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Ultimate Skaven - (Updated for Beastlord Update!)

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Date Posted: 15 Nov, 2017 @ 12:17pm

Posts: 6

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Steel [developer] 15 Nov, 2017 @ 12:17pm

Skaven Fan Fiction:

This is just a bonus, I wrote this one a while back for a Warhammer Battle we were doing, thought some of you might enjoy it.

The Warlord of Understone

The walls of the chamber were rough, hewn from the rock by furious scrabbling claws whose owners, now long dead had left tell-tale gouge marks in the dirt. Now the only trace they had ever lived.
Skar Throatslitter half sat, half perched on the makeshift throne in the centre of the chamber only partially illuminated by the sickly green flame coming from the wall torch mounted behind him. He never relaxed, shifting positions constantly. As appointed Warlord of Understone burrow relaxation was a luxury he could ill afford. Traitors and spies lurked everywhere. He cast a set of suspicious beady eyes over the two hulking rat men guarding the entrance. Their backs stiffened trying to look more important when they saw him looking at them.
He refused to allow his personal guard to flank him, preferring to keep his underlings where he could keep an eye on them. After all, Skar had been the bodyguard of the last warlord of Understone and that fool-meat had been stupid enough to have his guards behind him and paid the inevitable price. Skar would be smart-smarter. He sneered to himself.
Warlord Pask had asked that Skar would watch his back and he had. He'd watched himself stick a knife in it. The fool should have been more specific.
Skar's tail twitched impatiently. Three days they had been waiting to launch the offensive against the vile heretics of Rot Blight burrow now. Three whole days of waiting!
Skar ground his teeth in annoyance. Everything was in place. Thanks to his incredible genius he would finally be able to destroy the fools and cretins that infested that dark hole. Then Understone would be the most powerful burrow in the region, and him the most powerful warlord.
The feud between Rot Blight and Understone had been dragging on for almost a year now. The Plague monks of Clan Septik infested the burrow under the slime-fuddled gaze of Plague Priest Putrus Gnaw.
Skar's black mood darkened further when he considered his nemesis. Putrus Gnaw. That sack of maggot filth had ruined all of his greatest schemes. The slimy betrayer had always had it in for him, he was sure of it. The examples were endless. What about the time he had generously offered the monks an alliance and given them the glory of entering battle first? How was he supposed to know the orcs had a giant in their midst? It wasn't his fault half of Putrus's warriors had been flattened. More would have died for sure if Skar hadn't ordered a brilliant tactical withdrawal when the giant had first appeared. It certainly wasn't his fault if the stupid fool-monks were deaf and couldn’t follow orders.
Then what about the time he had generously paid the monks to poison the human nest above? Their lack-witted efforts had only managed to kill half the garrison stationed there. It was a feeble effort. No wonder he hadn’t paid up. Who would pay for such a fail-fail?
Then his diplomatic efforts the monks had sneered at! He sent emissaries of peace into their warren to make peace with the traitor monks and what was their response? They tried to kill them over a misunderstanding! The fact he had sent emissaries armed with warpfire throwers and they had accidently gone off could have happened anywhere. The monks were just being unreasonable.
Skar allowed himself a rare smile showing off his fangs. It made the Stormvermin in front of him deeply nervous. Soon Putrus would be dead-dead he thought.
He had sent Flych Sharptail, his finest assassin to eliminate him. Deeply loyal-brave Flych, master of murder. Putrus didn't stand a chance against him.

