Of Atonement And Salvation: The End Times

Chapter 3

The Unraveling Agenda

Written by S. J. Kandil

Within the armory stood a stoic Thavan Vanamar. Beside him, Grodmoor.

"Walking around in hospital attire whilst in the midst of combat isn't conducive to a healthy life. And so, while you slept, my suitors performed the proper measurements and inspected your human clothing in order to mirror what you are familiar with. This was their creation."

Grodmoor strode past racks of swords and firearms toward multiple suits of armor worn on dummy mannequins. There were varying types of armor on display. From cloth-like robes designed for the stealthy Eshin assassins to the heavy mail and plate of Stormvermin armor and their many variants. The differing types were astounding to Thavan's eyes.

At the center of the armory stood a lone circular shaped metallic vessel roughly the height of Thavan. Next to it on a pole was a console with a few buttons. Grodmoor pressed but one. Upon release of the button, a sharp and instant hiss echoed from the cylinder. Both parts of the cylinder split in two and ran down the length of the vessel until they closed into their base at the bottom of the cylinder.

With the contents now revealed, Thavan stepped forward. Perched on a pole with arms was a set of mint condition witch hunter gear. A wide brimmed hat with the blue skaven equilateral triangle stitched into the base of the hat sat waiting for someone to lay claim. The skaven skull with spiraling horns rested above the deep cerulean blue triangle. This emblem was the face of Clan Grozen and Thavan would be that face. Finally, crested near the top of the hat was the infamous twin tailed comet. A symbol like that was something Thavan thought he would never see again.

Below the hat was the next part of the uniform. A tunic and thick leather belt were buckled together, just waiting for someone to use them in combat. Thavan gripped the tunic and ran his hands across the material. It was not only sturdy but he guessed it may be imbued with magical properties for extra protection.

As if sensing his thoughts, Grodmoor spoke, "Our skaven mages went to great lengths to ensure a comfortable fit and also one that will save your life. It won't protect from everything but certain attacks you will be able to brush aside. If the area is repeatedly damaged, then I cannot guarantee it will offer the same amount of protection."

That settles that then. Thavan looked on elsewhere and observed the little details of the belt. Along the center of the belt and running all the way across it were metallic equalaterial triangles. This not only added a sense of flair, but also showed the world who this property belonged too.

"We studied about your kind. Not only their ways but also the nature in which they go about crafting gear. I had an assortment of spies educate themselves and jot down the relevant information to craft this clothing. There is one fatal flaw I observed while going over the diagrams with my blacksmiths. The witch hunter gear is intimidating but lacks protection. How can one go about protecting humanity when you are wearing gear not suitable for the rigors of warfare? Impossible? I think not. Take the trousers as a perfect example. You'll find they have some heft to them. This is in due in part because they are inlaid with a metallic alloy dug from the core of this planet. My smiths have coined it Moorian ore. Something I wasn't too fond of but I digress. Iron and steel have no form of comparison to this kind of protection. I guarantee it. A stab to the knee will no longer demand a career ending take down. It will fold with the attack and cushion the blow. It'll hurt, but you'll survive. I have supplied a set of faulds that accompany this uniform to strap around your waist. It is not necessary but I recommend them as they are also crafted of Moorian ore."

Grodmoor point to the set on the pole and turned to Thavan who remained quiet. "It may not be what is standard issue for an average witch hunter, but we are at war and we will need the best means of protection possible. A layer of chainmail surrounding the weakest parts of your body might be a good fit. We have different types should you need only portions of coverage."

Grodmoor walked behind the set of armor and turned it around. The black cape had clan Grozen's insignia woven through it.

"It's not just for show either." He chuckled. "Same as the trousers, it will protect you as an added layer of defense. Most small arms fire and weaker weaponry should struggle to tear through. A thin layer of alloy is embedded into the cape. A painful and long process. At least, that is what the ones who craft it claim."

Grodmoor walked back toward Thavan and stared down at him. "I entrusted my suitors upon making something that would not only be familiar to you but also protect you from the many horrors we have yet to face. I oversaw its creation. You needed something that would adhere to your beliefs. And now, your silence concerns me. You are like a stonewall. There is no sign of what you are feeling. You have me at a disadvantage here, Vanamar. What are your thoughts?" An anxious Grodmoor asked with bated breath.

