Jump #182: Warhammer Fantasy: Skaven: Direct-to-DVD

[Warhammer Fantasy: Skaven, jump 182]

Drawbacks: The Black Hunger, Addiction: Qhaysh, Personally Invested In Your Demise: Queek Headtaker, A Pawn in a Shadowy Play (1700)

Warband Scenario: The Scheme of Fallen Cities
-Burn the Blackwolf Plains
-Slaughter the Slaughterer
-Pyramid Scheme Dismantling
-Drowned in Cragmere

Clan Scenario: The Scheme of Scabbicus' Memory

Moulder Creation (1500)

Clan Skyre

Verminous Creature (Free)
Dumb Brute (Free)
The Flesh Is Receptive (1200)
Basic Equipment (Free...?)
Mutated (900)
Genetics Do Not Work Like That (700)
Techno-Mage (Free)
The Inspiration of Madness (400)
Clan Leader (0)
Bodily Enhancement: StrengthX3, Agility/SpeedX3, EnduranceX 2 (+800, 600)
Vermonious Cargo (550)
Regeneration (500)
Large & In ChargeX3 (425)
Toxin Glands (400)
Additional Limb: ArmX16 (50/4=12.5, 100/12.5=16, 100)
Additional Limb: LegX16 (0)
Rat Mother bodyguard (+200, 0)

Later, I was asked why I didn't just kill all the rats on the spot. It was a very simple calculus, actually: Even the meanest death in the materium contributes a little towards the cause of Chaos, in it's final desperate moments. Whatever anyone else said, my goals were always singular: The total destruction of Chaos. This was, therefore, an unacceptable turn of events.

From the delicious, succulent tower-realm of pure Qhaysh I had wrought in the immaterium, I looked back at my past. Ironically for what I had decided to set in motion, I'd happened because some of the last suviving Skabbicus rebels had barged into a bunch of Clan Skyre during a freak warp storm over a vat of mutagenic...science sludge. And apparently, the Council of 13 had kept an eye on the escaping rat-king ever since.

Waiting.
Plotting.
Probably very surprised when the druuchi queen bickering with the abomination against all rat-kind was complaining he wasn't being ruthless enough, while it meditated in the lotus position like an actual Hindu ratmonster thing.

(Cont'd)

Clan name: Clan Mee'Kee (37)
Under-city (25)
Chieftain's MarkX2: White hands (24)
Magically GiftedX2 (21)
Loyal Rats (18)
Tech Rats (16.5)
Above-Ground (21.5)
Chaos Corruption (24.5)
Vampiric Corruption (27.5)
Local EnemiesX3: Beastmen, Vampires (Manlet von Carsteinn's forces), chaos northmen (33.5)
Dangerous Predators (36.5)
Hungry Land (39.5)
Dreg Heaps (Free)
Slave Pens (Free)
Breeding & Whelping Pits (Free)
Vermin Market (38.5)
Trader Rats (38)
Well BredX2 (31)
Savage Rats (26)
Athletic Rats (22)
Vehicular Rat-Slaughter (19)
Construction Cavers (17)
Laboratories and Workshops (Free)
Warp-Forge (14)
Clan Nemesis: Archaon (17)
Bell-Foundry (13)
Den of Secrets (7)
Warprail Station & Trainyard (1)
Farming MarshX2 (0)

Clan Mee'Kee was either a Warp freak accident, or the result of a New God's manifestation screwing up destiny and prophecy depending on who you asked. Years before, a bunch of Skaven from all walks of life headed towards a psychic fissure ranting about the binding of light to harmony. They built and built, staircases leading to nowhere and industrial pits burning pointlessly, until Clan Skyre took charge just by default from being the best architects. But it was the Grey Seers who had started to hear increasingly incomprehensible whispers from the buildings: Increase production. Perfect through homogeny. Dreams into truths. It's a small world after all.

The sheer industrialisation had pretty much brought about Rats Apokalips with a capitalist bent. Prisoners were forcibly sold tacky mouse ear hats over and over again. Only two properties in the whole complex were dedicated for farming, and were used to punish bad workers for "failing to better-build the tinker-toys".

