Do not touch me…

With his shoulder almost healed, Oldclaw was out wandering again. The band was not far behind in a ruined building. He had to think about things...
He was strangely drawn to that human dwelling called the "twisted Goat", but still did not give in to that urge.

While Oldclaw walked around a corner, he saw a figure kneeled down in the rubble of an old ruin. He immediately froze and tried to melt into the shadows. The figure did not notice him and continued with his business. Now Oldclaw could take a better look, he could see that it was a mankin dressed in plain robes. He carried a big backpack and was digging with a small shovel in the dirt. Oldclaw also noticed a metal rope at the mankin's side. Could this be one of those metal whips he heard about?
But the strange crossbow lying on the ground, close to the mankin, was definitely more interesting. It looked very old and like it was made from blackened, heavy ornamented, metal.

At that moment, Oldclaw decided he wanted the strangely crafted weapon. He moved closer to the digging mankin, using all the tricks he learned.
Getting closer he heard the mankin speak:
"Yes, I can smell the relics. I am sure it has to be here… the proof!…I am sure to find the proof now!"
Very gently Oldclaw unsheathed his twinblades and moved a little closer again. He was now but a couple a meters away… Oldclaw quickly moved forward, silently. At least, that is what he thought.
The robed mankin turned about like a whirlwind and his whip cracked like a small thunderclap. An excruciating pain in his left hand, made Oldclaw drop one of his blades. But it was to late for the mankin, as the other blade already pierced the human's belly.

Then with a sudden metal sound, Oldclaw's blade was stopped. By the great Horned One, the mankin wore metal armour under his robe. This small surprise was soon followed by another, when the mankin kicked him in…mmmhh.. lets just say in a place it surely hurt very much. Oldclaw flinched, but his training took over. And again his blade tried to cut the mankin, just to be stopped by the armor again. The mankin must be completely covered in metal under those robes. Oldclaw angrily cursed to himself.

They fought some more and were circling each other, as the human threw a small vial on the ground.
A flash, a lot of smoke and a vile stench filled the surroundings.
The smoke cleared and Oldclaw saw the mankin behind a wall, readying his strange crossbow. The skaven knew crossbows were slow, so he charged again. Only to be stopped by 2 bolts, which hit the ground right in front of him. Oldclaw quickly looked around to see the other shooters, but only the mankin was visible.
The robed figure shouted: "Now get along dear fellow, there are a lot more where those came from."
At that moment he used his crossbow again. "Nobody catches Archeonicus, as long as his six-shooter is in his hands…."
Oldclaw dodged the last bolt, but not with great ease, as it grazed his almost healed shoulder. And he vowed himself to seek out that person again.

After he got back his second blade, he walked back to his camp.
Oldclaw hoped they would meet again… soon.

Inside

Before he would go out this evening, Oldclaw made up his mind. This night he would enter the mankin's dwelling. Thus strengthened he made way for the "Twisted Goat".
Soon he arrived in the proximity of the building.
Oldclaw was very careful this time, mostly due to painful experience. Melting with the shadows he moved closer and closer. It must have been over an hour before he reached the building,… undetected.
As he looked inside, through one of the small windows, he saw a lot of mankins. Sometimes someone would stand up and tell something, sat down again and others ordered drinks or food for that one.

He now took the time to study them more carefully. There were a lot of mankin's but others to. Like the small cook who went around the place carrying a pot of some kind. One who spoke a lot, was a mankin dressed very funny and carrying what Oldclaw knew was a duellingsword. Some mankins were lying with their head on the table, either drunk or apathic in some other way.
Then suddenly a mankin cried: "Mouse! "
Oldclaw was startled. Was he discovered, although the mankins called them rats most of the time. Then he saw a young mankin approach the caller and his hart started beating slower again.
Just as a plan arose from his mind, Oldclaw saw someone coming down the stairs. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? No, it was one of the undead! Walking unharmed between the mankins. He seemed to be recognized and was invited to join a group.

Oldclaw removed himself from the Twisted Goat a bit and sat down in the corner of a ruined building. There were a lot of strange things going on over there and Oldclaw's hope grew he could make it in there…
Oldclaw rose to his feet and noticed some smoke curling around his feet. Slowly a form arose from the mist. Claws took form and a hideous face with fangs… was sliced in two, by one of Oldclaw's twinblades. He had no time for distraction.

The skaven made haste for the entrance, because he feared there were other beings out here. He reached the entrance, opened the door and said:
"My name is Oldclaw and I wish-wish to enter…."