Thavan coughed, whether forcefully or not is up for debate. He gripped his chin and paused. "Had I seen this before Zenara revealed that vision, we would be having a different conversation this moment in time. Through vehemence and a violent disposition, I would have shunned this mockery...this copycat of my holy order I once called my own. I would feel sick at the proposition of wearing that which I no longer am part of. I'd hate you and your kind further for parading me around like a mockery of my former self."

Thavan walked past Grodmoor and turned the armor to face him once more. His left hand gripped the tunic. "Then I am reminded of what I bear witnessed through these eyes. Fire, death, and misery. This isn't about me, nor my pride. Our future is at stake. What do I see here you may ask? With open eyes I glance upon a gift. A gift meticulously crafted with care and precision. One that would not only surpass the human made version but also put my people to shame if this performs as well as it appears it will."

Thavan let go of the outfit and turned to face Lord Grodmoor. His red eyes looked down at Thavan and then back to the suit. "Now, to answer your question, I will take this offering and use it to kill chaos. It not may not be made by humans but it will be good to be back in what I am most familiar with."

Grodmoor nodded. "Excellent. We're done here. It's time you met your squad."

# # # #

Thavan stood near the exit to the building he has called home ever since he woke. It has been a full week since he has seen that vision. Time has been kind to him. His recovery was a complete success.

He never asked but he did wonder why they never let him travel beyond this spacious and large structure. There were so many rooms in here he believed he would get lost were it not for Zenara's guidance.

No other skaven were within his sights. Grodmoor requested that he wait here until further notice. He was going to do just that.

Thavan imagined that when others were coming and going this would be one busy place. It was an assembly area of sorts. A desk at the main entrance worked as a means of funneling people to their destinations. Thavan pondered just how many skaven were under Grodmoor's influence? Thousands? No, there must have been more.

Beyond where he stood nestled at the middle of the assembly area were two massive steel doors. These most likely led to the outside caverns and possibly into a skaven city. How one navigated the underground made no sense to Thavan. It was nothing like the outdoors and offered him no scenery to guide him.

Thavan continued to mull over his thoughts when the doors behind him opened and 5 individuals stepped forward.

The first one lumbered through the doorway and made a beeline toward Thavan. His features, hidden behind a a suit of fully enclosed armor left much for the imagination. With each step the ground around him shook ever so slightly. If one listened closely, they may discern a distinct sloshing sound echoing from behind him. Was it some sort of fluid?

The skaven's long muzzle was completely enclosed in a gas mask-like apparatus that connected to the rest of the armor. The holes for his eyes were not transparent in nature. They were bulbous and glowed a noxious green color.

As he turned around to grip a nozzle on his back, he cranked it repeatedly. The gears emitted an audible screeching sound. Thavan winced to the noise and noted their was a backpack attached to him by bolts. It should be noted that there was a flap at the top and a small opening at the side that allowed globes to fall down into their base for access. These globes were transparent but filled with a liquid similar in color to his eyes. The color of warpstone.

It was impossible to tell if the skaven was watching him or not but it left him feeling uneasy none the less. That feeling dampened a bit as two more walked forward.

One male and one female came next. Both wore cloth wraps concealing the front of their muzzles. These wrappings dangled just below their mouths. Their heads were also concealed by tight fighting hoods with eye holes cut through the fabric for sight. A few pieces of cloth cut into long straps were wrapped around their faces and kept the rest of their disguise close to their flesh without hindering sight.

The hoods ran down the back of their necks and attached to tight fitting overcoats. The males coat had the sleeves intact. Upon the sleeves were an assortment of daggers in sheaths and other trinkets dangling from the fabric. Thavan watched in silence but felt perplexed. What was their purpose he pondered?

