Emmaline opened an eye with some trepidation. Given the amount of potent dwarven ale she had consumed last night, she expected to find her head splitting and hands shaking. Fortunately it seemed that vigorous exercise had gone a way to muting the effects and though it felt like her head had been packed with cotton balls, she wasn't in any actual pain. She laid a cool hand on her forehead and started slightly to find it tangled with red hair. She had changed it the night before, she remembered. Her eyes skittered towards the case that contained the polished warpstone and found it sitting innocently in the corner where she had left it. Glancing down she found that the snake tattoo was still in place, though it seemed to have slightly changed it pose since it had first settled into her skin.

"Is anyone going to recognize you?" she asked, her tongue feeling tacky against the roof of her mouth. The question had been entirely rhetorical, she didn't want to go through the trouble of changing her hair just to give herself away with a tattoo, but to her shock the snake slithered.

"Hey! Hey!" she yelped. as the ink slithered up her arm. She couldn't feel it, not really, but her body told her she should feel something gliding over her skin. It rolled up over her shoulder and slid down onto her chest, its head coming to rest on the top of her left breast.

"Hey!" she objected again but the snake remained an inert tattoo. She flicked its head with a finger but succeeded only in stinging herself slightly. Neil stirred beside her and let out a mussy groan with which she could sympathize. She climbed out of bed, gathering a blanket around her and went to the window. It was a clear autumn day with a slight chill. In the distance she could see smoke hanging in the air and it took a moment for her mind to tune back into the occasional crash of cannon. The siege was evidently continuing. So far the attacks had been probes, but she suspected that it was going to grow more serious very soon. Afterall, sooner or later the Empire at large was going to wonder why barges weren't arriving from Nuln and the whole force of Reikland was likely to come down on the besiegers. Imperial armies didn't always respond quickly, but Emmaline knew that the strategic importance of Nuln meant that a threat to it was a knife to the belly of the whole nation.

Turning her mind to more pleasant prospects Emmaline tossed some bacon and eggs into a cast iron pan and whistled a spell. Even without fire the bacon began to sizzle on the suddenly hot metal. She poured some of the ground coffee into a filter and snapped her fingers. Streams of water rose from the drinking pitcher, boiling in the air before passing through the filter and sedately settling into the mugs below. She added milk and shredded a little chocolate on the edge of a knife to sweeten hers. The arcane exercise, more spell work than she would normally attempt in a week, made her headache a little worse, but she suspected it wasn't anything some food and coffee wouldn't banish. She flipped the bacon and eggs onto a couple of plates and set the plates on a wooden board that was serving as a tray, then deliberately positioned herself so that she was standing framed by the window, nude except for breakfast on a tray.

"Rise and shine," she called to Neil.

Neil was lost in a maelstrom of darkness. He had fallen asleep almost thinking he was on a rocking boat, as if the mattress itself was swaying upon light waves, and that feeling hadn't left him until Emmaline slid out of his arms. He felt a slight chill and stirred, trying to will himself to go back to sleep without even realizing it was his intent. The delectable smell that wafted into his nostrils was bittersweet, since he still felt entirely heavy. Should he appreciate sleep or that sweet smell? Where did it even come from?

"Rise and shine," Neil heard near the light of the glass. He murmured and redirected his position, flipping his head like a pancake and opening one eye. Even bleary, the silhouette of Emmaline popped the other eye open, and he pushed his body up and wrested the sleep from him. He felt like his head was made of wool, but his girlfriend could clear his senses like a slap in the face. Standing there and smiling in front of him, he wondered how he could get so lucky. He would gladly be in a city besieged by malevolent forces beyond comprehension if it meant seeing her every morning.

Good thing he could have one and not the other if they played it smart.

"Wow, that got me up," he laughed tiredly. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "You didn't have to cook. I coulda... could have helped." The last word was lost in a yawn as he stretched, broadening his chest as his arms went wide. Emmaline plopped down at the edge of the bed and set the tray between them, taking a bite of a crispy piece of bacon.

"I could do some things for you sometimes," she said, and they shared a smile. The two ne'er-do-wells began to eat, and gave small quips with half filled mouths and sent one another giggling more than once. When they were finished, Emmaline ended up getting her shoulders massaged by Neil's insistence. She let out a soft moan, moving her red waves out of his way.

"This for breakfast?" She wondered softly.

"That, and it's going to be a long ass day, babe." He said, his fingers dexterous and strong. He rubbed out every knot and point he could find, admittedly enjoying her enjoying herself. He also wanted to lay out what they were going to do while she felt good, so it sounded plausible. All he knew was they couldn't stay here forever. "Around noon we need to get dressed and pack everything we want to take with us. We're getting out of this city and going as far away as possible. Trust me, sewers'll stink worse than Gorbad Ironclaw's taint but we'll make it." Her face twisted in disgust at his turn of phrase, but it shifted back to a pleased smile at his massage. She was going to inquire where the sewers would lead them, but a shiver ran up her as he found the sweet spot on her back. He figured her question, regardless. The thieves had a way of talking without talking, sometimes. "We'll end up near Rohrhausen. It's a mining town. It will be abandoned, so we can hold up there the next night before heading into Riekland."

"Sounds fun," she replied, and Neil doubted even if she knew she was being facetious or not.

"The funnest. I didn't even get to the good part." He said, and he let her give a 'hmmm' firstly, before adding. "There's a noble mansion in Rohrausen that could simply not have taken everything when they ran out, which means when we get there we'll nab a few trinkets for the road. No point in getting to another poor, right?"

"You look pleased," Neil said as Emmaline returned to the Tower from her morning errands. She was dressed in a jerkin of supple leather with sleeves of gray silk slashed with a dull red. To further her disguise she had her hair done up on an elaborate braid, rather than the looser styles she normally favored.

"I am," she admitted, jingling a pouch of coins at her belt. Neil arched an eyebrow.

"I sold the Tower," she smilled, climbing the steps to the stone arch. Neil stared at her in consternation.

