The Origins Of The Headtaker

A Killer Since Birth

Disclaimer: I am only writing what I speculate to be the events that led to Headtaker and the creation of Warlord Queek. Also, I'm not super deep into the lore, so forgive me for any inaccuracies and feedback would be appreciated.

Raki - Dwarven word for Skaven or ratman

Wazzok - A Dwarf who has exchanged gold or some other valuable item for something of little or no value; a foolish or gullible Dwarf; an insult.
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Deep under the earth where no light can reach. There, in the burrows of Clan Mors. Known for the creation of some of the greatest warriors in all of Skavendom and one of the most versatile of the clans. A fresh litter was given new life from the womb of a broodmother. It had gone unnoticed like most in the breeding pits. Usually it was a fight for survival for the new born ratlings. Only those that survived to escape the burrow would be allowed to continue their lives as fighters. An unnamed ratman was born, the biggest of his brothers. Still blind and unable to control his movements. Yet he felt the warmth of the others around him. One by one, he killed and consumed his brothers, leaving a bloody mess where they were born. The warlord and founder of Clan Mors, Gnawdwell, approached after hearing the commotion of the pleading ratlings. He was surprised to find a rat bathed in blood, gnawing at the remains of his brood. He hadn't even grown out his fur or opened his eyes, yet he had managed to kill them all. Gnawdwell kneeled down, he was a large Skaven, larger than most without undergoing any mutations. He hadn't been on the council as long as the others, but he had begun to pick up their ways and began hiding his true nature behind formalities and etiquette. He picked up the Rodent from its meal which it reacted with taking a nip at his paw. He immediately began to Bleed from the bite, but didn't drop the little ratling. He chuckled, licking the blood from his wound. "Yes, this one will do. He is coming with me." The warlord spoke as he exited the burrow, holding the ratling close. "I will make you great... My Queek." The next two years, Gnawdwell fed his new prodegy with the best Dwarf and man meat Clan Mors could offer. Gnawdwell trained him personally in the ways of diplomacy, writing, strategy and, most importantly, how to fight. Queek didn't care much for most of it. He didn't pay much attention in most of the lessons offered to him. Queek's writing was broken, he always would make decisions that led to battles and he often used fear mongering in his tests that involved trade, but yet he fought like a warrior that did not fear anything, not even death. Queek's talent in duels reassured Gnawdwell that he would replace Sharpwit some day. Queek didn't like using shields or two handed weapons. They were too slow and clunky. He preferred having a smaller weapon in each paw. It made him highly maneuverable and deadly.

Gnawdwell encouraged this behavior. He smiled seeing how skilled his Queek had become. Queek was taken at a very young age to fight with the other Stormvermin on the front against the dwarf-things. He had won victory after victory as a champion in Gnawdwell's army. Queek became more proud with each one and more dangerous as well. The rising champion traversed the tunnels, searching for some stragulars after another easy battle. He found a small group of dwarf-things, maybe three or four. The number didn't matter. He used his smaller frame to his advantage as he snuk closer. He could hear them speaking in their infurior language. "We have to get going. The raki can show up at any minute now." The one said with concern. "I know. Don't take me for a wazzok." The Dwarf froze when he heard a noise behind them. "Wait, shhh. Something's here." The Dwarf slowly raised his musket, but it was already too late. Queek jumped him from the side, thrusting his sword deep into the Dwarf's armpit. The Dwarf immediately began to cough up blood and with the help of Queek's footpaw, slid off the sword and fell to the ground. The rest looked on in horror as they reached for their weapons. With blood painted paws, Queek fought them relentlessly.

After slaughtering a few dwarf-things on his own, Queek looked around, wondering how he could prove his achievement to his warlord. Queek only wanted Gnawdwell's approval. To feel the pride and respect only he could offer. He looked at the corpse of one of his victims. A wild smirk appeared on his muzzle. "Of-of course. Bring back-back their head-skulls." He knelt down on each of them, sawing away at their necks until he had collected all their heads. He dragged them by their lengthy beards as he returned. The warrior heard ominous whispers on his return. He swung his head left and right. It sounded like the whispers of more dwarf-things, but where? He began to scurry faster, dragging the heads through the dirt behind him. He became paranoid as the whispers followed him wherever he went. Luckily he was nearing his destination. The paranoia faded once he saw his Warlord. He squeezed past the other Stormvermin, still taller than him since he hasn't grown to his fullest extent yet. Some gave way, other's were shoved. One, which seemed to grow quickly, stood among them. He was already slightly taller than most of them. He watched Queek in awe. Such might and determination that brewed in that Skaven's steps.

Queek walked up to Gnawdwell, dragging the heads past him. "Queek kill-slay these dwarf-things. Hardly a challenge to me-me." He looked up to his master with a flare of innocence in his eyes. Gnawdwell stepped forward, patting Queek on the helmet. "You did well, My Queek. Perhaps we will start calling you Headtaker if you keep this up." Queek chittered, he liked the sound of that. A titel worthy of his deeds. "Queek want to kill-slay more! Where are more beard-things?" Gnawdwell chuckled. "Fear not, My Queek. We will be reaching our destination soon. There will be many more beard-things waiting there." Only when Gnawdwell turned and left did Queek notice the whispers were still there. It felt as if they were speaking to him. He looked down at the heads he had collected. With a curious twitch he reached down and picked up one of the heads. He held it next to his ear. He was surprised to hear that they were the ones whispering and even more so by the things they had to say. Things that would bring him to new heights.