Skip to content

Chaos

Skaven

The teeming ratmen of the Under-Empire beneath the Old World — a numberless, treacherous race of warpstone-worshippers who would already rule the world if they could only stop betraying one another.

Contents
Skaven — faction art

Custom artwork · about our art

Dig deep enough beneath any city of the Old World and you will find them, though you will wish you had not. Below the cellars and the sewers, below the mine-shafts and the barrow-vaults, spreads a second world of tunnels without number — the Under-Empire, where the Skaven breed in the dark in tides beyond counting. They are ratmen: hunched, verminous, quick and cruel, with red eyes that see in blackness and a hunger that never rests. For every human in the sunlit lands there are a dozen Skaven scheming beneath, and the surface races endure chiefly because the ratkin will not stop betraying one another long enough to swarm.

The Skaven worship the Great Horned Rat, the thirteenth god of Chaos, and they raise their filthy civilisation in his image — vast, teeming, and rotten from within. From the fortress-city of Skavenblight the Council of Thirteen rules in principle and squabbles in fact, thirteen Lords of Decay presiding over a realm held together by fear, warpstone, and the certainty that any weakness will be exploited by one's neighbour. It is a race that would already have inherited the world, were it not so gloriously, murderously incapable of trusting itself.

The Under-Empire

The Skaven realm is a labyrinth without maps, gnawed through the roots of mountains and the bones of the world across thousands of miles. Its highways are the Great Tunnels, down which whole armies march unseen beneath kingdoms that do not believe in them; its heart is Skavenblight, a drowned and reeking metropolis somewhere in the marshes of southern Tilea, crowned by a tower so vast it should long since have toppled. Here the Council of Thirteen keeps its uneasy court, and from here the will of the Horned Rat radiates outward through a thousand lesser warrens. The scholars of the surface who insist the ratmen are a myth are, in a sense, the Skaven's greatest weapon.

The Great Clans

Skaven society fractures into clans beyond number, but a handful of Greater Clans tower above the rest. Clan Skryre hoards the secrets of warp-technology; Clan Pestilens tends its plagues like gardens; Clan Eshin sells murder in the dark; Clan Moulder flesh-shapes monsters in its stinking pits; and the warlord clans such as Mors and Rictus provide the endless soldiery that fills the tunnels. Each despises the others, and all despise the Council that pretends to command them. An alliance between clans is simply a betrayal that has not yet found its moment.

Warpstone and Ruin

Everything the Skaven are, they owe to warpstone — the solidified stuff of Chaos, glowing sickly green, at once their fuel, their currency, their sacrament, and their slow poison. It powers their impossible machines and quickens their breeders; it fills their sorcerer-priests with visions of the Horned Rat; and it corrodes body and mind alike, so that no Skaven wonder is ever built to last and no Skaven scheme is ever quite as clever as its author believes. The ratmen dream of a day when the whole world will be gnawed hollow and remade as one great warren beneath a green and rat-gnashed sky. That they have not managed it yet is the surface world's one enduring mercy.

Order of battle

Units

Heroes & legends

Characters

Chapters, dynasties & kin

Subfactions

Community

Discussion

  • No comments yet — be the first to break vox-silence.