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Part 2 - Rumors!; Pre Nemesis Crown Fluff.......
Topic Started: 30th May 2007 - 03:55 PM (380 Views)
Scarfester
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Scaaarrrrghhh

The Chronicles Of Clan Vexzkar! Pre-Nemesis Crown Campaign

Part 1 - Initiation

Part 2 - Rumors

Grey Seer Chittersnitch sat in a small chamber, away from the main tunnels as the majority of his Clan passed through them on the way to the Ulricsberg. He held up his paw and watched it shake slightly. He hadn't taken any snuff for two whole hours now. He was getting better.
He knew he had to curb his addiction, or he'd end up like Grey Seer Kritslok, who he'd seen in a cage in Skavenblight. He was housed in the area designated for only the Seers to go and was an example of what could happen to one of the Horned One's chosen emissaries if they overindulged in the pleasures of warpstone snuff.
Chittersnitch remembered the grotesque blob of misshapen flesh very well. Its keening wail as the Grey Seers around it, prodded it with staffs and sharp objects for amusement. He was determined not to end up like that.
The Seers eyes darted up as he noticed one of this four personal assassin bodyguards looking at him. He would not show weakness in front of them, even if they were sworn to protect him, unto death. To distract his mind from the throes of warpstone addiction he opened his mage senses and examined the spells that bound his four bodyguards to him. As his perception shifted, the Grey Seer looked at his handiwork with a smug satisfaction. The beautiful pattern of intricate, weaving strands of magic was a wonder to behold. He picked a strand and followed it, as it weaved away from his body and to the nearest assassin, Sneektak. The assassin was a master of ranged weapons and sat cleaning his warplock pistol. At the same time he held his jezzail with his strong and prehensile tail. The assassin appeared as a dull and ill defined shape, on the edge of vision to the Seers altered senses. The lines of power however, shone out like a fire in the dark of the undertunnels. The wondrous colors and lines spun in and out of each other, and one particular line moved from the Seer and through his assassin to re-emerge from its back, around the heart area. This line, unlike all the others looped back on itself and formed a hoop that was wound around the assassin’s brain. This loophole was Chittersnitch's own work. A stroke of genius that allowed himself to be free of the pain caused to his assassins, but if he himself were to be injured in any way, then all of his assassins would feel his pain to a greater degree. This clever twist to a normal binding spell meant that he was assured of loyal and dedicated service from his bodyguards, because if he were killed, then they would die instantly as well. Furthermore, he would not have to worry about his own assassins being turned against him. This could only happen if the spell he had woven was broken first, but that was incredibly unlikely.

He thought back to the weaving of the binding spell, in the tunnels of Clan Eshin, where he had bought the assassins services with many slaves and a healthy supply of warpstone. It had taken days and many Eshin sorcerers had died in the process. Three days after its start, Grey Seer Chittersnitch strode out of the secret tunnel with four dedicated bodyguards for his protection. There was Sneektak the master of ranged weapons. Krittjaw the blade master. Skurskritt, the infiltrator adept and finally Vrishnar the poison master.
Chittersnitch thought himself to be the envy of all Grey Seers, with such protection. It was true that his warlord, Scarfester had his own assassin bodyguard, but that was of no consequence. Surely his one could not be nearly as good as the four masters that Chittersnitch had hand picked from Eshin?

After a while, he let his mage sight dissipate and returned to his normal state. There was a strange feeling on the back side of his right paw and he looked down at it, fearing treachery, or poison. Instead what he saw worried him slightly, but not too much. On the back of his paw there was the clear sign that he had put some warpstone snuff on his hand. Now his senses were fully returning, he could tell from the tingle of his nostrils that he had sniffed it whilst in his trance. Damn his mind he thought. It had tricked him into taking more of the substance, even as he was using his impressive magical skills. No wonder he had been enthralled by the colors and shapes created by all the lines of his binding spells. With the chemically enhanced sense of self grandeur, he thought that it was no wonder he could create such intricate plans, if his mighty mind could fool even himself.

