WFRP: skaven, plotting your demise!

[littlebottom]

you are currently in the old mines of the old dwarvan stronghold, known as karak-azgal. you are far south of the empire, stuck in the nest made so long ago when the mines orignally fell.

the only reason there is still a skaven nest here is that the man-things have found that karak-azgal holds precious stones of some sort, its not like we care about the stones they hold so dear, but it brings masses of adventurers to delve down into the mines, and many dangers are down these mines, the skaven included.

simply put, the skaven still reside here as it is a perfect spot to let the daft man-things wander down here, injured and in small groups, perfect for enslaving... and of course, experimenting upon.

but ultimately, being assigned to karak-azgal is not the sweetest of jobs, as there are many things down the mines with which you risk your lives, and the gratitude is near none existant.. if only there was a way to get noticed, to get higher up and get out of these horned-rat forsaken mines.

this nest is run by a grey seer, a very unhappy, and grumpy grey seer... he is only really here to allow there to be several clans and to stop the squabling. as mentioned before, the good supply of slaves is good for testing out new mutations, diseases, poisons, and even as target practice to test new weapons.

youve been here working as hard as you can doing what you were told, even if you didnt want to. but one day. you are approached by a messenger skaven who pulls you off to one side. "meet in mines, by underground river, today-today! just after midnight! no more info except if you fail, you will die-die! tell no one of this!" and with that he scurrys off, leaving a distinct smell of fear, as if not wishing to be noticed.

as midnight draws closer, you sneak out of the nest and make your way carefully to the underground river. upon arrival you see a skaven awaiting you all.

"yes-yes you have come. my name is of no importance, you can call me skreet. i have brought you here to give you a proposition... if-if you refuse, which you will not-not! you shall be killed-killed, as i cannot allow this to be found out, or grey seer will kill-kill us all! any questions before i begin?!"

[Saldre]

A huddled figure, hooded and cloaked, runs trough darkly caverns. It turns from time to time, making sure no one is following it. Constantly twitching, it jumps when-ever a sound disturbs the quiet that would settle around it: even the sound of its own footsteps.

As it reaches the meeting point, it sniffs up the air to get a feel of whats going on. Satisfied, it moves forward.

The skaven in the center of the room's speech is offensive, aggressive and dangerous: hinting at his power and position.

The huddled figure does not waste time pondering, but quickly lowers its nose and squeaks out a reply.


"Oh most benevolent of strangers, most generous of gift-givers, I have received your expertly crafted secret message, and I am here! The Grey-seer will remain ignorant before your genius plan: for I will accept your bargain"

It nods as it speaks, glancing about the room: having fallen prey to curiosity but not forsaken its good senses.

"Answer me this, other then my most useful life in exchange for impeccable services and impressive skill (a vital necessity to your plans), what do YOU have to offer, that the foolish-dumb Grey Seer does not? Perhaps more bodies-bodies for my experiments? more prisoner-slaves for my work?"

The rat-thing cannot help but snicker as it speaks and hisses out its question.

[littlebottom]

"ahh, of course, i should of mentioned. i can offer you a higher position than your current one. more-more power than you have now! i shall answer this in more detail soon-soon, when the others have arrived."

Spoiler

Show

and as you arrive assume whoever has already posted is there waiting and that he says virtually the same thing to you as he did in the first post

[Xsesiv]

A Skaven dressed in a long, grey robe, stained with various horrible secretions, and wrapped entirely in bandages, scuttles, reeling with illness, up the corridor with unholy speed, dripping thankfully unidentifiable fluid from his fur. Two rusty swords clink at his sides. His rheumy eyes, set deep in his brown-furred face, are pink with conjunctivitis, and a sick, orange-pink mixture of phlegm, pus and blood foams from his mouth with every wheezing breath.

His paws, already quiet simply for being a superior Skaven, make no noise at all, the pads rotted and claws softened by various infections, as he arrives at the meeting-place. He would sniff the air, but as rotted as he is, he doubts he would smell anything, even were his nose not blocked by inflammation. He inclines his head respectfully.

"Most illustrious of strong-mighty leaders," he burbles, a cracking noise emitting from his ruined voice box, a strange counterpoint to his tittering insanely all the while, "I am arrived and quail before you. How puny-weak am I, I doubt I could help you in your clever plot, the Grey Seers could only hope to match."

He raises his nose slightly, hearing the Moulder Skaven's request. "I do not-not mean to impose myself upon your great high-mightiness," he froths. "But I suppose-expect you have picked me-me for my great wise-knowledge of the mighty plagues. So will I be able to improve better-better my plagues?"

[littlebottom]

"that is almost exactly what i wish you to do." he pauses breifly sniffing the air gently and wincing at the smell of the newly arrived skaven "you will become in charge-leader of advancing desease! when my plan comes togeather that is. it wont be long-long now either."

he now gets slightly impatient waiting for the others. but waits in silence unless there are more questions, but he still avoids mention of what his plan actually is, waiting upon the others arriving.

[Saldre]

The hooded figure twitches when the new-comer arrives, and slinks back into the darkness.

"Disease-plagues? Contaminate my subjects-experiments it will..." It says and extends a bony finger towards the new-comer.

"It barely holds its own self together! The secret to certain-guaranteed success is not trough rot-decay, but melding of flesh-body to achieve might-superiority!" It squeaks, and though its face remains hidden in its shroud: it raises its nose up.

