Among the Hellforges
The Skaven heaved another mound of charcoal into the furnace, ignoring the harsh grunts of the dark bearded Dwarfs as they worked the forge.
He fought the urge to twitch his tail in joy; few creatures other than these Dwarfs of Chaos had ever been permitted this far into their dark warrens. Though the number of slaves gifted to the hold�?Ts forgemasters had helped gain him entry, it was their respect for his genius mind that had gotten him this far. No, he corrected himself, it wasn�?Tt respect. The Dawi Zharr seldom viewed their lessers with anything more than contempt. If anything, the Skaven considered, he was still alive because he interested the black bearded creatures. Should he fail to extend this interest, he would be joining the slaves that were so hungrily sacrificed to this Hashut quicker than he could say Clan Skryre.
The Skaven shovelled yet more charcoal into the growling fire. He bit back the niggling sense of annoyance that crept through his mind. He knew the Dwarfs should have held him in awe, been stunned by his vast intellect, and cowered before his majesty and the power of the Horned Rat. Instead, he had spent what felt like years merely feeding the fires. The cool rational voice in his mind quelled this smouldering anger, had he not travelled the known world in search of knowledge? He had to adopt their way of thought rather than cling to his Skaven instincts. The Dawi Zharr never rushed, their brooding dark eyes were watchful and exacting, if he was to progress in the forges he would need to adopt patience.
The art of the forgemasters was exquisite, their daemonology unmatched. Their knowledge would further the Skaven�?Ts ambitions and forge a legend amongst Skavenkind.
Ikit Claw raised his shovel again and smiled.