The Rat that Walks like a Man!:
Skaven are a deceitul, hateful folk filled with paranoia, convinced of their own superiority and the incompetence and jealousy of everyone around them. The type that would murder their own brother for a piece of bread. Yet, despite this, there is a society there, it's not just never ending chaos and violence, and so we know that they, to some small degree, must be able to temper their murderous tendencies. They can grit their teeth and force themself to stay their hand, to not strike the rat that so vexes them and even, occasionally, if the planets are positioned just right and the Great Horned One gets involved work togther hand in hand despite their hatred of each other.
Except, just because they stay their hand does not mean their anger is gone, it is ever present, and it still needs a way to be expressed, to be fullfilled. Thus enters the word "competition." Usually it means some ... under the table work, best left outside of the eye of their horrid society, proof of a misdeed just gives the opposition an excuse to strike back after all. In these days however even such a minor transgression as that is avoided a tad bit more then usual, and so it leaves just outperforming your foe in their own field. Showing them that even in their own territory, at the thing they specialize in, their still inferior in every way.
Enter Horripila! Enter the form of the Skaven, rising from below to devour all that stands above ground, and the form of a Man the false rulers of the surface world! Has anyone elses feeble mind's even considered the potential there, to pervert the two? To twist a rat into the shape of a man, to gift the man with the soul of a rat? I thought not! Truly, the genius of Clan Horripila knows no bounds.
In truth this is a project they've been working on for awhile. The chance to show up both Eshin and Moulder at once does not come along every day after all. For what is a better tool to spy on the humans, a Skaven that will be attacked on sight or yet another human to not be noticed as anything strange? As for Moulder, well, they build monsters, biological engines of destruction .... and yet, was there not many a man that slaid a dragon with naught but a simple sword? Men so skilled that they could cut down a dozen Ogres without being scratched? If they could reliably make a Skaven look like a man, with the skills of a hero of a legend, well that would be something wouldn't it?
At first they toyed with the obvious, remove human brain and replace with Skaven. That did not go very well, sucess was, well, let's say minimal. Even when the patient survived the surgery the body and the brain would quickly reject each other. This is still tinkered with everyonce in awhile, some progress is made but it looks near impossible even to the best of the clan. They quickly moved on to their current method, altering the skaven. Surgery to alter their body and vocal chords to mimic that of the man-things.
Honestly, success came fairly quick. Ugly, horrible, disgusting success, but success nonetheless. The first batch looked to be mutants. They were sent to Norsca. Most of them have not fared well, either being shuned by society and driven away or killed outright, too cowardly and twitchy and, surprisingly enough, untrustworthy by even their standards as well as too weak and unskilleld to be of use, unusued to their altered bodies. They considered going further with this to try and make Beastmen spies, but quickly figured that no one gives a shit about Beastmen and it's best to ignore them for now. The second batch fared better, with more experience their skills at altering the skaven form have improved. Instead of making mutants they made really, really ugly and old people, all hunched over with pale and and wrinkly skin. There are a couple dozen of these sprinkled around human society. Not very useful spies, their just too strange to truly fit in, but they go unquestioned for the most and have a decent idea of what is generally happening in the area, the absolute basics.
Of course they improved upon that, more and more, always pushing their limits, always striving further, always reaching always grasping, climbing to higher and higher heights, uncaring as the wax of their wings melt and fall further then every before, screaming in terror as they crash and burn like a metoer of that warpstone they crave so much.
They've had breathroughs, their recent attempts even look like real people, and not just ugly old people. Like, people who could actually be important, some of them even average looking, tall, muscular, a few are even handsome. It takes insane amounts of work but they the appearance of a man is within their grasp. Yet it's still not enough, Only the appearance have they mastered, just the shell, these hybrids can barely handle their new bodies and their behaviour is just off, their cowards and paranoid and even with extensive training sometimes further speaking patterns just slip.