The females sleeves were torn off. In their place were multiple sets of cloth wraps running down to her hands. Both of the skaven's fur was as black as a raven's feathers. Their robes ran all the way down to their legs. A set of taut fitting trousers supported by a thin layer of chainmail and leather mixed in between made up their unique looks. Each of them wore a set of wraps that connected to their heal and covered the bottoms of their feet. Their toes were completely enclosed in sharp metal tips. This was clearly for digging into walls as an aid for climbing. All of their clothing was as black as their fur. Thavan knew these were the assassins.

Beyond them appeared an armored ratling gunner Thavan recognized almost immediately. That was the one that played a part in his rescue. His armor had been updated since their last encounter. This time, his helmet lay attached to his hip by some straps. His features were visible.

An under-bite revealed his bottom two incisors protruding out and in front of his top rows. His bottom left tooth was chipped. A hauberk covered his arms, chest, and neck. A moderate sized piece of plate covered his front and back. They were connected by leather fastenings along the sides.

A set of thick, spiked gauntlets covered from his elbows down. Above the elbows leading up to the shoulder-blades, the chaimail hauberk and hardened leather underneath would suffice as protection.

Out of the double doors appeared another one. This male skaven wore a set of blackened platemail armor covering him from the neck down. His chestplate, marked by the Grozen clan insignia also had one peculiar marking on it. A hand print, seemingly dipped in black ink, marked his right chest-plate.

A shield was attached to his back and strapped around the front by leather fastenings. That same black hand insignia covered the shield as well. A sword, sheathed and on his hip, rattled as he stepped forward. He stood only a few inches taller than Thavan.

Each one of them walked out and stood in formation. Side by side they all lined up and stood straight. No arch to their backs as their faces appeared posed and resolute. Then, without notice, they all turned their heads and looked directly at Thavan.

"These are your crew members, Thavan. Get acquainted with them. Come to understand their strengths and weaknesses. Through this simple sounding but arduous task, you and those before you will become something that few can match. They hail from a multitude of clans with a long and brutal history. Eshin, Skryre, Moulder, Mors, and many others from smaller clans have pledged their allegiance to Grozen. These are some of my greatest followers. And you will be working side by side with them. Now, I have spoken enough. The stage, is theirs."

Grodmoor quieted as the large armored gas mask user walked forward. "I am Ziv, a poison wind globadier at your service, Thavan Vanamar."

His voice was gruff and throaty. A partially synthesized hum echoed from his words. Possibly due in part to that gas mask Thavan surmised? The skaven took a bow and nearly toppled over onto Thavan. The humans eyebrows raised as he took one step backwards and gave himself a wide berth from the clumsy skaven. The globadier stabilized himself but not before the two assassins scoffed at his clumsiness.

"You're too fat for that armor." proclaimed the female.

"And too slow." Chimed in the male.

"I'm not fat. It's the armor." Grunted the globadier. For extra reassurance he looked down and gripped his stomach through the armor and squeezed the metallic surface.

The duo walked past Ziv and circled Thavan. "I am Teeshna." cooed the female as her nose sniffed the air and her whiskers twitched to the smell of a human.

"Your scent is unusual." She declared.

The male walked around Thavan one time. "And I am Neeshi." His raspy voice echoed from his lungs with a bit of phlegm tainting his words in a rather unpleasant wet sound.

"My sister is right. There is something about you that stands out from the others. Mayhaps it is because you are the first human I have come so close to without the intent to kill-murder?" His question left a bad taste in Thavan's mouth.

"Yesss." Purred Teeshna. "You are right I imagine. He isn't sniveling and pissing himself such as those before him."

"You like to kill humans, don't you?" Asked Thavan.

"You misinterpret!" Teeshna spoke hastily. "Our loyalty once belonged to Clan Eshin. I killed many adversaries of varying species while employed by them. Lord Grodmoor opened our minds to the possibility there is something greater-better than everything we have strove toward at our time under the banner of the Eshin clan. I, and my dear brother, are sworn to oppose all those who would ally under the star of chaos. If humans worship them, then they will die-die."

Her beady eyes stared into Thavan's. There was an ever present sign that she intended no harm by her mannerisms and words. Her brother nodded at that moment, as if to confirm Thavan's thoughts.

Thavan intended to respond but his eyes turned to a much larger skaven. The one equipped with a sword and shield. He strode on past the duo and stood level with Thavan. Any closer and their heads would butt.