"We don't own the tower," Neil replied. Emmaline shrugged evasively.

"I uh... didn't make a big point of that," Emmaline explained. Drawing up a deed of ownership was a bit of a pain. Using magic to alter an existing deed was much easier. It would pose a problem when the real owner showed up with the real deed, but Emmaline would be long gone from the scene by the time anyone was actually comparing paperwork. Further discussion was interrupted by a sudden rumbling crash from the east. Emmaline assumed it was just another seige gun but the look on Neil's face told her otherwise.

"It that a cannon?" Emmaline asked uncertainly. Neil looked grim.

"It is a sap," Neil explained, his engineering school training able to discern the sound of cracking and tumbling masonary from simple cannon fire.

"Is that bad?" she asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"It is when... never mind. We need to get out of here as quickly as we can." Emmaline needed no further incentive, she hurried up into the tower and grabbed the last of her possessions, largley bottles of half processed alchemical recipes she had been working on, as well as the wyrdstone case and the last of the Bugman's and chocolate. She came down to the door where Neil was waiting for her and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Before her lips could touch she saw a trio of men burst from an alley, yelling in terror. A pair of beastmen, stag headed and covered in dirt and mud lopped out after them. One of them spitted a terrified civilian on a crude spear. Dozens of other beastmen burst out of the alleys, howling and screaming. Emmaline squeaked in panic but Neil shoved her back into the tower and pulled the door shut. Arrows thudded into the door as Neil threw the heavy bar.

"Shit," he muttered and Emmaline had to agree. She ran up to the third story and looked out the window. Beastmen were pouring into the city, an ugly pall of dust and debris rose to the sky from the east. The background stutter of gunfire had risen to a fever pitch. They were cut off.

"Looks like we'll need an extension of clearing out," Neil said as he made it to the window. Smoke began to rise into the air between the vast buildings of the city. Fortunately, their tower was relatively isolated from the main body of the city, but he saw a handful of beastmen loping across the bridge toward them, while two of the chaos mutants, one with a goats head and the other with a wolfish countenance, brayed at their brethren and waved axes.

Emmaline watched the monsters streaming forth with worry. Across the water, citizens were hacked down in the streets or shoved bleeding into the riek. Even now a sqaud of swordsmen with shields locked met a murder of beastmen at the edge of the quay, slamming against one another, steel flashing and blood spurting. It was worrying, but the small horde cresting the bridge towards them was a more immediate danger. Emmaline bit her lip and drew back, but squeaked when an ornate longbarrel slid past her nose to rest on the window sill. Neil cocked the Hochland rifle like he was born to the task. In his mouth, he sported a lit cigar.

"Where were you keeping that gun?" She asked.

"Don't worry about it," The thief responded, hovering his eye a scant inch from the scope. Like a short fuse, Neil waited a small breath before the gun cracked. A beastman with the antlered head of a deer lost half of its skull, bloody shrapnel of red gray matter splattering across the other members of its party. Calmly, in fact he was whistling, Neil began to load the musket by the muzzle end, black powder followed by a lead ball falling into place before grabbing the ramrod. He had wanted to use the gun in a more indirect fight, the weapon having far greater range than a normal handgun, thanks to a spiralling groove on the inside of the barrel. It had a complex arrangement of lenses and sights that allowed the marksmen to pick out targets that would normally be too small to be shot a with any degree of accuracy. He could probably help out the swordsman halfway across the river breadth if they didn't have more pressing problems.

"Baby, do me a favor." Neil said, hefting the gun again and aiming.

"Yeah?" She asked.

"Get the cheapest booze we got. Some of that stored shit we didn't want to touch." His words were punctuated by the discharge of the long rifle. A large ram-headed gor felt with a gaping hole in its chest. "Bring it up here, will you? As soon as they try to break the door down we'll lit 'em up."

Booze so bad that Emmaline wouldn't touch it was probably a smaller subset of alcohol than it should be, but she knew what Neil had meant. Hastily she gathered up clinking bottles, setting them on a table but the window. Outside the scene was degenerating rapidly. Militia armed with pikes were holding in places bottling up in the major streets to present a bristling wall of steel. Beastmen continued to spill out of the western streets, some charging blithely into soldiers, others vanishing into alleys or climbing through windows into buildings to bypass the defenders. A trio of beastmen went down as a handful of handgunners emerged from a street on the other side of the river, clumsy weapons belching smoke as the managed a ragged volley. An officer with a sword was shouting at them, waving a small sword in the air and pointing towards the west. The company double timed down the river bank, heading Emmaline assumed, towards whatever breach had been made in the walls. A dozen smaller beastmen were rushing towards the door of the tower, rusty axes held high. Emmaline tore a curtain down and began ripping it into strips and stuffing them into the necks of the bottle. Lifting one she snapped her fingers and ignited it, then pitched the improvised weapon out the window. It hit the pavement between the group and burst in a gout of rum scented flame. Beastmen screamed and scattered, liquid flame taking root in their matted greasy fur. They dashed in all directions, trailing greasy smoke, one going so far as to throw itself into the water. The crack of Neil' rifle tumbled one of the runners to the ground in a smoldering pile. The sudden and violent destruction of the assault party seemed to have momentarily calmed the scene. Beastmen were braying and shrieking as they hunkered down or slunk away into alleyways and warehouses, their oddly human eyes peering out.

"Maybe we should make a run for it?" Emmaline suggested as a group of pikemen attempted to advance down the riverside. The beastmen howled and charged, a mass of them all but throwing themselves onto the sharp blades. Even as the first wave died, more of them poured out of alleys and crashed down onto the flank of the militia. The formation bowed as though all of the members were suddenly faint, and then fell apart, disintegrating into a wild melee that negated the advantage of their formation. Emmaline licked her dry lips. Going outside did not have a lot to recommend it.

