Moulder's CallThe Ikkilitian TailsChapter II: The Paws of MoulderPart III: Moulder's CallIkkilit decided that he liked Verminkin. The Packlord's intelligence was clearly beyond that of any Skaven that Ikkilit had ever seen (excluding himself, of course). After their initial conversation, Ikkilit could still feel Verminkin's penetrating gaze, following him everywhere.
Their first cnversation had gone very well... Ikkilit had agreed to hand over all information pertaining to Clan Skryre and their current developments. Of course, this was easily managed... he had an extraordinary memory, and combined with the gifts bestowed upon him by Tzeentch, coould supply the Packlord with a constant flow of information.
Oddly, Verminkin had not questioned Ikkilit's strange appearance or his guarantee of supplying him with facts about his chief rival.It was strange to find this much trust in a Skaven, but Ikkilit suspected that Verminkin didn't trust him one bit, but actually knew, somehow, that Ikkilit was telling the truth.
The Packlord had also been unusually gracious, supplying Ikkil and Ikkilit with separate rooms in which to live in. Upon arriving in his room, Ikkilit was surprised to find a fully stocked Moulder's laboratory, complete with beasts and tools. Upon a table in the center of the room was a simple note written in impeccable Queekish. Ikkilit sauntered over to the table and glanced at the aged parchment, not bothering to pick it up. All that was written was
You Know What To Do.
A chill crawled, unbidden, up the Skaven's back. He glanced around nervously.
<<Do not underestimate/ignore/misplace the Packlord/Leader of Rats/Kin of Vermin, younging/mortal/child>>Ikkilit ignored Tzeentch's soothing voice. He didn't need a god to tell him that. He would have to be cautious around Verminkin - the rat was holding something back.
Since Ikkilit had no personal belongings other than his clothes and Skryre augmentations, he stepped out of his new lair and walked the short distance to his brother's. The hallways were empty, lit only by a few unsteady Warpstone lamps. The walls were damp and slimy, but the floor was dry and worn.
The door to Ikkil's room was open. Ikkilit shook his head at his brother's foollishness and closed it as he stepped in. Much to Ikkilit's surprise, Ikkil was not huddled up in some corner. This room was much like Ikkilit's (and actually slightly larger, he noted with chagrin), and Ikkil was sitting at the operating table, facing the door.
"I left it open for you, dear brother." He didn't even look uo, so intent was he on maipulating the tools he held. Ikkilit stepped closer, and saw his brother cutting up a rat pinned to the table in front of him. Glancing behind his brother, Ikkilit saw several cages filled with already mutated beasts. He assumed they had been given to him pre-mutated... or at least he hoped so.
"I was just checking on you, brother mine-mine," said Ikkilit. "I'll leave you to your work now."
Slightly disturbed by his brother's change of character, Ikkilit walked out of the room again, leaving the door open. Ikkil didn't say another word.
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