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Gifts for Verminous Fang...
Topic Started: 4th August 2004 - 12:42 AM (390 Views)
Psychosium
Clanrat
Kreninthratch stood at the front of the hidden chamber that lay beneath the abandoned smithery, paying little heed to the constant rain of sparks flying in all directions. Before him, his small team of Skryre apprentices were making the final adjustments to his newest creation. The site of the machine coming together instilled in him both a feeling of overbearing pride and frustrated rage. He was proud, for he had just completed work on perhaps the greatest skaven war machine of that day and time: a skaven gyrocopter (Or the ‘Ratlingcopter,’ as he humorously nicknamed it, due in no small part to the ratling gun he had grafted into the miraculous, dwarf-engineered flying machine, just under the nose.). Yes, it was truly a beautiful sight to behold for any Skryre warlock. However, what agitated him was that he was under strict orders by his master to deliver it to Grey Seer Verminous Fang, as a token of both Council’s and Clan Skryre’s “good will.” In other words, it was to be little more than a ‘congratulations present,’ a simple act of dog and pony show politics. However, such was the way of things, and Thratch had little choice in the matter. He found solace in the fact that he didn’t have to release the plans for the weapon at least, although that was more or less because no one else knew they existed (He ha died to his superiors and told them that “the dwarf technology was too intricate and complicated to reproduce in an efficient manner at that particular point in time.”)
“Quick-quick!” Kreninthratch squeaked, “We’re run-running behind schedule, yes we are! If High-General Verminous Fang becomes mad-angry about our being late, YOU will be the ones he kill-kills, yes-yes! Quick-quick now, double-quick!” As the final preparations were made for transporting the largish machine, Thratch headed towards the back of the laboratory and placed a greasy paw on an inconspicuous panel of the wall. The room trembled for a moment as the wall slid back a short distance, requiring the efforts of a dozen or so slaves to open the secret doorway completely. Behind the false wall was a large tunnel, opening before them like a great, yawning maw.



“What business do you have with the Great Verminous Fang?” came the gruff inquiry of a rather large stormvermin guard. Kreninthratch, however, was not intimidated with the scruffy rat-kin’s large size and dark fur, nor the heavy armor he worse. If a scuffle had broken out between them, Thratch knew full well that the skaven’s armor would prove to be his undoing; he would be on the ground roasting inside of it before he would even have a chance to raise his weapon. Ignoring the bodyguard’s imprudence (The engineer expected no better from such savage and uncivilized brutes.), the master warlock cleared his throat,
“I have come on behalf of the Great Council and all of Clan Skryre to congratulate our mighty High-General on his successes, yes-yes, and to encourage him to press onward!”
“What do you mean by ‘encourage?’” the guard muttered under his breath. Thratch continued, ignoring the comment.
“…And we bring him a great gift,” Kreninthratch explained, a feral glint showing in his eye. The sun was just rising over the horizon. He turned and lifted his arms. Behind him, carried aloft by a huge cart pulled by numerous slaves was a giant crate, whose contents none could possibly guess. This obviously looked fairly suspicious to the stormvermin upon their arrival, hence his impatience with the adepts.
“Me don’t trust your giant box, no-no,” The giant rat-man grunted, “But you shall have admittance to meet with the High-General… Just don’t try anything funny…”
“Fool,” Kreninthratch hissed, “Strength is no substitute for intelligence.” The temperamental skaven warrior was infuriated by this comment, and quickly went for his weapon. However, he paused and slowly put his hands at his sides when Thratch’s five or so students pulled out smoking warplock pistols and lowered brass rods upon which faintly glowing warpblades were attached. The electricity beginning to cackle on the tips of the weapons as their equipment began to energize was enough to let the guard back down. Although technically Thratch and his allies were surrounded by Verminous Fang’s soldiers in the middle of the skaven war camp, it was not the skaven way to get involved in other people’s problems if one could help it. Defeated, the stormvermin motioned for them to follow him to the grey seer’s tent, albeit in a very bitter manner.

