Skaven

Revision as of 18:33, 31 October 2005

Skaven History

From "The Book of the Rat" by Garett Lepper

How the Skaven came to plague the world, none can tell for certain. Stories such as the Curse of Thirteen claim that Skaven were brought into being by the misdeeds of man. Some scholars take a less fantastic approach, claiming that the Skaven are simply mutated rats that have been shaped and formed by the power of Chaos, and a few scholars claim that Skaven were once men. The more poetic claim that the Skaven were nurtured by the darkness of the human soul, whatever that may mean.

Regardless of their origins, the Skaven emerged more than fifteen hundred years before Sigmar united the Empire, in the area of the Blighted Marshes in Tilea. They first claimed the city of Skavenblight, which many legends and wives' tales claim was once a human city that is responsible for the birth of the Skaven race. Whether this is true or not, the city now known as Skavenblight is the center of the Skaven Under-Empire.

The Skaven thrived for years, and as their power grew, so did their ambition. At this time a number of Skaven sorcerers developed a cunning plan to tear the very earth open, sending the cities of man and dwarf tumbling into rifts and turning the whole of Old World into their domain. The surface would be scarred by deep fissures in which the Skaven would build their cities. This ambitious plan however failed, with catastrophic results. The sorcerous device that was created malfunctioned, and although Skavenblight was spared, the device was destroyed as it set off a number of seismic waves through the ground. Dwarven cities and goblin strongholds crumbled as the peaks above them came crashing down, sealing millions in their homes than now became their tombs. Human cities were leveled, tidal waves swept along the coastline, and many ancient and great monuments collapsed. However the device did not wreak the destruction that was anticipated despite the wide spread misery it caused to everyone.

Yet despite this calamity, Skavenblight still stood, and the Temple of the Horned Rat continued to tower above the ruined landscape. From this temple strode twelve cloaked and hooded figures speaking with the authority of the Horned Rat. These messengers were known as the Grey Lords, and they began the exodus that would send the Skaven to nearly all the corners of the earth. These Grey Lords were the chosen disciples of the Horned Rat, and they sought out a plan that would spread the Skaven across the face of the world, so that no one disaster could wipe out the Skaven or ruin the Horned Rats machinations. The Skaven surviving the disaster were divided into twelve groups, each led by a Grey Lord. One group and their Greylord remained behind, while the other eleven set off leading their bands, finding dark homes and spreading the Skaven about so that no single disaster would ever put an end to the Horned Rat's plans for dominance.

The Skaven spread out, and many of the destroyed or partly demolished Dwarven cities fell to the Skaven, and many others besieged or harried for centuries. Thousands of slaves were acquired from the dazed and feuding Dwarves and goblinoids. Groups of Skaven spread out in other directions, not to be heard from again for centuries. At this time, the Grey Lords and the newly established Council of Thirteen forbade nearly all sorcery to be practiced by the Skaven. Only the Grey Seers, the priests serving the Horned Rat, and Clan Skryre who remained behind at Skavenblight researching what had gone wrong with the device, would be permitted to use magic.

The Skaven's need for Warpstone brought them into direct competition with an ancient necromancer of untold power, a creature known as Nagash. Nagash, undoubtedly the mightiest of Necromancers had incredible power at his hands and a massive undead army at his command. To continue his eldritch rituals, Nagash needed massive quantities of Warpstone to continue his research, and his fortress at Cripple Peak lay atop a massive Warpstone meteor, and the Skaven and Undead quickly went to war over it. The battle would rage for years until the Skaven successfully assassinated Nagash and claimed Cripple Peak for their own. Nagash's power over death was however so great that he would return to Cripple Peak at a later date, and getting revenge upon Skavendom, crushing Clan Rikek that had settled there and were mining the warpstone below Cripple Peak. Nagash's revenge was bitter, however, for by this time the Skaven had mined most of the Warpstone, and Nagash's power was greatly diminished.

A mere century after the Empire was united under Sigmar Heldenhammer, Skavendom was rent asunder by the return of one of the departed Clans. Clan Pestilens led by their Grey Lord, had traveled deserts and seas to find a home in the continent of Lustria to the far south. Beneath the thick jungles there the Skaven had discovered abandoned cities of a once great and advanced culture, and became masters of disease. The Skaven battled for hundreds of years with the reptilian and amphibious races of nearby cities, before beginning their exodus back towards Skavenblight.

