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Где там абилка из тв2 с описанием, что добросердечные скавены порой рождаются,но долго не живут? Этот уже почтенно выглядит для скавена.

Небольшая история от автора к арту(мало ли кому пригодится для интереса):
The short story thingy straight up uses a different font for the second language, plus some italics on book titles, inner thoughts, etc. I',m lazy and don't feel like trying to pick everything out here, so have the pdf that has it all in it already just in case you want that. Tbh i wanted to flesh stuff out more so it flowed a bit more smoothly but i was unsure of the max limit, but i can just go back whenever i want and fill things in.

Edit: Now fleshed out more!

Kretch flicked his claws along the spines of the dusty old tomes, cross referencing each runic title with the grubby soot stained parchment in his hand 'The History of Bugman...no...Book of Grudges:Pocket Edition...useless...Voluptuous Valkyries…?' Kretch tugged on the book, sneezing as his sensitive nose inhaled the musty and ancient dust. He brushed the hard cover off, gagged, and promptly turned the novel into a projectile. 'Eughh, useless-useless!'
'What was that?' Kretch turned and looked downwards towards the boy. The lad was much shorter than him, about half his height, fair skinned and of brown hair and wide, blue eyes. The human boy was covered in dingy, dull colored clothing. Kretch himself was a large skaven, a rat-like beast-man, who, like many of his clan wore yellow robes underneath his iron chest-plate. A bronze canister sat upon his back, strapped to his armor via a set of harnesses, and connected to a metallic armature that allowed the technomage to tap into the winds of magic and harness it like a sorcerer. Kretch dismissed the question away with a wave of his claw.
'Nothing-nothing! Hold-hold this.' Kretch slipped Explosives And You: A Manlings Guide into the human’s hands. 'It may be a long-long shot, but maybe these stupid dwarf-things have something useful on the realmstone.' He nodded to himself. The properties of Chamon’s realmstone differed from the warpstone that Kretch was used to working with.
Unfortunately for him, there was very little in the way of using the magical material, and, despite his best attempts to create something out of the rock, it was not going well. Kretch sighed, glancing through the section of books for any more that would be helpful in his quest. 'If I could craft-make something out of this realmstone—' Kretch frowned and shook his head.
'No-no, I’m well-better off here-here for now.'
The technomage tapped his claw against the wood '...Although... It has been many years...Crittr may be around...' Kretch chuckled darkly and rolled up the dirty parchment, stuffing it back into his satchel
'Let’s go-go.' Quickly crossing the room, Kretch swung the iron door outward with surprising ease, thumping into an object on the other side.

'Ouch!'
'Watch where you are running, fool-meat!' Kretch stepped around the clanrat doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach.
'Hurry up, fast-fast!' The human gave the skaven a wide berth, who, through teary eyes, stared daggers at him and the warlock, even as he continued out of sight down the hallway with the boy following, holding the tome.

Kretch sneezed again 'Damn this dusty-old place. Why did our grey-seer insist-demand me to join him-him.' He could hardly fathom why the grey seer, Prazneth would want to leave, but Kretch still owed his allegiance to his clan, no matter how much he would rather stay behind and pursue his own interests. The warlock huffed quietly, lost in thought as he followed the scent of his study room through the corridors.
Stuck. Here. Away from the coven, from Blight City. And for what? The grey seer did not make his plan clear, that much was obvious. There was no way i would ask. But… The realmstone. Think, Kretch, of all of the glory, the power! But what if i cant use it, then what am I to do?
Kretch fiddled with the hilt of his warp-lock handgun.
'Do you know-understand any thing about realmstone, whelp?'
'No..They are able to create massive cog-forts using the stuff, though!' The human’s voice was giddy with excitement upon mentioning the cog-forts, an obvious fan of the mobile platforms that patrolled the lands.
'Yes-yes, I have saw-witnessed the power-destruction of them—' Kretch withdrew the warp-lock pistol, flipping it around and inspecting the handgun as he walked
'—And it pales in comparison to the might-might of Skryre’s technology!' Kretch inspected the barrel, then placed the handgun back into its holster, and continued to ramble on about the intricacies of the warp-tech.
The duo travelled deeper into the dimly lit labyrinth of stonework. The gentle rasp of Kretch’s bell scraping against the stone as his tail twitched erratically echoed through the empty halls as they moved away from the distant rumbling of explosives and the clamour of skaven constructing rickety structures.
The hallways were sparse save for the occasional clunking stormvermin or plague monk drenched in the sickly sweet stench of death; most skaven overseeing the digging, or participating in it, willingly or unwillingly. In a hallway, not unlike the many others passed through in the fortress, Kretch stopped, and opened the door nearest to him that was marked with a symbol.

