The city of Civilia’s Ruin has truly become an horrific place – the playground of the mastermind Sorrah Nikos. Claiming the town as her personal testing ground for numerous foul experiments, she has been able to quickly expand her operations now that the Xarlanthian survivors and the city of Khardhir have pulled out of the city. Working alongside all manner of other warbands, Nikos has managed to create a burgeoning slave trade system, allowing her to experiment on creatures to her hearts content. Additionally, she has come into possession of some amber blood – and after plenty of cruel experiments she has managed to confirm that the substance really can control all manner of creature.
Because of this, Sorrah has also sent out a call-to-arms, a sort of twisted version of Khardhirs; she wants amber blood, and she wants a lot of it. Thankfully, the removal of the Fae also solves another of Nikos’ problems, namely, the fact that the continent will soon rip apart Civilia’s Ruin entirely – destroying all of her labs, slaves, and experiments. So, the downfall of the Fae, and the acquisition of their materials, is now at the forefront of her goals.
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Toiling in the flooded underwarren of Civilia’s Ruin is Master Moulder Ratcyst Gall, an early confederate of Sorrah Nikos, similarly utterly disinterested in matters involving the Seraphon and Khardhir. In truth, the skaven scientist has no regard as well for the hideous man-thing female Sorrah, only that their interests align and that her designs make his onerous task for his Masterclan masters more conveniently achieved.
Many are the smaller writhing flesh-things Ratcyst has stitched, placed in the service of his pawn, Airk Thrall-Maker. Deep into the jungles has Airk ranged to accumulate the amberblood both Ratcyst and Sorrah desire. The fae may be horrors of a kind; they may be clever manipulators hidden in the deeper shadows; nonetheless, in both respects, they are no match for the machinations of the superior skaven mind.
The spawn-thing horrors born in Ratcyst’s labs have returned. Unfortunately, Airk has returned as well. They give to him the amberblood, and with Sorrah’s supplementary science, Ratcyst perfects the concoction and brings it to the vessel. It is a mass of man-thing and beard-thing, aelf-thing and lizard-thing, a crown of craniums possessing superior skaven intellect (though not as superior as his own). Its parts were all sourced from Civilia, from its invasion, from the slave pits, from the rebels who thought bravery and brawn were enough to overthrow genius. It towers over his previous spawn-things, a reminder to Airk that betrayal will only go poorly. And while not yet the perfection of the Writhing BroodSire, the abomination will more than do.
The Master Moulder’s tail flips the heavy switch as his mechanical syringes raise like scorpion tails and bite down to bury into the heavy fat layer of his monstrosity. Amberblood courses through the creation as lightning rides its synapses, awakening it to a world of terrible, constantly multiplying pain that it only desires to inflict on others.
Like a newborn, it cries out with a reverberation that collapses tunnels.
Ratcyst cackles triumphant. “Yes! Live-rise! Wail-rue! Be born, my Civilia-Thing!”
(Ratcyst Gall has led his pawns to Major Victory against Slaves to Darkness, teaching rebels the folly of their choices, and liberating the precious amberblood. In the aftermath of his deeds, his roster grows by one (1) Hell Pit Abomination.)