So, once again the Skaven pushed harder. They kidnaped hundreds of humans, thousands from all across the world. Studying them, they way they move and speak, the way they interact, the way they fight, dissecting them both through study and by vivisection. Every inch of their body must be mastered! Exact knowledge of what every muscle does and how it works and how humans use them. What part of the brain does what, when and why? How does fear work anyway? Courage? What is this thing they cal lurve ... love? Compassion, what fools these humans be, this explains why they are so pathetic in comparison to the grand Skaven form in all it's perfection and glory.
This, this was it, perfection. The perfect Skaven to Human surgery. So much work, probably not worth the effort and resources to even make one, but it was done, they had their spies. Skaven moulded into the human form, their bodies and their brains, their instincts and emotions reworked to that of a man's, perfect to be slotted into any human army or gang or buisness or political scene when backed by the resources of the Skaven Empire.
The vast majority of the clan was overjoyed and proud of their work, and yet a few saw the flaws, saw the potential for more. After all, what use is there in these replicas, there are millions of humans most of them worthless. How much can another human underling bring to the Skaven, would it even make up for the cost?
So they stole a handful of the best unattached human fighters in the realms and had them fight, studied their bodies. They stole the corpses of the greatest's human hero's in history, Grail Knights, Paladins of the Empire, Duelists of Estalia and Tilea, the martial artists of Nippon and Cathay. They looked at the most used neural pathways, the way these muscles differed from that of the average man, and with this they surpassed perfection. They gained the ability to make a hero, and they did.
Every millimeter of him reworked. Six feet tall, handsome, muscular. Blond hair and blue eyes. A voice strong and deep and beautiful. Altered to feel no fear, to be brave, to not feel the urge to betray everyone he meets. Born with the strength, the skills, and the instinct that can rival that of Ludwig Schwarshelm or Kurt Helborg but with none of the experience. Given training by the few still living human fighters captured by the clan, taught what to say, what to not say, what to do and not do both in fighting and in society, he was thrust out into the Old World with a single mission, become a legend. Fight the foes of man and rise in prominence, have the filthy man-things worship you like the fools they are, gain a following, and finally, when the time is right, when we demand it, turn against them. You shall not be alone of course, if you need help it will be granted, assasinate political enemies, sabotage some enemies, hell, even set up some enemies for you to kill and look good doing so.
So, out he walks, straining at first to see, unusued to the ball of fire known as the sun above his head, but he adapts. The food, it's so much better then the usual black corn, and the water isn't pure and can be seen through. The air is fresh, it's free up here not surrounded by walls not trapped by ceilings. He comes across a town, trouble. Beastmen strike and pillage, he steps forward, sword in hand standing there magnificent. The sun gleams upon his armour resplendent, the perfect picture of a knight. With but a blink his sword goes through the eye of a Doombull, piercing the brain. He kicks a rock and it flies into a bray-shaman's head, dazing it, stunning it as he moves forward and cut's it to pieces like a beam of light through the dark. A whirlwind of violence follows and soon he stands unopposed. The village thanks him, loves him, praises him, adores him. He gives them his name, his new name, Icarus, they sing his praises to the heavens, and he is amazed. For the first time he feels ... joy? Happiness? Affection? What is this, what is this strange world? What has been done to him? What is this emotion trying to burst from his chest, why are there tears in his eyes?
What makes a man a man or a rat a rat? Is a rat with the body and mind of a man still a rat or is he a man? Does the past dominate the future or can it be escaped or fought off? What of the soul, can it adapt and mimic it's current form and experience or is it stale and umoving, and does that matter?
Rise Icarus, now is your hour! Rise Icarus, the glory of the Skaven Empire and of the Human Race, rise and choose! Are you a rat that walks like a man, here to doom the human race, or are you a man that was once a rat, here to save them, the only one who understands the threat that's coming, that knows everything and how to stop it? Or, perhaps, will you fail and die a nobody, is all this worthless?
The Bell, the Great Horned Bell of Ancient Kazvar, that bell of man and dwarf and rat it rings and it rings for you! It rings so loudly, why can no one hear that bell and what does it mean? Is it the rise of the Skaven as it was before or does it now signal the fall?
Rise Icarus, the world is waiting upon your answer! Choose and burn like the sun in the sky, but if you fail you will fall and become like ashes.