"I am Sorn Right Hand of Grodmoor. These skaven, they are mine. They wish not to offend you, I have no such qualms over this matter. You are an obstacle in this path. An obstacle meant to challenge all of us. I warned Grodmoor that I had reservations concerning you. But here you stand. Grodmoor is our supreme leader and if he wills it, then his will is my duty. If I must cooperate with vermin then I will do so. But know this man of Sigmar; if I see but one moment of treachery, you will wish you died in that arena. Are we clear?" His lips peeled back as the skaven showed his teeth to Thavan.

"If I wanted you dead skaven, you'd be dead where you stand. Idle threats are empty threats." Growled an agitated Thavan.

Grodmoor observed the situation. If they were to cooperate they must work it out. For this reason, he chose not to intervene. He held no resentment or reservations toward Thavan. The human had gone through more trauma than most would ever overcome. In order to function as one unit though, Thavan and his companions must strip aside their speciest ways. At that point then there may be a chance to rectify the future. It was slim. Grodmoor knew this, but there was no other way.

"A pity." Sorn mused. "I thought you to be taller."

"I expected a more pungent aroma coming from your fur. I didn't know your species was intelligent enough to bathe." Countered Thavan.

Sorn narrowed his eyes. His whiskers flinched as he exhaled a deep breath. Thavan expected a violent backlash. This time, the unexpected would happen.

"Sorn chuckled. "It's true human. We do bathe. It's just with the blood of arrogant witch hunters you see?"

He scoffed at the man and turned away from the witch hunter. The skaven then locked eyes with Grodmoor. "What? I will comply."

Grodmoor silently nodded and looked on.

"Thavan, before you depart, I would like to have a word with you in private." His tone and inflection warned Thavan of the importance and urgency on this matter.

"I'm coming too." Said another voice.

Thavan turned to see Zenara walk past him and look to their leader.

"As you wish." Said Grodmoor.

The trio walked deeper into the building, past his throne room and up a flight of stairs. They arrived in what could only be described as a war room. Candles were sprawled across the room, decorating it in their warming and relaxing glow. The wax melted and dripped into candle holders as a hint of mint and incense permeated through the room. Thavan depicted the aroma and felt soothed by its scent. It calmed his nerves.

At the top of the room a Clan Grozen banner hung on the wall. Its imposing colors and pattern were appropriate. At the center of the room was a large stone table. Maps and paperwork were strewn across it. Cup markers from hot drinks stained some of the pages while others were covered with so much dust it looked like it had been some time since they have seen use.

The largest map at the center of the table, depicted an image of the skaven underway; a network of tunnels and highways which in turn, kept the skaven mobile in an underground environment.

As Zenara closed the door and placed the bottom of her foot against it, Grodmoor spoke, "There is no time to mince words with you, Thavan. I will refrain from holding back. Our situation is dire. We've been waging a hit and run campaign against Clan Pestilens for years now. They, along with Eshin, Moulder, and Skryre make up the 4 most powerful clans of Skavendom. They have the political clout and the bodies to make a difference in the decision making for the Under Empire. But, there is also the Council of Thirteen. Twelve of our greatest and most powerful clans sit at their respective thrones in Skavenblight. The Thirteenth seat is reserved to their god, The Great Horned Rat. The majority of these leaders are fools, hellbent on their own machinations and power fantasies to realize once this world is gone, there will be nothing left to scrape up."

Grodmoor rested his hands on the table and pointed to an area on the map. "This will make or break our fledgling clan. My scouts report that Clan Pestilens intends to make a deal with Nurgle, the chaos god of disease. There holds much significance in this finding. For you see, they claim Kritislik, Seerlord of the Grey Seers signed a secret bargain with them and he is using Clan Pestilens for his own gains. I knew Pestilens intended to strike, but not so soon. They would side with chaos, given the chance. They both revel in disease and filth. Rest in piss. But the chance that the Grey Seers are joining is unheard of. A new power play may be in the works?"

Grodmoor walked to an enclosed shelf lined with glass. He grabbed the handle and opened it. Inside were varying amounts of liquor. The skaven rummaged through until he found a bottle of amber colored whiskey with a cork at the top and grabbed two glasses.

