Warhammer The Under-Empire Prime

**The Under-Empire Prime**

(In Queekish the language of the Skaven unless otherwise stated.)

A rough and breathless cry echo's out into the otherwise overwhelming silence. "Prime…PRIME!"

A very nearly man sized rat, a Skaven, scuttles on its hind legs down a huge tunnel sculpted deep into dark earth that lies beneath the lands of Elves, Men and Dwarfs. Its long tail flying wildly behind it as it compels itself to its maximum speed whilst trying to maintain balance. The tunnel itself is dark and damp standing at least ten times the creatures height and wide enough for fifty Skaven side to side.

Racing around the nearest corner it passes under a giant arch, chipped with incredible detail by tooth and claw containing images of great Skaven victories from times long forgotten, and into a hall so big that neither the walls nor ceiling are visible by the light given off by the sporadically lit pools of oil on the ground.

It wears a long ragged dark blue coat. A symbol of its mediocre power in the Skaven ranks. A torn and tattered patch work of material with some ripped strands dragging on the floor as it runs towards its Prime.

"Prime!" The rat wheezed still twenty feet away from the throne. The Prime's head had barely moved an inch from when it first heard the weasels cry. It saw no reason to acknowledge the weak thing crying out in front of it.

As the inferior finally arrived at the giant throne made of shit and skulls he made his grovelling bow. His nose hovering a centimetre from the ground. The rat's quick shallow breaths blowing small puffs of dust off the filthy floor as it tried to refill his lungs enough to relay the news.

"My p-p-Prime." He sputtered and spat in his excitement as he stood to deliver his knowledge. "They are heading this way Sire."

Now the Primes head finally moved as it snapped round to assess the piece of shit stood before it. How he hated such small and pathetic creatures. A flash of rage crossed the beasts mind and it quickly considered picking up his blade and cleaving the thing in front of it in two. But the small Skaven stood confidently before him waiting for praise at its words.

Taking the Primes silence as an opportunity to continue he spoke again. "A pack of Dwarfs entered our tunnels six tides ago, as most of us know. They met with clan Rictus in the north. Rictus met loss but didn't respond with full force because they are weak!" A quick dig at another clan always went down well to an audience. "And now my scouts tell me the dwarfs have taken the Skorge tunnel. They will be on your grounds in hours. My Prime." Bowing again as he finished.

The Prime stood to its near twelve foot height and began a huge in breath during which he turned and grabbed his weapon from its resting place besides the throne of filth. The Prime's weapon was a customised eleven foot long staff topped with a three foot long curved blade serrated near the connection to the staff. A simple scratch from the blade was all that was need to kill as the weapon had never been cleaned and was always encrusted with the rotting and decaying remains of life forms it had ended. Raising its deadly weapon above its head with one hand the Prime roared at the very edge of its vocal limit powerful enough to shake the internal organs of those close by. "WAR!"

The Prime was Warlord of this Skaven clan and he was the first of his kind. The size and strength of a rat orge but with a mind capable of strategy and deception. None knew of its origins that now lived. Or at least that was the common rats rumour. The simple fact is the Prime Skaven couldn't remember how it came to be. All it could remember was the pain of its unnatural birth followed by a killing spree that lasted weeks and lead him to where he settled upon an empty throne already built from rat filth and the skulls of many different species. That is where he made his mark upon the Under-Empire and started to amass his army of slaves and servants. It commanded its clan by brutality and at the slightest insubordination heads would roll. It demanded to be called Prime and not Warlord and none have challenged and lived. In fact its rule was so brutal that its clan always suffered from a lack of promoted rats. The only Skaven that had survived promotion for more than two years within the clan's highest levels were the most deadly and the most intelligent. But the lack of promoted rats was compensated by huge numbers of rat slaves. Thousands and thousands of filth covered lower life forms of too many mutations to list. Some of which had taken to worshipping their Prime as a Skaven God others shat themselves on the merest rumour that the Prime was heading their way due to his random rage based killing sprees.

