The dumb Human did not understand what it meant to be a Skaven. He spoke the nonsense of #OneClan and Family-Team. Some of the others were converting to the human ways of “teamwork” and “selflessness”. But They knew being close to others meant weakness. Only the strong survive in the Under-Empire, and They were stronger than all. The Human had no idea what Warpstone was to a Skaven. Warpstone was more than just currency or a tool. Warp is life.
They ran as if Steve Michaels himself chased them. The stones of the sewer tunnels were a blur of grey and brown as They sprinted toward the meeting place.
The Human had a decent supply of Warpstone at one point from a deal he made with some guys in Mordheim but they were getting unreliable. The shipments were getting smaller and the quality was not worthy of even Skavenslaves. They kept a bit of the Trash hidden away for the hard times but it was a last resort.
They needed their own Supply. A Quality Supply. A Star Player like Them deserved nothing but the best. Only the Pusherman could provide what They wanted and They knew where the Pusherman got his Goods. They knew the Human would not approve, but They needed it.
They had plenty of time to arrange the meeting. The best part of the off-season was that They got time to Themselves and They didn’t have to fake the Family-Bond constantly. Besides, the Human was too busy scouting out new players to bother with where They were all the time. The Gutter Runners frequently trained in the sewers so even if They were caught They could say They were practicing.
The meeting spot was a four-way intersection of sewer tunnels and was close now. They could smell the Warpstone in the air…
They rounded the final corner and skidded to a stop face-to-face with the Pusherman. The Pusherman was a ferocious-looking Beastman, his many scars showing the battles he had survived. In the middle of the intersection was a Warp fire. HE WAS WASTING IT! They barely kept Themselves calm enough to speak.
Did you bring-carry what we asked?
The Pusherman spoke in a guttural voice that sounded like bones crunching under boulders:
“We?! Grab em! Where are the others?”
A Minotaur stepped out of the shadows, his tentacles wrapping around Their body and forcing the wind from Their lungs.
There is only Me-Us! Slinij came alone!
The Pusherman laughed, “Its just the two-headed Rat. Put it down. We have some terms to discuss.”
The Minotaur dropped Slinij to the stones.
“You know my Supplier. Well they don’t mind keeping the flow of Warpstone coming to you. But you have to do some favors in the meantime.”
We will do whatever you ask-tell!
“Enjoy this bit of Warp. There is more waiting for you when you get back from your first task. There are some High Elves calling themselves Princes. Replace their armor with that found in this bag. Then meet me back here.”
Slinij shouldered the bag with the Goblin Gambling Company logo plastered on the side. They knew what this meant. But They needed the Warp. Warp is life.