"We will," was all Neil gave her, hefting the rifle as arrows sizzled by. One struck the crate behind Neil, Emmaline squeaking and ducking behind the stone wall. Four beastmen shoulder rushed the large doorway below, slamming their stout bodies into it and bouncing off, the door holding strong at the moment. Neil had locked it and shoved crates and a desk against it, and there was no other entrance on the lowest floor. It was Imperial law that the lowest floors of every establishment not behind two stone walls would have no windows or else suffer a tax, because of just such an occasion as an attack by beastmen. Of course, they did not expect such a thing in the midst of Nuln, but for once Neil thought a law made by meaningless bureaucracy served him well.

She chucked the case at Neil, and with a grimace he caught it and without pausing, dumped it out of the window and onto the beastmen, who in their wisdom discovered that their axes might be used for more than carving up flesh. They started hacking at the door with wild abandon, before the crate clunked into a horned head and sent the beast to the ground. The others stopped stupidly, and after considering the situation, decided to laugh at their comrade as the cheap booze spilled out over the stones. Neil ducked under another arrow, and had to spend his bullet on one of the archers. The bullet carved through the ungor's throat satisfyingly, but it left Neil needing to reload in order to ignite the flames below. Emmaline thrust herself forward and incanted quickly, a small spark falling from her wriggling hands like a fiery snowflake and landing on the running alcohol. Flames raced across the floor and ran up the legs of the beastman below them, engulfing the one who still had the crate stuck to its head.

"Ok, now we just wait until the flames are out and then we go?" Emmaline asked, even as Neil yanked her out of the way of another arrow. She smiled and fluttered her lashes at him guiltily, and he grinned.

"Yeah, just gotta wait for that." He reassured her, mounting his hochland rifle on the window and dispatching the last of the archers. Reloading one final time, Neil told Emmaline to grab the bags. She did so, and when she returned she saw Neil triple knotting a rope around the pillar foundation of the second floor. He wrapped the rope around his arm and held his free hand out for Emmaline to take. She took it, and he pulled her close.

"Treat this like a regular job. Be inconspicuous, try not to get caught, and when in doubt, run."

As Emmaline was lifted up to the window as Neil placed a foot upon it, she clung to him. "Do we know where we're going?" She asked, trepidation in her voice. Below, three beastmen were dead and one burnt one had plunged himself into the water around the island and was trying to pull itself back up onto shore.

"Yes. No.... vaguely." He said, and let the fall keep her from responding. He leaped out with her and she screamed for a moment before the rope went taut and Neil let it slide through his hand until they touched upon the ground. Only a few flames were left on the spot. Neil held his nose, the scent of burnt beastman and crisp hair permeating them.

"Smells like your cooking," Neil said with a smile. Emmaline smacked him on the back of the head, but she shared a grin from the jest.

Over the bridge, they only needed to make it another street before they would find a gutter grating. Then they just had to get in it, and they would be relatively home free.

Emmaline and Neil hurried across the bridge. All around them the sounds of fighting could be heard. The crash of handguns, the ring of steel, and the brays and screams of men and beasts. She didn't know if the city was falling, she was no general, but the fact that there were beastmen in the streets meant they had gotten past the wall somehow. That had to be a bad sign. If Nuln fell would the whole Empire follow?

"Steady," Neil said, squeezing her wrist and bringing her back out a vision of beastmen swarming all over the Empire. They continued over the bridge, passing the bodies of a few luckless defenders struck down by the black fletched arrows. Emmaline momentarily wondered what they used for fletching, did beastmen have dye?

"Clear the street!" someone shouted, and a score of halberdiers tromped out of the smoke. They were dirty and battered, several bearing obvious wounds. The officer in charge was little older than Emmaline. He was blonde and might have been handsome if the didn't look so grim.

"Clear the street! Cl...M'lady," he staggered obviously shocked to see a woman in such surroundings. How he thought she might be a noble with all of her worldly possessions on her back she had no idea. What he made of Neil she had no idea.

"Halt!" he barked out and the soldiers clattered to a halt, turning outwards in a half circle of bristling spear points.

"We can escort you to saftey..." the officer began.

"What is happening?" Emmaline demanded, trying to watch in all directions at once. The soldier regarded the pair of them with puzzlment.

"The beasts collapsed a section of the wall, with a tunnel we think," the officer said, "we have been fighting to keep them contained, but M'lady we need to get you to saftey."

"I don't want to keep you bold fellows from your duty," Emmaline temporized, not wanting to saddle their escape with an escort. A beastial roar interuppted the conversation as a great beast burst from the smoke. It was eight feet tall and wrapped in slaps of muscle. Two great horns protruded from its head and a great metal ring was pinned through its bovine nose. It held an axe in its hands that was a broad as Emmaline's chest. It saw the men and let out a roar that sprayed spittle into the air before rearing back and charging.

"Form! Form!" the officer shouted, thrusting Emmaline behind him as his men squared up to form a line. The beast crashed into the spear points of the halberds, snapping several and roaring with pain. It grabbed on of the men with its hand and lifted him high. Another of the halbiders brought his weapon down on the things wrist with a wet chunk and a popping of tendons. The beast dropped the man as its fingers opened, dropping him to the ground.

"Forward!" the officer shouted, and the halbiders pushed forward, driving the beast backwards.

"Let's go!" Emmaline cried, dashing up the shallow steps and into the street Neil had indicated.

Neil was elbowed in the jaw by what he had initially thought was an imperial soldier, until he hit the ground and realized that bristling hair had covered the arm. He rubbed his face and gathered his wits as the city erupted in pandemonium around him. Screaming children and horrified men wailed. Vaguely he heard Emmaline calling for him, and that brought him back to reality. He shook his head like a dog and hopped to his feet, looking left and seeing the wall of halberdiers holding fast against the charging gors and ungors. To his right-

Neil ducked under a swinging axe, feeling the wind of the swing as the blade passed through tufts of his hair. He shoved a knife in the lone beastman's back and twisted the blade, causing it to let out a cry a pained donkey might make. Slinging his belongings over his shoulder, he ran forward across the street before it could turn to attack again, leaping over bodies and wrestling forms, smelling gunsmoke and hearing the thundering retorts of blackpowder muskets and cannons in the distance. He needed only make it another dozen feet, Emmaline's fiery head a beacon in the haze. He saw her crying out to him, holding her arm out to take. He found it was one of those moments you never forgot. He would remember her lips parted, her eyes pleading, her bosom bouncing. It was at that moment as all went slow, that a wagon being commanded by a desperate merchant with wide, insane eyes barreled between them.

