ShadovarnSewerdigger Gangmembers
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The Sewerdiggers

What? (A 'brief' history):

With rapid change comes strife. Chaos in the elements, in the inner workings of the world. From the life of the lowly farmer changed by the introduction of machinery, to those left behind as the old ways slowly catch up with the newest innovation. It is natural, it is inevitable. But there are times when it is forced, thrust into the forefront and let loose like dogs of war. What other entity represents the chaos inherent to the system than the Razuka? What other being rises to meet the chaos, retreating when the iron boot of law comes down upon its neck, ever deeper into darker tunnels, both figurative and literal. What is to say the the Razuka of Barsburg? Of those ratkin drawn forth by something rarely seen in the authoritarian technomagocracy.


The promise of something more. Of something better. At least, better for them.

From Esshar came a band of chaos, controlled to a degree, but there to upset the natural order of it all. Led by the dog-faced Imperator, the Mischief found themselves in the forefront of Barsburg politics and efforts.  The warmachine found itself revitalized by the new insights of these strange 'heroes'. With them came the alchemical knowledge and abuse of rift by Stavros, the artifice and violence of Gavrill, the zealous hunt for blood by Anira, and the twisted dreams of Trik. Each brought something that the Empire sought to use and exploit, their eccentricities and activities protected by the newest Imperator. And with it, came the chaos that would unfold.

Out of all of them, there was one that never truly fit in. Strange speech patterns, twitches and alien habits. Deranged and eccentric, things were done in the darkest sewers of Osrona that only made the situation worse there. From those actions and teachings, returned an art long lost and best forgotten, resulting in the birth of Esshar's first Lich and possibly greatest calamity in the waiting. But this is not about the events of Esshar, this is about the promises told to those toiling beneath the iron boot of the Empire by a deranged rat, blind in the eyes and nearing the end of his unnatural life.

A promise of a city in ruins, of swarming throngs of their kin, of the power stolen from the gods so that they could forcibly create more and more of their kind. Of brutish, horrific forms and the true depths of decadence and revelry. The promise of Osrona, free from the nobility, free from the oppression of the surface world, so that the undercity might rise up and claim the ruins. A painted tale of the efforts of Saint Misha, killer of Petrakis, guided by Imperator Walter's will. The tale of a city just from them, with spacious and dark areas to dwell and thrive, far from the judging eyes of those that just did not understand.

A land fit for the Razuka, for them to claim and make their own and only.

These were the tales told by a dying rat. Told by the First Fleshcrafter as he met with his forgotten experiments one last time. This is not the tale of the average Razuka, of those that could pass for human save for the ears and tail. Both for those warped by the darkest alchemy and wills, forced into more bestial shapes for a long abandoned project and then cast into the darkness. This is the tale told to the forgotten of Barsburg, the underbelly that it ignored as it remained far from the glorious light of advancement.

Ratmen, foul in appearance and mannerism, they clung to the words of the ancient rat. They took it as gospel for a future they could have, free from the tyranny of Barsburg so that they might build their own tyranny. And with it came the spark of a dark hope for something they never had, resulting in revolts and strikes, of crackdowns and violent response. Barsburg was never kind to failures, especially those that came from what it considered a truly dark stain upon its efforts in Esshar. It sought to cleanse the sewers of the forgotten vermin, driving them out and forth into lands that were not their own.


The Sewerdigger Gang is more a collection of such misbegotten entities. Descendants of abandoned projects and experiments, they represent the true dream of Trik Gutterrunner. A mutation considered rare and cursed, now prevalent in their ranks. Forms more akin to bipedal rats than man, they scurry and slink in the dark. Their speech patterns broken and eccentric, from mental damage by toxic materials. Craven and violent, they were sent to do the only thing the Empire could think fitting for them: To carve out sewers for the expanding empire. To dig deep in the earth and to be free from the sight of proper people. After all, despite their penchant for violence and a bloodthirst to take and take from their enemies, they realized a crucial flaw in Trik's amplifying of his race's worst traits.

