Background Fluff

This is the first part of the background fluff I have written for my clan.

A steely blue and red leather ball rolls across the stone floor, over a threshold, teeters precariously on a ledge before toppling down. The lop-sided old weathered steps cause the ball to bounce unpredictably, hindering Han's attempts at retrieval, causing a nasally whine to escape from the boys mouth, "awwwwwwwww".

The ball skids on the last step and veers off into the darkened room and judging for the sound hits a large wooden barrel before coming to a stop somewhere unseen. Shoulders slumping and continuing to sigh, Hans reaches knowingly up the wall, takes a lantern down and strikes the wick.

He knows he should not be in the creamery, especially this far down but surely it is not his fault that the doors were left open and that his ball was not behaving. His father however, the head Kasehersteller in Altdorf was not the forgiving kind and so Hans redoubled his efforts in searching for that damnable ball.

The lantern light slowly clears the oppressive gloom as Hans searches through the room. He nears the back and the waste whey pipes, catches a glimpse of red and blue just as the ball rolls into the darkness through a hole in the wall that the pipes pass through. With a resounding sigh he heaves his shoulders, and silently prays it does not block anything. He leaves the cellar but not before extinguishing the lantern and kicking the bottom step for good measure. He is sure it is nearing dinner time anyway, and the lost ball is swiftly forgotten.

Unbeknownst to Herr Kasehersteller there is a hole in his waste whey pipes. A small yet not inconsiderably breach has formed over the years and as it is between walls, has gone unnoticed. At least that is, unnoticed by man. 
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Skritskrit and his pack had been assigned yet another foraging run in the old tombs buried hundreds of feet below Altdorf. Forgotten heroes, fathers, brothers and many more lay in the cold earth far below the city they called home. If they knew what the vile Skaven were doing to their remains, they would roll in their graves, not to mention what their descendants would do if they heard of the atrocities being committed below their feet.

Sqatch chirped in delight as he removed a very well preserved Altdorf tabard from a jumble of bones, and proudly displayed it to the others. It was not until after the event he realised what a mistake that was, another rat would surely attempt to steal it off him in an attempt to be the first to offer such a quality piece to their seer. As if to answer his thoughts, a claw swats him into the wall and Skritskrit removed the cloth from the now limp Sqatch's paw.