ratchaptermaster

[ratchaptermaster]

i can be ur angle ….. or ur devil

so for context i ran a poll on twitter that asked who would be the angel/devil on boy’s shoulders. and with 69 total votes, sir d and door won! 

i could not pass up the excuse to draw them in silly little outfits bro.

[ratchaptermaster]

We are your desire-dreams. We are your fantasy-wants!

[ratchaptermaster]

The armour of his station hissed and crackled. Each joint whined and groaned. His power cracked the earth under his boots. The rats scattered and looked away in envious awe and rightful fear. The sparks and screaming woes of his warpstone ebbed with the unquestionable favour of the Great Horned Emperor. His talons curled and tri-barreled weapon spun. 

The power-humming glaives of the Stormvermin drumming on the ground in rhythm, a muscle memory of their glory long-taken as the Chaptermaster lumbered through their procession with the chaos of war whirling around them like a tempest of fire and metal. His horns great and imposing, even when capped down to properly fit with his masterfully crafted pattern of Terminator armour. His Hellsword, inert, but growled in daemonic hunger with its sleep. 

Its spirit spoke to him in his sleep. Blood. Skulls. It needed blood and skulls. Its rage was burning in his skull, it was his partner of fate and desire. The Chaptermaster demanded the wine of his enemies’ veins and their skulls to decorate his throne. Their souls to be the next harvest of warpstone. Their bodies to be his feast. The Hunger was unimaginable yet rage kept its sustenance. 

“Blood and Bones.” His voice seethed with baring teeth as he looked to a warlord of the Red Corsairs that have foolishly chosen this world to reap the Chaptermaster’s bounty. He can not allow it. He will not allow it. This world is tribute to only One and He is here to claim it. 

With a swell of chest, the Master of the Rattus Astartes screamed a cry that howled into the air and unleashed his rage into a infectious fire that claimed his followers. They all felt his blood-red fury and he led the speartip of teeth, blade, and claws. The Vermintide devoured all it washed over and still - it wanted more.

[ratchaptermaster]

Assault of Braying Walls

The scream hollered over the chorus of screams. The hatred and envy of man shrieking from a thing that was once a man, now a chattering ravenous thing that could barely concern itself as one. The ambition that stirred to the Terminator-clad warlord-seer pointing his crackling focus axe, commanding the wave of ratmen after ratmen against the fortification of witchcraft with the thunderclap of heavy armor blasting. The scrolling of corrupted High Gothic and Other Tongue adorn his own grey armour to the whipping tatters of robes that once been a noble Librarian, now something far fell and sorcerous. 

“Bring it down!” Seer-Master Krivov commanded with the vivid insane crave in his eyes. “I want those walls smash-crushed! Demolished! Grounded! Dust-dust!” As he screamed his commands to the winds, his axe whipped over his head and gathered the aether of the Warp whilst their enemy were attempting the same. 

Whilst the battle between his thralls and the Thousand Sons’ Tzaangor fought each other by blades, tooth, and blessings, Krivov was engaged in a duel of will to the Shaman leading the bleating knaves. He could see it zipping here and there, aligning the crystals stolen. 

Warpstone. Precious, glittering, screaming Warpstone! 

Arcs of green energies popped and rattled on his armour and grounds, turning into twisting glasses and gibbering, festering flesh. All of it pulled into the bejeweled axe and cycled to the warlord-seer’s mask. His mind twisting and pushing, condensing and expanding for the lore gathered and ambitiously weaving. Around him, his honour guard of storm-vermin turned at the disturbance by a mere sniff. 

In the discolouring air, the avian goatmen seemed to step through the vision of reality and not like water. Their blades shimmering of their trick-god’s touch, eyes gleaming in murderous intent with their grating bleats and chatter. Tails whipped, the Fang-leader licked his metal teeth with a ugly smile under his horned helmet. “Good-good, kill-humble these beast-things!” He ordered with a pointed claw, urging the artificer-armoured to meet the teleporting ambushers with the scream of bloodlust. Their churning chainglaives thrusting and whipping with a violent remembrance to the astartes they once were. At their backs, the bolter-armed fired in restrained discipline between each widened opening that their foremost kindred made while the beastmen charged by the blow of a distant wyrd-horn.