They hated authority. It wasn't just a hatred of nobility, but something far beyond. There was a violent hate and disgust of anyone they deemed their betters. A desire of violence so instilled in their being that it went beyond just wanting to kill those of divine noble blood. Almost a preternatural hatred of participles, they took their blood rage out on the captains, the lieutenants, the sergeants and even themselves. Might made right, causing the most brutal and powerful of their groups to establish order through fear. But fear breeds resentment and resentment is power among the magi, leading to more and more violent ratmen rising to the top. This hatred of their own 'betters' was only supplanted by their pure, unbridled hatred of the 'betters' from other races.

A boiling pot of violence, their own paranoia and degenerate minds, that exploded when Grandfather Rat returned with tales. Tales of Osrona in ruins, tales of Osrona as the promised land. Of the abundant sewers for them to thrive and scheme in, of the joys his labs had wrought, of the Foxfire Den and the legacies of his most treasured friends. He had given them something they never had, hope and a purpose. And with it came the crude realization of organization. Of the tolerance of the big rat that forced all the rules and the burning hatred towards those that squatted upon their rightful home, and the forces of Barsburg that abandoned it and them.

No one was surprised when they rose up in rebellion. A whirlwind of violence beneath the cities. Armored divisions sent to quell the dwellers in the darkest sewers, fire and explosives used to collapse their warrens and drive them into the hated surface. Chaos amid the underbelly of the Empire, something that required the personal efforts of Walter pyr Docro to put down. A single bullet, a nod at a long time friend, now addled by years of blue mercury consumption, and the final, swift end to the long, tortured life of Trik Gutterrunner.

Driven forth from their warrens and homes, the ratmen of the sewers turned on everyone and themselves, with only the least degenerated forming crude clans of necessity. Into the wider world they spread, seeking new holes to occupy and fester like the rotted symptom of cursed magic.

And Esshar? The Sewerdiggers came. Once pathetic laborers, held back only by the supreme weaponry of Barsburg, they were now bandits along the road. Violent thugs that made their way to the promised land of Osrona, of the ruins for them to claim their own.

Their surprise turned to bloody rage upon seeing the Shimmering City still standing. And worse yet? The restoration of the Petrakis line had occured. A city denied and one they wanted to claim before they collapsed in on their own schemes and betrayals.

  • Two Slots open for minions, the right and left paws of Sneek Sewerdigger
  • Both Razukas, you are more rat than men. Foul, wretched creatures that escaped their life of oppression to seek out a land so they could oppress others!
  • Betrayal is simply a way of life. The Big Rat is not someone you respect, but fear. Your plots against him are only brought to fruition when they work. You resent that he is (currently) stronger than you and far more cruel. After all, you should be the rat running the show, not the idiot above you or the idiots below you!
  • That said, there is nothing you hate more than the other races acting better than you. Likely the only reason you work with other Razuka is to bring about rat supremacy.
  • Raised in the underbelly of Barsburg, you are, unfortunately, more educated than the common peasant. Once a breed meant to be trained as weapons, your rather poor temperament meant that your lot was condemned to dig ditches and sewers for the expanding empire. Your life was brutal, in squalor and one of suffering. Which is why it's perfectly reasonable to inflict it on others!
  • Fur and eye colors are up to you.
  • You get a sweet jacket.
  • But ultimately, you seek to achieve the dream laid before you. The sole spark of hope that brought you to Esshar and the spark that have become a fire of hatred against the Shimmering City. So, scheme, plot, betray and manipulate your way into becoming King of the Sewer, Oppressor of the Participle, and whatever title is fitting for a craven, foul creature atop a dung heap. And what better place to start... than at the Academy where their wretched offspring go to learn how to oppress you better?

For those interested, contact me at Shadovarn#0001
For those still unsure of their character or not keen on being part of the Academy, there is still a slot open for this. Perfect for that last minute decision.

Apply within!
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