His eyes glanced down at Thavan. Thavan nodded. Grodmoor gripped the cork with his front two incisors and ripped it off. The fluids dumped into the first shot, all the while the strong scent of liquor began to rise through the air. Grodmoor slid the glass across to Thavan. The moment he started to pour some into the spare shot, he shrugged, and then rose the bottle to his mouth and gulped the contents in a matter of seconds.

Thavan gripped his and drank the amber fluids in one swig. The hot, burning sensation plowed through his core, kicking the shit out of him.

"Goddamn. What do you put in that stuff?"

Grodmoor belched loudly and placed the bottle on the table. "Enough to null the mind but not enough to kill me."

Thavan smiled, a silly and toothy grin. "That ugh...it has been a while since I drank alcohol. The effects are...yeah."

"Thavan, the skaven wouldn't concern themselves with this matter were it not for the fact that they intend to plan this all in secret. A pact forged in trickery and deceit. If we can intercept them and steal those documents...well, the others would see this as an act of treason. Another great skaven civil war would surely erupt. Just the kind of madness I need in order to rid us of Clan Pestilens. This is but the first of many obstacles. Other parts must fall into place. Only then, might I snatch the reigns of this sinking empire. Once the skaven bow to me, we will have an army to fight the hordes of chaos. We won't stop there either. Others will join the fold. But that is talk for another time. The present is all I must concern you with."

Thavan eyed the map and the distance between said location and their own. The gap measured several hundred miles. It would be one hell of a journey that was for sure.

"Humanity has wagered their lives on chance alone many times before. We continue to persevere. We've faced insurmountable odds and yet here I stand, as do many others. If we are to survive, then I must give you the benefit of the doubt and take your words at face value. Other than these so called documents, is there anything else I must look for?"

"Indeed, there is." He said gruffly.

Zenara continued to stand behind Thavan with her arms crossed. Her features alone told anybody in attendance that something concerned her.

"Are you familiar with warpstone, Thavan?"

Grodmoor strode toward a desk with a cabinet attached to the upper part of it. He opened it and reached in, extracting an old tome and placed it on the desk.

Thavan coughed and scratched the back of his head. "Isn't that the green ore I see your kind use often?"

Grodmoor opened the book. Dust particles shot across the candlelight as he turned the pages. They danced in the dim light until he found the page and they began their slow descent to the ground below.

"Yes. You may have seen it used as a form of fire as well. There..."

"Wait." Commanded Thavan. "We are here alone, nobody else but us three. Now is the time to address some confusion that has troubled me since my arrival to your sanctuary. I understand your purpose here, Grodmoor. It all makes sense to me. What I don't understand is her."

Thavan pointed behind him with his thumb. Zenara stepped forward and walked around the table until both of them were facing the human.

"What part of this puzzle is she operating from? Not once had I seen females of your species until I encountered your clan. Either females have differing rights according to each clan...or you are hiding something from me."

Grodmoor gripped the empty bottle and put it away. He turned his head toward Thavan. "Through the use of warpstone many things have..."

He was cut short from his sentence. Zenara spoke in quick, squeaky words, "If I may? This concerns me and my mind often. I wish to speak for myself on this matter."

Grodmoor quieted and turned back toward them. As if that was her cue, she grabbed it by the reigns.

"There is a reason you have never seen a female of my species. That reason is because of warpstone. Warpstone holds many properties. From its use as a currency to the destructive nature of magic, it can and will be utilized to its fullest potential. The value is there. But, my sick brethren have found another nefarious way to conjure its power. Females such as myself are converted into fat, gelatinous creatures know as breeders. They are kept hidden away from all but the most high ranking members within each clan. The Order of The Grey Seers demanded an army that would come to rival all surface dwellers one day. Only then might they commit to their grand crusade to conquer the world and rule over all the surface species. Females like myself breed at a comparable rate to your human women. The Grey Seers could not stand that. They find females such as myself at birth and convert us."

Zenara appeared visibly shaken. Her hands trembled as she squeezed them into fists. A lone tear ran down her left cheek.