It would be this Clan, Clan Pestilens, that would bring internecine warfare to Skavendom. Led by a priesthood known as the Priesthood of Pestilence, Clan Pestilens swarmed into the Southlands, battling Clans controlled by one of the few remaining Grey Lords, Grey Lord Azarskittar. Clan Pestilens mighty and fanatic armies were preceded by horrifying diseases and their march seemed unstoppable. Clan Pestilens would eventually meet bitter resistance by the Grey Lord Azarskittar clinging to his last few strongholds, compelling Clan Pestilens to shift their momentum of their assault towards Skavenblight.

The Council was startled by the attacks, and fought for years to force back Clan Pestilens. Despite their efforts, nearly all of the Southlands fell under the sway of Clan Pestilens. Many other Clans, impressed by the onslaught of Clan Pestilens, switched sides and joined in against the Council. This state of affairs would continue intermittently for nearly five hundred years. The balance of power would change with the return of another distant Clan, Clan Eshin.

Clan Eshin had been led far to the East, beyond the Dwarven cities broken asunder, beyond the Dark Lands, to the area known in the Old World as Cathay by their Grey Seer, who died upon the journey. There they hid under the mountains, unbeknownst to the humans living around them. They carefully watched the humans there, and learned the silent and deadly arts that the humans there practiced. When Clan Eshin again made contact with the Council, through pacts that remain a secret even today, Clan Eshin pledged to serve the Council of Thirteen and the Cult of the Horned Rat. For the next century, those clans allied with Clan Pestilens were subjected to an unrelenting assault of assassinations, sabotage, and kidnappings by the black-garbed agents of Clan Eshin. Clan Pestilens' position of power was rapidly eroding under the combined assault of Clan Eshin, the Council, Clan Skryre, and the wounded and bitter Grey Lord Azarskittar.

Clan Pestilens, realizing the danger of their position, made secret overtures to the Council of Thirteen. The Council, after centuries of fighting and flushed by their renewed success, were reluctant to deal with Clan Pestilens, but the Grey Seers demanded that the Council meet with Clan Pestilens envoys. The leader of Clan Pestilens, Arch Plaguelord Nurglitch himself took the harrowing and dangerous mission to Skavenblight, surviving a number of assassination attempts. Arriving at the temple, Nurglitch informed the Council that Clan Pestilens would now be happy to comply and serve the Council, and also informed the Council that if they rejected Nurglitch's generosity and turned down the offer, that the Pestilens envoys were carrying on them the most deadly and virulent of diseases upon them, and would release them if any ill fortune were to befall them or their offer. The Council accepted the Clan back into the Skavendom, and Nurglitch, after defeating another Council Member in a duel, ascended to the Council of Thirteen.

With the rift in Skaven society now closed, the Skaven turned their attention to their opponents above ground. In 1111, Imperial Calendar, Clan Pestilens released the Black Plague upon the unsuspecting human cities. The effects of the disease were horrible, and entire cities were wiped out. While the disease ran its course, the Skaven boiled out from their hidden warrens and set waste to the settlements. The next few years were grim for the Empire and nearby states. As the disease ravaged the land, Skaven would capture survivors and enslave them, and the humans could offer little resistance. And as the Skaven attained greater success on the battlefield, Clan Pestilens gained incredible power on the Council, earning the enmity of their rivals. This success of the Skaven would soon come to an end however.

The Skaven assault on the city of Middenheim in 1118 was thrown back, and the disease seemed to be diminishing in power. Another problem was the very success of the plague. Bodies were strewn about, and the practitioners of dark arts had little to fear from the authorities. In the eastern parts of the Empires, the Skaven would arrive at a plague town to discover that the dead there had been animated and under the control of a Necromancer. The Skaven fighting in the East were soon falling victims to those they had already killed, as the untiring and fearless Undead and their masters fought over the collapsing Empire. By 1124 the Empire had made an astounding comeback and the Skaven were driven under ground and their enemies, the Necromancers and the Vampires of Sylvania were being pursued by Witch Hunters and Priests of Morr.

The Skaven suffered a number of resounding defeats in the next two decades, and within the Council of Thirteen Clan Pestilens suffered a loss of prestige. A century later Clan Pestilens sought to regain its prestige by releasing the Red Pox upon Bretonnia. The Red Pox failed to produce the effects that the Black Plague had, and seeing an opportunity to end Pestilens hegemony over the Council, rivals demanded their removal from the Council. Upon the day of the vote to determine the fate of Clan Pestilens in the Council, Clan Pestilens attempted a coup against the Council, and the Grey Seers and the albino Council Guards at the Temple of the Horned battled bitterly to force back the Plague Monks of Clan Pestilens. War broke out throughout all Skavendom as Skaven society fractured and old resentments flared anew in the civil war. Skavenblight and the temple were seized by Clan Skryre, but their claims of legitimacy were ignored by both Clan Moulder and Clan Pestilens, while Clan Eshin hired itself out to the highest bidder. The Grey Seers spent considerable time and effort to end the civil war, but the treachery and the fighting was so fierce that few paid them any heed.