With slight annoyance at himself, Grey Seer Chittersnitch rose from his place and began to move out into the main tunnels. Three of his assassins shot out ahead to check the way was safe and the fourth stayed close behind to keep a close eye on the room they were in and guard his master directly. It was Krittjaw, and he had his weeping blade drawn in readiness for any sudden attack.
Now that their fates were tied to that of their seer master, none of the assassins were willing to take the slightest chance.

Once in the tunnels the Seer moved to the main area and watched his Clan moving through the underways. He had to admit, that he was impressed with the job Scarfester had done in breaking in the slaves. Only a couple had been killed in the initiation of over three hundred. He was an efficient slavemaster, but something about the warlord made the Seer nervous. His scarred snout seemed to appear as if from nowhere at times. He was certainly an impressive warrior and Chittersnitch wondered if even Krittjaw could kill him, if the need arose.

Further down the tunnel, Scarfester watched as the plague priest Vexin oversaw the transport of his own invention. The Doombell was too large to be wheeled through the small tunnels here, and so was taken to pieces and was carried by the slaves.
Scarfester allowed a satisfied grin as he watched the new slaves from the former Clan Kreekwal. Now they behaved as slaves should, by staring intently at the floor as they passed him. The fear was still there and he didn't expect it to go away soon. If ever!

Vexin the Vile, as he was known to the clanrats of Clan Vexzkar was whipping slaves as his plague monks manhandled the cracked former Screaming Bell onto a series of carts. The destroyed device of the Horned One had been reconsecrated to the Horned Rats service by Vexin, by changing it into a hideous engine of war. Now the bell was used as a large vessel for brewing hideous diseases in, whilst it was mounted on the old Screaming Bell carriage and heated from below by a warpstone brazier.
Scarfester had been assaulted by its overpowering stench first hand and it was impressive indeed. The plague priest called it either the pot of pestilence, or the cauldron of corruption, when not referring to it as the Doombell. The clanrats called it the puke pot for obvious reasons.
The slavemaster wondered if Vexin knew this. He suspected that he would, as Vexin was a very industrious skaven and far more than a howling zealot warrior, for his god. The creation of the Doombell was proof of that.

The slavemaster thought back to the first time he had seen the engine. It was in the jungles of the hot land, the humans-things called Lustria. It was an awe inspiring site and he had been invited up to the platform at the top of the machine. The pot had been filled with a hideous, viscous mixture of blood and pus, mixed in with many floating corpses, unidentifiable limbs and pieces of flesh. The stench had made Scarfester vomit with alarming force and Vexin had scraped it into the pot without a second thought.
He also remembered the time they had fought the dead-things on the so called vampire coast. Two days before the battle Vexin's plague monks had exhumed the corpses of some plague victims and added them to the machines mixture. This would greatly add to the virulence of the brew, Vexin had claimed.
During the fight the enemy necromancer had called the dead back to life, to fight for him. It had been an easy victory, as their numbers were small and the necromancer was caught and killed by one of Chittersnitch's assassins.
After the battle Vexin had called the slavemaster up to the platform once more. Upon reaching the top Scarfester saw that the plague victim corpses had also been brought back to a semblance of life by the spells of the necromancer. Their bloated and gas filled bodies floated in the thick soup of disease and they thrashed around in the pot, not being able to reach the top. It looked like a pathetic parody of swimming and this seemed to vastly amuse the plague priest.

A battle several days later had shown the whole Clan the destructive power of the Doombell. Vexin's most favored plague monks, the plague pastors were used to push the device into battle, just as clanrats are used to push a Screaming Bell. The machines presence seemed to inspire the zealots into even further rage and many of their number died of shear exhaustion before reaching the enemies lines. Once it did finally reach enemy, the effect was devastating. The Doombell was pushed into a unit of saurus warriors as they defended their temple home and its contents. Several were crushed by the wheels of the mighty device as it hit their formation. Once it had made contact, Vexin released the chains that held the pot upright in the carriage and it came crashing forward. More saurus were crushed as the broken bell landed on them and many more were choked and disorientated by the foul liquid that spilled forth from the infernal creation.
The survivors were soon hacked to pieces by the enraged monks and censor bearers. That one charge broke the entire lizard-thing line and the temple was soon overrun by Clan Vexzkar.

