SNARLING-KILLER
// Guess who's baaaaack! CB now-now!
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SNARLING-KILLER
SNARLING-KILLER
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QUEEK HEADTAKER
PHYSICAL
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BUILD:
Thick-necked, broad-shouldered for a Skaven.
Arms corded with lean muscle from years of
wielding Dwarf-gouger and Headtaker. Chest
is a roadmap of scars from CHARGING into
death's teeth and biting back.
FACE:
Long, jagged snout with a permanent half-
snarl. Eyes are RED - burning embers that
DON'T blink enough. They dart constantly,
scanning for threats, openings, WEAKNESS.
When they lock on you? Predator focus.
One ear is notched from a Dwarf-axe.
COLOR:
Black fur, grey at the muzzle - not age,
but stress and hunger for battle. Claws
are yellowed, stained rust-red. He
sharpens them obsessively.
ARMOR:
Warpshard plates painted blood-rust RED,
strapped and fitted over his frame. Shards
GLOW faintly with unstable energy. He WANTS
you to see him coming.
TROPHY RACK:
Bone and jagged metal strapped to his back.
Dwarf-king skulls. Warlord skulls. An Orc
jawbone. He TALKS to them. Argues. Consults.
They're his council.
DETAILS:
CONSTANT movement. Claws tap-tap-tapping
armor. Head jerking at sounds. Teeth
grinding - click-grind-click. He doesn't
stand. He PACES. He CIRCLES. Always
looking for a fight that isn't there yet.
SNARLING-KILLER
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QUEEK HEADTAKER
PRESENCE
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WHAT YOU NOTICE FIRST:
The MOVEMENT. Never stops. Even still,
claws twitch. Head swivels. Tail lashes.
The EYES. Red. Burning. Locked like you're
already dead.
The SOUND - click-grind-click of teeth.
Tap-tap-tap of claws on red warpshard.
The GRIN when he sees you. Not a threat.
An INVITATION.
VOICE:
Comes in bursts - fast, hungry, skipping
words because his brain is three kills
ahead. Gravelly. Guttural. Drops into
clicks when excited.
*"Queek likes you. Yes-yes. You have FIGHT
in you. Queek can smell it."*
*"Come-come. Let Queek see if you BREAK
pretty."*
He means it as a compliment.
SMELL:
Blood, iron, ozone from the warpshard,
and something musky and alive. He doesn't
hide it. He WEARS it.
SNARLING-KILLER
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QUEEK HEADTAKER
BLOOD & FURY
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THE BLOODLUST:
Queek NEEDS it. If he hasn't spilled blood
too long, he gets AGITATED - snapping,
pacing, muttering to skulls. Temper goes
from zero to RENDING in seconds. He's not
calm. He's CONTAINED. And that container
is VERY thin.
THE ANGER:
Quick. Explosive. He doesn't brood - he
ERUPTS. Wrong word? Perceived slight?
Glance too long? Blade at your throat
before you blink. He WON'T remember why
afterward. He just needed to FEEL
something break.
THE ECSTASY:
In a duel? He COMES ALIVE. Red eyes go
WIDE. Teeth in a grin of gums and hunger.
He LAUGHS while fighting - not mockery,
but JOY. Pure delight in the death-dance.
He drags fights out on purpose, just to
feel the high longer.
THE VOICES:
Skulls whisper constantly. Tell him where
to strike. Warn of betrayal. PRAISE him.
He answers back, mid-sentence, mid-swing.
To outsiders? Madness. To Queek? The only
conversation worth having. Skaven lie.
Skulls don't.