"They corrupted and altered our physiology, turned us into these sad excuses of life. They drug these females to numb the constant pain they undergo and to keep them complicit. Once they are pregnant, it only takes a few weeks and then ten, sometimes twenty babies are born to scurry toward their closest teat and gorge upon her fetid milk. There is no saving them except through death. Only then might we grant them peace."

The hardness in her face was alleviated slightly by the mistiness in her eyes. Thavan realized just how greatly this affected her mind.

"The reason you see females here is because Grodmoor has limited our use of warpstone. You've seen the other factions within my kind; they're infested with diseases and live with patches of fur while scraping at dying flesh. They are so filled with evil that it does not concern them that it is also killing them. Warpstone is dangerous. If one does not take the proper precautions when using it, then you see by the other clans what comes of them. It is because of our limited use of warpstone that ones such as Teeshna, Feefee or myself who were an anomaly are now becoming the norm. I was not born in this clan, but if I were in one of the great clans, I can assure you they would have transformed me. I am grateful I was not born like my other sisters. The irony is not lost on me when I admit that warpstone is also the key to saving this world."

Thavan stared at her, listening to every word. It was an understatement to say he was profoundly shocked by the instability within skavendom. He pondered how they had not killed themselves off yet.

"Can you elaborate?"

"I joined forces with Grodmoor for this reason. We have found a way to reverse engineer warpstone. Though it is in its infancy, one cannot deny the great strides we have achieved."

Zenara walked toward the tome on the table and flipped through the pages until she came across a page near the back. There were many diagrams and wards written in skaven characters. She pointed to a sketch of a blue crystal.

"Ex Skryre engineers have code-named it bluestone. Its purpose is yet unclear. What we have tested it on shows promise, particularly those corrupted by chaos are shone to suffer the worst fatalities when in range of this crystal. If we can stabilize the bluestone and ensure it is not a danger to the user, then we have a weapon of great possibilities. So far, our test results have been rather...volatile."

Her change of tone interested Thavan. He wanted to know more.

"Nevertheless, the outcome to this may very well be limitless. From bullets to swords, or cannons to catapults, there is a path pointing forward. One untainted by the evil that is chaos. With your permission, Lord Grodmoor, I'd like to show him the research we've achieved and grant him the transparency we promised."

"Permission granted." Uttered their leader.

"If you will, Thavan, follow me." She asked him as she turned and took her leave. He followed after her and watched as her robes swayed and danced around the motions of her body. The robes were taut and accentuated her curves. Even her large breasts pressed tightly against the fabric, something Thavan noticed all too easily.

Thavan picked up the pace and walked side by side with Zenara.

"I'm ugh...I'm coming with you when you depart tomorrow." Her voice quaked in fear. Zenara's usual tone of confidence shattered. She sounded timid and nervous.

Thavan looked at her just as she reverted her gaze from his. "Why?"

Her response was not immediate. But when it came, it was flat and right to the point. "You saw it yourself, Sorn doesn't trust you. While I do not believe he would openly harm you, I also do not believe he would go out of his way to ensure you come back alive. I will not let that happen. You are also familiar with me. Your interactions with them have been one conversation. This is not a productive means of survival when one does not know his own squad members."

She looked across the room. Her timid attitude sprouted once more. "And I think you will need the additional firepower when the battle begins. The others believe this incursion will be simple. I disagree. It is advantageous to myself and to this clans well-being that all of you survive. And yes, that means you too Thavan."

"Fair enough." He admitted. "But I think there is something you are omitting here. There is another reason you are refraining from..."

"We're here." Her statement assured him there would be no answer to his question. Come to think of it, it may be for the best he didn't know. Was he just telling himself that to feel better? Thavan couldn't answer that.

The moment she opened the large metal door, it screeched open and then his eyes and ears were barraged with an array of sights and sounds. The 'room' if one could even call it that stretched further than Grodmoor's throne room.

Large and imposing tesla coils encased in transparent glass shrieked and roared as they shot bolts of electricity at the glass. The purplish blue bolts bounced across their glass cages and then dispersed. These tesla coils ran in rows of two down the entire room. On top of each coil, floating in a suspended state were bluish green pieces of warpstone. Electrical arks clattered and crackled more violently near the warpstone and bounced off the pylons repeatedly.