The civil war within Skavendom required an event of incredible import to occur before it would end. That even happened during the grisly annual feast to the Horned Rat on Vermintide in IC 2302. The Grey Seers, after a tremendous effort, placed an ultimatum on the warring factions, demanding that they gather together in Skavenblight for this holy day, since this was the will of the Horned Rat. On this day, for the first time in history, every clan was represented here in the temple, and as they waited the Grey Seers began a ritual, asking the Horned Rat to begin judgement. Their ritual had undreamed of consequences, the Seerlord presiding over the ritual was torn asunder as the Horned Rat appeared himself before the assembled cowering leaders.

The Horned Rat placed a giant monolithic obelisk of warpstone in the chamber, a pillar of commandments, and their bickering must cease since they must turn their energies upon fulfilling the Horned Rat's plans. Only those blessed by him could touch the pillar and live, thus joining the Council of Thirteen. The Horned Rat then returned from whence he had come. Some Skaven renounced their claims to the Council, others died touching the pillar, but twelve survived to join the Council and once more serve the Horned Rat's foul and bloody plans. With their numbers finally replenished by the draining centuries long civil war, and a new and united leadership chosen by the Council of Thirteen, the Skaven are once again ready to war on the races above ground, ready to inherit a world that the Horned Rat has promised to them.

Origins of the Skaven

Compiled by Thanis Ianakussis, translation of "The Doom of Kavzar" by Andreas Gameras of Altdorf

In the same way as the Beginning (and the End) of the Worlds are debated by scholars, academics, wizards and scientists, the learned argue endlessly over the origins of the children of Chaos known as the Skaven. Some maintain that they are simply another form of Beast-man, others insist that they are an entirely seperate race mutated not from Men as beast-men are, but from true rats, while others still refuse to acknowledge their existence at all. Determing anything at all about skaven is notoriously difficult, for they are primarily a subterranean race, inhabiting only the darkest and dankest pits, and usually only rise above ground to wage their violent and inexplicable wars. Perhaps the best clue we have as to their creation lies in the ancient Tilean folk tale known as The Doom of Kavzar. The following is an approximately translated text of its thirteen stanzas.

"Once upon a time, long, long ago, Men and Dwarfs lived together beneath the roofs of one great city. Some said that it was the oldest and greatest city in the world, and had existed Ages before the time of the longbeards and the manlings, built by wiser hands in the dawn of the World. The city lay both above and below the earth, in keeping with the nature of its populace. The dwarfs ruled in their great halls of stone underground, and wrestled free the fruits of the rock with their day-long and tireless toil, while the manlings reaped the fields of swaying corn which surrounded the city with a patchwork blanket of golden hues. The sun smiled, and so too did man, and so too did dwarf, and everyone was happy.

One day, the manlings of the city decided that they should give praise to their gods for their good fortune. They would construct a temple such as the World had never seen before. In the central city square, a colossal hall would be built, and topped with a single, cloud-pierced tower. After much planning, and with the help of the longbeards, the men set about their monumental task.

Weeks became months, and months turned to years, and still the manlings built. Men grew old and grey working on that great temple, their sons continuing the work through summer sun and winter rain. At last, after thirteen generations, work began on the great spire itself. Years passed still, and the tower reached such a height that the manlings found it all the more difficult and dangerous to bring the stone needed to the top of the tower. The work eventually slowed to a crawl, and completing the temple seemed all but impossible. Hopes began to fade, but then one came among the men of the city, and offered his service to their great scheme. He asked a single boon of them in return, and claimed that if they would grant it, he would complete the tower in a single night. The manlings said to themselves "What have we to lose?" and struck a bargain with the grey-clad stranger. All he wished was to add his own dedication to the gods onto the temple structure. To this, the manlings agreed.