Skar's expression soured again when he thought about the wait. Anytime now the Monks were set to leave their warren to transport some of that useless goo they kept brewing to the surface for a test run. Some kind of fool-fool experiment they were doing.
When they did Skar would be ready in ambush. His army would gloriously rush from the shadows and slaughter the fool-meat! Without Putrus to lead them the monks were little more than a rabble. His plan was impeccable. He had spent many-much warp tokens to hire the very best warriors in all of Skavendom. A regiment of Stormvermin from Clan Mors, an Engineer and weapons from Clan Skyre and best of all a Grey Seer from the temple of the Horned Rat.
Victory was certain. All he was waiting on was news from one of his messengers that Putrus was dead and that the monks were leaving. It would come anytime now and the sooner the better because the mercenaries were charging by the day.
The patter of footsteps and clinks of armour announced someone was approaching.
Yes-Yes. Skar thought. This must be it, news of Putrus's death and the leaderless monk’s departure. His tail swished in anticipation.
A scrawny and hunched figure entered the chamber flanked by two more Stormvermin. They held him by both arms and threw him down in front of the dirt before the warlord. This was the usual way his messengers were brought to him. Skar grinned.
The scrawny ratman scrabbled to his knees and made a big show of prostrating himself before the warlord, interrupted only by a hacking cough and spitting a large blob of phlegm onto the floor. Skar was pleased. Proof-proof that the messenger had successfully sneak-sneaked into Rot Blight. Nobody went there and returned healthy. He'd had to skin three of his messengers alive for trying that trick. Skar hated liars.
'Oh great, wise and powerful Skar, my humblest greetings to your mighty presence most generous and kind warlord of all Understone.. The monks leave on the morrow. Then your glorious and more brilliant plan can be done. Your victory will be great-great! Your deeds legendary! Your..' the messenger began through a sickening display of false adoration.
Skar's tail twitched impatiently. 'Enough! Quickly, speak-squeak! Tell news! Putrus is dead yes -yes?' he enquired.
The messenger visibly shuddered, his beady eyes looking left and right for a possible escape route. There was none. His whip-scarred shoulders slumped as he began to relay the news.
'Most generous Warlord.. Putrus.. Putrus is not quite dead-dead yet.' he stammered.
Skar's expression was terrible to behold as he leapt up in the throne to a standing position, his face a picture of rage. The skulls on his trophy rank grinned and the trinkets jangled as he moved.
'What?! Explain-Tell quickly! Where is Flych?' he demanded.
The messenger cowered under his gaze and prayed of the Horned one for deliverance. It was not to come.
'Great master' he stammered. 'Flych is..' the ratman paused trying to consider how to relay the extremely bad news.
Skar drew a long bladed knife from beneath his robes and poised ready to spring. 'Tell-now or be dead-dead!' he fumed gesturing frantically at the back wall where the fur pelts of his last five messengers now hung. The two Stormvermin either side of the messenger shuffled sideways leaving him alone to face the warlord's wrath.
'Flych is traitor meat!' the messenger declared. 'Using much-much bravery I track him and observe him make foul-foul plans with Putrus against you. Flych rehired by Putrus to harm your great and noble self! We must kill him together o mighty and kind master-warlord!' the messenger offered hopefully.
With a flash of red armour and fur the Warlord came crashing down onto the unfortunate messenger a gauntlet, of steel pinning him to the floor and throttling him around the throat.
'If he is traitor-meat you should have kill-kill him already AND Putrus!' the warlord shrieked. 'You have failed me!'
The messenger writhed in his grip futilely trying to ply the fingers off his throat.
'Wait!' he rasped. 'There is ... more-more!'
Skar released his iron grip allowing the messenger to slide to the floor. With a foul look at his Stormvermin he leaped back up to a crouching position atop his throne.
'Speak-squeak!' he demanded.
The messenger rubbed at his bruised and bleeding throat coughing another blob of phlegm onto the floor. There was a glint of satisfaction in the doomed messenger’s eyes when he spoke, knowing now that death was certain.
'Plaguelord Skrolk is there.' he tittered through his ruined throat. 'Come visiting from Lustria to test-try new plague. He has assumed command...’ the messenger relished the shocked look on Skar's face as he continued.
'Lord Skrolk, most masterful in the ways of plague-death sends a message... The message is die-die!'
In a flash the messenger reached into a secreted side-pouch and produced a vial of thick white-looking liquid and hurled it towards Skar.
The look of terror on Skar's face was illuminated for the whole cavern to see as a bolt of sickly green energy arced from the back of the chamber. It caught the capsule in mid-air and obliterated it in a crack of smoke and ozone. The next bolt turned the snarling messenger into ash and charred bone.
From behind Skar's throne Grey Seer Skirk Verminhide approached. Slinking around the side like some loathsome spider. He was certainly worth his substantial fee of warp tokens Skar thought looking at the pile of ash that had once been the messenger. The relief on Skar's face was quickly replaced with a mixture of anger, contempt and concern.
How had Skirk got behind him without him knowing? He would have to learn that trick. It would come in very useful with all these traitor meat around. He thought. The warlord cast a suspicious eye across the stormvermin who had escorted the messenger in. Were they in league with the traitors? He’d execute them later just to be sure. But right now he needed them in case the Grey Seer were to try anything. He was very distrustful of magic.
His tail swished dangerously as he considered the options. With Skrolk now in Rot Blight the attack would have to be aborted. He could not risk fighting the plaugelord in open combat. His reputation was fearsome. With Flych now working with the enemy that was another problem. Skar knew all too well how good Flych was at sticking the knife in. After all he'd used him to kill off enough of his litter-rivals to make it to the position of Ex-warlord Pask’s personal guard.
Grey Seer Skirk seemed to read his thoughts. 'The attack can still go ahead-ahead' he proclaimed in his strange prophesizing tongue.
Skar snarled at him. 'How-How?' he demanded. 'How do we defeat Skrolk?'
The Grey Seer grinned, it was an unnerving sight. 'The petty powers of heretics is no match for the glory of the Horned Rat.' he declared.
Skar glared back unconvinced. These religious fanatics always upset him. After the battle Skirk might have to have an accident he decided.
'Besides, Skirk has many-many contacts, even in Clan Moulder.' the Grey seer continued.
'For just a few more claws of Warp tokens...'
Skar hissed. The tokens he's already paid out on this endeavour was getting ridiculous. As was the Grey Seer's fee which he hadn’t yet done anything to earn. Skirk's accident might need to be brought forwards. The Grey Seer grinned back at the warlord's annoyance. From his robes he produced a Dark Green orb and held it up for the warlord to see.
'Look-see' he finished.
Skar gazed into the swirling dark mist and a shape begin to form. It was of a huge misshapen rat creature. The biggest Skar had ever seen. It was even big enough to ride. He grinned. Yes-Yes that could flatten the pathetic Skrolk then he would Kill-slay Putrus and the glory would all his.
The warlord shrank back pleased and barked orders at the Stormvermin.
'Go-tell all ambush happen tomorrow! Make ready-fast now!' he pointed at the entrance. As the last Stormvermin turned to leave, Skar stopped him.
'Not you fool meat! I have good news for you. Due to your loyal-loyal service I’m promoting you to be my personal messenger. Great-great honour. Many thanks you should have yes-yes? Now pickup-takeaway that mess.'
The Stormvermin agreed as he knelt to clear the charred bones at the foot of the throne away.

Last edited by Steel; 6 Feb, 2018 @ 4:07am

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