Engineers clad in black and red full body suits bickered and chattered in their native skaven tongue amongst each other. Others, who had less of a hands on approach with the electrical currents wore silken robes that concealed all of their body save for their faces. Their stylish designs were beautiful as Thavan noticed the gilded patterns of skaven symbols on their clothing. They were jotting down information on their notepads or communicating with the ones in suits as they worked on generators puffing black smoke.

It reminded Thavan of the workshops where they constructed steam tanks in the Reikland far south of where he once lived. Those workshops were an industrial hell. This place was no different. One in which Thavan wasn't all too keen to enter.

"Are you concerned, Thavan?"

He neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions.

"You have nothing to fear. Lord Grodmoor has overseen the creation of this laboratory. He has made certain many times over that they follow strict protocol. We mustn't blow up our home, wouldn't you agree?"

Thavan begrudgingly walked forward. He followed her as the skaven fought and bickered among one another. Some even resorted to throwing their notebooks at each other. They were a fickle bunch.

Zenara raised her hand to the side of her mouth so others could not discern what she says. "Believe it or not, but they work better when they fight."

He raised an eyebrow but nodded.

They walked toward a skaven with a cape and full body suit of armor so thick he appeared 3 times the size of the average stormvermin. Upon his chest were many accommodations and medals.

"This is Warlock Engineer Skruuk. His Excellency. The Grand Architect of Despair and Warfare. The Esteemed Leader of Electricity. The Baron of The Doom Wheel. Grand Chancellor of Poisoned Wind."

She took a deep breath and continued, "And this, is Thavan Vanamar."

If that wasn't a kick in Vanamar's ego, then nothing would stop him as he seemed unperturbed by her wording.

The skaven twisted its head in Thavan's direction. A black visor ran over it's eyes. The opaque glass eye-holes from which it gazed at everyone were magnified by the visor. They appeared insect like. A set of finely layered cloth robes with skaven runes and symbols covered his greasy armor.

Thavan looked him over one time. "Are that many titles necessary?" He sighed and stretched.

"Of-Of course...it ittt is! This empire would fall into disarray and death were wereee it not for the contributions my engineers have graciously bestowed upon Clan Grozen. Man-thing must know his place and who he talks too! Yes-Yes!"

Skruuk and his broken Riekspiel dialect amused Thavan. On the contrary, this set Zenara off. She retrieved her staff from her robes and cracked the weapon against the top of his metal dome. "Human!" She growled.

The staff clinked against his armor. The skaven stood there. Neither breathing nor moving. Her sudden outburst bewildered the skaven. It was in his best interest to choose his next words carefully, less he instill the wrath of one angry sorceress.

"Alright." He muttered. "Fine-fine. Human, fur-less one, what may I do for you both?"

"Zenara walked forward. "I want you to show our newfound ally the proof he deserves. And that means granting him a presentation of our newest weapon. Are there any remaining test subjects?"

Skruuk fiddled with his hands after placing a long crank on the table next to a generator he was operating on. "Aye, I do. The filthy bastard's been stinkin' up my workplace since he arrived. Can we kill-slay him? Yes-yes?"

Thavan almost pictured an evil grin with long, sharp fangs dripping with saliva behind that mask. His persona oozed with the intent to kill.

Skruuk continued, "Preferably with poison wind. the device's been a tad wonky and I don't trust-believe it will operate as per natural parameters."

"We fund you. We saved your from your masters when you dabbled in technology not approved by them. You will do it. And that means now." Zenara's stern retort smacked him across his metal face. And with good reason. She was second only to Lord Grodmoor. Her words held much weight under the growing empire that was Clan Grozen.

The skaven raised his hand. "Alright, fine. Just don't shoot-stab the messenger when the device explodes. I will not be held accountable! Not my fur!" His saliva laced words were wet and crunchy sounding. Was he eating something behind that mask?