A whole year of rule, and all I managed was to turn it into Rat Singapore instead.

(Cont'd)

See, the problem wasn't obedience. Being surrounded by hated enemies on all fronts that were suddenly vaporised by a giant ring of light does wonders for cowing Skaven. No, the problem was their basic understanding of what makes a good civilisation.

>"Okay, the thieving has to stop. Let's draw up some taxes"
>"What are tax-taxes?"
>"Well, in exchange for living here every citizen has to contribute some of their-"
>"-blood? Souls? Flesh? Say no more Brood-Brute, I will rip-rip and tear-tear so you will give me more of the scraps, yes-yes?"
>"No wait that's not what I-"
>"ALREADY SCALPING THE PISSANTS BYE"

In my defence, playing the Council and Chaos against each other by baiting Queek into beastperson territory then counter-routing the vampires was keeping me occupied.

>"You know, maybe we should start with culture. Do you guys have any?"
>"What-what?"
>"...bells. You guys make bells, right? Let's start there. I want you to uh, make bells that...do...good...things"
>"Say no more my Gore-Crowned King of Horrors! I am make-forging all kinds of bells!"
>"Oh. Good!"
>*several batches of bells that spread the Anti-Life Equation are produced*

And in THEIR defense, the novelty of a leader who had a vested interest in all of them succeeding kept them on track. In a very Skaven way, but still. We actually established some trade routes with other races! Okay, it was pretty much sustained by the novelty of being screamed at by rats carrying tacky dystopia merch. Advances were made in magic! Such big advances that a trespassing band of wood elves were chased screaming by unliving animatronic animals after a border dispute for a whole week!

>"Can you make the Doomwheels NOT randomly explode? Think about the potential if we could just stabilise the energy output!"
>"...I don't understand the question-query"
>"Just. Just run the damn warpstone through the damn mini-vortexes first"

(Cont'd)

But...it worked.

There wasn't a eureka moment. Just gadget after gadget after punitive use of Qhaysh, all to create an iron nation where Skaven could live and breed without fear for their life. Oh, there were still wars-but Skaven lived long enough after them to get to know each other. And become if not friends, then respectful rivals on the confirmed Chaos killing leaderboards.

It took endless lectures. Days of hard adjudication. Bending the damn course of history. The thrum of Anti-Life resounded everywhere, but in spite of Grail's urging I never let it get stronger than the average full day internet argument.

They were still filthy, but there were underground "cleanliness clubs" that fetishised good hygiene. A certain upper-middle class of city rat came to enjoy them as an open secret.

They still lurked and sneaked around instinctively, but it became a kind of national sport. Old thieves encouraged younger ones to take up their trades.

They never quite warmed to other races as a whole but-

-as we expanded, there was a Brettonian peasant village left behind by the knights and nobles as they'd retreated from the hordes of Chaos. Corruption had set into the crops. The women and children had barricaded themselves into the barn when the norsemen had arrived. When a passing clanrat gang sent the norsemen packing to steal their weapons, they didn't know anything about Skaven. They just saw large rats arguing with each other about what was valid "foraging" practices before trying to sell them novelty hats, giving up-and staying when the village headman was bright enough to feed them the corrupted crop. Which they all agreed had a nice spice to it.

The part where they reciporcated with carts of the most hygienic cheese they could find, continued to trade and came to think of their "little lame ratlings" wasn't the nice part. That was when a Skaven beastmaster saw a knight's horse with a lame leg left behind, and somehow smuggled it home to be nursed back to health.