"Nuh-uh," Neil muttered, running headlong into it. He tossed the sack with half of their gold, food, and clothes over the wagon moments before he slid low, right foot out and left foot in, skidding over the blessedly smooth stones of the street. Emmaline gasped as the wheels scythed across her vision of Neil, but just before the final spokes whisked by, he shot out from under it and slid to an easy stop, planting his elbow against the stone wall she clung to like he was trying to convince her of something uncouth. "Hey baby," he said with a grin.

The sack hitting him from above broke his attempt of a joke. Damn, could have sworn I tossed it with enough force so it would go passed the both of us. Well, I can practice that later, he thought. She shook her head and yanked on his shirt, Neil absently grasping the sack as they hurried down the alleyway, before they found themselves right in front of an iron grate under the shadows of the buildings, leading into the sewers.

"Now what do we do?" She asked, panting from the exertion of all the screaming and running.

"That's all you. Your magic is with metal, right?" He asked her.

"Right, right..." She said, rubbing her hands together and squatting down. In the mouth of the alleyway, man and beast fought and pushed. The two thieves almost had the view one might from a painting or mural. Neil shook his head, hoping Sigmar watched over the footmen, even if he was fully prepared to skip town regardless. He heard the culmination of her spell, and he glanced back to see iron running like liquid as the portal was suddenly open.

"Go, go!" He told her.

"No, I can't see!" She complained. He cursed, knelt down beside her, and slid in, yanking her leg so she flew in with him, squealing in fright with the belongings tumbling in with the the both of them just as the iron reset, and the grate was barred once more as if it had always been.

Emmaline had grown up on Altdorf, in the dock district, where the stink of emptied chamberpots mixed with the reek of fish too long out of water. She had even prowled the tannery district as a child and suffered the horrible odor of the leather makers trade. None of these things held a candle to Nuln's sewers. A great river of filth flowed down a central canal, flanked on both side by narrow paved shoulders upon which a sewer jack or maintenance worker could proceed. She gagged slightly at the sight and was suddenly strangely glad that the baying of monsters above her was there to impel her to go on.

"Can you..." Neil began but Emmaline was already waving her hands. Abruptly the air they breathed became clear, if somewhat dry and sterile. An old alchemists trick to protect oneself from inhaling unwholesome gases.

"You know," she mused, "I've done more magic in the past couple of days than I have in the last month." Neil snickered and gave her a lascivious grin.

"I'll say," he agreed lustily. Emmaline snickered in spite of the situation.

"Well now, as then, I am in your hands," she teased. Neil bowed and set off down the brick walkway. Emmaline followed. She knew the sewers opened up at various points along the river, but figured they were within the city walls. If Neil really did know a way out, it was a dangerous weakness to the city. Still, if the could just get beyond the walls, there was a good chance they would get away clean, the beastmen far to focused on the battle above to trouble with a sewer. The only thing down here was shit and stink.

__________

Scritscrit watched the interlopers as they moved through the tunnels. At first he had thought it was the hated sewer jacks, a perennial threat with their crossbows and axes, but he saw that was not the case. A tall looking manling and one of their breeders. She was meatier than some of her kind, though nothing like a true skaven female. He snuffled the air softly, catching a hint of something coming off thee pair. Could it be? He had smelled such things before in the doom forges of the Skyre and on the Grey Seerers. It smelled like... warpstone. If these interlopers had warp stone... it might be enough for Scriscrit to rise far. He padded after them on silent feet. Watching. Waiting.

Neil knew the sewers as far as a few streets from experience, but his old friend Heinz had told him there were old, antiquated sewers that reached miles away outside of the city. Most had been demolished over the centuries, but Heinz had told him he and a few of his lads had found an exit that led past the river one day, a couple of years ago. Of course, Heinz had been drunk when he had told that to Neil, but it was either that or go back up and fight an army of thirty thousand beastmen, and Neil would rather protect Emmaline than do that.

They passed a few alcoves and grates that streamed light into the darkness, guiding their path. A few times rats scurried beneath their feet or scuttled across the narrow walkways. Neil stiffened and Emmaline squawked, but the rats were less worrisome than the shadows of violence that played against the walls every few blocks like hellish puppet shows. Only when they had made it further than Neil had ever traveled did the light fade entirely, and Neil took out a torch and lit it, illuminating the stones around them. The water had a sickly green tinge to its murk, and a few rats scampered away into the darkness.

"I could have used a spell..." She said.

"Don't want to tire you out. You've done a lot of legwork recently, remember?"

"Wasn't just my legs," she grinned, taking the torch he gave her gladly.

"Don't worry," He said, stepping in close as he placed his unlit torch against hers, the cloth igniting a great euphemism for the suggestiveness in his tone. "I'll give you another work out as soon as we're out of here."

---

Scritscrit was surprise these manthings knew where they were going. No doubt the ruckus above had led them down here, but it was by the blessings of the Horned Rat that he had discovered them with that unmistakable scent coiling around their forms. He had followed them until they had lit the dreaded torches, and he nearly expelled the musk of fear, as he had thought they had discovered him. He had silently scampered back into the shadows and listened. Clearly the male and breeder were conversing of something important, but he could not tell what it was.

He needed to go and tell a few others of his brethren, perhaps some slave rats and Ekit Scatclaw his fellow clanrat that they were heading into the old catacombs. If this manthing knew they way, they could make it into the sunlight in only a few hours. Scitscrit couldn't risk letting them get away, but the way the manthing moved, he knew it would be a fight for his life. The breeder herself just complicated things, especially with that torch. Scitscrit faded into the darkness to fetch his brothers, knowing there was only one way for the manthings to go to find freedom.

