The skaven across from them chittered and cursed. Emmaline stood up and was suddenly smashed to the ground. Neil let out a shout of dismay as she stood up, a short spear sticking from her back.

"Is it bad?" she asked, as Neil bounded to her side and pulled the spear free. It wasn't even bloody, having spent its energy on the case slung across her shoulders, a soft green glow now appearing from the narrow cut in the leather. The sight of these drove the rat things crazy, as a group they charged, jumping for the statue as Neil had done. Emmaline wove her fingers and bleated a spell, snapping it into place as the first rat grabbed the statue. Its fingers failed to grip the stone, now coated with a thin layer of magical grease, it let out a despairing yowl and plunged into the tank below. A half dozen more, already in flight, suffered similar fates, cartwheeling comically into the tank below, some hitting the water, others breaking themselves against the wall. The two scimitar wielding rats shook their shields and hissed something in their own language. They both ducked back into the shadows as Neil unslung his rifle. For a moment it was quiet save for the splashing of drowned rats below. Emmaline did her best to brush the grime off her traveling cloak.

"I hope this is the way out," she said, sounding somewhat nauseated by the nearness of her demise.