He gave a mischievous grin, moving a thick fringe of dark hair out of his ways from her hands having ruffled it. "Are you kidding? You look born to it. Me? I'd be labeled a stowaway in a minute." After he said so, he thought for a second. "You know, they likely wouldn't be wrong." 

"The thought crossed my mind..." Emmaline wrinkled her nose, but they found they couldn't stay apart for much longer and within seconds they began to kiss again as if they would drown without one another's tongues in their mouth. The carpet and Emmaline's animated snake sat a few meters away, the former somehow rolling its eyes without eyes to roll and the snake shrugging its vestigle hood. The two scoundrels didn't notice, the clothing they had found so appealing earlier now seemed unimportant as Amal's hand slid within Emmaline's pants to grip her bare rump as her back arched. 

Amal was famished for her, but in the midst of his lower self standing on end, there came an awful smell. The two were even reluctant to pull apart then, but it grew so overbearing they stopped kissing. Amal looked confused and sniffed the air again, and Emmaline sat back up and held her nose. 

"It wasn't me." She insisted. He wasn't thinking that. No human could make that smell, in the dark there came a chittering as twigs began to break and leaves began to bend and flap. The two turned to see a multitude of eyes dotting the treeline, beady and reflecting the light of the moons. There had to have been two dozen of whatever they were. As horny as he still was, Amal's honed instincts for survival kicked in and he pulled Emmaline to her feet and moved her back, shoving the sword sword in her hands. It was lucky they weren't unclothed this time.

"Man-things!" Something squeaked.

"What do?" 

"Kill kill. Quick quick!"  

"Five days," Amal whispered under his breath. For five days he had been waiting to have sex with his new lover, and this happens now? Was Settra's curse still upon him!? He would have claimed it was so when twenty rats that walked like men leaped out of the tree line. A few even squeezed through the thick wall of trees they had been kissing beside. Emmaline gasped, eyes wide in disbelief at the sight of what Amal knew was the dreaded Skaven. 

He had never seen one before, but they weren't considered a mere myth in the lands of Araby. Simply another horror of the world, even if they were uncommon at the most numerous of times. Tunneling beneath desert was risky business, he had been told. It seems the wisemen had been right about many things. He wished he had listened more when he was a child. Their stench had never been mentioned, however. Considering how bad it was, it was a glaring oversight. The ratmen were armed with tiny daggers or shoddily made but cruel tipped spears. 

"Face my blades." Amal said, flourishing the daggers. Outnumbered 10 to 1, he was far too pissed that his night with Emmaline was interrupted to truly care. "Come! I've not eaten rat in months!" He cried menacingly, being his usual uncouth self in his honesty. 
[@Penny]