Neil lead the way with confidence, though given all the twists and turns they took Emmaline was hopelessly turned around. In places bridges had been constructed across the river of effluent, sometimes stone, sometimes simple planks, and they were obliged to cross to avoid sudden ends in the walk way or partial collapses of ancient slumping brickwork. The signs of patrol by the sewer jacks, old campfires, discarded wine bottles and impressively vulgar graffiti, grew sparser and sparser, which she supposed was proof positive that they were moving in a definite direction. Neil's lips moved wordlessly, as though recalling a past conversation or memorized directions, though given how long he had been doing it the directions were either hopelessly complex or he was repeating it over and over.

The rats were a constant, skittering away into the darkness as the halo of the torches reached them. The crawled out of the sewer, slick and drowned looking to scuttle off into cracks in the walls. The smell of them crinkled Emmaline's nose, the sharp scent of ammonia underlaid with an earthy animal musk. Slowly the sense they were under Nuln began to disconnect from her mind, and the tunnels became a place in their own right, endless and labyrinthine. Oddly, this increased her confidence, moving her further and further from the chaos and terror of the siege.

"Up ahead," Neil said, starling Emmaline after a period of silence. They came through a vaulted arch into a large circular chamber a few steps above the level of the sewer flow. Dark but clean water flowed down in three directions in shallow cascades. Water fell from a trio of lead pipes into a large central pool that fed the falls.

"What is this place?" Emmaline asked, staring around at the bizarre construction. Neil lifted his torch to give her a better view of the room.

"It is a flush," Neil said, "water falls from some of the feeder creeks and carries the sewage down to the Reik. Between the inflow and the suction of the river it keeps everything from just piling up."

"How do you know that?" Emmaline asked in puzzlement.

"I'm an Engineer remember," Neil snickered. Truth be told Emmaline had forgotten that, but she nodded her agreement.

"Is it much further?" Emmaline asked. There was a sudden an intense smell of rat. Something exploded beside Emmaline's head spraying fragments of broken bricks. Something squat with glowing eyes and chisel like teeth stood in one of the side passages, whirling a filthy sling of brownish cloth. A half dozen more charged out of the passages, hissing and brandishing rusted weapons.

"DIE MANTHINGS!" one of them hisses in a horrific mockery of Reikspiel.

At first, Neil thought they were beastmen. Incredibly foul smelling beastmen, Sigmar's Unbridaled Balls Neil had never thought he could smell something so rancid on a living thing! It made the sewers smell like fresh springs in a wissenland glade. Even as the light flickered and danced, illuminating mounds of fur and beady eyes streaming towards them, he wasn't sure what he was really looking at. They were rats, but they were the size of large dogs, and some moved on two legs. He saw a few carrying knives and shivs, and there was even two ratmen at the back with shields and rusted scimitars.

"No way," He said in disbelief, or was about to before the first one launched himself at he and Emmaline. Neil saw its trajectory was more aimed towards his girlfriend, and that was a big no to him. Neil shoved the rat mid-air to fall along the side of the stone's edge, as they two humans stood just at the height overlooking the huge pit where the water congregated and was redirected below, perhaps about two dozen feet. Emmaline screamed and his back foot went over the edge as the ratman tumbled and then fell headlong into the murk below, nearly skewering itself on the spike of a tall statue of Sigmar at the center of the water.

Neil grabbed her arm. She squeaked and was pulled back to a balanced position, though that left the problem of the dozen or more ratmen scurrying toward them. Neil dropped his sack, pulling out a bottle of bugman's. They had a few bottles left and it was just his fucking luck he took that and not the scented elven mead. He made a strained "ugh," before he tossed it to the floor and dropped his torch onto it. Flames leaped before the rats, but to his surprise the first four ran headlong into it. Neil picked up the back end of the bottle even as the first one jumped at him, and he sunk the glass into its chest as it scratched him, both of them dripping blood from the scuffle. Neil had the benefit of its weight sinking onto the 'bar knife' He pitched the thing end over end to fly the five strides below. Neil heard something solid hitting something solid and figured the rat didn't make it to the water.

He swung the sack at the next three rats who couldn't decide if they should put the fire on their fur out or attack, and the thief redirected the sack to land over his shoulder in readiness. "Grab onto me!" He told Emmaline. She balked for a moment, but he was proud how quickly she put on her game face and gripped him. Neil turned, hiking her legs up to wrap around his waist. This was going to hurt.

"Watch your head!" He told her.

"Ok! Ok!"

"If we die here I'm in love with you." He said quickly, and even as she cried out 'what!?' he leaped, her question turning into a scream as they sailed over the water. Even as they flew, Neil question if winging it had led to their doom. She still held her torch before them, and as the light was nearly snuffed out from the sudden rush of wind, they had a good vantage point of seeing the broken skaven below.

Skaven. They had to be skaven! Fuck me, he thought. Neil's arm shot out, and his callused hands grabbed the upraised handle of the hammer of sigmar, slinging their legs forward and giving them another boost fling their weight to hit the next floor down in a collapsing heap, their bodies and belongings shoving Neil into the wall. He felt blood leaking down his nose and his cheek smooshed against the stone, but they were alive.

The skaven across from them chittered and cursed. Emmaline stood up and was suddenly smashed to the ground. Neil let out a shout of dismay as she stood up, a short spear sticking from her back.

"Is it bad?" she asked, as Neil bounded to her side and pulled the spear free. It wasn't even bloody, having spent its energy on the case slung across her shoulders, a soft green glow now appearing from the narrow cut in the leather. The sight of these drove the rat things crazy, as a group they charged, jumping for the statue as Neil had done. Emmaline wove her fingers and bleated a spell, snapping it into place as the first rat grabbed the statue. Its fingers failed to grip the stone, now coated with a thin layer of magical grease, it let out a despairing yowl and plunged into the tank below. A half dozen more, already in flight, suffered similar fates, cartwheeling comically into the tank below, some hitting the water, others breaking themselves against the wall. The two scimitar wielding rats shook their shields and hissed something in their own language. They both ducked back into the shadows as Neil unslung his rifle. For a moment it was quiet save for the splashing of drowned rats below. Emmaline did her best to brush the grime off her traveling cloak.