Kretch placed his satchel on top of the table, retrieving a piece of flint, a fire striker, and some short ended candles from within the drawer underneath. He struck the metal with the sharp edge of the flint, cursing quietly and glancing back as he attempted to light the brazier hung nearby. 'Horned Rat, damn-curse these things.' Finally, to his joy, a warm glow erupted forth from the mounted torch
'Got-got it!' Kretch returned the firemaking equipment back into its original position, and retrieved the candles instead, sticking each end into a holder and igniting them in the brazier. He placed them on top of a bookshelf sitting next to a desk, and pulled the chair out.
'Place-put the book on the book-shelf over here.' Kretch pointed to the shelf containing the candles, and the human placed the book in an empty spot. Unbuckling the harnesses holding the tank to his back, he unplugged the tubing connected to his armature, and carefully placed the metallic canister down next to him. Sitting in the creaking, undersized chair, Kretch motioned towards the boy.
'Give-give me the maps.' The boy retrieved several long rolled up papers from within the satchel, and handed them to the open claws of the waiting skaven.
'Good-good.' Kretch placed them upon the table, and unfolded the maps.

'Hmm.. Tunnels are being dig-scratched out here..' Kretch tapped his claw against the wood, the solid oak peeling under the sharp tip. The warlock dipped the tip of his finger into a black ink, and began to roughly scrawl out the new tunnels onto the maps. 'The collapsed tunnels are still-still being opened. As requested, the plague priests and their flock-mass are as far-far away as possible. The flesh-moulders have access to both the surface and the caves. Every-thing is going good, yes-yes. 'Farms are being tended to again— ' Kretch flicked his claw, shaking the ink off of the tip. ' Will need to put -place more stormvermin on patrol near the farms.' Kretch placed the ink pot on top of the still drying maps, and stood up.

'Done-done!' Kretch looked around the study room. It was nothing like the dirty and crowded rooms he was used to. It was minimal, but had plenty of space for re-decoration. Several disparate pieces of tubing and haphazardly slapped together technology littered the room, occasionally making a whirring noise or blowing off smoke into the ventilation. Kretch recalled that at least one of them was his endeavor for turning the realmstone into usable powder for his bombs. Of the others, the warlock drew a blank as to why he put them there. To feel more like he was back in the coven, maybe? Regardless, he had scoured through several tomes already in his effort to comprehend the properties of the realmstone, and came up fruitless. He had no hopes for this book, but it was worth a shot.

'Kretch?' The warlock squinted at the boy near the bookshelf
'What-what?' He had nearly forgotten about the no-fur. It has been a good deal of time since he acquired the man-thing by pure chance; the arcane shield of the dwarf hold forcing them to emerge a ways away from the hold itself, the scouting party resigning to trek a short way through the forest around the hold before they could break the runes to allow the rest of the clan to skitter-leap in.
'..Thanks' Kretch snickered, smoothing his whiskers out.
'Yes-yes, don't get used to it. Those wretched beast-things just happened to be in our path-way. Free meat-food, see?' The warlock grinned. It was not a lie. They would have certainly ignored the group of beastmen if they did not have such a huge advantage over them.
'Eh, what are you-you doing?' The warlock fumbled, mildly disgruntled, and awkwardly patted the human’s head.
'Hugging you?' The boy gripped tightly around Kretch’s waist in a hug.
'Never heard-seen it. Too close-close for my taste, think beg-grovelling is much better for the lesser races.' The human broke off from the hug.
'Sorry.'
Kretch re-adjusted his cuirass.
'Hrmn.. We’re done-done for the night. Time to skitter-crawl back. The grey seer will want to know-see our progress.' Utterly bizarre behaviors. Kretch thought to himself as he snuffed out the candles, making a mental note to return first thing in the morning to skim through Explosives And You: A Manlings Guide. Kretch removed the ink pot and snatched up the maps before the two left the study room back into the winding hallway.

Вспоминался аосный вархаммер адвенчур, где был крыс который держал у себя человеческого детеныша в качестве домашнего животного.