Skaven Quotes

This is not our home. We can turn away and leave it to the skaven. We can abandon our brothers to slavery and atrocity at the paws of these beasts. We can go crawling back to Middenland. And when the skaven again come, when they bring this great horror against our homes, who will there be to stand with us? Who will help us fight? No, it is here we make our stand. A man can die but once. Do we die on our feet or on our knees?

You have achieved nothing. Do you not see? Nothing. We scurry through time, like the rats in Fizqwik’s wheel. Over and over the same mistakes. I am glad to be done. I am sick of it.

I think the Horned Rat prefers his children blind or we would surely have the world now. And he knows we would betray even him if we could.

The skaven will not prevail! Here they will be broken, shattered upon our steel! They fight for domination, to sate their greed. We fight for our homes, for our families, for those we would keep safe from the horrors of Old Night. It is our cause that is just; it is our fight that is righteous!

Up! Up into man-thing nest! Up to their streets and their cellars! Up to their granaries and their stockyards! Up to their homes and their temples! All-all belongs to Rictus! All-all belongs to Vecteek!

Watch-see, Holy One, my grave-rats will kill-kill all dead-things. We show-tell Fester-rats how to fight. Show-tell why Fester-rats should stay true to Horned One.

The Grey Seers visited every Skaven stronghold up and down the Under-way. They give a single ultimatum - be at the annual feast of Vermintide or suffer the wrath of the Great Horned Rat.

Behind them all, carried upon the bed of an enormous carriage with thirteen sets of iron-banded wheels, nestled within a casement crafted from the bronzed skull of a giant, was the holiest relic in all skavendom: the Black Ark, the compact between the Horned Rat and the first Seerlord. Imprinted upon a block of purest warpstone, its quality unsurpassed by the richest ores ever found, were the thirteen tyrannies, the sacred dictates by which the skaven might placate their terrible god and achieve the promise He had made to them: that one day the ratkin would inherit the whole of the world.

Only one advantage still remained to Mandred, an edge that Vrrmik could never take from him. The soldiers who marched behind his banner were men and it was the hearts of men that beat within their breasts, hearts that could be moved to selflessness, could be stirred to valour and fired with courage. However numerous Vrrmik’s horde, they were skaven, they were cringing beasts driven by fear and greed, incapable of believing in anything more vital than their own skins. Terror and avarice were the forces that drove them on, but such things could only stretch so far, overcome only so much. Mandred’s troops could endure more than Vrrmik’s monsters. That was the one strength the skaven could never equal.

See-smell, man thing. Hear us, touch us. We are broken. Many times we die-die. Change bodies to burn and still back we come. Many times, again, and again, and again, forever-ever.