Cyrdic had knelt down in the ominous corridor, having noticed dust particles floating about as if someone had just passed through here not minutes prior. A statue had been completely devoid of dust at its front, and there were drag marks across the ground. He reached out and felt his fingers along the ground, making sure he was seeing what he thought. "She's been here," he whispered. The implications of that escaped him until his world was pierced by an echoeing scream. 

He recognized the voice, and his heart skipped a beat. "Shit," and hurried off further down the corridor until he reached splitting caverns. "Sigmar, Taal, if any of you are watching..." he intoned, but didn't know what he would pray for. Her being alive? Him finding her? Helping him live? All of the above sounded good, and for a moment he felt like turning back. But he was as stubborn as a Dwarf, and he'd be damned if he ran from a fight. 

Scrabbling from down the right cavern caught his attention, and he peered into the darkness, fully expecting to find some horror of the deep. But soon it faded, as if whatever it was had gone the opposite way. He held his pistol out, and continued down the cavern. He noticed the scuff marks upon the ground, and it allowed him to breathe somewhat easily, knowing this was the right direction. Down the cavern went, and then up, and then there was another split. He growled like a hound a bay. The caverns this far seemed to be too used to travel to have any sort of dust. He decided to go left this time. 
[hr] 
Grabrat and his two slaves had passed the threshold of the Underentrance, the Grandhall before them one of the forward outposts and base of operations for their continued war with the Goblinkin. He snorted and sniffed the air, yanking on Camilla's tied hands by a rope impatiently. "Quick quick, lower yourself pathetic man-thing!" he screeched in command. 

The chittering had died down, over six dozen clan skaven and a dozen stormvermin stood in attendance for the announcements of the forward leader Niprend. A larger skaven with silver tufts of fur on his back. He stood upon the raised platform, and behind him was a beautifully crafted throne of brass and mithral, with elven, wooden armrests. 

Grabrat knelt down before Niprend, holding out his beady paws to present this gift to him. "What is the meaning of this?" Niprend demanded, wondering why they would dare interrupt his orders for the presentation of-...a man-thing? 

"A thousand apologies, glorious Clan leader! My slaves and I found this man-thing skulking in one of the outer tunnels as we scouted. We snatched him up quick-quick to bring her to your attention. She could be a spy for the man-things, or a trick by the Goblin-things. Better to question her, yes?" 

Niprend bared his teeth, and Grabrat slunk back. Though the Clan leader did consider it to be prudent advice, there had to be intimidation to keep anyone from interrupting him again. "You are lucky I do not eat your heart! Fool, can you not see this is a man-thing breeder!?" Niprend cried, but then conceded internally, eyes beady and lingering on Camilla. Luckily for her, there were three lit torches. Though in such a vast room, it still left much of it obscured. 

Yes...Niprend would question her, and then eat her. 

Above her was the balcony, and unbeknown to the Skaven, an Ostlander had just made it up the stairs...
[@Penny]