As cunning as he is cruel, Snotsqueek leads the Clan Spitscreech to once again gain the favour of the Great Horned Rat and, perhaps even more importantly, of those who divine the will of the Skaven God. Until not so long ago, he was the master of his own tale, better yet, he was its only teller for no other who would see his exploits lived to tell the tale. Starting as a lowly scrivener in the Blight City, he used his position to accumulate power and, better yet, to cause misery to others of his kind through the vile art known as weaponised bureaucratic minutiae. Perhaps it was then, that the God of the skaven himself found his little stunts to cause misery funny and answered some of his prayers. Though not particularly powerful by any means, he amassed some station and when the Vermindoom struck, Snotsqueeek was made to join the fray.
There at last he has risen among the countless of his brethren weaving his tale and rising to the top. And indeed, it seemed that he had retained the favour of the Great Horned Rat from before, as time to time those under him could feel the boon from his prayers, usually allowing them to die a bit later to add another mosaic into the tapestry of Red Rat's tale. As such, having slain his foes and backstabbed 'allies', he has grown to prominence and was present during the campaign of the great Clan Blighclaw in the region known as Ravaged Coast.
Distinguishing himself during the scouring of that land, Snotsqueek was there when at last the tide turned and a new menace emerged from those blighted islands. Great Waaaagh of a vile clan of kruleboyz hellbent on enacting vengeance upon those who laid them low in the past, the hordes of greenskins decimated the old clan, its leaders either being slain or scurrying away. Yet the Council of Thirteen does not look fondly on those who fail in such a spectacular manner, especially when all of skavendom for the first time in millennia toils towards a common goal.
Surviving leaders of the clan were all rounded up and executed, their bodies thrown to slaves for food. Only Snotsqueek and arch-rival within the clan, Nickit Cravenclaw were spared. Reasons for this are not yet known to those who follow them, yet it is certain it was not out of a newfound mercy, for such concept is as alien to skaven as anything can be. Whatever purpose was laid on them, they must now venture with their retinue into the dying land in Ghyran to fulfil this task. Once arch enemies, Snotsqueek and Nickit must now work together, for to fail means to risk direct wrath of their diabolical deity. Worse still, the council of thirteen has sent a Gray Seer Taxril Apnoesnout, to oversee this endeavour.
Thus Snotsqueek, aided by Nickit, leads a vanguard force to this dangerous land, to establish a presence there and to prepare for the arrival of more forces and regiments including their dreaded overseer. Should he, or they, succeed, the newly rechristened clan might once again grow in size and importance under his new and good-better leadership. Especially once the weasel Nickit is out of the way. And also, wouldn't it be oh so unfortunate if Taxril unfortunately accidentally chopped his head off while shaving or something. Indeed the future is bright for Snotsqueek, yet as he approaches the new battlefield and for the first time sees the foes he will heave to face, memories of his 'highly tactical and sensible retreats' in the past battles creep into his mind once more, only to be suddenly halted by a dreadful realisation. This time, he cannot run. He must succeed. What a terrifying realisation, failing upwards is no longer possible.