Just a little umgak story I jotted down. 
Rasknitt’s No Good, Terrible, Bad-Bad Day
Rasknitt tapped his claw impatiently upon his desk. It was a magnificent thing, carved from the skull of one of the absurdly-large scaled-things from far-off Lustria.
It had cost him many-many warp-tokens to acquire, and many months to ship - not a small ask for a Skaven, who frequently lived less than twenty years. The merchant had said that whatever this was from, it was extinct now, and he had found it in an abandoned city of the lizard-things.
His eyes narrowed. At least that’s what the merchant Skaven had told him. Taking a moment, he scratched at the surface with a claw, expecting the bone to flake away and show a wooden core.
It didn’t; clearly the fake was more elaborate than he expected!
It only made sense; his enemies would stoop to any low to humiliate him, including making him a laughingstock for falling for the classic fake skull desk trick.
He stood up, wishing for something to vent his anger on.
“Where is accountant-rat!” he bellowed. He heard scuttling outside, as some of the servants ran off to try and satisfy his question. Or just to get out of range.
Looking out of his burrow-study, he was prepared to pop the eyeballs of the first Skaven he saw with some warp lightning. His anger abated, at least momentarily, when he saw the accountant hurrying his way.
The bean-counter was very old - ancient, even - by the standards of most Skaven, at almost twenty-five .
He smirked; being a Grey Seer conferred many privileges from the Horned Rat, including greater longevity and vitality. He would be much more spry than this one when he was that age.
His anger returned though; that didn’t mean he could waste time!
“Where have you been-been?” he demanded.
“A million apologies, O One of Incredible Patience,” the older Skaven wheezed. “Your enemies beset many hazards in my way-path. Attempting to abscond with records!”
Rasknitt’s eyes widened. “Tell me you lost nothing fool-beast! Or I’ll have your skin flayed and then your muscles peeled!”
“Of course not, Most Exalted-but-Unfairly-Treated Grey Seer Rasknitt. Thanks to your guidance, this foolish old one has learned a trick.” He glanced around. “I carry false tomes for just such occasions. And thieves did not even manage to take those!”
Rasknitt chuckled. He had no recollection of giving the old accountant such advice, but he must have, right? Though, if they hadn’t taken anything, how could he know they were even enemies?
Then again, he was very important and many wanted to betray him, so it was probably true.
“You learn well, it is no wonder you have lived so long,” he said, directing the old rat in. He would have to remain standing, of course, and Rasknitt took the only stool, staring haughtily at the aged one, who began to lay out his books.
From secret pockets he produced the real ledgers, and opened them up, covering the empty surfaces.
“How is my fortune?” Rasknitt demanded. He wondered how many of the ‘real books’ actually mattered, and how many were just to make the accountant seem more intelligent and important.
The accountant was a mite slow in answering, and Rasknitt was contemplating kicking him in his bad knee by the time he spoke.
“Grey Seer Rasknitt of Infinite Wisdom, you have done excellently at transferring most of Clan Fester’s remaining wealth to your safekeeping. What remains is only that which is necessary to pay for more weapon-machines from Clan Skryre, and hire more Stormvermin.”
Rasknitt nodded, pleased. “Good. Now-”
The old Skaven coughed, cutting Rasknitt off. The Grey Seer blinked, shocked that he had just been interrupted.
“. . . What ?” he demanded, dangerously.
“Just some small details, Calm and Graceful and Forgiving Lord. Trifling, really! But you are so much wiser than I, it did not seem my place to judge that for myself. For only you could estimate their true value, and I would be beside myself if I failed to-”
" Tell me !" Rasknitt said, smashing his fist into a table piled with human skulls. The stupid things fell and bounced around the room.
Bah, of course some foolish Slave had piled them so they could fall so easily!
“It is just that . . . there are some new expense-costs,” the accountant said.
Rasknitt waited, but the accountant did not elaborate until he started growling.
“You see,” the old Skaven said quickly. “When hero-things-”
“They are furless scum!” Rasknitt said. “Not heroes!”
“Of course, Most Accurate Naming of Namers.”
Rasknitt scowled at the old rat. Was that a legitimate form of adulation, or was he being mocked?
The accountant continued. “When Furless-Scum Five escaped, they caused much damage - even sabotaging Your Greatness’s Skittergate, thus humiliating you in front of your Norscan allies.”
Rasknitt scowled. “Foolish-things, I should have eaten them when I had the chance. I only did not because I wanted to fatten them first! Elf tastes stringy when it is lean!”
“A wise move-plan, but unfortunately your enemies likely sabotaged their cages to let them escape.”
Scratching his chin, the Grey Seer knew that must be the case.
“And after escape-fleeing in such a cowardly way, they, er . . . attacked many times and places.”
It was suspicious, how well-informed and effective they were. “It is impossible for them to do so many things, be everywhere! Even with their petty magic and portals.”
“Indeed, Most Insightful One. First they attacked our forces in Helmgart for seemingly no purpose, making their way to the temple of their false-god Sigmar. There were no survivors among our Pact-Sworn.”
“That was intentional-planned,” Rasknitt said. “They achieved nothing, and exhausted themselves in so doing!”
