Skaven Chronicles Part 2

Few things are constant among the Skaven, but their scheming and plotting is one of them. While our Heroes may have foiled Rasknitt, there’s plenty other vermin are eager to hatch their own devious plans. The farsqueaker, a verminous piece of Skryre engineering, allows some of these would-be masterminds to instantly communicate across vast distances with their networks of agents and spies.

I am much pleased with your timely report, Skratch, and heartened by the news of your many successes. The minions I placed in your unworthy paws are clearly moderately capable. Use them well, Skratch. Do not think-think you are my only proxy in the Grey Mountains. Just because I plucked you from your runtish litter as a whelp, it will not displease me too greatly to have to devour you should you fail. I will start at the tail end, yes-yes, and work my way up from there.

The situation in Karak Gnol is more chaotic even than that which you left behind. My predecessor (may he lay forever in the boiling stomach juices of the Great Horned Rat) was too stupid to do away with his more competent and ambitious underlings while he still lived. He thought his cronies in Clan Pestilens would shield him, and they did, but more fool-fool them because now he is dead and a dozen rival chieftains scheme to replace him. None yet recognize my rightful claim, so you see the risk I take sending away so many clanrat warriors, even under the leadership of an expendable deputy like you, and why I demand results.

Not in seven months, Skratch, but now.

I had taken to displaying the heads of my would-be assassins before the entrance to my burrow, but I eventually ran out of spikes. There is a lair-wide shortage of them, I am told. So I have begun adding them to the skavenbrew with the rest of the bodies. The slavemasters inform me that the extra meat is gratefully received in the under-warrens, and perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. The skavenslaves could do with some fattening up. The way things are smelling around here, I may soon need the wretches to fight as well as die-die in the mines.

Given the glowing reports of your progress under Helmgart-place, I have decided that you obviously do not need the reinforcements or the extra funds you requested. My warp tokens are not infinite and I have instead spent your overly generous stipend for this moon-cycle on a Rat Ogre bodyguard for my protection. A far wiser allocation of limited resources, I think-think you will agree.

Now stop chasing after low-hanging tails and give me something I can actually show to my enemies! Bring me a head from the so-called ‘Ubersreik Five’ for starters. Their legend is, I am sure, greatly flattered by the gross incompetence of the skaven they have faced so far, but their deaths by my paw will undoubtedly impress the ignorant masses of Karak Gnol.

Oh, and one more thing, Skratch.

This is important, so listen-hear very closely.

The Pestilent Brotherhood may have done more harm to Clan Fester than the Bloodblight or Rasknitt’s vacuous promises, but I need their warriors and their warpstone if I am to become Warlord. They have their own reasons to loathe the Furless Five, so however you choose to be rid of them – make certain-sure that it is suitably dramatic…