“Quiet! Quiet-silence!” Krivov commanded in another scream that roared beyond his own vocals. His axe swung more and more, creating a great tempest of blackening aether. The putrid pollution of the warband’s own smoke-choking warmachines were siphoning, even rats less weighted yanked and screaming into the black whirlwind. Warp-lightning crackling and popping before the warlord-seer hurled his violence manifested by the swing of his axe! 

The howling winds ravishing forward, throwing rats and beastmen aside with not a care of either’s lives. Their bodies torn and thrashed, even a helbrute were howling in its midst before it - and all the conjured force - slammed into the wall in a incandescent show of shrapnel and magicks. 

[ratchaptermaster]

Skaven Lore: Hierarchy

**Stamped at the top of this document is a wax seal belonging the Order of the Silver Hammer—the Witch-Hunters of the Empire. There is a short letter stuck to the page by the same order seal**

“General. Here is proof of the Mage’s heresy, penned by his own hand. Sigmar forgive me for having read such blasphemy and not casting it into the fire. By your command, I can seize this man and stop this heretic from tainting souls of the Empire. Signed, C.P.”

Keep reading

[ratchaptermaster]

this is a poem

[ratchaptermaster]

“OI, don’t fink I’z don’t noe ‘bout yooz Bluddy ratz! Da ‘umies may fink yooz don’t exist, but I’z noe bettah! It’s more den tunnelz ta fool n Ork!” From: Maghozz Da Mek-Boss

...

This one knows too much.

[ratchaptermaster]

ATTENTION ABOVE DWELLERS

THERE ARE NO RAT IMPERIUM IN THE SEWER-WARRENS OF OLD TERRA. 

DISREGARD SUCH A NOTION AND GO-GO ON YOUR REGULAR SCHEDULE.

[ratchaptermaster]

What about the Death korps of Krieg? They could build trenches, and operate Siege weapons like masters! But as the Verminous Imperium?

The Rat Guard serves well. As many regiment as there is the explosive population that the Verminous Imperium hold in its stretching reach. What are the use of trenches when the earth fall under Death Korps-men’s feet? Trenches are mere breeding grounds and perfect vectors for the familiars of rats and diseases. The Chaplains of Clan Prestiles drink well from their trenches.

[ratchaptermaster]

[ratchaptermaster]

What xenos species do the mighty rat-kin prefer to prey on the most

Sharp-Ears. Raiders of the home system and its people for many generations and even with the blessing of the Horned Emperor, their hate for the sneaky sharp-ears remain true and heinous.

[ratchaptermaster]

Has your equivalent to techmarines ever had a 'Wrath of Clang' moment, and if so, what happened?

From my studies of this ‘Wrath of Clang’, the Skryre Techmarines and Priests scream out curses to the ‘Rat in the Cable’. A Daemon existing as their version to the Omnessiah that may or may not be the horrid spirit that leads and controls all the lesser-spirits across their tech.

[ratchaptermaster]

???: "Orks are the masters of creating things that shouldn't work but do."

Me, an intellectual:

[ratchaptermaster]

What is the 40k version of the hellpit abomination?

I have waited a long time for this.

A Hellpit Abomination in the Verminus Imperium is a powerful Chaos Spawn detained, experimented and reined by the insidious and ingenius science-magicks of Clan Moulder! 

[ratchaptermaster]

How does skavin tech effects 40k daemons?

The Verminus Imperium make any use of the Warp-things, they make such grand fuel and the Great Horned Emperor protects his aspirants in claiming dominance over these things. They have a good relations with the quick-daemons of the Pink-Snake, for they hate the Red-daemons as much as them. 

[ratchaptermaster]

What do the clan leaders think of ikit claw and his desire to build a bomb big enough to destroy the world

Clan Skryre, the former 9th Company turned into an absorbed power of the former astartes and the changed adeptus mechanicus now led by the Master of the Forge (The Lord-Warlock), have many, many weapons that have potential world-ending power. 

The ‘Ikit Claw’ of the Verminus Imperium has far...grander aspirations.

[ratchaptermaster]

I want to write more for my rats, but my mind isn’t right. Followers, if you like - send prompts to the clans and I will write drabbles.