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The Lore of the Skaven [chapter 1 OUT!]

Brimtosis

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[align=center]skaven-hornedrat.jpg

The Lore Of The Skaven[/align]

 

[spoiler=The explanation]

Okay, you must be wondering why I have started a Skaven Fan Fic. Why is this not on “The Under Empire”? Stop plaguing my forum with sacrilege!

Well, it would, but I don’t know the forum password. So, it is on here. ‘Sides, Skaven are cool.

 

 

 

[spoiler=characters]

The Skaven:

Skrist= Warlock engineer (inventor, evil scientist, insane blender of machine and magic), one of the main characters

Skweek Mastrik= Grey seer (powerful wizard of the next level), one of the main characters

Maskrit= Master Moulder (pack master and mutater of Clan Moulder), semi-main character

Skilence= Assassin (speaks for itself, really), semi-main character

There are mentions of Deathmaster Snikch and Queek Headtaker, but they are scarce

 

The others:

Will Johnson: Human messenger

Baron von Karak: Human baron

Cecilia: Human wannabe-warrior

Bill Mason: Human warrior

Rot-Gob Iron Jaw: Orc Warlord

???= Elf ranger

 

Some knowledge is gained from the Blood-Bowl Omnibus and the Skaven Army Book. It may be a bit sketchy in some places.

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 1: In the beginning…]

The sky cracked with lightning. Dark, putrid clouds of black smog filled the air. Rats crawled along the ground. One of the pack’s numbers was limping. It had been bitten by one of the others in a dispute over food. It was near the back of the pack, and it was getting slower. It gave out a pitiful squeak of pain. One of the others looked at the injured with disgust. Suddenly it leapt at it, ripping into its soft neck with its oversized incisors. The other rat was surprised, but then it tried to fight back. Soon a full on brawl took place. Inevitably, the injured rat was killed with ease. As the victor looked on, the others looked at him. He then gave the signal. The pack became a frenzied mass of writhing bodies as they climbed over one another to eat the fallen. That was the way of rat society. And that is the way it shall always be.

 

Skrist though of this as he fixed the warpstone generator to the machine. This was the way of the rat. He, of all vermin, knew this best.

Skrist was a tall, lithe and intelligent rat. His fur was jet-black, with some brown patches near the edges of where his fleshy tail began and the fur ended. Weather this is the actual colouration of the fur has still now been decided. But, with his armoury, no rat would question him about it. Even the pompous Grey seers left him to his own devices.

His left arm had been replaced by a series of mechanisms, pistons, chunks of warpstone and generators. His hand had been replaced with a massive claw, that could crush even the hardest orc skull. It had two massive blades at the top that ended in a small bend, and one on the bottom. In the centre of it was a small but powerful warpfire thrower*. And this was all grafted on perfectly to his body.

On his forearm of the right arm, he had attached a small raised warpstone generator. Various tubes and pipes led from the massive generators on his back to that small machine. Curiously, it was not connected to anything. Only a small chunk of glowing warpstone out of the opposite end showed that it worked. But, it was connected to a very powerful sword. It was called a Warlock-Augmented Weapon**. To make it more practical, he had made it so that the chunk of warpstone was connected through magic to one in the sword.

Yes, Skrist knew magic. The Skaven lore of Ruin, in fact. It was very useful to him, since most of his inventions relied on his magic skills more than his inventing skill.

Not that he ever said that.

His arm, which was grafted better that his Rat-Ogre*** bodyguard, was probably the best thing he had made. And that still messed up in some places. Like, yesterday, when he tried to fire his warpfire thrower, only the unlighted fluid came out. And, the day before, the claw collapsed on itself. Very embarrassing.

“Skrist. Speak-Speak.”

The weedy, raspy and overall weak voice came from behind him. When he turned, he noticed who it was. A sudden urge to throw some fireballs at someone became very apparent. He twitched his nose in recognition.

“Skweek Mastrit. What do you want-need?”

Skweek looked smugly at him. Skweek’s physique was skinny. He had pure white fur. One of the trademarks of the Grey Seers. He wore light bluish-grey robes, which looked silly compared to Skrist‘s rune-etched armour, rebreather, various generators, dark red robes, eye protectors, mechanised arm and barbed tail. But what really stood out from Skweek was his horns. He had two long horns running out of his head. These were almost as white as his fur.

In Skweek’s hand, he held a staff with the rune of the Grey seers on top. This was imposing, but still, Skweek Mastrit was nowhere near as imposing as Skrist.

