They were once the Dark Mechanicum; now, they are the Clan Resilience, personally anointed by the Great Horned Rat. In truth, not all of the Dark Mechanicum transformed into Clan Resilience. It was primarily those who worshipped Vashtorr the Arkifane; because the Demigod's warp essence was devoured by Lucius, those who followed him were simultaneously infected and distorted.
In short: Skaven Corruption.
To them, however, this was of little consequence. They had long since held the frailty of the flesh in contempt. The Dark Mechanicum was far more extremist than the Adeptus Mechanicus of the Imperium; to their logic, no technology was forbidden for study, and no knowledge was too dangerous to grasp.
This philosophy was precisely what the Great Horned Rat encouraged. The Verminherders, the emissaries of the Omnissiah they summoned, were draped in tangled wires and madness-inducing devices. Their boundless avarice for forbidden techniques drove Clan Resilience into a feverish zeal, reinforcing their conviction that this was indeed the Omnissiah manifest!
In the 40K universe, no one wishes to offend the tech-priests. As a clan officially recognized by the Great Horned Rat, Clan Resilience held significant status within both the City of Blight faction in the Imperial Sanctum and the Skavenblight faction on the Dark Side.
The contract with the Eshin Assassins was but a drop in the ocean of the countless commissions issued by Clan Resilience.
The flagship of Archmagos Lucukasque of the Dark Mechanicum let out a shrill, binary shriek. This vessel was capable of excavating a single-use gnaw-hole, forged using methods similar to an Ark of Omen, with a Rat-daemon summoned and bound within to serve as its Machine Spirit.
Due to the pervasive religious atmosphere of the Mechanicus, the piety and meticulousness of Clan Resilience's worship of the Great Horned Rat were in no way inferior to that of Clan Grey Seer!
"My master, 05864 has transmitted a report. The objective is secured."
Adopting local customs, a cogitator modified into a rat-headed Servo-skull hovered via anti-gravity technology, providing a string of data to its master.
From beneath Lucukasque's black cog-patterned robes, countless mechanical tentacles and claws emerged, clattering across a metal keyboard with thousands of keys. He adjusted his optical sensors, replacements for eyes, and asked the servitor with a hint of confusion: "Clan Mors... those foolish creatures of flesh, those wretched heretics. Why are they present at these coordinates?"
In an instant, the rat-servitor accessed the Council reports sent by Clan Mors to the Realm of Ruin and presented them to his master.
"Heh... fools. These filthy, fallen apostates. They stand before the True God and cry out the wrong name. Blasphemy… by the Omnissiah, blasphemy!"
Archmagos Lucukasque scanned the target's data at lightning speed, his logic-circuits already calculating.
"Give them a lesson. Let these heretics understand the true nature of their God! And while we are at it, seize the Votann cores. I wish to personally torment their Machine Spirits!"
"Yes, my master!"
It is common knowledge that the Skaven are never a united or friendly lot. Every clan, every individual rat, harbors their own ambitions. On matters of religious interpretation regarding the Great Horned Rat, the clans had been at each other's throats for ages.
Take Clan Moulder, Clan Skryre, and the most loathed Clan Pestilens. If not for the Great Horned Rat's direct suppression, they would have long since descended into civil war.
Since he was passing through, the Archmagos didn't mind teaching Clan Mors the meaning of "Orthodox Power." As for the other entities on the planet, they were merely collateral debris.
…
On Shattered Star, the Eshin Assassins received word from their employer and immediately began a silent withdrawal. Even Clan Resilience did not care to provoke Clan Eshin.
The Aeldari Warlock watched the instantly-slain Chronomancer, then looked at the assassins vanishing as quickly as they had looted the corpse. He remained silent for a moment before choosing to proceed with the mission.
Perhaps the Deathrunners had been so successful in their sabotage within the Dynasty that Yvraine and her party encountered none of the expected resistance. They moved with incredible swiftness to destroy the local resurrection chambers and teleportation matrices.
"I have a premonition, today is a day blessed by Isha... and, of course, Ynnead!" The Visarch shouted to Yvraine, who sat behind him on the jetbike.
"I am glad you remembered Ynnead," Yvraine replied. "We have finished this task for the Kin. If all goes well, we should be able to help them repel the enemy and then peacefully locate the final Cronesword. We shall see the God of Death reborn within the belly of that thing to slay the Eternal Enemy!"
"The prophecies of Eldrad told us as much. We shall surely obtain the fifth Cronesword!"
At that moment, Queek Headtaker, clutching the fifth Cronesword, was still charging at the very front of the line. The rat-man brute led thousands of Ironclaw Warriors in a head-on collision with the largest, hardest Ork Megabosses, as well as specialized Tyranid Warriors, Lictors, Hive Tyrants, and Carnifexes.
A Lictor shimmered out of stealth, driving its psychic bone-talons toward Queek's back, but the Red Guard immediately threw themselves into the breach to resist.
Ska Bloodtail swung his massive lightning-halberd. The warpstone blade sheared through one of the beast's arms, followed by a discharge of warp-lightning that reduced its carapace and internal organs to charcoal.
Countless Orks, Rats, and Tyranids crashed together. All three factions excelled in swarm tactics; eventually, at the height of the carnage, a mountain-like heap of corpses was left behind.
Even as the smoke of battle had yet to clear, Tyranid Rippers scavenging biomass, Gretchin gathering scrap, and Skaven rats devouring corpses met in the ruins, sparking another smaller yet even more vicious conflict.
"Queek! Queek—this cannot go on! The Warlord commands us to seize-take more planets, more worlds! We cannot waste-grind here against Green-things and Bug-things!" Ska Bloodtail spoke an unusually long string of words.
"Yes-yes, I know! I cannot fail Father!" Queek nodded. The Mors war machine was at full throttle, yet it was being ground down endlessly on this single world.
"Then what-what? Use the Skryre-thing's secret weapon? Give them a big-big BOOM!!" Ska Bloodtail suggested.
"Ugh... Skryre-things. I hate that thing. It stole Queek's heads, stole Queek's worth!" Queek grumbled with frustration.
Gnawdwell favored his son so much that he had even given Queek's expeditionary force a special Doomrocket, acquired through a trade with Morskittar of Clan Skryre. This Doomrocket was a dirty bomb; it would saturate the entire planet with warpstone dust, rendering it habitable only for Skaven. However, there was only one, and Queek had no desire to use it unless absolutely necessary.
The good news was that Queek soon didn't have to worry about the decision.
With the sudden emergence of another fleet in orbit, the entire planet began to crackle with green lightning and thunder!
A dozen Tyranid Leviathan Hive Ships were obliterated by the sudden fleet's terrifying psychic artillery. Following this, a carpet bombardment of the surface began.
Not only were the Tyranids and Orks targeted, but even the Mors rat-army on the ground was caught in the indiscriminate fire, costing Queek hundreds of Ironclaw Warriors in an instant.
"Lord, Lord! It is Clan Resilience!" A Mors scout-rat scurried toward Queek, trembling in terror.
"Clan Resilience? What are they doing here? Trying to steal-snatch territory!?" Queek roared in fury.
"Oh, my Lord, those fellows are already drop-podding... drop-podding many things toward the Stuntie-things over there-there!"
…
At the Kin Stronghold…
"You didn't tell me there were enemies like these!" The Visarch roared in fury as he cut down half-mechanical, half-rat servitor-warriors.
They had just returned to claim their reward from the High King and hadn't even had a drop of water before this madness began. Who could possibly endure this!
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