Well thing had gotten off to a great start hadn’t they?! grumbled Doc as he made his way through the Drake sector Market. He and his Squat prospector colleagues had been sent here following up on rumours of a nearby goliath forge that produced an alloy of almost squat like quality. The Mining corporation wanted to see if such a forge could be an asset or simply an adversary.
But no, barely had the delegation entered town when they were jumped by a gang of crazed Escher that styled them selves as the Reservoir Dames, most embarrassing of all the Dames had quickly overwhelmed the doughty squats and sent them packing. Despite taking a few serious injuries, not to mention the outright death of Sneezy, there is no way that such an embarrassment could appear on his report to HQ, he’d have to find a way to spin this whilst he planned reprisals against the Dames.
Thankfully a messenger had come from one of the local outposts with news of a squat that had been stranded here from an earlier expedition had thrown his lot with them so the band of prospectors hadn’t dwindled too greatly. The runner had bought news of a contact in the market that Doc was currently shoving his way towards now, why did these blasted scummers grow so tall.
It was at that point a shiver passed through the crowd before the screams started and the crowd started to stampede in all directions. There was something else behind the screams a low rhythmic moaning, or chanting something about devotionals to the humans corpse king.
It was then, through a fleeting break in the crowd that Doc saw them for the first time, The filthy Cawdor wretches were tackling scummer to the ground and, no, wait, that couldn’t be right. The mad Cawdor bastards had turned cannibal and were savagely tearing at the crowd.
Unlimbering his bolter he gestured to his fellow squats deploying them along the eastern edge of the market. Save as many as you can, especially those that look like their cred pouches are full.
From there things moved fast, Dashing forward the squats dug into the cover on a defensive line and called for the scummers to head towards them for safety. Lining their weapons up fire started to poor across the market into the crazed Cawdor. To his surprise many of the local idiots that dwelt in this cesspit seemed just as afraid of the squats as they did the Sump Saints that were attempting to dine on them.
All too soon the market had cleared and the last few stragglers were sheltering in the ruins. The squats had saved as many as they could but the prospector had lost a hand and had already said his farewells. Now to fleece these rich idiots they have saved.
