Blistrol Foulsnout

You've walked through the streets of the imperial city in late evening. The might of the Empire holds your city and it's many citizens like yourself in piece and quiet. But suddenly, a pair of horns closed around your neck and you are quickly dragged in the dark and moist sideroad of the street The first view brings you terror and confusion — you see a muzzle of the rat in front of you. A muzzle of man-sized rat, in front of you. Before you start to scream and call for guards your mouth is shut with a piece of cloth The creature seems to be in despair and wants to act quickly, so it clenches the horns on your neck a little bit more, just enough so you won't speak much but will be able to breath It speaks to you in high baritone, trying to make it's sentences clear, still speaking with a terrible accent Listen-hear, surface dweller! Blistrol it's name, A scaven-rat, and it needs your help-aid! Where's this Sigmar-thing? Temple, yes-yes! Tell-tell me, or otherwise!