The sound of crunching metal echoed through the Hell Pit Harbingers’ locker room as Qarsk Slategrip crashed into one of the steel lockers and left a sizable dent. Several hoots and cheers erupted from the rest of the Harbingers. Varisk Trollcleaver stood over Qarsk, a wicked grin curling on his muzzle.
“Stay down,” he sneered.
“Leave him alone,” one of the other players said. Varisk looked his way and laughed.
“And just what are you gonna do about it, Your Lordship?” He spat.
Sir Bretonnian—that’s what the other Skaven on the team called him ever since he came back from the surface a few years ago a changed rat, obsessed with ‘honour’ and ‘chivalry’—stared Varisk down.
“Attacking thine own teammate is a churlish thing to do. Thou art no better than a—”
“What? A rat? Well if you haven’t noticed, Sir, WE’RE ALL RATS HERE!”
“I will duel you, fiend!”
“Let it go, Bretonnian.” Qarsk spoke, slowly climbing to his feet. It was then that the Runt came over and kicked him square in the chest. But Qarsk held firm, pushing the Runt back and standing.
“You can take a lot, Qarsk. I like it.” Varisk looked around at the other players. “But he’s gonna have to take a lot more. We’re ALL gonna have to take a lot more than a few kicks. We’re playing the Worsca next. You know what that means? That means WOLVES!”
Even Sir Bretonnian looked cowed. Varisk seized the moment and continued on.
“That’s right! We’ve all heard about Quik the Unseen, that skinny bastard who can put our Gutter Runners through their paces! But you also know Bjorn the Bear! Man turns into a wolf, but they call him a bear! These humans can’t even name their animals right.
“But they’re big! And they’re strong! And they want to eat each and every last one of us! Well, we all know who eats them all in the end, right? THE RATS! And we’re gonna—”
Varisk’s eyes rolled back in his head as he fell forward with a thud. Standing behind him was Skurrskiq Frostweaver, the best Runner the Harbingers had. He smirked, waving the butt of the dagger he had used to knock Varisk out.
“Don’t know about the rest of you, but I was getting tired of hearing him.”
“He’s not wrong though.” Qarsk sighed.
“True,” Sir Bretonnian added ruefully. “Methinks the Apothecary will be working overtime…”