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Initiation!; Pre-Nemesis Crown Campaign Fluff
Topic Started: 29th May 2007 - 09:45 PM (494 Views)
Scarfester
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Scaaarrrrghhh

The Chronicles Of Clan Vexzkar! Pre-Nemesis Crown Campaign

Part 1 - Initiation

The fear in the air was almost tangible as Scarfester strode through the tunnel, towards the mass of freshly captured slaves. The warlord and slavemaster was a sight to worry any newly ‘recruited’ member of Clan Vexzkar. A large and dark furred skaven always inspired justified fear in those smaller than him, but there was more lurking beneath the surface with the slavemaster.
His scarred body was a testament to his years of fighting. Unknown to almost all in the Clan, these scars were gained by his training in the halls of the assassin adept Clan, of Eshin and not on any normal battlefield. His snout bares the scars given to him by the duelling masters and lends him a mocking look of condescendence, as well as a sight to make most of his enemies void their musk glands. His heavily muscled frame is adorned in thick armour and the trophies of war. The teeth and skulls of his enemies hang from rivets in his armour and his belt as evidence of those that have met their demise at his claws. Some of the trophies are clearly skaven in origin.
There was a lot of fear here, but not quite enough. Some of the former Clan Kreekwal members were still showing vague signs of defiance. Looking at him for one was not acceptable, but they would all learn. Swiftly! A good slave should look at the floor in the presence of his masters and they would be forced to now, by an example being made.

Scarfester strode over to the front of the group of slaves where their former weapons had been confiscated and were now being heated in a brazier. As a final humiliation the new slaves would now have their tails docked and the fresh wound seared closed by the hot steel of their old swords. As was tradition, the slavemaster would do the first and then his disciples would take over.
A slave was pulled out of the files and dragged over to a much notched and blood stained tree stump near the brazier. Clearly it had been used many times before, in the ritual of the slaves initiation into the Clan. Two large skaven held the slave in place and a third dragged the tail from between his legs and held it across the top of the tree stump. Scarfester pulled a hot sword of the brazier with a mailed fist and moved towards the first victim, or initiate, as he liked to think of them.

‘You all belong to Clan Vexzkar and my master, the great Grey Seer Chittersnitch. You will be treated like slaves and die-die like slaves. Your Clan was weak and defeated. Now-now you will all have the mark of the fool-slave you deserve.’

Sensing his predicament, the helpless victim soiled himself as he waited for the inevitable pain, that would soon become almost constant in his shortened and now worthless life. Scarfester drew back the sword and held it aloft. His bright red eyes took in the reaction of the crowd. You could usually tell how much ‘breaking’ would need to be done, by the masses reaction to the first tail docking. There was a significant amount of muttering and chatter. Not a good sign!
To cut this short, the sword swept down onto the prostrate tail and severed it cleanly, around eight inches from the slaves rear end. As the blood poured out and the first of many screams rang out into the tunnels, Scarfester let them see their fate. He watched them squirm and whimper, as they tried to think there way out of the terrible situation they had found themselves in.

Once the blood flow had slowed and the slaves screams died to a pitiable whine, the slave master was passed another red hot blade from the brazier. He returned the scream to the air by pressing it against the ragged flesh of the initiates tail. The chatter of the masses was once again punctuated by the full stop of agonised wailing. With the smell of burning flesh in their nostrils, the slaves began to move nervously and jostle each other slightly. They were looking for someone to save them from the pain of the future. In truly skaven fashion, no rat stepped forward.

It took the branding of the rump, with Clan Vexzkar’s mark, before the first slave stepped forward to challenge their new masters authority. A Clan Vexzkar slave herder stepped forward with a whip, but was halted by Scarfester. He was gently pushed to one side and Scarfester contemptuously threw the now cooling sword at the feet of the supposed slave revolt leader. The rest of the slaves had stayed still out of shear cowardice and were also surprised about the slavemaster giving his enemy a sword. The Clan Vexzkar skaven with whips were also bearing their teeth in a grin, which was more than a little disconcerting.
They were smiling because they had seen their master quell the rebellion, before it began several times before. A nasty maiming or death did wonders for the loyalties of a Clan’s slaves.
The now confused looking slave stooped low and tentatively picked up the sword. Scarfester recognised him as the former leader of Clan Kreekwal’s stormvermin. Without his armour and halberd, he looked a lot less threatening than he did on the battlefield. Advancing cautiously he eyed his opponent and wondered why the scarred skaven had not drawn his large slim sword, or war pick. Hoping to beat his opponents obvious trickery with further trickery he moved in for the kill and pretended to swap the sword into his other paw before striking. The blade returned to his initial paw and swung in at an angle that would be difficult to block, even with a sword. The next thing that happened surprised the former stormvermin claw leader. His opponent stepped towards him. He found his sword arm pinned half way through the striking motion. As his left paw reached for the dagger in his belt, that was no longer there. His shoulder was suddenly ripped out of its socket by a vicious twist. A handy little move that Scarfester’s old claw to claw, combat sensei had taught him.
The slave dropped the sword as a result of searing agony and shock and went slightly limp from the pain and fear now returned to his brain magnified many times. Scarfester’s next move would assure the terror needed to keep the slaves in check forever. If it went well of course!

