Iron Rats in the City of the Damned

Deep beneath the Worlds Edge Mountains, where the Dwarfs once toiled in their oh-so-precious forges, the new heavy-metal-metalheads now rocks: hellooo Clan Ferrik! Unlike other Warlord Clans (cheese-chewing, dung-digging, rusty-rotten rabble) these Skaven do not settle for scrappy weapons and tunnels that collapse at every sneeze. NO-NO! (metallic squeak). Ferrik means iron and iron means power for the rattest armor-clanking Clan in all Skavendom!

The forges in the ancient ruins of Karak Varn still churn out blades and shields that actually shine. Shocking, right?! The industrial tyranny grinds on coal and warpstone (oh I see you, Mordheim), but also on broken Dawi pride. The very Dwarfs, enslaved and beardless, now toil away in the darkness, hammering out steel under the enthusiastic “encouragement” of their new Ratmen overseers. YES-YES! (metallic happy squeak). Too much grudge to work? Well, the smelteries will work literally with you.

So this Clan is not just sitting on more metal than a Dragon’s nest and is not just the only one with blacksmiths who don’t mistake tails for tongs…it also shook paws with Clan Skryre: clash of steel plus unpredictable explosions. In exchange for a steady supply of high-quality alloys, the Warlock Engineers of Skryre have gifted Ferrik with boom-tested tools of war. Combine “experimental” weapon tweaks, warp-fueled madness and all the Dwarven gunpowder magazine for an unstoppable skittering warmachine (survival rate: nearly 40% in progress). Obviously the result is devastation with warplock gunnery, toxic globes and lightning-powered axes/hammers, all Dawi-plundered or Skryre-perfected (or both) for the big-big overkill.

With all these blessings from the Horned Rat, Clan Ferrik doesn’t skulk in the shadows…their Stormvermin are many, well-trained and well-bred, marching in glorious daylight, like rattish fortresses in iron-plated armor (yes, actual armor), snarling metal masks and one fearsome insignia of their Clan supremacy: the tail of every Stormvermin is docked like a prized war beast, the pedigree born in battle and for battle…not cowardice, always for Skaven very-low-standards.

At the helm of this Iron-Under-Empire stands the all-mice enigma: a masked warlord whose voice, size and even fur color seem to change at the most convenient moments. Perhaps is never the same Skaven thanks to the traditional rat-stab-rat turnover, perhaps is an immortal rodent-liche with warpstone overdose, or why not…the metal-faceless figure is the Horned Rat incarnate. Who cares! He rules with the heaviest metal claw, it works, and Clan Ferrik thrives in absolute prosperity! Too many questions, after all, lead to furnace-friendly answers…

And now? Mordheim is the new opportunity! More warpstone (and more slaves) are waiting to further ignite this Skaven machine. While the lesser Clans squabble in the shadows, the elite warbands of Iron Rats have already tunneled into the City of the Damned. If you hear the warped symphony of clanging metal and chittering squeaks…congratulations, you’ve just run into the best-equipped Ratmen in the game.