As the Skaven on Holy Terra collapsed into a rout, the most successful clan in the Sol System, Clan Skryre, found their position on Mars suddenly untenable.
Across the red sands and within the labyrinthine hive-factories of the Adeptus Mechanicus's sovereign capital, the Skitarii and the Skryre rat-kin were locked in a grinding, technological war of attrition. Upon seizing the ancient temples and altars dedicated to the Omnissiah, the Skaven had wasted no time in desecrating them, using scrap metal and scavenged components to jury-rig totems to the Great Horned Rat.
They burned incense fueled by stagnant machine oil, offering prayers to the Horned One with a mechanical devotion that parodied the rituals of the Cult Mechanicus. This piety was driven by the single most vital resource for any Skaven, and particularly for Clan Skryre: warpstone.
In this material universe, warpstone did not occur as natural ore as it did in the world-that-was. The only source of the "Green Gold" was through bloody sacrifice and ritual supplication at the altars of the Great Horned Rat. To the Skaven, warpstone was not merely a mineral; it was the breath of life.
"Oh! Great Horned Rat! Grant us-us... warpstone! Yes-yes, the shiny-sweet stone! Skryre-things need it for the machine-engines!"
In a desecrated temple, a dozen Warlock Engineers led by a Grey Seer pleaded before a twisted idol. At the Grey Seer's signal, a pack of Stormvermin dragged forward dozens of high-ranking Tech-Priests and Magos. Their augmentations had been brutally stripped away by Skaven scavengers; without their mechanical limbs and logic-engines, these once-towering masters of Mars looked like toothless tigers, or cripples robbed of their wheelchairs.
"No... Omnissiah preserve us! This dark power... it cannot supplant Your light," a Magos gasped. Looking upon the idol, he felt a presence that felt chillingly close to the Machine God's logic, yet it was saturated with a freezing, entropic malice that eroded his binary consciousness.
The green candles flared. The Tech-Priests were consumed inch by inch, their flesh and cold iron melting together. As their screams faded, a frost-like sublimation began to form in the air, crystallizing into hailstones of pure warpstone.
"Quick-fast! Gather it! Warpstone… the gift of the Horned One!"
The Warlock Engineers barked orders at the Stormvermin to collect the crystals. This was their fuel, their ammunition, their mutagens, and their sorcerous focus all in one.
Meanwhile, within the depths of the Martian forge-complexes, Archmagos Belisarius Cawl was examining a sample of this emerald crystal. In these xenos, who displayed a disturbing technological resonance with the Cult Mechanicus, the Tech-Priests had discovered a material of unparalleled psychic conductivity. Whether used as a propellant, a power source, or a metallurgical catalyst, its efficiency made the conventional laws of the physical world seem redundant.
"By the Omnissiah... this is His bounty, granted to us to study!" one Magos muttered, his optical sensors whirring with obsessive delight.
Cawl, however, slammed the containment shutter shut. He turned his multi-lensed gaze toward his colleague, his voice cold and commanding. "No. This is the foul artifice of the Archenemy. We shall not pursue it. I order the immediate destruction of all recovered samples!"
"Wait, Archmagos! Do you not see the potential? These xenos conquered half of Mars using these crude implements!" the Magos countered. "Their primitive machines achieve infinite power and lethality through this substance. We cannot allow the xenos to monopolize it. We must find a way to harness it safely!"
Cawl stared him down. It was obvious that many within the priesthood shared this forbidden curiosity. The Adeptus Mechanicus were defined by their pursuit of knowledge, and while they were more restrained than the Dark Mechanicum, they were still prone to obsession. Many within the priesthood were eager to see this "upstart" Archmagos, who had hidden hundreds of thousands of Primaris Marines for millennia, fall from grace.
But Cawl's authority was currently absolute. He reaffirmed the ban on warpstone research and ordered an immediate escalation of the offensive against the Skaven. He needed to purge Mars quickly, before the high lords of Holy Terra found an excuse to meddle in Martian internal affairs.
The Red Planet shook as ancient war machines were unleashed. Skitarii Maniples and highly-augmented Clanrats traded fire across the dunes. The Skitarii's transuranic arquebuses, resembling long-barreled flintlocks, exchanged shots with the Skaven Warp-muskets, both sides seemingly parodying the other's aesthetic.
Their war was not the trench-bound slog of the Astra Militarum, but a high-speed dance of combined arms. Above, the God-Machines of the Titan Legions clashed with Skaven Parasite Engines. These six-legged, mosquito-like monstrosities skittered across the Martian crust, unleashing chaotic volleys from their haphazard weapon-mounts.
Below the Titans, Onager Dunecrawlers and Kratos Heavy Assault Tanks collided with Skaven Doom-Wheels and Doom-Flayers, with the latter being brass-bound orbs that encased their pilots entirely.
Warp-lightning Cannons and gravity projectors tore through armor like dry crackers. Even the Legio Cybernetica were deployed, their Kastelan Robots smashing into the ranks of the Rat Ogres. Every inch of Mars was being paid for in a mounting pile of corpses and cogs.
The battle might have ground on for decades had the news from Holy Terra not arrived.
"NO! NO! I knew it… those craven-incompetent filth! Trash! They are useless-waste!!" Questab Gillstud shrieked as he received the report of the Skaven collapse on the Throneworld. The Great Warlock Engineer was incandescent with rage.
He had stolen so much from the Mechanicus, from STC fragments and Cybernetica protocols to the secrets of the Knights and the Imperial Navy. But Skaven greed is a bottomless pit; to have one secret is only to hunger for the next.
However, his survival instinct, the only thing stronger than his greed, reminded him that if he did not retreat now, he would be caught between the recovering Imperial Navy and the Martian counter-attack.
With a heart full of bitter resentment, Questab Gillstud ordered the Skryre host to withdraw. He knew that the moment they broke contact, they would be hunted relentlessly by the tireless Ironstrider Ballistarii and the flying Pteraxii. Skitarii knew no fatigue.
Questab's eyes narrowed behind his warpstone lenses. He had a plan.
The Skitarii Marshals soon noticed the shifting Skaven lines and correctly deduced a retreat. The word was synchronized across the binary-net of the commanding Magos.
"Do not let them escape! Reclaim the sacred knowledge of the Omnissiah!"
The Tech-Priests, desperate to recover their stolen STCs, ordered a total, reckless pursuit. But the Skaven were prepared. As the Skitarii surged forward, they were met by waves of drug-frenzied Clanrats and giant rats strapped with crude warpstone explosives.
Explosions of baleful green fire erupted across the front. Wherever the Skaven had lost a vital position, they left behind a gift: a high-yield Doomrocket that sent a glowing mushroom cloud into the Martian sky.
If the Skaven cannot have it, no-thing can. Questab Gillstud ensured that every piece of heavy equipment he couldn't carry away was rigged with a warp-charge.
——————
If you want to read ahead of everyone, go to my pat-reon: pat-re-on.c-om/magnor (remove the hyphen to access normally)