One family of mutants was coveted by the prime as their incestuous relationships produced a two headed rat which has yet to be used in battle other than death matches for the Primes amusement. But it always proved a fascinating blood bath to those who watched. And only now had the two headed rat's numbers reached high enough for the Prime's clan to experiment with the mutant variant in group warfare.

The Prime itself had never set foot on anything other than the Under-Empire dirt. It simply commanded its hordes to go into the light and bring back to him spoils of flesh and things. But for all his power won by killing and tricking, to date all his enemies had been rats of one form or another. And the Prime was now eager to venture out upon the surface and test himself and his clan against other races like the green skin hordes and the fairy like elves. Elves especially as the last raid above ground had returned high elf flesh as part of the victory and the taste had made the Prime crave for more the instant he started eating.

The Prime took his first ground shaking step away from the throne and the inferior rat messenger darted well out of reach, just in case the Prime's rage was misdirected as it so often was. The throne rooms massive drums seated just behind the great seat of power where struck hard and fast as Skaven from all over the room jostled for place and position. The Prime called over his shoulder "No drums." and the beating stopped as quickly as it had started. Leaving behind a forced silence in the throne room from those who didn't know what to expect next from their Prime. The distant screams of excitement and confusion from the bound and caged slaves was now the only sound left other than the nearby scuttling of clawed feet on dirt.

The Prime strode forward and its commander's fell in behind him from out of the darkness. "We are heading to the Skorge tunnel by the shortest route. By the time I arrive I want three packs of my two headed mutants waiting ahead of me." Multiple commanders wearing old blood red robes went racing off ahead screaming orders of their own. "I also want three hundred slaves from nearby cages to fall in behind me." He roared.

"Behind you sire?" Squeaked one rat before he could stop himself, shocked that any Skaven leader would be ahead of his core army, but not one giant thumping heart beat after he had spoken the Prime had turned on the spot and with one hulking swing the rat who questioned his Prime was decapitated. Its head still airbourne somewhere in the giant throne room as the short tempered leader turn once again and carried on his march as if nothing had happened. Some of his lesser commanders falling back a few paces just in case killing one rat wasn't enough to calm his rage at being questioned.

The massive leader stomped his way out under the ornate archway followed by most of his commanders. Only those of such low rank that they wouldn't be noticed had taken advantage of the fresh kill and taken the time to hack off a limb so they could eat along the way. Food was given easily to the leaders and higher grade commanders in the Skaven world but if your rank was low then any available food source had to be used to avoid starvation. It was not unheard of for the slaves and mutants to resort to eating their own filth in order to avoid starvation.

After twenty minutes of walking the twisting and stinking passages a small pack of high ranking Skaven fronted by the mighty Prime entered the huge Skorge tunnel. The first thing the Prime saw to his left was the blood red robed commanders stood with multi tasselled whips in their claws behind three packs of the two headed mutant variant carrying all sorts of melee weaponry. To his right stood the three hundred, or so, slave Skaven. Most of the Primes following commanders took the only sources of light with them as they removed torches from their subordinates and dispersed into the groups of slaves to help take control of the lesser vermin.

"March!" He bellowed and whips cracked and troops moved forward amongst screams of pain, terror and pleasure in a universal tone. A standard bearer and an unusually silent drummer moved to the Prime's side.

Thirty minutes later the Prime called out in a less aggressive voice than normal "Assassin" and not two breaths later a Skaven wearing a neat hooded robe, neat by comparison to others anyway, blended out of the darkness and fell into perfect step with the Prime. As soon as the assassin was visible the Prime kept an eye on him. Quite simply it was too risky not to. "When we stop I want you to take half of the pack from behind us and their commanders and quickly lead them through side tunnels until you find the back of the Dwarf pack. Wait for them to pass you and follow them at a sensible distance unseen and unheard. All of this must be done in complete silence! Once we have moved to attack you may lead your troops into the battle."

"Will we stop soon?" The assassin nearly whispered.

