Frozen Star (Warhammer Invite)

[Faclan]

(Currently just with me and BetaWülf, Sorry peeps D: )

Basic Skaven backstory;
As Skavendom is a hive of murder and stabbing and stabby murder and ploys and plays of murderous stabbing everyone is always on the lookout. Lookout to keep themselves safe from stabbing and who to stab to elevate themselves up the ladder of power. Or just to get more food. Thats where we find this current Skaven group thats trudging through the snow. A subclaw in Clan Crooktail has been sent into the deep North on unconfirmed reports of a Warpstone meteor that has impacted the area. Northmen area. Norse by reports. But a rumor of that kind of power has sent the unfortunately 'volunteer' group on the mission. Especially with their current Warlord injured he is even more desperate than normal for power like that. And the Claw could barely hear him past his Stormvermin wall as he shriked out the mission and the rewards should they return. But only the Stormvermin leading it is eager to complete it. The other Skaven, sans one, really not looking forward to frozen tails and feet.

Skaven Claw;
* Leader: Cluny - Stormvermin. Very loyal to the current Crook Master and as a sign of his worth and future prowess he has been blessed with a mutation. It appearing in the form of a much larger tail that the steel and fur armored Skaven uses as a whip to keep those under him in line. Wears warm but strong Stormvermin armor, halberd, Warpstone pistol, and his whip tail.
* Gunner 1: Feric - Clan rat. Really pissed to be going on this assignment as he was maybe a week or less away from being able to get himself into Clan Skyre and a much better life. Has no mutation as he intently worked on avoiding that to make his transfer chances better. Wears leather armor, a cloth hood, and simple boots while being armed with a short warplock musket and a Skyre bladed gauntlet despite being told several times to get rid of it.
* Gunner 2: Oilnm - Clan rat. Unlike his fellow gunner hes fine with staying in Hooktail and went on this mission willingly, the only one besides Cluny to share that mindset. However unlike their Claw leader he is looking to take all the warpstone for himself. Get himself some sick mutations to become much higher ranked! Has a, much to his shivering now, a iron breastplate and then simple clothes. With a identical musket to Feric and carries two meathooks for close up work.
* Slave spear: Opi - There to carry back warpstone if they find it. Maybe itl give him a mutation to move up in Hooktail. Wears more than a normal slave so he doesn't freeze to death before he can carry anything and a crude spear. Still disheveled and poorly equipped.
* Slave Sword: Egh - There to carry back warpstone and equipment of the top three. Clothed enough to not die on route with a rusty shortsword.
* Slave packrat: Tax - Carries all the food. Clothed but unarmed besides the torch hes often forced to carry as well as the huge backpack.

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Crooktail Claw
Norse border.
Move-quick Idiots!

It was early morning, and the rationed breakfast would have to be eaten on the move now with Cluny commanding the small claw rise and get moving. And the mood was dour. It just looked like snow and mountains ahead. And the light snowfall didn't look like it was going to lessen any time soon. So this was probably their last sleep under cover, in this case a tree, for awhile. Unless they found an empty cave. But any cave was probably already filled with snow monsters of Rat Ogre proportions. Probably. Or somthing else terrible. So many legends of monsters and murderous man-things up here. But the rat-man were soon moving. Gnawing on what food they could as they went. Where they were sleeping left pretty dirty and litter-y as they entered the snow proper. Would be slow going here now, until their grand leader decided it was time for lunch or any kind of break.

So much snow to look and cover, and no idea where to start or how far it was or if anyone would survive. Or if their Warlord wouldn't be killed before they got back by one of his allies or friends. Feric and Oilnm having already put up some tokens that one of his Stormvermin would be the one to kill the injured warlord. Where-as the slaves had decided amongst themselves that he would be killed by a none clan member, and that of the three of them they decided that Egh would be killed first by Cluny. Egh now on alert and worried much to his fellow slaves delight. Taking the little power they could.

[BetaWülf]

Vindral - Norse Chaos Chieftain
Rejoicing in Triumph

It was, as always, bitter cold in Norsca. The glorious taint of Chaos was thick in the air as snow whipped about aimlessly. It was almost peaceful, if not for the roaring flames to either side of a massive set of doors. The doors themselves were fairly plain, thick wood lashed together with iron; though the mark of Chaos had been crudely scrawled into the planks. Inside of the hall, however, was a stark contrast to it's bleak surroundings.

Warriors of Chaos packed the building wall to wall, reveling in a recent conquest over an enemy Tribe. Slain enemies were hung from the walls, targets for "games" of knife and axe throwing. Survivors were chained to the floor by their wrists, whipped, battered, and beaten. Drinks were sloshing, voices were raised harshly in cheer; for the Northerners this was a merry event.

On a dais in the back of the hall sat a tall, wide, wooden throne, a great number of skulls spiked upon it's top. In that throne sat a large man in a horned helmet with a great braided beard protruding from beneath it. Scrawling blue patterns adorned his torso, knotwork effigies to the Dark Gods. And alongside him sat Woman, likewise with the look of a fierce Warrior and tattooed almost opposite to the man, but yet again almost the same. She too wore a horned helm, while the horns on his were curling ram horns that jutted out and forward, hers were long and black and curved up and back. Dried blood still caked their hands which they held together.

