Queek!

One night in the standing stone bar, a dark figure sits down on a stool and orders a drink. As you are watching him he turns his head around and glances at you. Before you know it you’re talking to him about a mysterious warband that has entered Mordheim , led by a Grey seer initiate…

‘Damned are all rats that walk on two feet I tell ya! Walking around as if they own every bit of wyrdstone that they see lying on the ground, yet I doubt if they even bought their own equipment!  A strange bunch they are, sir. A strange one indeed.

When I was out there one night, I spotted a group of thirteen of them. THIR-TEEN! One of them was wearing this tattered robe. He looked ‘sif he was the boss. Probably because he was shooting lights out of his long club. Every commoner could see that it was simple magics, but that good for nothing bunch of teeth probably thought that he was some sort of divine being! HAH! Can you imagine? All you need are fancy tricks and horns growing out of yer head! This boss character had it goin’ though. He constantly was screamin’ and shoutin’ rat noise, movin’ this group o’ rats around that were barely visible to the naked eye. They were shiftin’ from one shadow to the other. Only in lighter places were you able to count them all. The most dangerous lookin’ one of these shadow shifters was a rat wielding blades that were always visible because of the green fluid that constantly dripped out of it. Almost as if the blades were weeping. This character was always very close to the horned one, as if his sole task was to protect him.

After seeing these dangerous characters, I decided it was time to head back. I could’ve had ‘em if I was properly armed! But alas, at the time all I had was a beer mug, and a witty mind. And that is never enough against one blade, let alone thirteen blades.

As I walked away there was one word that the horned one started chanting as he walked, as if he was calling out the name of his group. It sounded something like….Quak?…No wait, Queek. Yes, that’s what it was.

It’s a good thing they won’t last long in this cursed city. Can you imagine what would happen if they found their way to the civilized world?!

The figure finishes his drink and walks out of the tavern. Still a bit shaken by the story the man started telling without any warning, you follow the man’s back out of the tavern. The very second that his body leaves the tavern however, it looks as if a thin fleshy cord is sticking out of the back of his long black robe…

Yes, the skaven warband called Queek! Is one to be feared by my worthy adversaries. Led by Squall the Initiate, their only mission is to gather as much wyrdstone as they can. Once they have enough, Squall will devour all of it and join the ranks of the grey seers. If he survives the enormous amount of wyrdstone in his body, of course.
Squall would never survive one trip in Mordheim if he was all alone though. That is why he grabbed himself Nish the death seeker, one of the deadliest assassins he could find (and afford). Unfortunately for Squall, Nish acquired his title because dangerous situations that would cause death for either himself or his foes seemed to follow him wherever he went. Nish himself knew this too though, and therefore rallied himself a group of personal guard, existing out of ‘lower’ assassins: Black skaven for the people on the rooftops, armed with fighting claws and spears, and Night runners to help him defend against the strongest of adversaries by deflecting their blows with their swords. Having a personal guard of just those troops is expensive and difficult to find though. That’s why he filled out the rest of it with vermikin. These dumb henchmen aren’t too good at fighting, or at defending, but they are very good at jumping in between him and the enemy, making excellent meat shields. They even killed the occasional orc in the process!

Expect to find many victories posted on the site by this warband in the future. Rats are quite at home in old cursed cities!

Current warband build: