A/N: First skaven story guys. I loved writing this, and I really hope you enjoy it, as skaven are my favourite Warhammer race. Imo, they beat IG in terms of coolness. And judging by the amount of stories I've written about the IG I'd say I like them a lot. Hope you enjoy guys, I did my research on this one. :D
Chieftain Kersk stomped on the head of a crawling clanrat with his armoured footpaw, smashing the pathetic beast's skull in and silencing its squeals. Kersk cackled in sadistic glee, his red eyes gleaming through an armoured visor. He surveyed the rest of the tunnel, and scorn rose inside him for the shambling forms filling it.
Clanrats, emaciated and bedraggled. Their eyes filled with stark-white terror as they tried to flee. The poison in their veins made them lethargic, and the best they could manage was a half-crawl. Kersk pointed with his mailed fist, harsh voice cutting the air, "Kill-kill, minions!"
Kersk's stormvermin warriors advanced, halberds and shields held in front menacingly. The first two reached a clanrat, and with sharp stabs the lowly skaven was dispatched. Kersk rubbed his paws in triumph, eyes gleaming as he dreamt of the wealth that would be his. His joy turned to irritation as Kersk noticed his cowardly warriors hanging back from the poisoned clanrats, not wanting to become infected themselves.
Kersk gnashed his fangs together, anger at his cowardly stormvermin overriding his dreams. Kersk stormed forwards, sword drawn. He shoved stormvermin out of the way until he was at the head of his followers. He looked back, and gave them his most evil glare, "Mighty Kersk will show you how to fight, craven-cowards!" Kersk slashed savagely at a crawling clanrat, and impaled another on his serrated blade. He laughed aloud at the slaughter, and advanced down the tunnel, killing with every step.
Kersk killed three more clanrats savagely and then turned back to his stormvermin, "Go, kill-kill, cowards!"
Kersk eyed his warriors as they filed past him. None met his eyes as they filed past, and soon more shrill cries came from further down the tunnel as the stormvermin killed the clanrats. Kersk nodded triumphantly, glad that his warriors knew who their real master was.
He looked to the rest of his followers, skulking at the back as usual. "Emissary, will the poison spread-spread to my warriors?" The question was asked not out of concern for the armoured ratmen, but a lingering worry Kersk had that Warlord Pelik would have kept some of his own stormvermin healthy, and Kersk wanted this revolution to be over quickly.
Emissary Snakta gazed back at Kersk with a cool, predatory gleam in his eyes, the emissary from Clan Eshin had provided the poison Kersk needed to weaken Pelik's Clan Scrakk. Eshin's payment was a large amount of warpstone from Pelik's private stash. Kersk hadn't been told explicitly what would happen to him if he failed to defeat Pelik, but he knew it wouldn't be quick, or painless.
"The poison burns flesh and organs from the inside, it must be drunk-poured through the nose-snout to be dangerous. Your warriors will not be harmed-hurt."
Kirks snorted, he suspected the Clan Eshin spy was lying, but what did it matter. He would not be getting too close to any serious fighting. No, Kersk only needed to kill a weakened Pelik. Kersk snickered in evil delight; Pelik was old and frail, Kersk was young and strong. It would be an easy contest. Kersk gripped his sword in anticipation, and trudged down the tunnel after his stormvermin, Snakta and his Eshin delegation in tow.
Kersk reached the end of the tunnel, kicked a corpse, and entered a huge cavern. What he saw pleased him. A huge round space had been carved out of the rock. Its walls and ceiling were loosely dressed, untidy rock formations of hundreds of colours. Gems sparkled in the ceiling, hundreds of metres above. The huge height of the cavern instinctively made Kersk cower from airborne predators in a age-old reflex. He straightened up quickly, covering his cowardly move by striding purposefully across the cavern's floor. His metal boots crashed as he strode, and Kersk felt in his element, imagining the time when he would rule over this cavern as warlord.
The cavern was the main meeting hall of Clan Scrakk's, and its rocky floors were covered in hundreds of clanrat corpses. A few still crawled or writhed in pain, but some of Kersk's stormvermin were busy moving around finishing them off. Kersk spared a moment to dream of what he would do once he was master of Clan Skrakk, but he was distracted by the ring of stormvermin surrounding a rocky podium in the centre of the cavern.
Upon the crest of rock, there lay a throne carved out of veined rock and studded with hundreds of small gems that gleamed maliciously in the low light. On the throne, a dark shape seemed to slump. A heap of matted grey fur and piercing, beady eyes. Kersk laughed aloud as he neared the throne, and he could almost feel the hate radiating off of Pelik as he saw that his chieftain had beeen the one to bring down his clan.
Pelik was protected by a final cordon of loyal stormvermin. Kersk was almost impressed with their devotion, but they were misguided fools. His own warriors stepped aside as he clanked through them, and Kersk contemptuously gestured to Pelik's stormvermin. "Fool-fools. You follow this drooling old one! I will give you one chance to join me in the rebuilding of a new Clan Scrakk. Or, you can cast your lot with this decrepit, old pup-maggot, and die!" Kersk's sword, still dripping with the black blood of poisoned clanrats, hung ready in Kersk's gauntlet. Kersk glared his most fierce glare, letting his natural rage rise as he thought of all the times incompetent underlings and craven allies had deserted him and left Warlord Pelik in power still. No more!
Kersk screamed his war cry , and smashed his gauntleted fist in an accusation at Pelik. "You will die, maggot, but I will make you grovel in fear before you do!" Kersk extended his gaze to the stormvermin around Pelik. The elite black-clad warriors, the finest in Clan Skrakk, shrank back in fear from the armoured skaven in front of them. They knew of Kersk's reputation as a brutal and wrathful fighter. One looked around at the cordon of armoured warriors and uttered a hoarse reply, "I will fight for Chieftain Kersk." With that admission of betrayal, the skaven fled the podium and joined Kersk's own band of stormvermin, scurrying away from his previous master.
Two others quickly deserted, narrowly dodging halberds as they abandoned the more loyal guards. Pelik was left with four hulking stormvermin around him. Kersk laughed at their display of treachery, and resolved to make them swear loyalty to him later. Kersk didn't let any of his underlings get ideas above their station.
He put the traitors out of his mind, and they were instantly forgotten. Kersk focussed his eyes on the decrepit form of Pelik. Disgust filled him, and he itched to stride up and plunge his sword in the aged rat's chest. Kersk eyed the four warriors around Pelik. No one could be expected to go against four big stormvermin, at least no one with any self-interest. No, these stormvermin would fight his own underlings. Kersk grinned evilly, and fixed his eyes upon Pelik as he shouted an order. "Kill-kill warriors, but leave the old one for Kersk!"
Kersk's stormvermin rushed Pelik's defenders, and Kersk waded through them, gaze still on Pelik. The old skaven's face was filled with hatred and anger. One of Pelik's stormvermin tried to reach Kersk, displaying impressive loyalty, but he was dragged down and hacked to pieces.
Pelik surveyed Kersk as the armoured chieftain stood in front of him, brandishing his wet sword. Kersk cackled at his triumph. Oh, he had dreamt of this! He leant down and stared Pelik in his rheumy eyes. "Old fool, how could you ever hope to keep me from my rightful place." Kersk's brutish face split into a smile under his helmet, and he raised his sword for a killing blow. Pelik watched Kersk's face intently, and the when he saw Kersk's eyelids blink in a perfectly normal reflex, he struck!
The bundle of rags and mangy fur uncoiled with the speed of a striking snake and suddenly fangs and claws were probing for holes in Kersk's armour. Pelik latched onto Kersk's shoulder as the chieftain staggered back, searching for any advantage or weak point. Pelik cackled when he found his former chieftain's dagger at the back of his belt. Pelik ducked a wild sweep from Kersk's flailing sword, and jumped down from his shoulders.
Pelik shoved Kersk backwards with a double-footed kick. Clasping his stolen dagger, the aged warlord pounced on the fallen skaven. Pelik allowed himself one sneer as he saw Kersk's enraged face, and whispered hoarsely, "Submit, traitor-liar. Submit to your betters!"
Pelik watched, perplexed as Kersk began to laugh. Ugly peals of deranged laughter that frightened everything that heard it. "Fool!" Kersk murmured. The chieftain's tail, which had curled up on the floor next to its owner's body, suddenly lashed out violently.
Pelik felt his body go numb as the steel barb that replaced the end of Kersk's tail ripped into his back. Kersk shoved him off, and stood up. He stood, sneering as Pelik's body spasmed jerkily in its last moments. He smelt the approach of Emissary Snakta, the spy's scent reeking of satisfaction and respectful fear. "The tail whip worked-killed, chieftain?"
Kersk looked at the grovelling spy with a mix of distaste and gratitude, "Yes, spy-sneak. But I am called-named warlord now, remember that! There is much work to be done, but Clan Skrakk will be great again!"