“Is the drill-weapon ready?” he inquired.

“Close-close, my liege.” Skrist replied. He hated having to add that on the end, but he had practically no choice.

“Good-good. How long will it take-take?”

“A few days-days, my liege.”

“You won’t survive-live that long.” Without warning, he sent a bolt of Warp lightning from the ceiling down at him.

Skrist noticed, and before it made contact, he Skitterleaped out of the way. He then lunged at the Grey seer, sending him flying. Before the Grey seer even landed, Skrist was there to punch him with his claw. He then picked up the Grey seer, who had decisively had his tail kicked. He looked up. His left incisor was smashed in, and his nose was bleeding from the punch.

“I wouldn’t underestimate-doubt me, liege.”

Skrist spat in his face, before he through him out of his place. He looked over at his Rat-ogre. It had remained stationary, as usual.

“I must-must replace that pile of grafted fools-idiots.” he said to himself, before getting on with his work.

*****

The night was dark over Luffen-Back. People were sleeping in their beds, oblivious of the danger in their world as they dreamt of happy thoughts. But, one person was running through the streets of this place. He could not rest, for he had an important message to carry. He was ordered not to stop, even if his legs gave in.

He was a new messenger, but he knew the lay of the land well. In fact, he knew it so well that he could close his eyes and still find his way out of a deep forest within 2 hours. Even better than some people with their eyes open.

But he was still a long way from Baron von Karak. This would be a long run…

*****

Work manual #34

Skaven and Magic

By Engineer Harold Wolforest

 

It has been shown that the Skaven have a vas understanding of magic. But, unlike our eight types of magic, they only have two. These are the lore of Ruin and lore of Plague. There is also another spell, a thirteenth spell, unlike the other lore’s. This is typical in Skaven life. And only the Grey seers and Vermin Lords know it.

It has also been shown that the Vermin Lord is one of the most powerful magicians ever. This is because it is a daemon. It has been known to unpick reality in some places.

But, Grey seers and Vermin Lords are not the only Skaven that know magic. Plague Priests and Warlock Engineers have also sho…

(The rest of this manuscript has been destroyed.)

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 2: The Chase]

The messenger panted.

He had finally stopped at a tavern called The Drunken Fool . He was a day early, so it wouldn’t matter if he rested for a while. Besides, he had missed the bitter taste of Bugman’s XXXXXX beer in his mouth, and the warm feeling he got in his gullet. Many a night he had ran, and he felt like he was going to collapse. No he though, I must pull myself together. I need a drink, and this is the first proper place I’ve seen in a while. Straightening his hat, and scratching his arm, he walked in.

As he walked in, a shadow moved in the darkness. It moved gracefully, but with purpose. It was soon joined by another one. They conversed in hushed tones, before disappearing once again.

*****

“You said-said that this pile of rubbish would work-work. Now look at it.”

Skrist was furious. This fool from Moulder obviously didn’t know who he was. The weedy little chap could soon find himself at the wrong end of a warpfire thrower. But the fool still carried on with his charade. Maybe this was why he was a haggler.

“I think you’ll find-see that he works fine.”

“I was attacked, and all it did was sit-lye there.”

“You may not have been close-near enough.”

“I was in the same-same room with it.”

And the argument continued….

*****

The messenger sat down at the bar. The regulars looked at him with suspicion, but said nothing. A small stocky dwarf that served as a bartender came up to him.

“This ‘aint no place for pansies. I suggest you go to your mothers meeting before these lot kick your scrawny ass.”

The bar roared with laughter. But it was soon cut short when the messenger drew forth his sword and pointed it at the bartender.

“I’m here on rest from travelling from the emperor’s own palace with a message that has to be delivered tomorrow and… TOMORROW!!!!!”

He was furious with himself. How could he forget that? He sprinted out of the bar with his sword back in his sheath.

Again there were shadows stalking him, but now there were eleven. They followed behind slowly, tactfully. It was if they were going in for the kill…

 

 

 

[spoiler=*(chapter 1)]

*(warpfire thrower)= A powerful weapon that uses warpstone powder and chemicals to blast out gouts of unnatural flames.

**(Warlock-Augmented Weapon)= A blade that causes the wielder get even stronger. Very powerful, and is also powered by a generator, you should avoid one.

***(Rat-Ogre)=Strong blend of rat and ogre (who would of guessed?). It is normally used in a pack, but they are also bodyguards for people who buy them.

 

 

 

I hope you enjoy my first fan fic!! :mrgreen:

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