"I hope this is the way out," she said, sounding somewhat nauseated by the nearness of her demise.

It was hard to gauge just how long they had been running. It had been hours of walking before the skaven had attacked, and now they ran with a hurried desperation. Neil led the way with the torch, wanting to remain behind to protect Emmaline but unable to get passed the sincere fact that he was the only one who knew where to go. Gods, he hoped he knew where they were going. Once they reached the flush, go down a level and continue northward until you reached the causeway, and if he guessed correctly, it was just up ahead.

The two glanced behind themselves too many times, but so far they hadn't seen any real pursuit. Perhaps the rats had all drowned, and the last two did not want to take their chances against them. As Neil ran, the implications of what had just happened hit home. They had fought things from urban legends and lived to tell the tale. Wait until Neil told the public! He and Emmaline would be....

Disbelieved, probably.

Heinz had told him they were real, but no one trusted sewer jacks, and it was one thing to hear about it and another entirely to actually see it. A part of him didn't want to believe it. He wanted to pick Emmaline's brain on what had happened, but a light around the next corner stole his thoughts from him. They both stopped, panting hard and looking aghast at a beam of illumination breaking through a hole to the right of the stoneworks. Neil could smell wet soil and heard the trickling of water. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever experience, and he breathed in deeply for a long moment.

"We're free, Emma," He started to say, turning around just in time to see the light glint off two beady eyes and a flashing sword. Neil shoved Emmaline aside and thrust his torch into the ratman's face. It squealed like nothing he had ever heard, dropping its shield and wriggling on the ground, it's paws batting at its scorched snout like the flailing of a dying cockroach. Another ratman was there, chittering and leaping over its comrade at Neil.

Emmaline screamed an incantation, and the ratman, sword leading, suddenly dropped like the scimitar in its hand had become an anvil. It was actually hilarious, Neil thought. But he would laugh later. The thief kicked the skaven in the head once, twice, thrice, continuing until its small skull was covered in bloodied fur. He stomped on its snout for good measure, and then kicked the other flailing one too. He almost felt sorry for the vermin, but he didn't stop until Emmaline pulled at his arm.

"Neil, Neil! Let's get the fuck out of here..." She pleaded, and he nodded in agreement. He couldn't tell if the things were still alive or not, but they wouldn't be following them anytime soon. Hoisting their sacks, they made their way to the light. Emmaline groaned, complaining about the weight. "Ranald, I never thought I would have sympathy for mules, but I can't imagine carrying these any longer."

"I thought you'd handle it better than me, they're only half as big as your..." He grinned, and she pushed him. A moment further, and they were under the light of the tunnel hole. It was at Neil's eye level, and he knelt down, cupping his hands so she could step up and pull herself through, into the next chapter of their lives.

Emmaline squeezed up through the hole, momentarily panicking as her hips stuck. Neil put his hands against her bottom and shoved and she emerged from the darkness with nothing worse than a lost boot. She was in dry gravel riverbed in a forest. Spring rain had piled up old sticks and brush at various points, and apparently scooped away enough soil to expose the ancient roots of the sewers. When the snows melted this spot would be a little whirlpool, sucking water down into the sewers. She wondered if that was by design or it had simply come to serve that function by accident of nature.

Emmaline's boot came flying up out of the hole, followed a moment later by Neil's pack and then Neil himself. He looked a mess, dirty covered and bloodied from a number of cuts and scratches. Well, she supposed she probably wouldn't win Maid of the Riek herself just now. Neil glanced down, clearly concerned that more rat things might emerge. For the moment all was quiet but Emmaline was keen to put some distance between herself and the sewers.

"Which way to this manor of yours?" she asked quickly, glancing around the forest. They seemed alone, nothing but birds singing as the last of the summer sun painted the tops of the trees brilliant gold and green.

"Up stream," Neil said, slinging his pack over his shoulder. Emmaline was so keen to get away from the stinking rat beasts that she even forgot to complain about how sore her legs were. About an hour later, just as full dusk was setting in they left the forest and reached a low stone wall. On the other side were neatly planted apple trees, heavy with fruit. Beyond the orchard sat a manor house, two great wings connected by a lower central area in handsome stone. A fine tile roof covered it and there were several outbuildings. No lights burned in its windows and no sounds came from within. Likely the family had bolted when the news of the beastmen reached them. They had certainly ordered their servants to remain, but servants weren't stupid. They probably waited all of thirty seconds once their lords and masters were out of sight before bolting themselves. Family loyalty didn't usually stretch to being gutted by marauding chaos spawn, not for a few shillings a day anyway.

"Looks like a nice place to spend the night," Emmaline breathed, feeling a measure of relief to be out of the woods, hopefully in more ways than one.

_________

"Tell me again how you were bested by a breeder and a single manling?" Grey Seer Scarpel hissed. The assembled clan rats tittered at Scritcrit's humiliation. The rat was beaten and bloodied, covered with sewage and some kind of clinging grease that smelled like burning tar.

"Yes-yes most magnificent one!" Scritcrit groveled. He prostrated himself on the floor before the grey seer's throne. A massive thing carved from the skull of some long dead lizard and hung with devotional icons to please the horned rat. The throne chamber was one of several burrows which extended of the manlings filth tunnels, carved out of the dirt by slaves. Presently it was packed with skaven, all enjoying Scritcrit's obeisance.

"The man thing was a mighty warrior, perhaps one of their priests, and the breeder was a powerful sorcerer, she incinerated a dozen of my rats with a gesture, though we fought on bravely yes yes!" Scritcrit squeaked, squirting the musk of fear as Scarpel lifted his paw to scratch the base of his gnarled horns.