One thing Scarfester was certain of about Vexin, is that Grey Seer Chittersnitch hated and distrusted him. At his first sight of the Doombell, it was clear that the Seer was unsure as to how it was destroyed and didn't trust the Pestillen's priest at all. That could become a useful bit of information in the future, he thought as he watched the struggling slaves move past him.

A roar from the rear of the line signaled the presence of the master mutator Pasqueel. The insane little skaven, ambled along behind his grotesque and monstrous creations with his underling and servant Manqwel.
They had been picked up on the way to the humans Empire, from just north of Cripple peak. Pasqueel had been stationed there whilst Clan Vexzkar was in Lustria. He had created some impressive monsters in the mean time, as well as conducting a sneaky mining operation that made use of the vast seams of warpstone around that area. He had kept his slaves digging away from all others and in their own secret tunnels. Their work yielded far less pure warpstone than the seams directly at Cripple Peak, but Pasqueel had devised a way to extract it and purify the magical substance. Now many lead lined boxes were used to store large quantities of the green substance. The lead lining of the boxes prevented other Seers ascertaining its whereabouts with scrying spells. The amount they had, made Clan Vexzkar very rich indeed. If that secret got out it could only mean trouble for them.

The slavemaster watched the rat ogres and other hideous monsters pass by and was given a wink by Pasqueel as he passed. The small skavens lab coat was covered in old blood and numerous other foul substances, and must have been pretty stiff. His tail dangled between his legs, but something else under his lab coat was moving. There were many rumors as to what his mystery 'appendage' was throughout the Clan, but no one seemed to know for sure. Most seemed to think it a third arm, or a second tail.
Manqwell was bitten by Pasqueel's baby squid tied to a stick. The cruel treatment of his manservant made Pasqueel howl his high pitched, chittering laughter as he shambled along. The beasts in front of them seemed to become nervous. They moved forward faster and almost crashed into the back of the slaves to their front. Only some enthusiastic whipping, from packmasters held them in place.

Scarfester often wondered how such a small and puny skaven made so many huge and fearsome monsters fear his laugh alone. It made him conjure up all sorts of images of torture and cruelty. He would have to speak to Pasqueel some day to learn his secrets. It could be useful in breaking slaves. If not, it would at least be amusing to subject some worthless underlings to that sort of treatment.

Casting his mind back further, Scarfester remembered a meeting many years ago with the leader of Clan Skarskarrik. The slavemaster general Vensqueel. They were stationed on the edge of the Blighted Marshes near Skavenblight and Vensqueel made any uncooperative slaves march across the marshes with slave herders whipping them, for days. Once they got back, they were guaranteed to be faithful to their new masters, or failing that dead. He had learnt a lot from Vensqueel and wondered if the rumors about Clan Skarskarrik moving towards the human-things Empire were true.

There were a lot of rumors circulating recently. Depending on which proved to be true and which proved to be false, the coming months were going to be very interesting indeed.
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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Demagorgon
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Demaaaaargh

Squid on a stick and it's got my clan in it! ^_^ There was no way I couldn't like it :D

I think I said this on some of your other fiction, but your characterisation is really effective - you get tone and personality across without devoted paragraphs to description. It's subtle and well done :)

I look forward to the rest of it!
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Bodacious
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Doomwheel Fanatic
Very nice ^_^ .

I lost track a few times with the names, but aside from that it's once again a fine piece of work.

Cheers,
Bodacious.
My Blog - My Army Diary - Twitter: @DaanofWar - Steam: DaanofWar
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SneakyRodent
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Claws of the Horned One founder member

Nice work Scar :)

I'm especially liking the idea of binding your bodyguard's lives to that of your own. An ingenious manner of ensuring their loyalty!

Am looking forward to seeing more!

Grey Seer Skritchit
Lord of the Ulricsberg
Clan Virulus
Holder of 'Best Post' Award 2007 here
Took part in the glorious Lords of Decay Revolution of April 1st 2012

The complete works of SneakyRodent can be found here

.:WarWolt The Mad Engineer:.
 
Sneaky is Sneaky, why is the sky blue?
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We've got a psychic creeper, a tactical master, and a liar who talked himself out of an execution.

(Scrivener on the Scum And Villainy2 characters of me, DamnedPrince and himself)
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