Two scarred and mailed paws reached out and grabbed the slave either side of its neck and began to squeeze. As the slave choked for air Scarfester began to turn the slaves head upwards and to one side, causing the vertebrae of its neck to grind loudly enough for all to hear. He dragged out this torturous death for a full ten seconds, as the slave put up a desperate struggle. With a final twist, the neck was snapped with an audible crack and the body sagged in the slavemasters embrace. All of the new slaves were now clearly terrified and would not step out of line. To ensure this status would remain, Scarfester decided to pull off one of his old assassin friends party tricks. Jerking the dead skavens head back, he lunged forward and sank his teeth in the dead flesh of its neck. With a tearing motion he ripped out a large chunk of the pitiful creatures windpipe and flesh. Dark skaven blood spurted everywhere and the slaves began to moan and chitter with barely suppressed fear. The final flourish was all important. Twisting the head in just the right way and pulling the body to one side to stretch the neck tendons to breaking point, Scarfester brutally ripped the head from its corpse. He let the body fall and tossed the head into the crowd of slaves.

‘This is the fate of those that defy Clan Vexzkar’s orders!’

The slaves as a whole shied away from their former leaders severed head and the snarl of triumph, painted on the face of their new slavemaster. Scarfester did not expect much more trouble now and stayed only for the next fifty tail dockings. There were no problems, only the satisfying screams of enforced servitude, as Clan Vexzkar’s ranks grew once more.

Clan Kreekwal had been a relatively small Clan, but had many breeders in their possession. This commodity was extremely highly valued by all Clan’s and Vexzkar was no exception. Scarfester, acting in his capacity as a warlord had schemed a plan into being and presented it to his master, the warpstone snuff addicted, Grey Seer Chittersnitch. They had pursued Clan Kreekwal for several weeks and slowly dispatched their leaders with assassin strikes. Further more, the Clan had been stopped from entering the tunnel networks, by Clan Vexzkar’s troops defending them with weapon teams and rat ogres. Several attempts at breakthrough’s had been made by Clan Kreekwal, but all of those attempts had been forced back with heavy casualties.
Once they had given up on the tunnel network, Clan Kreekwal had been herded into the mountainous ground of the Black Mountains, to deny them a decent chance of forage. After several weeks of this, they had been forced to resort to cannibalism. Whilst moral was at its lowest, Scarfester had lead a night assault on Clan Kreekwal with several assassins and a group of stormvermin, backed up by clanrats and his masters fearsome magical powers.
A brief and vicious battle ensued, but was swiftly over, as the Clan Vexzkar slavemaster decapitated Clan Kreekwal’s warlord. The head now hung from a belt loop below Scarfester’s breast plate. The new slaves were rounded up and driven by whip wielding slave herders, into the tunnels.

Clan Vexzkar had suffered very minimal casualties and now had around three hundred more slaves and more importantly a large group of breeders. Things were going well for the Clan recently. Kreekwal was the third Clan to be enslaved for Clan Vexzkar by Scarfester’s sneaky machinations, in the last five months. Their numbers were now in the thousands, all be it that the majority were slaves. They now marched through the tunnels northwards, towards the man-thing city of Middenheim and the dark foreboding presence of the Ulricsberg.
Dema in a PM about my fluff
 
Wish I could plot like you can, you must have a mind like a corkscrew to turn all those scheming corners

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Bodacious
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Doomwheel Fanatic
Wow :blink: . That put a whole new limit to depicting skaven cruelty in fanfics :P .

Seriously though, it was a good story and a good and realistic portrayal of what a clan-takeover would be like. Writing is excellent as always and I really need to start thinking about the story of my own clan now :unsure: . Look forward to episode II ^_^ .

Cheers,
Bodacious.
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Scarfester
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Scaaarrrrghhh

Thanks Bodacious. My Clan likes the slaves. ^_^

More to come soon. Possibly today. ;)
Dema in a PM about my fluff
 
Wish I could plot like you can, you must have a mind like a corkscrew to turn all those scheming corners

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Morgoth
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The Ancient Evil

Really nice story.
Sweet fellow that Scarfester. I look forward to hear more of him. ;)
Now where in the forest will Clan Wexzkar be operating?
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Scarfester
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Scaaarrrrghhh

You will be hearing a lot more from him and Clan Vexzkar. Trust me on that! ;)

My Clan is currently in the tunnels just North of the Black mountains. You will get more information, when I post up the next piece. Soon!
Dema in a PM about my fluff
 
Wish I could plot like you can, you must have a mind like a corkscrew to turn all those scheming corners

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