Æsa was her name, a fierce Marauder with many skulls to her collection. Vindral was his, and all that laid before him was built with his bare hands and the blood of his enemies. Soon, after the festivities, they would rove in search of more plunder, food, and other resources to sustain them in the hellish land they called home.

Æsa would lead the Marauders while Vindral governed over the distribution of the taken riches and prisoners. While some might perceive that as weak, Vindral not taking the violent lead, any who knew him would know he was not to be reckoned with and it was his cleverness that made his decision what it was. He trusted two things in life, the Dark Gods and his Woman; her insanity paired with his own in a concert union of blissful agony. It would be a small thing to kill him off in the icy wastes, but killing his Woman would only serve to fuel one's own demise....

[Faclan]

(Feel free to join when you want Mr. Prezident )

Crooktail Claw
Norsca proper.
Clever canteen solution and boredom.

There was still only cursed snow. Snow snow and more snow. Why in the Horned Rats clutches would anyone want to live out here? Food was probably even more scarce here than in Skavenblight! And the animals here were probably much harder to kill than Empire Men or slaves! It was madness that so many of those Men supposedly lived up here...and the Men thought Pestilens was crazy.

Well supposedly because up till now they haddn't seen anything. Anything besides more snow and the very occasional tree. It was almost enough to bore the whiskers right off your face-nose. So to stave off stopping from boredom which would earn nothing but a whip around the ears from their grand Claw lead Feric and Oilnm had put their mostly at odd minds together to get themselves some free mostly clean water. Same as the rations but free.

All they needed to do was hold their muskets against their shoulders barrel up and let the snow fill up the barrel. Give it a few minutes and then hold the rifle sideways against their bodies. Soon enough the snow would melt and then it was like drinking out of a big horn if you ignored the warp stone scorch marks. It was something at least to do while they trudged endlessly through the whiteness and the slaves occasional complaint that they didn't get any water - tough tails for them!

GODS they were bored...if only something exciting would happen!

[BetaWülf]

Æsa - Norse Chaos Marauder Chieftain
Raid, you say?

While her man distributed the wealth of their last raid, Æsa and a band of her Marauders were arming themselves for more action. In the farthest north, if one was not constantly on the attack, they were constantly under it. And decisive action was what made her and Vindral so successful. They were unceasingly aggressive, unrelenting conquerors. At the rate they were going, they stood a far chance to be the leaders of a great Chaos warband, assuming their luck held.

She gave Vindral a long kiss and raked her nails down his chest before she set out, leaving bloody streaks across his front. Her Chaos gift was a wondrously deadly set of talons, much like those of an eagle(though larger even still), bluish avian scales running the length of her left arm from the warped hand. He growled, but in a pleased way.

Her raiding party consisted of a dozen grizzled warriors and a few young bloods, the most eager to plunder and raid. It was snowing, fiercely, as it usually did. But Chaos' favor and warm pelts kept them from freezing, ever ready to aid it's followers in the sowing of disorder. She took the lead, keeping the edge of taller snow drifts. Ideally they'd happen upon unwary prey soon.

It wasn't too terribly long before the tracks of a small pack of some sort were found, barely visible for the snow that had started covering them. She howled into the biting winds and raised her hand axe in a war cry. Her followers did much the same. Soon they would be upon their quarry.

[Faclan]

Crooktail Claw
Norsca proper.
Totally not murder on the wind.

It was decided, all on his own, that food was to be eaten on the move. Cluny had said so, and nursing a now bleeding nose Feric kept his mouth shut after having voiced his displeasure the group was now eating on the move. That damn tail could deliver a mean snap to cold items. But apparently Cluny had decided that the group hadn't gone across enough seemless cursed snow to take a break. PERFECT.

The meal on the move wasn't much really substantial to most common races of the world, just some somehow moldy hardtack for everyone. Cluny of course having some softer and less moldy bread but that's what rank and carrying the armor got you. It really helped the morale of his Claw to be sure though. Really helped. The Slaves even got food, same as the Clanrats, which also really helped the moral between those two groups. Such a happy group of Skaven.

The meal on the move had mostly been eaten when Opi squeaked out 'Man-thing!' and pointed off to the right of the group. A tall icy-skinned...man? Could be seen through the snowfall. It was tall with a holy helmet on its head. A large spike on its shoulder, and...something in place of its right hand. But then it just melted away into the snow again. Cluny about to tell the Slave to focus and get moving with a whip to the foot before Feric pointed with his blood flecked paw at another one. So it wasn't just a crazy slave. But then it was gone too.

They had been seen then. And the scream from the snow just confirmed it.

"Formation-group! Now!" Cluny hissed out as the two rows of rats quickly collapsed to a tight group. The two weapon wielding slaves crouching down with weapons out and pointed out into the snow as the Clanrats shook out the snow from their guns and with practiced ease loaded them to point them over the Slaves. Cluny back to back with them with Tax in the middle. The three higher ranked rats with warpstone firearms scanning the snow as Tax stood in the middle. His torch held high and being swung to try and give the others light.

It would be easy to see however that the slaves were shaking in fear. The Men that had mutations that Crook would be proud of had seen them. And were probably about to tear them apart and eat them. The Clanrats able to hold it together a bit better but their darting eyes and deathgrips showed that they weren't feeling that much more confident. Only Cluny was steady as his eyes calmly roved around in his helmet, ready for glorious combat and then eating a Man-thing after it!