Skip to content
The Old World

City-state

Skavenblight

The vast, sunken hive-capital of the ratmen, a teeming warren of the Under-Empire where the Council of Thirteen plots the world's ruin.

Astrography

Altdorf, Capital of the EmpireAthel Loren, the Enchanted ForestAverheimBarak VarrBechafen, City of the MarshesCouronne, City of the GrailErengradHag Graef, the Dark CragHexoatl, City of the SunItzaKarak Azul, the Hold of IronKarak Eight PeaksKarak KadrinKaraz-a-Karak, the EverpeakKislev, the City of the Ice QueenLothernLustria, the Jungle ContinentMarienburgMiddenheim, the City of the White WolfMousillonNaggarondNaggaroth, the Land of ChillNehekhara, the Land of the DeadNuln, City of Iron and PowderParravon, City of the PeaksPraag, the Scarred CitySkavenblightSylvania, the Cursed ProvinceTalabheimTor Elyr, City of the LagoonsUlthuan, Isle of the High ElvesWolfenburgWurtbad, City of StirlandYvresse, the Misty IsleZhufbar, the Torrent GateZlatlan, the Fallen Temple-City

Hidden beneath the poisoned marshes of the far Tilean coast sprawls Skavenblight, the black heart of the Skaven and capital of their sprawling Under-Empire. It is a city of impossible scale and squalor, a festering hive of countless millions of ratmen packed into leaning towers and endless tunnels, all sinking slowly into the toxic mire that surrounds it. Above it all looms the great crooked spire of the Temple of the Horned Rat, so vast and ancient that the surface-dwellers who glimpse it mistake it for a natural crag.

Here convenes the Council of Thirteen, the Lords of Decay who rule the fractious skaven race, or claim to. From their shadowed conclave they weave schemes of world-conquest, dispatching plagues, assassins, and vast armies against the works of all other races. Yet Skavenblight is no ordered capital but a seething anarchy, for the skaven trust none, least of all their own kind. Every warlord plots against his rivals, every clan hoards its secrets, and treachery is not a vice but the very foundation of their society.

The city produces nothing but more skaven and more schemes, consuming resources plundered from a hundred conquests to feed its ever-breeding swarms. It is a place of choking warpstone-fumes, screeching madness, and boundless ambition perpetually undone by its own backstabbing. Skavenblight is the truest expression of the ratkin: numberless, cunning, and rotten to the core, forever poised to overwhelm the world entire, forever sabotaging itself upon the very brink of doing so.