"Then again... perhaps it can be useful-good for my experiments... It says it has great-wise knowledge? we will put it to good-smart work! For the betterment of my position, to show those foolish-idiots back home who's the real smart-genius" As it speaks, it goes into a monologue of sorts, mumbling to itself while rubbing its paws together: as if it does not realize it is talking to itself.

[Xsesiv]

"The flesh is much-weak," burbles the rotting creature, not acknowledging the Moulder Skaven with a look. "See how easily it succumbs to the almighty strength-power of disease-rot. See how easily it would infect-kill a mighty rat-ogre. The flesh-melder here is merely afraid of decay's power-power. Is a fear-coward the sort of rat you wish-want as a leader, O...Leader?"

The Pestilens Skaven swats away a fly buzzing round his head. Disease better-better, flesh weak-useless. Stupid Moulder ratling.

[Saldre]

"Ahhh, it betrays its own ignorance! The Flesh can resist-ignore plague-diseases after a lone-single infection! When strengthened-remade by expert-genius hands, it is impervious to sickness!" It hisses loudly, and turns to the master rat.

"Oh wisest-smart ruler, see how you resist the mightiest of diseases yourself! a sign of your great-greatness, no doubt, and a revelation of their weak-weakness! The Rat-ogre, perfect-well, is strong enough to deal with anything! No one can fear something as fleeting as sickness-diseases, as it dies-vanishes when all it has no victims-creatures to infect: my best-genius will give you warrior-servants that will stay-remain, loyal-useful, strong-powerful for you're leadership to command all throughout your long-glorious life-span!" It cackles maniacally, still rubbing its hands together.

"I, your humble helper-servant, request only-naught but the opportunity to perfect-better my art to help your most glorious cause" It says, and bows to the Skaven.

[littlebottom]

the skaven watches your breif change of words and replys to you both "i asked you here, now, because of your different skills-experteese... for i see the might-strength of both plague and flesh! for my plan, we will be taking the best from both... aswell as others!" he says to the darkness, as if expecting another skaven to turn up any moment.

[Bowerbird]

At the mysterious stranger's words a new figure looms out of the shadows, dressed not in robes, but dark leather armour, with a pair of pistols at his belt and sharp-sharp axes on his back. "Flesh-mutants and disease-plague are both dead-dead before the power of big-big lightning and warpstone gadget-machines! I accept your offer oh mighty-mighty one, and will contribute my skills to your good-good plan. Grey Seer shall not-not hear about this from me-me. Combine strengths we will, equip mighty-mighty flesh-mutants with deadly-deadly disease-plague, and big-good weapons. Yes-yes!" The newcomer bursts into maniacal snickering. "Now, we hear what good-good plan is, yes-yes?"

[littlebottom]

"late-late you are! but unimportant is that now. yes, my plan, of course. my plan is this, we take power-might of rat-ogres! from clan moulder, we take smart-clever machines from clan skryre, and we make powered-armour and powered-weapons for the rat-ogres! and we use plague-disease to weaken foes in a duel strike, to overthrow all man-things! we will be a new clan! and i will be leader, and you all will be my right-hand-rats! and togeather we will become mightiest clan of all! then all skaven shall listen when we tell-comand to attack-attack!"

"but first... we need warpstone and lots-lots of it... we need it to create the rat-ogres, first! yes-yes, we shall begin work right away. i found the perfect spot deeper in the mines for us to seperate from this nest, and to create our own, untill we perfect our attacks, imagine the might of warp-fire throwing rat-ogres against disease ridden man-things!"

"so my plan is this, the grey seer is expecting a supply of warpstone to be arriving soon-soon, but it wont arrive at all. this happens in 2 nights, but first, go, and convince secretly, those who will follow our cause, and should any rat think of squeeking to the seer, we must kill-kill him quick-quick! only tell those you can trust will follow us. now go-go, return-leave. just be ready to get the warpstone in 2 nights, i will send word of where our new nest is to be!"

[Xsesiv]

"At once, mightiest of masters." Puzter froths. He goes back to his nice warm burrow, and recruits any Pestilens Skaven he doesn't think will sell out with the words "Listen, clanbrother. You want to be in strong-powerful clan? Smart-strong rat-thing has a plan to make us strong-mighty, but you keep it quiet-secret. May the Horned Rat smite-strike you down-down if you tell the evil Grey Seer, and if he doesn't, I will kill-kill you myself."

[Saldre]

The rat returns back to his clan, running trough the long and empty caverns.

Reaching a run-down hovel, he opens the door and sneaks inside. Waiting for him, another figure: small, hunched over and whimpering simply grovels in a corner.

He strikes it on the back of the head as he enters.

"Wake-rise, dumb-stupid servant!" He squeaks "Your best-smart master has Good-good news!"

The figure twitches and turns its snot-leaking nostrils towards Ratigan.

"YessSs maSster?" It Squeaks, and shuffles from underneath the blankets. Deformed and hunch-backed, it grovels at the moulder's feet.

"I have been recruited-advanced!" He says, squirming with pleasure. "Soon-soon my experiments will be perfected-complete! We must gather those willing to follow my great-genius, other students in the moulder arts!"

"But masSsster, you have no friends-allies or other sSservantsss-help then me! They call you insSsane-crazy, and no one would lisSsten!" The servant pleads, as politely as he can.

"Crazy-mad!? I will show-prove them crazy!" He squeaks, outraged, delivering a massive kick to the servant's behind. He turns to the door and walks out, attempting to find someone who would listen to his ramblings.