Few things are constant among the Skaven, but their scheming and plotting is one of them. While our Heroes may have foiled Rasknitt, there’s plenty other vermin are eager to hatch their own devious plans. The farsqueaker, a verminous piece of Skryre engineering, allows some of these would-be masterminds to instantly communicate across vast distances with their networks of agents and spies.
Skaven Chronicles: Part 1
Is this thing on?
Do you hear me, master?
The cretinous cog-brained tinker-fool who claims to be master of this farsqueaker contraption insists you can hear me even if I cannot hear you. Something to do with power still bleeding from the failed Skittergate and the great-great mass of this mountain above our heads. For myself, I think-think he must squeak less and work harder. Maybe then his farsqueaker machine will have the power he claims it should.
Excuse me one moment, most patient of potentates. I must supply one quick-quick zap of warplightning to the minions…
…
…
There, that is better.
I swear on the honour of all skaven that Clan Skryre sends only the stupidest and laziest of Warlock Engineers in exchange for your warp-tokens. Their whiskers do not tremble at the first sniff of Clan Fester as once they did. No. But they will learn fast-quick. Yes-yes, master! You can count on Skratch Dirtnose to get the best from your hirelings.
Which brings me to my first, most eagerly expected report…
As you have no doubt already guessed, we have arrived in what remains of the man-thing fortress of Helmgart-place. Even now, we dig out fresh burrows for your warriors and the work so far has been an unmitigated success. Re-opening the collapsed tunnels took slightly longer than promised, it is true, but only because Clan Skryre provided so many defective warp-grinders, forcing us to rely on skavenslaves. Alas, their overseers were too sparing with the warp-prod. But we are here now. Yes-yes! An ALMOST ENTIRELY unmitigated success.
Much of the lair itself remains buried. It will take lots-much work to excavate the most valuable of Rasknitt’s trinkets and to know for sure if any of his misguided lackeys yet live. To sniff this place is to wonder how the Helmgart-place did not sink into the earth when it fell. They say that one should not speak ill of the chosen of the Horned Rat, but to me this seems typical of the Grey Seer’s performance since conniving his way into our great clan’s favour. He could not even fail in a manner befitting of a true skaven!
Despite these minor delays, I assure you that your designs (thanks in no small part to my most humble leadership) remain firmly on track. Give me just three more months. No-no. Better make it seven. Yes-yes. Seven. In seven months, this warren will teem with fearless skaven warriors once again. We shall rebuild all that Rasknitt managed to destroy. We shall win back the pestilential favour that Spinemanglr so recklessly squandered. We shall earn the praise of all skavendom by ridding it of meddlesome heroes.
And then Clan Fester will be ours!
I mean yours, of course.
Yes-yes.
Yours.
I fear I must end my report here, most puissant one. The farsqueaker loses power, and the Warlock Engineer has had to… er… lie down. I wait eagerly for your further instruction and remain, until then, your humblest, unworthiest, and most subservient of servants…