Verminous Fang was standing outside of his tent, accompanied by a small council of other seers and warlords. Approaching the group just before Thratch’s entourage was a group of huge men from the north. Their forms were highly toned and muscled, even for barbarians, and their skins were pale and covered in all manner of black tattoos and sigils that were hideous to look upon. Their bodies were completely devoid of hair of any kind, very unlike the northermen. They were the servants of the vile Slaanesh, and Thratch mentally cursed them in the name of the glorious Horned Rat. They looked upon the skaven with just a hint of madness in their eyes, and a few were even licking their lips with malicious intent. Leading the marauders was a figure completely incased within a black suit of intricate armor, which glimmered in the early sunlight like glossy obsidian. Not even his (Or its) face could be seen from within the darkness of his elaborate helmet. Verminous Fang exchanged a few quiet words with the Slaaneshi warrior before turning to Thratch and his minions, and more importantly the massive cargo they hauled behind them.
“ O great Lord Verminous Fang,” the stormvermin announced with a quick bow, “On behalf of the Council of Thirteen and Clan Skryre, you are presented with a… Gift…” Kreninthratch stepped up at this command, and could see the grey seer’s gaze pierce his very spirit. Indeed, he was as every bit as imposing as they said he was. Which made him fear his own master Istovil even that much more…
“What sort of present do you bring?” Verminous Fang queried with suspicion. Thratch was beginning to think that bringing the machine inside of a huge box perhaps wasn’t the best idea. Without so much as wasting a breath on any more overly glorifying introductions, the engineer directed his subordinates, who promptly dismantled the huge crate. Thratch felt a tickle at the many gasps of awe at the sight and snickered lightly to himself.
“That looks very… Impressive indeed, yes-yes,” Verminous Fang finally answered after a moment of contemplative silence, and Thratch could tell the grey seer had his doubts about the machine. The engineer carried on with his explanations in any event.
“It was intercepted by my own agents on our way here, yes-yes. I designed the modifications myself. The inferior steam boiler was replaced by a much-much more powerful warp-generator, the weakling steam gun replaced with one of our own better machine guns, yes-yes! It can carry an entire load of poisoned wind globes, and up to three passengers, yes-yes. One pilot, and one bomber on each landing skiff to drop globes. Dwarves too scared to stand on those while flying. Too fat. They make machine crash under their huge weight!”
“Foolish creature,” came a cool voice that pierced Thratch’s soul as much as Verminous Fang’s gaze did. It was harsh and smooth at once, like steel edged with velvet. And it belonged to the armored Slaaneshi warrior. “You hide and cower behind your machines, too afraid to fight like true warriors, scared like the vermin you are. I will laugh when your stupid and ill-gotten machines fail you. I will take pleasure when your dependence on your outlandish inventions results in your demise. And then may the Glorious Prince feast on the pain he provides your soul.” The warlock immediately pulled his custom-designed repeater-warplock pistol on the armored warrior, who merely laughed. “You just proved my words to be true,” the dark man chuckled.
“Now-now my Skryre adept,” Verminous Fang cut in with a grin, “It is impolite for a mere messenger such as yourself to act with such retribution in the company of such esteemed and honored guests…” The Slaaneshi knight nodded at this. “Indeed,” Verminous Fang continued slowly, “…That job should be left to someone of higher standing.” Not even knowing what happened next, the warrior of Slaanesh was tossed into the air by a stream of warp-lightning stemming from the grey seer’s outstretched hand, the flowing tendril’s of green-tinted electricity grasping the armored knight in the manner of a wretched claw before ripping the chaos warrior into pieces altogether. The marauders quickly went to their weapons as skaven all around chittered and hissed in awe and maniacal pleasure. The marauders stopped, however, when the grey seer’s huge groups of bodyguards, and clanrats after them, surrounded them, halberds and spears at the ready. One of the warriors failed to see this however (Or chose to ignore it.), and raised his sword high before the grey seer’s horned head. His blow never fell, however, as his head and much of his chest was blown asunder by Thratch’s explosive firearm, the warrior’s limp body falling to the ground in a bloody mess. Verminous Fang nodded to the young Skryre adept in thanks, the weapon still smoking a green haze in Kreninthratch’s hands. The engineer simply nodded back. He may not have liked the grey seer all too much for having to give away his most prized possession to him, but not even he wanted to see the wizard die at the hands of a stupid, fool-worshipping man-thing. The grey seer turned back to face the remainder of the Slaaneshi messengers.
“Tell-tell Strykaar that the attack shall go as planned, yes-yes” Verminous Fang explained in the human tongue as best he could, and with a snicker he added, “And also be sure to tell him that if he doesn’t start putting forth his share of support and forces into the attacks, yes-yes, than he will meet grave consequences, whether by the hand of his dark lord our by ours, yes-yes! May get confused in battle, yes-yes. All of you man-things look alike to us, yes-yes! Go now, tell-tell!!” At his command, the marauders turned their backs with contempt and began their trek back to the Slaaneshi camp farther to the west. The horde of skaven quickly halted them once again.
“It only takes one man-thing to deliver message,” Verminous Fang stated, his voice far more dark and sinister than it had been just a moment before, as if some sort of daemon had suddenly possessed him. However, Thratch knew that it was simply the ire of the Horned One burning within him. The marauders looked at each other, and then back at the skaven. A small skirmish quickly ensued as the men fought for their lives, and many skaven were quickly slain, but the chaos warriors’ battle prowess was shortly overcome by numbers. The fight ended quickly, with all of the Slaanesh warriors restrained. Verminous Fang spoke up once more, “Perhaps next time Strykaar will be more willing to send messengers of greater politeness, yes-yesss…” The grey seer personally unbound one of the marauders and sent him off with the message. He looked back at the others, who were already being stripped of their equipment and tightly bound by the brutal stormvermin.
“Tonight,” Verminous Fang hissed, “The Great Horned One shall show your so-called god the true meaning of torture and debauchery, yes-yesss… Our Horned Father has many twisted pleasures and delights himself, yes-yes…”

