Dogs of War – The Brotherhood, Skaven Civil War.

New and Improved – Pawed by Vang Three Claws**:
**The line "Pawed by...” graciously on loan from Khilkhret Foe-slayer.

Somewhere in the Sewers of Hergig…

Master Skarvile, Chief Warlock Engineer of Clan Thunderpaw, watched with a careful eye as the laborers packed up the last of the new and improved warpstone bullets. Vang would be much-much pleased. The Warplock Jezzails and the Ratling Guns would be even deadlier with the modifications to the ammunition imposed by Master Skarvile and Warlock Rageaganish.

The new ammunition was perfect. Skarvile’s improved design made them both faster and more accurate. The adjustments imposed by Warlock Rageaganish had made them even deadlier. Besides, they were almost safe.

Master Skarvile had even made a special batch of the bullets for his twin warplock pistols. Skarvile marveled at the work they had done together. Truly their efforts had been inspired by The Horned Rat himself.

Skarvile’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud *BANG*. A scant few yards away, one end of a box of the modified bullets being carried by two clanrats had dropped to the floor. The clanrat responsible stood dumbly looking at the fallen box. The other clanrat still clung to the carrying rope at the other end of the box, his eyes shut tight, his head turned away from the box, and his every muscle tensed for disaster.

“You-you, there!” shouted Skarvile, pointing a taloned claw at the careless clanrat, “be careful. Now-now get moving, quick-quick!”

Not wanting to attract any further attention from the irate Warlock, the careless clanrat quickly scurried to pick up his end of the box. His partner who was still holding the rope on the other end of the box breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that he was still alive. The second clanrat was so relieved at having averted disaster that he relaxed to the point that the box’s carrying rope slipped through his paws. With a *BANG* the other end of the box came crashing to the floor.

“I told you to be careful!” Shouted the Chief Warlock. In one smooth motion, Master Skarvile drew his twin Warplock Pistols and fired both.

The warpstone bullets struck each of the careless rats full in the chest. Both rats went rigid, but did not fall. One of the unfortunates opened his muzzle as if to squeal in protest but only a puff of smoke escaped his jaws. *PUFF*

Without warning the wounded rats began to convulse wildly. Their limbs thrashed about as if jerked by some insane puppeteer. The *POP* and *CRACK* of disjointed limbs and broken bones accompanied their deadly jig. With the sound of ripping flesh, spines and shards of bone speared out from various parts of their bodies. As quickly as the spines and bone shards grew they retracted. Suddenly their flesh began to bubble and melt. In an instant, their entire bodies seemed to liquefy. All that remained were twin puddles on the floor of the cavern.

“You-you and you-you, get that box out of here,” instructed Skarvile. With a wave of his pistols, Master Skarvile appointed two new clanrats to transport the box.

Yes-yes, thought Skarvile. The new and improved ammunition was excellent indeed…