Chapter 14: The Cold One
A week later, following Brook's massacre of the Skaven patrol, a room within the museum had undergone a dark transformation, resembling a makeshift throne room. The chamber was adorned with an unsettling array of skulls and bones, lending an eerie atmosphere to the space. Cauldrons filled with toxic green liquid punctuated the area, while various Skaven abominations indulged in drinking from these neon green vessels.
Seated upon a throne, clearly pilfered from one of the museum's exhibits, was a Skaven of imposing stature and demeanor. Towering at a whopping two meters in height, this figure exuded intimidation, its body bedecked with an assortment of shiny and sparkling trinkets. In its hands, a large piece of meat dripped with ooze, from which the Skaven occasionally took bites, gnawing on the bone in a display of primal savagery.
"HAHA, EAT MY BROTHERS AND GROW STRONGER!" The figure bellowed, eliciting a large assortment of cheers in their newly created Rat language. The atmosphere in the room, now revealed to be a feast, was bolstered by the raucous celebration. However, the jovial mood was abruptly shattered as a group of three hooded Skaven rushed in, the bones hanging from their staffs rattling as they moved.
The attention of the Skaven in the throne room was drawn to the newcomers, and a hush fell over the gathering as the hooded trio came to stand before the towering figure seated on the throne. The two-meter-tall Skaven sat up and set down the piece of meat it had been devouring, its focus now squarely on the approaching group.
"We greet the Swarm Lord," the figure in the lead said as he knelt before the towering Skaven, who waved his hands in acknowledgment, signaling for the trio to speak. And speak they did.
"Our attempts at expansion have been blocked once more," began the first shaman. "Another four hunting parties have been wiped out, Lord," added the second. "Three of our shamans have recently disappeared," continued the third. On and on the trio went, spouting nothing but negative news, listing off a litany of events that had taken place over the last few days.
As the reports continued, a deeper and deeper furrow appeared on the brow of the Swarm Lord. Finally, he raised his hands to halt the shamans, signaling for them to cease their recitation of doom and gloom.
"Was it the skeleton?" He asked his voice strong and clear unlike his brethren who's voice always carried a undertone of weakness or cowardice a trait he himself loathed.
"Yes my Lord the cold one attacks have been happening closer and closer and we find ourselves ill equiped to deal with it as it easily slaughtered out best Mutants and shaman" The first shaman said as he bowed even lower scared of what was to come next if his lord was even slightly displeased with his word.
"It cant be helped. How are my progeny?" The swarm lord said with a sigh as he asked another question.
"They are growing to be fine sire your two sons have once again got into a fight and are now laying under the car of the unclean while your only daughter has been rallying portion of our kind to leave to find new lands and by your order I have not hindered her efforts" The shaman said getting weird rat like grin from the swarm lord who leaned back in his throne as he spoke.
"Tell my sons to do the same as their sister, and also take 150 of my finest warriors and rear 50 each as a start," the Swarm Lord commanded, receiving several nods of understanding from the three shaman. They immediately left to fulfill the order, while the celebration continued in the throne room.
Left alone with his thoughts, the Swarm Lord pondered deeply, a single thought dominating his mind.
'Run far my children as we are doomed to fall'