“As for you,” Verminous Fang chattered in Queekish once again, turning back to face Kreninthratch, “Your gift is greatly appreciated, but I would like to see a test run-run in battle first.” The engineer twiddled his thumbs at this suggestion, replying in a nervous tone, “M-me don’t t-think Thratch can do as requested. Yes-yes, very busy with other thi-”
“Too busy to follow the orders of your master Istovil?” the grey seer asked, growing more and more impatient.
“What?” Thratch asked in surprise, the shock of the statement making him forget who he was talking to for a moment.
“Yes-yes, I have already had words with Grey Seer Istovil… He is seeing to other Council demands and… ‘Projects’ at the moment. He said until then, you are to follow my orders.” Thratch suddenly felt ill.
“Very well,” Thratch replied with dismay, “Me gets the best-best pilots ready for the battle…”
“No-no,” the grey seer hissed, “I want YOU to fly it into battle…”
“B-b-ut… Thratch knot not how to fly! He only build!” the warlock lied.
“Then get someone else to pilot. But you go up with them too. You said yourself that there is room enough for three…”
“Very well,” the engineer muttered. He could hear a snicker come from another warlock engineer standing next to the grey seer. It must have been the warlock Shiva Thratch had heard so much about. “The foolishness of the young, yes-yes,” he could hear Shiva whisper to another grey seer in their company, Lord Arqueek.
“Thratch goes now-now,” the skaven scientist answered, “Has to make final preparations before battle…” However, what Thratch really needed to do before the battle was take out the bomb he had secretly stowed away inside of the machine’s frame beforehand.


(To VF: If it isn't too much to ask, could you possibly make a reference to the "ratlingcopter" in your next piece of writing? It can be as small or large of reference as you wish. It would be greatly appreciated :D! Thnx.)
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Nilax
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Nurglitch II

I've heard of suicide by proxy, but it seems like Kreninthratch is trying to commit suicide by gav! hehe...hopefully if the big cheese takes notice he won't have you flakked out of the sky with hochland long rifles :D

Terrific idea with the gyrocopter...I knew you'd end up sticking a ratling gun on that thing. Great story, I'm glad Verminous Fang is motivating our more perverse allies the old fashioned way!

Keep it up.

I'll see you in Hergig.
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Verminous Fang
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A great read! I'll work on a piece of fluff shortly, but not based on today's battle (stupid Korne warriors...).

The plus side is that he's an attacker, so it was a win anyways. The funny thing is that before the campain started, it seemed like I would be one of only a few attackers, now it's harder than heck to find a defender...
Go forth my brethren, that we shall nibble at the roots of the old world!

We are the rats in the shadows. We hold the blades of corruption, aimed at the very heart of the Old World. We are The Council of Thirteen.

Second place in the UnderEmpire painting competition!

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Verminous Fang
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Noticed by Gav!

Good job, even if he didn't mention you by name, you're the flying rat!

Maybe we should call you Die Fladermaus... :D
Go forth my brethren, that we shall nibble at the roots of the old world!

We are the rats in the shadows. We hold the blades of corruption, aimed at the very heart of the Old World. We are The Council of Thirteen.

Second place in the UnderEmpire painting competition!

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gorod
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The Burninator (middenheim faction)
woo hoo, flying rats! Maybe we can finally take on those flying Nuns! The Skies will be ours soon!
NEEK NEEK
Middenheim, the official BOOM town of the Old Worlde
You have the right to remain silent...what you lack is the capacity (Shrek 2 :P)
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warlord Arqueek
supreme warlord
:angry: he could hear Shiva whisper to another grey seer in their company, Lord Arqueek :angry:

sinds when am I a stupid grey seer <_<

never mind but please don't ever mention me as a grey seer again oure my assassins are coming after you next :ph43r:





ooooooooh btw thanks for putting little old me in the srory to :D ..... but grey seer :wacko:
whahaha I was just thinking what about a small part in the skaven fluf
( its my birthday) :P giving Arqueek a magic item could be fun . lets just hope its not going to explode
let the storm come !!!!


here's to us Rats that have no meaning
I tip my glass to you my komrats
let's toast the night away with some skavenade
and forget about tomorrow
forget about ouré sorrow
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