"Yes, they are getting close." Replied the Prime with confidence.

"How can you tell?" From any other rat asking one let alone two questions of his Prime would have had him meet death but the Prime liked his Assassin. Liked using him at least.

"I can smell them, three miles ahead." And with his answer the deadly little rat bled back into the darkness. A few giant clawed foot falls later and the Prime halted his noisy pack.

"I will have complete silence until the enemy are only a tails length away!" He commanded of his troops and leaders to their bemusement. After the initial stunned silence the horde erupted in to action. The whips cracked and the orders ran out, as the Assassin could be heard taking his troops away. Bickering rats were beaten until quiet and the general howling and screeching of the pack died down to silence.

"Out the flames." He announced to his horde in the growing quiet.

A few minutes later the only sound that remained was of the troubled breathing of some of the mutated slaves. The Prime turned to look at one of his lesser commanders as his eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness around them.

"You." His rumbling voice rang out into the near silence.

"My Prime." The terrified rat responded shrinking slightly at being directly addressed for the first time in its life.

"Take all the slaves who can't breathe quietly and march them behinds us 200 feet. Then keep them quiet until blood is shed."

Five minutes later the Primes small army normally so loud was silent as the dead, at least silent as the dead who don't return. A slow and horrifying grin spread across the Primes scared face. For a whole hour the rats stayed silent. A remarkable feat for any army but for a Skaven slave horde it was truly unbelievable. Within the last few seconds a small light had appeared in the distance and it grew steadily brighter by the minute. Along with the light came the stronger scents and sounds of Dwarfs.

When the Prime first took his throne he assembled groups of Skaven that could speak the different tongues of the upper worlds and he learnt as much as he could. He even could understand Human and Dwarf speech and he even excelled to understand tone. Talking the many languages was much more difficult and had to be done slowly and with strange manipulations of his vocal areas. But now he listened to the faint voices in the distance.

(In Dwarfish)

"I think we have gone the wrong way." The first distinguishable voice was clean and high in pitch, fair and disgusting.

"Nonsense Ob. All these tunnels just look the same… You just wait, another few miles and we will be back at our entrance and sucking in lungful's of clean, fresh air. Then you can spend the next week apologising to me. HaHa." The replying voice was rough, low in tone and difficult for the Prime to understand. But to his accurate rat ears the voice promised a fighter.

Over excited by the coming violence one slave hissed in anticipation. In purest fear of what the Prime might do the commander in charge of the slave, wearing a dark orange robe, immediately brought his rock club down on top of its head. Leading to a sudden one off smash of rock on dirt and a clear message to the rest of the pack. The Prime would remember the commander for rewarding later.

The Dwarfish company came to a quick stop. "Did you hear that?" The fairer voice rang out loud and clear into the darkness. Shock and panic laced into his vocal tones.

"It's nothing to worry about lad." And the company began to move again with the rough voiced Dwarfs encouragement. "These tunnels are poorly made. It's inevitable that some parts collapse."

A few moments later the fair voice rang out still quivering slightly. Which only made the Primes grin wider. "But we haven't seen a decent sized Skaven in so long sir."

"Argh that's nothing to worry about my friend. After the beating we gave those foul things back there I'd be surprised if we see another Skaven before this raiding party ends. HaHaHa." A low level group laugh rang out amongst the Dwarfish company's cheers.

Closer and closer the Dwarfs moved, chatting to themselves and completely unaware of the hundreds of Skaven that came ever closer without moving. The Dwarfs carried light with them to ease their minds in the otherwise pitch black tunnels. A few within their pack had large candles and wood torches but the most light was coming from four ornate lanterns suspended above the four Dwarfs on the corners of their square formation. But for all their trying the light could barely push back the darkness of the Skaven home world and the whole group couldn't see further than a few feet ahead of their position. The Prime kept an eye on the edge of the light projected by the Dwarfs stupidity. They didn't even have a scout out front. It was clear now that the Skaven would outnumber the Dwarfs at least three to one. Not all these rats would fight but it was important they were all here to watch.

