Forbidden Power: Sacrisity by Games Workshop LTD

Author:Games Workshop LTD
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Games Workshop LTD
Published: 2019-05-10T13:47:19+00:00

It was an artificial darkness, Rikkit thought, intended to confuse and disorient. Yet the murkiness seemed also like the last desperate countermeasure of a system that should never have been breached in the first place. The endless soft whirring that ghosted down the corridor further fed the Clawlord’s suspicions. Rikkit had spent enough time in the presence of machines to recognise the sound of one failing.

Spiralling across the walls and floors were the hated symbols of Azyr. Stern man-thing faces watched the skaven’s intrusion, but these were not the storm-things. The style was older, reminiscent of ages lost.

Rikkit cared more for the immediate treasures anyway. Clockwork armies stood to stiff attention in a pit below a walkway, caged orbs of fire crackled with sentience as they swung suspended from the ceiling, while a sword hung in mid-air between two pillars. Black flames occasionally rippled along its length, revealing twisted runes worked into the metal.

‘Clan Krank will offer many claw-pacts for this, yes-yes,’ Rikkit murmured. Occupied in congratulating himself for his cleverness in diverting the Gnawhole, Rikkit’s finely honed danger-senses missed the low wailing that echoed down the corridor. The slaves did not, tails flicking nervously. Several Stormvermin drummed their claw-tips uneasily against their halberd grips.

The Clawlord turned to accept his minions’ congratulations for his masterstroke. He paused as he did so, bemused. Where before had been total darkness, a softly glowing light now emanated from around a corridor’s corner, brightening with each passing instant.

The light rounded the corner. The predatory phantasm bearing it was no living being, nor a dead one, though it took the appearance of the latter. Sailing upon a wave of amethyst magic, the skeletal gondolier’s empty gaze transfixed Rikkit. Upon its oar’s handle a lantern swung with mesmerising slowness as the spectre glided towards the skaven.

The deathly boatman’s hand extended in almost languid fashion towards the nearest, petrified-with-fright slave as it passed. The skaven crumpled like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut. The survivors watched, horrified, as the slave’s shimmering soul-stuff coiled around the apparition’s fingers. It struggled momentarily before being discarded into the spirit-tide forever compelled to bear the gondola onwards.

A panicked shriek escaped Rikkit as he reached fruitlessly for his blade. He had just enough time to consider that perhaps this vault of wonders had not been built only to keep intruders out.

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