bok as a lucky lizard, looking over to see the giant walking the path as if the wood didn’t want to be blessed by Morr. For once his companion, Tyny, was not riding him for he was sapient enough to understand the horrors that were beneath their feet.
Occasionally there were Skaven, many times when they turned a corner or walked underneath something that was just tall enough for the rats to not die from the sudden drop attacks they were performing. Each time they fought off the attacks with brutal applications of violence.
At one point when the rats came at their party one of them had blades that were made of that green crystal which scattered the ceiling. Only Bok, the monster whose nose smelled everything, killed the assassin before it was able to leap upon Adok with those vicious talons.
Slowly they made their way forward down the slops and through the place roughly described as a city. The Skaven masses keeping their assault on as they crossed through.
It was then, as they turned their corner into a wide plaza, that the screams and hollers of death came from above. They were in what could be described as a plaza of dirt and rubble built for the purposes of speeches and parades. Lucian could see what was roughly a mockery of a stand above their heads as said places were quickly coverrun by the crawling bodies of Skaven.
“Ready yourselves!” Lucian roared as he prepared his blade, “We fight for Bretonnia, Morr, and all that is good in the world!”
Against his words all the Skaven could do was scream.