Closer and closer the little things stumbled. Close enough now that the Prime could see all the detail of their hideous features. The one with the rougher voice was old and capped with grey hair and bore a great scar across his face visible even into his long beard which nearly reached the floor. He was coated in heavy armour yet he moved as if it were cloth. In his right hand he carried a double edged axe of amazing beauty. Even from a distance it stood out but now the detailing became clearer. Gleaming red rubies shone and sparkled by the flames erratic presence. From top to bottom the axe shone red. The Prime knew it would make a fine trophy but he also recognised that the wielder must hold a high role within his race and he looked forward to testing his skills against him.

The light shimmered and jumped nearer and nearer until only feet away from the Skaven front lines and the Prime drew in a long silent breath and waited to the last second.

"ATTACK!" His roar shaking the walls of the gigantic tunnel.

Instantly the two headed mutants and their leaders sprang forward from the front line and into the light. Followed closely by the rest of the Skaven packs. But the Prime had so far held his ground and watched. Screaming, drooling, flailing and biting the rats smashed into the ranks of the shocked and terrified Dwarfs. Only one of the Dwarfs had his weapon in his hand at the time of the Skaven assault and the grey bearded champion survived the first clash by an excellent flurry of blocks and counters from his axe as the rest of the front line of Dwarfs was torn apart by the surprise attack.

Just as some Dwarfs in the front began to take Skaven lives a second scream of furry announced the Assassins troops had joined the fight by attacking the rear of the Dwarf ranks. This was the moment the Prime decided to stand to his full height and step into the Dwarf cast light. Upon seeing the Prime some dwarfs actually screamed their terror. Some took short and fearful in breathes, others even tried to turn and run in the opposite direction despite being surrounded by rats on all sides. All that occurred to them was to flee the giant and horrific creature before them. But any of the Dwarfs near the fighting lines that had reacted in anyway to the Primes revealing moment had been killed instantly by the rushing lines of Skaven keen to exploit any weakness.

The Prime strode up to the attacking line pushing aside all Skaven in his way and raising his huge weapon above his head he smashed into the panicked Dwarf pack, cleaving several limbs and taking just as many lives with a single swing.

Both Dwarfish and Skaven blood coated the already filthy floor and as the battle continued the remaining Dwarfs found it increasingly hard to keep a solid footing while the Skaven clawed feet gripped the ground beneath the sludge.

The Prime worked his way effortlessly forward into the Dwarf pack swinging constantly in huge upward arcs and never failing to take Dwarfish lives. Its mighty weapon cutting through shields, weapons, armour and bone alike and everywhere it went the mutant Skaven followed cleaning up what the Prime had missed or injured. Some mutants stopped to feast on fresh flesh but ever more Skaven clambered over them wanting fresh meat and kills for their own.

The Dwarfs square formation had now been torn in two by the Primes attack straight through the middle. The Prime looked briefly over his Assassins ranks and tried to spot his second in command but he couldn't see him. He was probably busy stalking a skilled opponent from behind his own lines waiting for the perfect moment to leap forward and end him with a single precise strike.

Turning to see death and destruction in his wake he lunged back into the largest pack of now scattered Dwarfish ranks. Once again the Prime strode confidently, as if this was a regular occurrence, into the bloody melee combat. This time his powerful swings took just as many Skaven lives as Dwarfish due to the close quarters and a lack of caring. Being surrounded on all sides the remaining groups of Dwarfs lasted only seconds.

The Primes blade still running like a tap with blood from his most recent kill he turned to the final point of major conflict over by the last remaining source of light. He saw only three Dwarfs left fighting for their lives not so far away from him. The Prime walked closer to watch for a few seconds before roaring an order over his joyful pack. "STEP AWAY FROM THEM!"

