At first, Neil thought they were beastmen. [i]Incredibly[/i] foul smelling beastmen, [b][i]Sigmar's Unbridaled Balls[/i][/b] Neil had never thought he could smell something so rancid on a living thing! It made the sewers smell like fresh springs in a wissenland glade. Even as the light flickered and danced, illuminating mounds of fur and beady eyes streaming towards them, he wasn't sure what he was really looking at. They were rats, but they were the size of large dogs, and some moved on two legs. He saw a few carrying knives and shivs, and there was even two ratmen at the back with shields and rusted scimitars. 

"No way," He said in disbelief, or was about to before the first one launched himself at he and Emmaline. Neil saw its trajectory was more aimed towards his girlfriend, and that was a big no to him. Neil shoved the rat mid-air to fall along the side of the stone's edge, as they two humans stood just at the height overlooking the huge pit where the water congregated and was redirected below, perhaps about two dozen feet. Emmaline screamed and his back foot went over the edge as the ratman tumbled and then fell headlong into the murk below, nearly skewering itself on the spike of a tall statue of Sigmar at the center of the water.

Neil grabbed her arm. She squeaked and was pulled back to a balanced position, though that left the problem of the dozen or more ratmen scurrying toward them. Neil dropped his sack, pulling out a bottle of bugman's. They had a few bottles left and it was just his fucking luck he took that and not the scented elven mead. He made a strained "ugh," before he tossed it to the floor and dropped his torch onto it. Flames leaped before the rats, but to his surprise the first four ran headlong into it. Neil picked up the back end of the bottle even as the first one jumped at him, and he sunk the glass into its chest as it scratched him, both of them dripping blood from the scuffle. Neil had the benefit of its weight sinking onto the 'bar knife' He pitched the thing end over end to fly the five strides below. Neil heard something solid hitting something solid and figured the rat didn't make it to the water. 

He swung the sack at the next three rats who couldn't decide if they should put the fire on their fur out or attack, and the thief redirected the sack to land over his shoulder in readiness. "Grab onto me!" He told Emmaline. She balked for a moment, but he was proud how quickly she put on her game face and gripped him. Neil turned, hiking her legs up to wrap around his waist. This was going to hurt. 

"Watch your head!" He told her. 

"Ok! Ok!" 

"If we die here I'm in love with you." He said quickly, and even as she cried out 'what!?' he leaped, her question turning into a scream as they sailed over the water. Even as they flew, Neil question if winging it had led to their doom. She still held her torch before them, and as the light was nearly snuffed out from the sudden rush of wind, they had a good vantage point of seeing the broken skaven below. 

Skaven. They had to be skaven! [i]Fuck me[/i], he thought. Neil's arm shot out, and his callused hands grabbed the upraised handle of the hammer of sigmar, slinging their legs forward and giving them another boost fling their weight to hit the next floor down in a collapsing heap, their bodies and belongings shoving Neil into the wall. He felt blood leaking down his nose and his cheek smooshed against the stone, but they were alive.