“Then they interrupt-destroyed ritual of our Norscan allies, who wanted to summon a Great Unclean One, we think-believe. Most powerful it would have been.”
Rasknitt shook his head. “It is not of the Horned One and not under my control. That was a victory!”
The accountant adjusted his glasses. “After that they slew-killed the tainted Trolls in mountain cave. All of them.”
“Good, those hideous beasts leave many stain-marks and devour too many Slaves,” Rasknitt insisted.
“Then they slew Sorcerer-Lord Burglespool Haggle-urge.”
Rasknitt said nothing. Was that the fool’s name? He could never remember it. Not that it mattered, he ultimately would have had to kill Hurkensplurge anyway. The fool-things had simply saved him the bother.
“Your plans in Athel Yen- Athel Yenloo-,” the accountant shook his head. “In elf-place were foiled when the man-things repaired magic tuner that you had scrambled so cleverly.”
Rasknitt nodded. “Which still bought us much-much time for finishing Skittergate, yes.”
“And then destroyed-broke your newest Screaming Bell.” The accountant cringed. “Cost so many warp-tokens that one.”
“It was a fake!” Rasknitt nearly screamed. “I wanted to lure them into a trap, but my foolish minions were too cowardly to enact my plan!”
“Just so, Bravest of All Skavendom. Perhaps that is also why the Furless-Five were able to break the siege lines at Fort . . .” He paused, looking at the name, and sighed. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he tried his best. “Fort Bracklebruckee.”
Rasknitt hopped up and started to pace. “Most certainly it was my many jealous rivals who sabotaged those war-machines. They were terrified of my success!”
“It is good, then, that they slew-killed Warlord Skarrik. He most definitely was jealous of you, and after you showed such kindness in elevating him!”
It was justice, Rasknitt thought. “Ungrateful wretch. The Horned One shall torment his traitorous soul for all time.”
“Then they . . . let me not waste-spend more of your precious time than is necessary. They freed the Norscan slaves, destroyed their stolen man-thing goods and food, buried the great relic of theirs . . .”
“Unwitting fools did everything I desired,” Rasknitt chortled. “And they even killed that giant idiot Bodvarr!”
“Yes-yes, wise-one,” the accountant said. “Though it has been costly keeping their forces from fleeing. They panic-run when they have no leader!”
“Man-things are useless,” Rasknitt agreed. “But it seems to me that there have been more victories than defeats. So what is problem, token-counter?”
“Most true and right, Lord Seer. Please forgive me. It is just that . . . all of these things still have cost warp tokens to remedy, even . . . partially.”
“I know-know!” Rasknitt said. “But remind me of these costs.”
The old Skaven handed over a piece of human vellum with numbers scratched on it.
Snatching it, Rasknitt glanced at the numbers and did a double-take. “This cannot be! This is . . . Do I even have that many warp-tokens?”
“Yes, of course Seer of Economic Foresight. You had me invest in latest fungus farms and Dwarf-thing ranches, so your wealth has grown-”
“Fine!” Rasknitt snapped, not remembering ever hearing about these, though if they were paying dividends now, then surely it had been his advice to invest in them. “Get it taken care of and bother me no more.”
The accountant offered him another piece of vellum. Rasknitt stared at it, confused, until the old one spoke.
“I need you to sign on line, Grey Seer.”
“I knew that,” Rasknitt said.
He did so, with his greatest flourish, not bothering to read it. Any who beheld even his signature would not fail to be impressed.
“Now go, fool-fool! I have many important tasks to deal with, things your pathetic mind-brain could not even fathom!”
The accountant bowed deeply. “Of course, Most Important and Wise and Powerful and Capable of Skaven to Have Ever been Spawned by the Blessing of the Horned One. Though my wishes are worth nothing, I wish you great success at your victory speech!”
Rasknitt nodded and did not deign to look down on the accountant as he scuttled out of the room.
Yes, with that trifling issue settled, he could go on and give himself the rewards he had so selflessly denied himself. Before the assembled might of what remained of Clan Fester, he would finally bathe in his glory!
Nothing, not even the furless man-, dwarf-, and elf-things could hope to impede him, not in the slightest.
For was he not the greatest of all Skaven?
The old accountant walked jauntily down the tunnel, his slowness and limp and wheeze nonexistent. He kept the sheet of vellum against his fur, for it was the most precious thing he had ever held.
Rasknitt . . . the fool. He’d seen so many Skaven like him, from the lowest slave to the highest Lord. They were always on about war and trying to conquer the world, and believed themselves the smartest and greatest Skaven ever. But one did not get to be his age by being so proud.
Why bother? The Man-things were themselves so greedy that some would even trade with Skaven in secret. They didn’t even value warpstone, most of them. They feared it and would sometimes pay Skaven to remove it!
He chuckled. With the blank check Rasknitt had just signed, he’d be able to invest more than he had ever hoped in such peaceful, profitable, and non-life-threatening ventures.
In a month he’d be living in luxury, far from war. And if the portents were true, that the world would end very soon-quick, well . . .
His lifespan wasn’t that long, after all. Might as well spend the last of it in comfort.
Maybe he’d get a pet tame human. If you treated them well, he’d heard they could be surprisingly loyal . . .
FINIS
Going through final editing now.