"And you fought them to gain this warpstone they carry for me?" Scarpel squeaked, his voice dangerous.

"Yes-yes, of course great one! My only thought was your glory!" Scritcrit cried, lying though his chisel like teeth in hopes of avoiding being blasted to atoms. Scarpel barred his teeth in a snarl that suggested that he didn't believe the obvious lie.

"Then you wont object to leading our scouts to find their trail. If they truly have warpstone, it will be mine!" he cackled.

"I want the biggest house..."

"Babe, you know if someone comes back that'll be the place they go to first, right? Shouldn't we be more covert?" Neil cautioned.

Well, caution was a strong word. He wasn't entirely against the idea, feeling the same sense of greed and desire for luxury and comfort as his girlfriend. Well, maybe not the same, mostly wanted her to be happy. But he did want to voice what might tip the balance in her decision making. He also should probably mention any war party, Imperial or Chaos, would want to use the big house as a main base. He doubted either would be welcoming to thieves.

Emmaline crossed her arms under her sizeable chest and gave Neil a pleading look, her eyes big and blue. Neil turned and looked at the reader, before shaking his head.

Neil picked the lock on the large oaken doors, using his shoulder to shove the stubborn portal open. Both scoundrels hurried under the ostentatious archway and into the foyer, eager to be out of the elements.

The foyer had still-clean tables with busts of various men, evidently a family line known as the Krumppers, as evident on the names beneath each, owning this manor for eight generations. Above them was a dome with an impressive quadratura, depicting Sigmar's retreat from the Empire during the latter years of his life, flanked by a massive wolf and a great boar as the myths often portrayed.

"Damn," Neil said after he whistled appreciatively.

"It's so overt it's covert." Emmaline said, smiling like the cat that got the cream as she walked past him into the wider atrium. To the right was a sitting room with soft, cushioned seats and couches where one could lounge with a beverage and overlook the small, wealthy village. To the left looked to be the dining area and the kitchens. Straight ahead, there was a well fashioned stairway, with a seaswept railing of dark polished wood. Past it on the first floor looked to be the gardens.

"Hey, check what they got in the larder." Neil called after her when she turned the corner. Then his mind caught up with him. He leaned out of the foyer to call down the corridor. "And don't drink all the booze yourself!"

Emmaline poked her head out and waved at him, a cork in her mouth already. She slipped back in as quickly as she appeared. Contented, Neil decided to check the perimeter to make sure there were no lurking ungors or thieves. Or, more dangerous thieves, at least. He stretched his arms for a moment, and then stepped into the sitting room. A wide bookshelf loomed above the biggest couch, filled with various tomes from alchemical treatises to playwrights, to the classics of ancient Tilea. Useful information, but merely novelties to be collected by the wealthy. The window, framed by the large chairs, showed the town as vacant as when they had entered. Still, he did not want to remain in front of it for long, and strode into the next room, turning his head from outside to a smaller dining room.

"Sigmar's flaccid balls!" Neil cursed, jerking back, stopping his foot from stepping right on a corpse. Blood congealed on the floor from a head wound obviously made by a pistol ball. The manservant lay sprawled, unmoved from the moment he was shot. The blood was dark and dry now, his stained, grey hair stiffened. Neil didn't need to touch his skin to know the corpse was cold.

"Well, that's awkward." He deadpanned, seeing no further sign of a struggle, save for the carpet being pulled a bit uneven. He stepped over the body into a smaller corridor, passing by a door that led to the outside, into a small room obviously meant for entertaining guests. Out in the back gardens, he saw no one. The flowers weren't in bloom yet, but from his cursory glance he saw it had been well maintained until recently.

He headed left, towards the kitchen, his voice echoing down the hall. "Hey babe? Babe, there's a dead person in there, but don't worry it's not contagious."

Emmaline appeared in the doorway a bottle of Brettonian wine in one hand and staff of bread in the other. She lifted the bottle to her lips and drank directly from the neck in what was doubtlessly a sin against good liquor. Her mouth twisted with distaste as she saw the corpse sprawled across the floor with its accompanying splash of gore and brains.

"That is going to ruin my floor," Emmaline complained petulantly.

"Your floor?" Neil asked in amusement. Emmaline made a gesture with the bottle that defied immediate interpretation. She opened her mouth as though to order Neil to remove the corpse but subsided before speaking at his arched eyebrow.

"Well... we can only stay her for a day or so," she admitted, "I suppose if we close the door he wont have time to stink the place up." Even as she said it the freshness of the corpse began to bother her, the murder could not have happened more than a few hours ago judging by the lack of rigor.

"I suppose at least we know it wasn't a beastman," she admitted, no beast man that she had ever heard of was sophisticated enough to use black powder weapons, even if they were looted from Imperials. She wondered who this man had been and why, when the staff and family were fleeing before a chaos invasion, someone had chosen to murder him in such a fashion.

"I'm going to go look for gold," she declared, taking another swig of wine.

"There is plenty of food in the larder, we can spend the night and stock up before we leave tomorrow." She was less sanguine about staying in the manor house with the dead man, but it was infinitely preferable to stumbling around in the woods at night with the beastmen on the prowl.

"I know I said I was going to give her the imperial palace and Ghal Maraz, but I didn't expect her to start acting like an empress already," he said to himself as she made her way up the stairs. Watching her backside sway, maybe she had a point staying here a night was not a bad idea. He glanced at the hallway where the corpse lay, and sighed when he realized what he was going to do.

Minutes later, after finding a shovel and making sure the fencing was secured and the timber doors encircling the garden were closed, he started digging a hole. Up above, he heard porcelain shattering and a curse from Emmaline through an open window. He smiled to himself, but kept his mouth shut and kept digging. The rhythmic noise of iron crunching into soil set his mind at ease, and despite the labor, he felt it was the first time he had actually relaxed in days. Other than the night they had shared engorging on chocolate and alcohol, but even then the siege was never very far from his mind.

