Verminlords are the Great Horned Rat's will given flesh — towering, many-horned daemons who step out of the gnawholes whenever skavendom's schemes grow large enough to interest their god. Among their kinds, the Warpseers are the far-seers and grand strategists: each bears a scry-orb in which possible futures squirm like drowning rats, and each concerns itself not with the ambitions of any single clan but with the destiny of the skaven race entire.
A Warpseer's game is played in decades and across realms — a famine arranged here, a Council seat vacated there, a warlord's triumph quietly enabled because his inevitable betrayal will prove more useful still. Mortal skaven grovel before them and are right to, for to enter a Warpseer's designs is to become a piece on a board no living rat can see. All of it bends toward a single promised dawn: the Great Ascendancy, when the under-empire rises as one and every realm belongs to the children of the Horned Rat.