(Cont'd)

Warband: The Sons of Oswald
Apprentice Grey Seer w. Minor Screaming Bell (48)
400 Globadier Weapon Teams (40)
Rat Swarms (39)
10 Hell-Pit Abominations (29)
10 Burrowing Behemoth (19)
10 Chimaerats (9)
9 DOOOOOOOOOOOMWHEEEELS (0)

Chaos' retaliation only threw the Council for a loop for a week before they figured out how to make use of the clan: Hurling it into the meatgrinder. They were clearly under the impression they'd all die by krump, devouring or necrotic destruction. They were mostly right. Technically we failed-

>*Half the pyramid blows up. Nagash storms off, shrieking in fury*
>Settra: "Wait!"
>"We fight, yes-yes?"
>Settra: "No. This doesn't feel like a victory, but thank you. That man would have lain waste to everything I cherish"
>"...thank-thank? Not understand man-thing"
>Settra: "I will grant you all a mercifully swift death when I come to grind your tribes beneath my heel"
>"Ah, that makes more sense-sense"

-a lot of-

>Skragg: "HAW HAW HAW! You can poison Skragg's boyz yer little rat-scum, but yer masscrin' only feeds the Maw's hunger!"
>"We know-knew. That's why we were-were told to plant this light-bomb silver-crystal in you first"

-but not all-

>Hobgoblah Khan: "Izzat you, Ghazak? Wot yer up ter now?"
>Ghazak: "Squattin' RATS. Damn bells drove the dwarves mad. Burned our squigs. Ain't never stayed ter fight, jus' vanished in clouds of burnin' gubbins. I'z...I'z here ter deliver yer a message, Khan. Then the damn pain in my guts'll end"
>"Whazzat, yer grot?"
>"Green ain't a creative color"
>*Chakra seal breaks, engulfing the fortress in Heylin magic*

-missions in plausibly deniable ways. And the funny thing is, the straw that broke the camel's back-was failing to bring back one nameless ratling.

It happened the next night. One minute I was having a nap, the next there was a burlap sack over my head and in what felt like moments I was at the Great Vortex, where rats more reliable and dedicated than me were about to rend the veil between realms. Headtaker held the blade to my neck himself.

(Cont'd)

"You have severed your clan from Skavenblight and the Under-Empire" hissed a voice that sounded like all the rot of the world.
"I so did not. Haven't my trains been running on time?"
"My wayward children dream of ledgers. And shelved files. Don't think I don't know what you've done to the clans!"
"Nothing. I did nothing"

Headtaker shifted.

"You mean you spread your cursed gospel, riddling them with doubt and weakness. You mean you killed our could-have-been allies, let the elves drive us from our homes and told the Slann where our broods nest! DO YOU DENY IT?"
"I deny it. I haven't challenged you"

Headtaker coughed, quietly.

"The other races think the Skaven are a JOKE because of you! Even the humans know us! And maybe" hissed the vermin chorus, peeling back space-time like a cowl as massive paws and a snout hovered above me. "I would be IMPRESSED with that treachery, if you hadn't had the gall to make them believe THEY WERE ANYTHING OTHER THAN RATS! Do you understand?! It's greed that makes the Skaven! Gut level GREED, not your soulless, toxic, stagnant order! You strike at the root-at the very ROOT of all that keeps my faithful alive in this world!"

I blinked, as Hassan of Serenity quietly left. I...hadn't expected this reaction. For the first time that decade, I doubted.

"There is one way out of this. There is ALWAYS a way out for vermin, understand? Tell me where the child is. Tell me, tell me, tellmetellmetellme. You know who he is. Even the human sorceror-lord of the black temple can reject death, you really think wretched Skabbicus couldn't cling to this festering existence? Tell me where his infant body is so I can rend his stain from all Skavenkind!"

But THAT put a smile on my face. And I said "I am Skabbicus"

"I can't believe I'm saying this" said the Great Horned Rat as he stepped into reality, "but you. Disgust. ME. KILL THAT HERETIC"

(Cont'd)

I snapped my fingers as the Council manifested around me, rushing to do their masters will-and staggered, feeling the hilts of divine weapons in their hands. Golden blades made of hardened sunlight. Chains that could hold a god. Cleavers soaked in funeral rites.

"This is a poor trick" hissed Paskrit.

"KILL HIM" screached the Great Horned Rat, basting us with a miasma of entropy. The 13 ignored. I endured.

"It is" I agreed. "It's a terrible one, giving a bunch of incarnations of Skavenhood god-forged weapons that can deliver extinction with one blow. Whatever will I do with my Authority over War next"

"Yes, surely lies..." hissed Morskittar, trying to hide his excitement after he probed his Divine Construct.