Thavan and Zenara were led through the workshop until they arrived at a bunch of labs with heavily armored and armed security. Some eyed Thavan suspiciously but allowed him entry. Behind clear glass walls Thavan watched skaven tinkering and working on warpstone. The deeper within the labs he entered, the more guards there were.

Skruuk led them to an area closed off from the rest. The moment they entered Thavan discerned a rancid scent in the air. Something was rotten. Was it organs or flesh? Whatever it was, it stunk like hell. He proceeded to breathe out of his mouth as he looked at the room they entered.

One large room separated by a wall and a one way glass window allowed one to look into the other side. It appeared to be a holding cell. Thavan swallowed rising saliva. If this scent wouldn't air out soon, he'd be seeing his lunch once more. On the side he was standing within, there were a few chairs and tables with paperwork strewn throughout.

On the other side of the room stood a man consumed by chaos. He raved in madness and clawed at the chains restraining him to the spot he stood at. He cried out through cracked bloody lips. His bloodshot eyes screamed of insanity. There was no saving him and Thavan knew this. The image of that man strapped to the chains reminded him of himself and how he too was once a captive.

Thavan took his eyes off the man and noticed a weapon aimed at him just below his waste. Tubes and all manner of bizarre gadgetry were attached to it. It was far too large for any regular sized person to carry.

"This device is a makeshift warpfire thrower. When we begin I will pull-yank the lever in here. The weapon will activate and this piece of trash-filth will burn. We're gonna need more chaos soldiers though." Grumbled Skruuk.

"That will be taken care of. Pull the lever. Let this begin." Commanded Zenara.

Skruuk eased his hand on the lever. The flamethrower began its gradual process to life, groaning in its mechanical life. Metal on metal grinding together echoed in Thavan's ears until a horrible whining hiss came next. Crackling electricity and sparks shot all around the weapon until it suddenly quieted and then a volley of blue flames erupted from the spout and immolated the chaos soldier.

His scream, oh God his scream! It rang through Thavan's ears as if he himself were there in those chains and experiencing that torment all over again. Thavan shook while he listened to the man's ear piercing shrieks. The unholy wails of his trembling body and blue flames mirrored off of Thavan's grey, moist eyes.

The chaos man's eyes bulged from their sockets and the veins in his neck tightened. In rapid succession they instantly burst like mini explosives and ripped the outer layer of flesh open from within. The clear glass walls splattered with a healthy dose of blood.

Thavan watched his body flail against the restraints. His eyes continued to expand out of the front of his head until they exploded and splattered fluids onto the wall, mixing with the blood.

Thavan realized the flames were not burning the victim as they naturally would. The way the flames devoured his bubbling flesh and disintegrated the boils made it feel like he was watching a disease systemically being wiped out by its host. Whether that was a byproduct of this weapons testing phase remains to be seen.

Unable to scream no longer the being gurgled and choked on something. The trio watched as a large object swam up the length of his neck. The torn flesh, unable to handle the pressure of the foreign object, ripped open. His intestines and their lining rose up through his split throat and out of the dead man's mouth. The lining tore open on his teeth. Intestines ripped through his mouth, dangling from his lips.

The flames burned the chains away. The body toppled over and crashed onto its restraints. It twitched and writhed in rapid intervals as Thavan turned to Zenara.

"I've seen enough. I will see to it that this weapon sees the light of day. I am headed to the armory. I must familiarize myself with my own weapons once more. It has been some time since I felt the heft of a firearm or the arching swing of a sword. Warfare is nigh and I must prepare. Until then, I'll see you tomorrow upon our departure."


Hey! I have been enjoying these reviews. For those of who that have followed and or favorited the story but have not left a review yet, I'd kindly appreciate it if you would. I collate this data to better myself. So if there is anything you have to say I would love to hear it.

Furthermore, I may be creating a discord server to rally any of my readers together into one hub. If that happens I may end up sending anybody that favorited me as an author an invite. It will be easier to communicate with my readers that way.

Been playing a lot of the Resident Evil 2 Remake lately. That game is fantastic but really struggles to render high frames on my computer. My 1070 should be just fine but who knows. If you love the originals give it a shot. I love that the RE series has returned to horror.

Anywho that is all the time I have to blab. The next chapter is going to be a big one.