The skaven wage war with an arsenal unlike any other in the Old World, a mad, brilliant, and horrifically unstable array of Warpstone Weapons powered by refined warpstone, the solidified stuff of Chaos itself. From warpfire throwers to warp-lightning engines, these devices spew green flame and crackling energy that can annihilate whole regiments in moments.
The genius behind them belongs to Clan Skryre, the warlock-engineers whose workshops churn out ever more lethal and unreliable machines. A warpfire thrower drowns the enemy in clinging green fire; a poisoned wind globe shatters to release a choking cloud of warp-gas; jezzail teams snipe from afar with long rifles bored to fire warpstone bullets that punch through the heaviest armour. Each weapon is more powerful than anything the surface races could muster from ordinary black powder, and each is very nearly as dangerous to the ratmen crewing it, for warpstone is prone to detonate without warning and reduce its handlers to ash.
Yet the skaven care nothing for the lives spent working these engines, for their numbers are beyond counting and their reverence for the Great Horned Rat demands ever greater feats of destruction. A skaven horde advancing behind a screen of warp-lightning and green fire is a nightmare of the deep places made real. The weapons may misfire, explode, or poison their own crews as often as they slay the foe, but when they work, there is little in the world that can hope to stand before them.
The armoury continues
