Trak, Warlock-Engineer

Intro Video


“Come-come! Marvel at Trak’s Treasure Trove of Tricks! Odds of fatal accidents are low-high! …I know what I said, fool-fool!”

Who Am I...

A Skaven Warlock-Engineer

My Story Is...

The slums of Alterra are not spoken much of. In the streets and spires above, the wealthy and powerful make merry with their machines of gleaming brass, their grand airships, their elegant clothes and cultured tongues. Even in a fallen world such as this, it seemed there was room for refinement and class to hack a portion of people off from the rest. In the sewers – or, great drains beneath Alterra – we creep. Ours is a world the sky does not touch, though we, as all other Alterrans, hang in its mortal coil. Grime, filth and refuse, in streets of our own, lit by unstable, flickering lanterns. This is our finery.

This is the life led by the skaven. Shunned by those above, to the point where many refuse to believe we even exist, us ratmen creep through the filth and lead lives in the stinking shadows, among the beggars, thugs, rogues and cutthroats. Unseen, unclean and unsung, this underworld is our playground and our prison- and here we play, with mutative drugs, wicked tools of death, magitech that would make the engineers above quail in fear and disbelief, and diabolically creative poisons. Bound to this filth from the day we are born to our sodden, diseased ends, this is our fate.


So naturally, when I decided to go open up a magitech shop in the upper streets, my father went absolutely ratshit. He forbade me from going, threatening to disown me of the little I was to inherit. I went anyway, of course; I had machines that I’d built out of scraps and bits, and the clothes on my back. Plus, I could always make more with the money I made. These were my thoughts, as I crept out of the sewers to pave my own way in the world. I took up residence in an abandoned warehouse, tunneled until the basement became a serviceable laboratory, and set up shop.

Two months later, and not a single customer. I couldn’t help but grow a little disheartened. Even though I hadn’t expected to do well at first, this degree of disinterest from the populace would make anyone worry. Still, I haven’t given up hope. I will succeed, no matter what comes in my way!

My Appearance

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Skaven Gas Mask: A gas mask, fitted specifically for a skaven’s snout. Works to keep out toxic fumes and to protect the skaven’s head.

Warplock Optics: Lenses that allow for clear focus, ignoring environmental cover such as fog and snow.

Warplock Pistol: Designed to fire toxic bullets of refined warpstone at a speed capable of piercing most mundane armor. Can also fire regular rounds, with the effects one would expect from a standard flintlock.

Warp Blade (Circumstantial): A halberd, whose blade has had warpstone runes carved into it. A single cut spreads a mutative toxin through the victim’s body, and the weapon can also be used to cast spells. A dangerous weapon, for use only in dire circumstances.

Shock-Prod: A barbed stick, carrying an electric charge. At its highest setting, it can knock a horse unconscious with a single jab.

Supercharged Warp-Power Accumulator (Circumstantial): As the title implies, augments the power of warp magic cast by the wearer. Rather heavy and cumbersome; not for casual use.

Tail Blade: A safety precaution; a knife affixed to the tail, easy to miss in the shadows.

My Secrets Are...

My father owes money to several loan sharks. When I left for upper Alterra, I wasn’t only fleeing a grimy lifestyle.

I Believe...

the only true defeat is to yield.