The Dwarf champion had fought with incredible skill to stay alive so long. His battle had begun at the front line and centre of the Dwarfs square formation. But he had been pushed back to the outside far edge and he now stood in the centre of two others, backs against the wall. All of them breathing hard and wondering why the attack had stopped. The Dwarf standing to the champions left carried a short sword and the last lit lantern. The light cast by the lantern was completely empty of all living rats, the Dwarfs could now only hear the heavy breathing, chomping and screeching of the surrounding rat horde.

The Prime stared at them for a few seconds while most of his pack looked up at him waiting to see what he would do. The Prime grinned and stepped forward into the light. If any of the dwarves had seen the Prime before and thought he looked horrific then time had only made him look worse. Its fur matted and dripping with the blood of others as it showed its yellowed teeth in its terrifying grin. But the Primes evil stare was fixed on the Dwarf champion who looked right back but with none of the confidence. Deep down the Dwarf knew what was about to happen. The Skaven warlord raised his arms into a half circle and invited his horde into the edge of the light, a show of force as some of the rats piled up on top of one another three or four high in some places to get a good viewing spot.

"Assassin." The Prime spoke as the shuffling of his pack ceased and settled in for the show.

"My Prime." He answered back from somewhere in the darkness.

"I will destroy the one carrying the lantern. Then I will deal with their best fighter. Once I start I want you to relive the other of his weapon and then have him kneel and watch what we do."

No answer was given and none was needed. All of this was spoken in Queekish so the Dwarfs would not understand.

Now he addressed the pack. "All of you will put down your weapons. And none of you will assist me in this fight!" The last sentence was delivered with a particular nasty ring to it so the lesser rats would understand the seriousness with which he spoke. Some Skaven lowered their weaponry others even dropped them straight to the floor as most didn't have weapon sheaths.

Upon seeing these disarming signs from the Skaven horde the lantern carrying Dwarf slightly lowered the point of his short sword and that was the slight lack of attention the Prime needed to move. The Prime bound directly forward and the champion gave a huge swing over his shoulder aiming to cut the Prime straight down the middle but in a split second the Prime had adjusted his step to the side and away from the strike and over to the lantern carrying bag of flesh driving his weapon through his neck to his opposite hip. Almost at the same time the Assassin had shot forward and disarmed the other Dwarf and now he screamed, struggled and cried as some of the lesser leaders helped restrain the Dwarf and forced him to watch his one remaining kinsman. The huge rat leader turned to face down his last opponent. The champions axe was buried deep into the blood covered floor from his over eager swing but he pulled it out with extraordinary strength and spun to take in all that had happened so quickly. A quick glance at the hostage and his dead light barer and an even quicker look behind him to make sure the horde was not charging him with his back turned. He braced the axe in both his hand and the final battle began.

The Dwarf made the first move as the Prime stood waiting and grinning in front of his cleaved ally. A flurry of attacks from all angles went towards the Prime but the giant rat blocked or dodged them all with easy. Hissing and taunting the Dwarf after each failed strike. The Dwarf took a step backwards to take a breath and then jumped back in with all his might, a huge airbourne leap with incredible force but the Prime wasn't there to meet the blade at the end of its journey. Time and time again the attacks where blocked by the handle or blade of the Primes weapon and only when the Dwarfs attacks had slowed down ever so slightly did the Prime make his first aggressive move by kicking the armour clad Dwarf square in the chest sending him staggering back a few steps. The champion was winded but the Prime stood still and let the Dwarf ready himself for more. The hostage forced to watch now wept quietly from where he was being held. Seeing the great champion of his pack so easily toyed with by the giant disgusting creature.

With one final roar into the dimly lit tunnel the Dwarf launched himself at the Prime. But every attack mustered met with cold steel or filthy air. The Skaven horde was enthralled by their Prime playing with the supposed great Dwarf fighter. Some had even clambered their way to the top of the watching pile of rats still eating whatever pieces of meat they could get their claws on. On and on the champions assault went until finally the Dwarf stepped backwards and fell to one knee breathing hard.

