In this era, Clan Skryre flourished with terrifying speed. The madness of the Warlock Engineers found its perfect expression in the dark technology of the 40K universe. Skryre was the only clan capable of maintaining localized fire superiority over almost any foe they encountered.
Obsessed with the theft of technology, the Chief Warlock Ikit Claw, a white-furred genius, used the tolling of the Warp-bells to locate anything worth plundering.
The Forge World they had conquered, once a bastion of Imperial industry, was now swarmed by vermin. Production halls the size of mountains and research centers that pierced the clouds were now defiled. The Aquila was shattered, replaced by the triangular sigil of the Great Horned Rat and the Council of Thirteen. Rare STCs were dismantled, and orderly Imperial weapons were refashioned into bizarre Skaven armaments.
Given the vast resources of the Forge World, the Skaven experimented wildly. They converted Leman Russ Battle Tanks into "Rat-tanks"—essentially mobile scrap heaps layered with every weapon the Skaven could find, held together by thick slabs of extra plating. The chaotic wiring and non-standard weapon mounts would have made an Ork feel right at home.
Yet Ikit was not satisfied. After the initial euphoria of conquest, he grew morose. With such vast resources available, ambitious subordinate Warlock Engineers were unveiling their own "innovative" inventions. In Clan Skryre, status was determined by the monopoly of patented technology. Without a "super-patent" to stay ahead, Ikit's position was under threat.
Then, the favor of the Great Horned Rat descended.
The Chief Grey Seer of the fleet brought the divine mandate: the plans of Vashtorr and Abaddon. He was commanded to steal Vashtorr's Key and his Arks of Omen.
"Arks of Omen? YES-YES... Hahaha-hahaha!!" Ikit erupted into manic laughter. This was the super-invention that would cement his rule over Skryre forever.
"Can you do it? Damn-accursed psychic signal!" Ikit demanded of the Grey Seer.
The Grey Seer replied with typical Skaven arrogance: "Yes, treacherous Ikit, Master of Skryre. The Great Horned Rat has shown-told me!"
"Ahahaha! Good! Then it shall be done!"
Ikit's eyes glowed with avaricious cunning beneath his power armor. At his command, dozens of Warlock Engineers and their apprentices scurried in to serve their nominal master.
…
Each fragment of the Key possessed a unique psychic signature. Lucius had etched these characteristics directly into the Grey Seer's mind.
Consequently, to the horror of the other Skaven, Ikit ruthlessly converted the Chief Grey Seer into a living signal-receiver, mounting him into a massive, warpstone-powered metal gateway—a Skaven Gnawhole.
"Activate! Quick-fast!"
At Ikit's frantic urging, the engineers threw the heavy levers. Dozens of warpstone shards the size of heads were drained of energy. Green lightning wreathed the device. The living receiver shrieked in agony as a stable, dark-green warp-portal tore open.
"YES-YES! Go-steal! Fetch the Key-thing! Heh-heh-heh!" Ikit's eyes shone with malice.
…
The Rock, the asteroid-fortress built from the remains of Caliban, home world of the First Legion. This bastion, perhaps the mightiest in the Imperium, was currently under siege by the combined forces of Abaddon's Black Legion and Vashtorr the Arkifane.
Though the Dark Angels knew not why the heretics and daemons targeted their home, they fought with the grim resolve of the Unforgiven. At the onset of the battle, Vashtorr had launched waves of boarding torpedoes and assault craft, intending to shatter the Dark Angels' will and carve a path to the chamber housing the Key fragment.
Supreme Grand Master Azrael, interrupted mid-surgery and weakened, led his Deathwing Terminators and a force of Dark Angels into the fray, engaging Vashtorr directly.
Truthfully, Lucius held Vashtorr in even lower regard than Be'lakor did. This "demi-god" who sought to become the fifth Chaos Power was currently locked in a stalemate with a half-operated, wounded Azrael. While Vashtorr was slowly gaining the upper hand, his performance was lackluster. Little wonder Be'lakor had abandoned him to his own devices.
Because the main heretic force was committed to the front, the rear of The Rock was lightly defended. When the massive, sickly-green portal flared into existence, only a few wounded Dark Angels and Chapter Serfs were there to witness it.
"What is that?" a Dark Angel demanded, sensing the foul stench of Chaos. They moved to destroy the anomaly.
Suddenly, the chittering rose from the portal, followed by a rhythmic thunder of footsteps.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!
A hail of green projectiles accompanied by feral shrieks erupted from the gateway. The Dark Angels raised their storm shields, but they watched in horror as the ceramite began to corrode instantly. From the portal emerged the sound of grinding gears and metal crushing stone.
"Do not delay-linger! Kill the man-cubs! Time is short-fast! YES-YES!!"
Ikit Claw led the charge, riding his Doom-wheel like a manic speed-freak. Following him were hundreds of Doom-Flayers, spinning metal unicycles of death piloted by armored ratmen.
"Ambush!" the Dark Angels voxed, opening fire with their bolters.
Bolts tore through several Doom-Flayer pilots, sending their machines careening out of control. But Ikit raised his Storm-Daemon polearm. The warp-lightning generators on his Doom-wheel flared, and a massive arc of green energy incinerated the defenders.
"Bring the drills! Drills-up!"
Without pausing, Ikit ordered the Warp-Drill teams forward. Against the stone of The Rock, their drills cut like knives through butter. Their mission was to bypass the fortress's primary defenses and carve a network of tunnels throughout its interior.
Ikit Claw, clutching the living signal-receiver, glanced at the distant fires of the main battle and chuckled as he disappeared into the tunnels.