At dusk, the stranger entered the unfinished temple, and bade the manlings to return at midnight. Clouds raced over the moons of Morrslieb and Mannslieb, cloaking the unfinished building in darkness, as the manlings left. All over the city, men watched and waited, as the hours slipped by, until near midnight, when, in ones and twos, they gathered once more in the temple square. The wind blew, and the clouds parted, and the men gazed up to the night skies. The temple rose like an unbroken lance against the dark, pure and white. The priests of the city climbed the stairs, to the top of the finished structure. At its very peak, a great horned bell hung, gleaming coldly in the moonlight. The stranger's dedication to the gods was there, but he was not.

The priests returned and told the men of their finding, and the city rejoinced, as the work of its forefathers was finally done. The town's great clock struck midnight, and immediately the great bell began to toll, once... twice... thrice. Slow, heavy waves of sound rolled across the city. Four... five... six times the bell rang, like the torpid pulse of a great bronze giant. Seven... eight... nine... the tolling of of the bell grew louder with each ring, and the manlings staggered back from the temple's marble steps, clutching at their ears. Ten... eleven... twelve... thirteen. At that last, the thirteenth stroke, lightning split the skies above, and thunder echoed in reply. High above, the dark circle of Morrslieb was illuminated by a bright flash, and then all fell ominously silent.

The manlings fled to their beds, frightened and puzzled by the portents they had seen. Next morning, they arose to find that darkness had come to their city. Brooding storm clouds reared above the rooftops, and such rain fell as had never before been seen. Black as ash, the rain fell, and puddled in the streets. The cobbles slicked with darkly iridescent colours.

At first, the manlings worried not, and waited for the rains to stop so that they might resume their work. But the rains did not. The winds blew stronger, and lightning shook the high tower. Days, then weeks passed, and still the rains fell. Each night the bell tolled thirteen times, and each morning the darkness lay across the city. The manlings became fearful, and prayed to their gods. Still the rains did not stop, and the black clouds shrouded the fields. The manlings went to the dwarfs, and beseeched their help. The longbeards were unconcerned - what matter a little rain of the surface? In the very bosom of the earth, all was warm and dry.

Now the manlings huddled in their dwellings, fear gnawing at their hearts. They sent some of their number to faraway places to seek aid, but none returned. Some went to temple to pray and sacrifice their dwindling food to the gods, but found its massive doors sealed shut. The rains grew heavier, and dark hailstones crashed from the sky, flattening the sodden crops. The great bell tolled a death knell over the terrified city. Soon great stones cleft the heavens, rushing down like dark meteors to smash the homes of the manlings. Manyfolk sickened and died without apparent cause, and babes were born hideously twisted. Skulking rats devoured what little corn there was left, and the manlings starved.

The city's elders went to see the dwarfs again, and this time demanded their help. They wanted to bring their people below ground to safety, and they wanted food. The longbeards grew angry, and told the manlings that their lower working swere flooded, and their own foodstocks had also been consumed by a plague of vermin. There remained barely enough for their own kinsmen. The dwarfs cast out the manlings from their halls, and closed their doors.

In the ruins of the city above, each day became more deadly than the last. The manlings despaired and called for succour from the dark, forbidden gods, whispering the names of forgotten daemons in hope of salvation. But not even the Ruinous Gods would answer their call, and instead the swarms of rats returned, bigger and bolder. Their slinkling, dark-furred shapes infested the now broken city, feasting on the fallen, and pulling down the week. Each midnight, the bell tolled thirteen times on high, seeming now brazen and triumphant. The manlings lived as hunted creatures in their own city, as packs of chittering vermin roamed the streets in search of prey.

At last the desperate manlings took up such weapons as they had, and beat upon the dwarfs' doors, threatening that if they did not emerge, they would drag them out by their beards. No reply came from within, and the manlings took up beams and makeshift battering rams, and battered down the doors to reveal the tunnels below, dark, eerie and empty. Steeling themselves, the pitiful remnants of the city's once proud populace descended. In the ancient hall of kingship, they found the dwarfs, now naught but gnawed bones and stray scraps of cloth. And there the manlings saw, by the dying light of their torches, the myriad eyes about them, glittering like liquid midnight, as massive rats closed in for the kill.

The manlings stood back to back, and fought for their lives, but against the implacable ferocity and countless numbers of the vermin-horde, their weapons availed them not. The tide of monstrous rats flowed over them, dragging the men down one by one, to be torn apart, yellow chisel-teeth sinking into soft human flesh, the dark-furred masses drowning out agonised screams with their hideous chittering."

The Doom of Kavzar, also called "The Curse of Thirteen", by Andreas Gameras, Emeritus Professor of Imperial History, The Royal Academy, Altdorf.