Instead of attacking and finishing off his enemy the Prime stood his ground and watched his challenger try to get together enough energy to continue his attack when everyone present could see it was pointless to continue. The two leaders looked into each other's eyes for a while and then the Prime turned his back on the tired Dwarf and walked over to the last light now lying on the floor. Without even turning back to his enemy the Prime stamped out the last light and called out to his pack. "Kill him with tooth and claw."

The pack rushed in and the champion's final move was to arc his weapon around himself and take several of the most eager unarmed rats with him. All of this the Prime watched over his shoulder and from a distance. Marvelling at what he could make these weak minded rats do.

As his eyes full adjusted once again for the darkness the hostage was brought before the Prime and the Assassin asked. "What should I do with this one Sire?"

"Take a small well fed pack and return him to the surface unharmed. And mark him with plenty of scent so we can follow him as we wish."

The Prime knew it held immense power within the Under-Empire but it wanted more. In the last few seconds he had just decided to reach for power on the surface world, finally the Prime's clan would be seen at its full and terrifying size. The only survivor would tell some fantastic stories to his race, and hopefully others, slowly spreading the fear of what lives beneath them. With the scent put upon him they could send trackers after him on the surface and every now and then they can reveal themselves to him. To remind him of what he saw and to drive him mad with paranoia.

"You." The Prime spoke over the screaming and screeching of the pack pointing to the dark orange robed lesser commander from earlier.

"My Prime." He responded walking closer.

"Wait until this lot have finished eating and then find the shiny weapon. Do you remember what it looks like?"

"Yes, my Prime." He answered bowing low.

"Bring it to me as soon as possible." He spoke as his mind drifted to other things. The Prime started to walk back towards his throne dragging the handle of his blood soaked weapon behind him on the ground as he went. Thinking hard as he walked about the strategies he would employ when he went to the surface. Some of the lesser commanders followed the Prime at the orders of their superiors. It was never a good idea to leave the Prime alone and without someone to shout orders at. The last time the Prime shouted an order and no one answered he went on a rampage killing everything he could find for over an hour.

Finally the Prime returned to his throne having walked all the way back in silence. After another five long slow breaths the Prime spoke to all assembled before the throne of filth. "You all have two tides to enjoy the spoils and heal. Then the whole clan are going to the surface."

The announcement was met with hisses of excitement and a fair amount of uncontrollable drooling.

The dark orange robed lesser commander appeared once more from the darkness on the opposite side of the room. "Here is your weapon my Prime." He stated holding the gleaming and cleaned weapon above his head with both hands. Normally a Skaven would take a knee in submission but the Prime was just too tall when handing him something it was unwise to make him bend to retrieve it.

"You have done well. Take the next position above you, if you can?" A challenge to the rat to see if he was worthy of his promotion if not he would be killed in turn. He like every other Skaven would have to murder his way to power. It was much more common in other clans but the Prime liked to use his power of fear to tell his commanders when they could challenge for power. In the lower positions most rats simply murdered those ahead of them taking their weapons, clothes and even their names. Hoping no one cared enough to notice, which they rarely did.

The Prime held the shiny weapon in his claws for a while. Looking at it from different angles. Eventually he took it in his right claw, stood up, and raised it above his head and drove it into the ground beside his throne. There it would rest until the Prime clan could replace it with something even more valuable or someone had the nerve to steal it.

A dark brown robed Skaven, a rare strategist, scuttled up to the Prime. Old for a Skaven in this clan and with one overgrown tooth growing in a great loop from its top jaw all the way around and straight through the roof of its mouth finishing by pointing at the ceiling. "Where would you like to surface Sire?" He slurred.

The Prime answered immediately drooling slightly at the thought "I want to feast on Elf flesh."

Later that night the Prime decided to reward his faithful in an act of unheard of generosity "Bring out the warpstone for all those who fought for me today." He had grumbled after talking strategies for hours and hours. A little warpstone would pass the two days nicely. Then it would be back to war. "And bring me my females, I need to be cleaned."


End file.
