Skaven Morale: Skaven are confident in their inevitable victory - if numbers are on their side. Warpstone: While this substance is depressingly common in areas touched by Chaos, only the Skaven are insane- ahem, brave - enough to mine and utilize it on a large scale. His servants the Verminlords guide the Skaven along the proper path, and perhaps other manifestations of His will could be called forth? (Daemons and daemon-related effects are summonable. Skaven Gods: The Horned Rat would not leave his children without guidance. (Greatly incresed avenues of research, higher chances of consequences both hilarious and infuriating) Skaven Intelligence: Skaven don't shrink from radical experimentation like the other fool-fool races! So what if a few underlings die during the process, no one really cares about them anyway. The females breed quickly, and the hordes march forth for the Under-Empire! (Massive population growth if you have the food for it) Skaven Breeding: A significant reason that the Skaven are the best species in the world (aside from their innate superiority to everything) is their immense numbers. Magic: Dark Magic, generally warpstone-powered Go forth, loyal* minions, and conquer! For the Horned Rat! Maybe you'd burn-burn it down with warpfire, see how they feel then. opportunistic climbing of the ranks for the time being, instead presenting an endles tide of bared tooth and sharp claw to the surface world! The Under-Empire will stand victorious before any other, whether it be the manthings with a thousand gods, those hungry-hungry ogres in the mountains, the blind-blind people that call themselves an Empire, or, yes-yes, even those scaly. You'll show them what Skaven superiority is! For the Horned Rat himself has decreed that all Skaven must cease their. Your rat-ogres are ready to tear weak manthings limb from limb, and your stormvermin eager to pillage the homes of the high and mighty elfthings and dwarfthings. And now is that time! Your clanrats stand strong, their fur sleek and thick. Now-now is the time of your ascension! For years your people have scurried underneath the other species, fool-fools that they are, lulling them into a false sense of security, waiting for the perfect time to strike and take-take what is yours. You'll either wrest this world from the arms of oblivion or flee and start anew. Of course, you don't care about any of that. The world will know the sound of dragons again before it dies. Men and women of legend, relegated to the background of history in times of peace, will surge to the forefront. Weapons long kept locked away in sacred vaults will be opened for battle once more. It is a time of greatness, where the stars of the mortal races will shine a brilliant, if brief, light upon the world. The tides of Chaos wax strong once more, and the Empire of man wearily turns north to face the one known as Archaon. It has been foretold by every sage, mystic, and fortune teller from the Southlands to cold Kislev to far Cathay: the Time of Endings is upon the planet.