"Oh, I know. I'll just show us how the war's going shall I?" I waved a hand, and with a loud rip showed everyone present Skavenblight dead slient. Clan Mee'kee was creeping through the motionless bodies, the thrum of Anti-Life holding their fellows in thrall as they handed pamphlets about the upside of healthy living. Okay, they also stole everything not nailed down BUT they tidied up around, barely slit anyone's throat, and let go the slaves in exchange for a promise to tell everyone about their novelty hats. The Lords of Decay gaped, as spooked rodents tend to do. They did some very, very impressive probability calculations in a few seconds.

"STOP!" screeched the Great Horned Rat, finally feeling faint. "I'LL...MAKE YOU...STOP" it cried like the cornered rat it was. The torrent of filth and screaming rat souls raining down on me met mu Omega Care Bear Stare. It could have been a formidable battle of mystic cunning. It could have lasted for long enough to draw the Chaos Gods' attention themselves. It could have been the fulcrum that rocked the Great Vortex itself, and ended with my true for descending from the heavens above.

...

...but well, the Great Horned Rat wanted his Skaven to be Skaven.

So as one rat, five of the Lords of Decay immediately threw their god-weapons at the Great Horned Rat while the others hacked at each other. Reeling and screaming from his burning wounds, their god tripped in his chain even as he pulled tight his grasp on their souls, reducing all but four of them to dust just as the last one cringed for mercy. There was none.

"So...tired...but not yet! NOt wHEn IvE COme thIS fAr. You...you're Skaven too so...you're mine!" it croaked. Like the filthy vermin it was, it reached for my own power even as it's own crumbled. "Yes! YES, you're. You're a god too. BUT THIS MUCH POWER I CAN CLAIM! LET'S SEE WHAT KIND OF GOD YOU REALLY ARE!" And high above, Morrslieb swelled in size, a dozen cracks appearing on it's face, visibly lurching in defiance of all physics towards the Earth.

"Oh, hey. This looks like a job for some part-time wielders of the Second Magic" I said thoughtfully.

"The what now?" asked the Great Horned Rat.

"This" I explained, pointing up at the dozens of Skaven spaceships suddenly rushing to intercept. Rips in space caught falling debris. Screeching dogfighters cleared away what they missed with crystal emitters firing pure ether. And as a familiar Grey Seer raised his hands, the dimensionally augmented Doomwheels that landed on the moon started to detonate, and straining body, mind and soul he widened the rips in space they made until Morrislieb was just falling ash, and twisted debris consigned forever to the space between worlds. As if it had never existed.

"You can't kill me!" squealed the Great Horned Rat, shuffling frantically towards the portal. "Please, you've won! You're right, but-can't you see I'll always be there? Tell themAARAAARGH" it groaned, entrails falling out with an axe "tell them..they can be b-better, I'll be waiting in the dark behind their eyes when the world treads them underfoot again! You just can't, they-you NEED me! I'm not a disease, I'm, I'm, I'm the first rat called by Chaos, I'm the last thoughts of a man dying in the dark, I'm the green wobbly bit in you that teaches how to crawl out of the dark and into the foodstore"

"Then you're one of mine" said Morathi sharply, striding out of the true Dhar appearing everywhere between here and the portal. The Horned Rat flailed, screaming wordlessly at the only exit where my Skaven were just leaving, and his were about to come to their senses blinking and confused by all the mercy they'd seen. Pieces of him came untethered, fur sucked raw and bleading by cloying tar, dainty talons digging into entrails-and half a rat, he still pulled himself forward as the murk crept over his snout. Now one arm was yanked off by the undetow. Now his lower jaw lolled and dropped. He was still screaming wordlessly, left paw on the portal, when Morathi cleared her throat and he finished dissolving.

I stared at the Skaven for a while. They'd never fit in anywhere, nobody would ever admit they saved the world, and they still didn't really get what the point of it was so much as felt their way towards it. Nevertheless-

"I still think you should have killed them all from the start" said Morathi.

"Come now. If I started with the Skaven, I'd never stop"

>FIN