He shoved the spade into the dirt to keep it steady, and turned to grip the corpse by its feet, slowly dragging it into the hole.

"You don't show it often, but I knew you were the sentimental type," Emmaline said from above, drawing Neil's gaze upwards. She just watched him, her chin resting on her hand. Neil couldn't tell if she was amused or appreciative.

"Nice try, but I already picked his pockets."

"Anything good?" She asked.

"Just a handkershief and like two brass pennies." Neil shrugged, beginning to fill the hole back in. To preserve the dead man's dignity (and Emmaline's view) he tossed the dirt on the shattered head first. The thought of money brought Emmaline's previous statement back to his mind. He glanced her way. "Find anything good up there?"

Money signs practically popped into Emmaline's brightening face. "They cleaned the place out well, but I found a few gold coins, and a great necklace!" She ducked back into the manor, before popping back out with a thick cord of ringed copper where small gold bars hung, the largest at the center, growing smaller and smaller up the thong. She placed it against her chest as if letting Neil visualize it on her from the stand point of a mirror, fluttering her lashes.

Neil grinned widely. It looked like that alone made this whole trip worthwhile. "I bet it looks great on you without the top." He said lecherously.

"Maybe if you finish up out here and put a fire on," She said with a playful smile, and slid back into the manor, closing the window. Neil had to admit that despite her getting him to do more of the chores, she had a point. It wasn't freezing, but it still was not spring just yet. The day was waning and it was getting colder. Neil finished filling in the grave, before making the sign of the twin tailed comet for a brief moment.

"Whoever you are, may your soul rest in peace." He whispered, before hurrying back in doors with some of the garden cellar's stacked kindling in his arms.

Emmaline had spoken truthfully when she told Neil that the manor had been very effectively cleared out. Even dousing spells did not reveal caches of gold hidden in the walls or under the floorboards. There was a pleasant residual glow in what might once have been the strong room but not a single loose gelt. There were a number of small valuable objects, a carved snuff box, and a writing set inlaid with jade which had gone into her small pack of possessions. Not for the first time she considered the case she had stolen in Nuln and the pieces of warpstone inside. How much might they fetch when they reached Altdorf. The thought made her groan with almost sexual excitement.

Fortunately the family had been less successful in removing more fungible supplies. The larder contained several pots of freshly churned honey, dark bread, wheels of cheese, even a ham and a side of bacon. As Neil made his way up from his grisly task she headed down the stairs and into the wine cellar, which was completely stocked. She was no expert on wines so she simply selected several of the fanciest looking bottles and carried them clinking up to the sitting room where she had laid out her impromptu dinner of ham and cheese. It was more than she was likely to drink, but she intended to be well provisioned when they began the long trek to safety in the morning. The thought of all the walking made her legs ache, but unless they could find a boat by the side of the Reik there wasn’t anything for it. The mansion had a stable but it had been emptied of horses when the family fled to safety in the city.

“Still have the top on,” Neil commented in a tone of manufactured disappointment as he emerged from the stairwell, his grisly task complete. It surprised Emmaline that he had bothered to bury the nameless servant, something which had not even occurred to her. She wondered what commentary that was on their respective ethos but as always with questions of morality, the curiosity passed quickly.

“The night is young,” she teased, shaking her considerable expanse of bosom to make the purloined necklace clink. Neil grinned and deposited his armful of firewood into the stone fireplace against the wall. He looked around for flint and tinder then jumped back as a spell from Emmaline spontaneously ignited the timber into a merry blaze.

“Sigmar’s balls!” Neil gasped then shot her an accusing look which she deigned to ignore. As an afterthought she waved her hand and spoke another jaw breaking syllable, confining the smoke to the chimney so that it wouldn’t advertise their presence. Even so the fire was something of a risk, but it might be long days before they could count on it being safe to light one.

"Looks like we found some rats rutting in the mess. Far be it for us to stop 'em, right Kurt?" A lean, dirt stained ruffian said. He smiled widely, revealing cracked teeth, save for one that shined like silver.

"No, no, I think it's mighty greedy of the lad to be taking up all that fine cut of meat." The leader growled salaciously, gesticulating with his blunderbuss. "Now disentangle yourselves all slow-like. Give us other lads a- SIGMAR ALMIGHTY." Neil had begun to do what the leader, Kurt, had told him. But once Emmaline had released him from her and clung to a blanket, Neil turned and sat on the cushion, looking for his trousers. At their exclamation, he looked at them curiously, as if they were deranged with warpstone. Kurt pointed between Neil's legs. "Boys he's got a club!"

Neil grinned, not only for the jovial comment, but he had also thought he was going to have to be violent or belligerent to keep their attention away from his naked girlfriend. He glanced at Emmaline and winked subtle, spinning back to the gang and placing his hands on his hips. "Yeah, I'm always armed. And you can go on and tell us who you are. Maybe we'll work with you if you can wow us a bit."

"Wow'd you, eh?" Kurt asked, raising his blunderbuss.

"Bit unfair, isn't it? You with a gun and me with just a cudgel?" Neil asked, crossing his arms. A few of the men snickered, though a feral glint was in their eyes.

"Why don't you and the missus tell us what exactly it is you do, and if you're valuable, you might live another day longer." He remarked, and there was no negotiation in his eyes. Neil knew if he did not play this well enough, the man would shoot him dead here and then do Sigmar knows what to Emmaline. He couldn't let that happen.

"We're thieves, like you fine gentlemen. Can't you tell by our clothes? We're from Nuln." Neil said, sliding his trousers on. He saw the incredulity in their eyes, and he grinned. "Yeah, we escaped, and took a good bit of gold too. Some Nuln exported chocolate as well. Check our bags." No matter what one might say, anyone who could escape a besieged city with more than they brought in would be valuable, even if it sacrificed some of their goods. Neil could already feel Emmaline's displeasure, but was better than being dead. "We can do the same thing for you guys, if you'd have us. We've been lookin' for a crew for tramp with, right babe?"