The Warpclaw Guild

Typhus’ whiskers twitched gleefully. The warlocks’ invention was perfect... Totally unpredictable, granted, but capable of awesome destruction. As its concentric generator wheels slowed from their whirlwind cycling the chief warlock turned to Typhus. The Grey Seer nodded to show his approval, and the assembled warlocks murmured and chittered in satisfaction to one another.

The demonstration had been held deep in the caverns below Boiling Peak. The Guild had promised new weapons of such diabolical genius that would inflict devastating casualties upon the foes of the Enclave in a single blast. This new “Warp Crucible” guaranteed to give a new and deadly edge to the armies of Boiling Peak. It had blown apart the scores of Skavenslaves (or “test subjects” as the warlocks called them) press-ganged into the tight confines of the pit below. Typhus had watched from the observation deck above as warp lightning crackled and flayed in arcing bolts against the cavern walls, cracking the very stone and atomising any who fell within its reach. The warlock at the control panel was an unfortunate casualty, seared and crisped by the backlash of magical energy. The Warp Crucible was ready to be taken to the battlefield where, Typhus was sure, it would wreak havoc in one way or another. As the dead warlock’s acrid singed fur tingled in his nostrils he decided that he would be absent from any engagements where the machine was unleashed, just in case.

Typhus had at first been hugely suspicious (some might even have said paranoid) of the formation of the Warpclaw Guild. They had banded together to perform their insane experiments with neither order nor consent from the Grey Seer himself. He had feared a coup. The warlocks had at their disposal a prodigious litter of Stormvermin to act as security to protect their laboratories and test site. These Unscurried- so named for their claim to have never been seen to flee a battle- seemed unnervingly loyal to their warlock masters. It was easy to see how the warlocks posed a credible threat with such a force at their command.

Yet Typhus had found that this fraternity of scientists-come-mystics appeared to support his rule at Boling Peak. Content to conduct their experiments they seemed genuinely enthusiastic to further his war efforts against the multitude of enemies that schemed against the Enclave and plotted his demise. Indeed, the knowledge that their machines were put to dastardly use was apparently reward enough. It drove them on, it was their purpose and they revelled in it.

All the same, Typhus would ensure that a few select Eshin agents kept a close watch on the deranged techno-mages. All Skaven knew the hunger of ambition and power and these warlocks were surely no exception.