A Memory? 'From dust we came and to dust we return. Motes we are in the eternity of stars. Until we are but memories slowly turning to dust.' – Hrasssk the Seer I feel my heart beat as I look over our target. It’s strange to be alive and yet long dead. I’m a memory of the Saurus I once was, though I wonder if I truly am Tox of the Darkened Scale. My companions don’t seem as reflective as I, their tongues quiver between lips and their eyes fixated at the target. I try to remember their names. What is wrong with me? Of course I know their names. We have served together over uncountable lifetimes. We are the Darkened Scale, ending threats to the Plan with a well-placed claw. The mortal race would call us assassins, I think. But we are no simple cut-throats or cowards. We are the Darkened Scale and we enact judgement. The scent of our target drifts on the wind. It is filthy smell of fur and fear. Skaven. I can remember the sounds of their screams, their black blood painting the forests, the taste of rat flesh. Yes. I will enjoy this. From what knowledge was imparted by our master, the Skaven had taken a human town of little importance. To be involved would usually be a waste of time. I stop myself from considering the loss of our lives. It doesn’t matter if I die and die again. I’m but a memory. This operation is however of importance. The Skaven leader if not destroyed today will one day threaten this reality, perhaps all realities. He will die. The image of his verminous face blazes behind my eyes. I taste his name, such strange creatures. He will die. We move in under the cover of darkness. The Skaven can see well enough in the dark but for the darkness of our scales. Our name is also our greatest strength. The dead sentries are a surprise. Their faces are twisted in fear and pain. Whatever killed them acted with great precision, both sentries died from a single stroke to the throat. My nostrils flare, seeking to pick up a scent. Yes. Three scents linger, the two sentries and a single attacker, all of them Skaven and yet... And yet there is something strange about the attacker’s scent; a hint of brimstone. The blood scent is tempting and I feel the need to consume the slain sentries. No. We cannot stop; we have to eliminate the target. We continue, even more warily. It can’t be long before a patrol finds the corpses and raise an alarm. Whilst I am confident we can exterminate the Skaven, our quarry is liable to escape. This we cannot allow. One of the Skinks, his name escapes me, holds up a darkened claw. I stop and peer through the darkened houses and spot it. A verminous shape flittering across a roof top, it is wearing something on its head. Not a hood. Through the gloom it seems to peak at the centre of the rat’s head and lips out as it descends. The figure does not seem to be wearing a cape but some form of long coat that flutters in the breeze. My eyes pick out a shade of red on this rat. As I think on this, the Skaven drops down and vanishes from view. One of my brother Sauri makes a silent indication to the left. I try to remember his name but it is like grasping at smoke. I follow his eyes and lash my tail in agreement. Yes, that direction. The target is close. I taste the name of the target again to focus. Ironfur. I push my concerns about the other Skaven to the back of my mind. We push onwards. The shadow of a larger building hides us as a patrol scurries past. One of them pauses and sniffs the air suspiciously, but it does not pick up our scent. We are the Darkened Scale. The Skaven moves on. There are sounds coming from the larger building. I let the scent of the place flow through me. Humans. Survivors from the Skaven, now their slaves. They are whimpering; their deaths will be prolonged and painful. I do not even look and neither do my brothers. The plight of these humans are not our concern. We move on, the scent stronger. It is a metallic scent, with a heady edge of magic. Ironfur. Up ahead is a ramshackle tent that seems partially composed of sheets of metal. There are a worryingly large number of dark furred Skaven milling around it, they seem on edge. I exhale slowly. We have to strike. I motion to one of the Saurus next to me, his scarred head dips in agreement. For a moment I catch his name and faded memories flow back to me. And then they are gone. I shake off the feeling and give the low whistle to attack. The black scaled Skinks around us spread out, darts sliding into their blowpipes. I cannot help but smile as the four other Saurus and I break from our cover. The thunk of the blowpipes are music to my ears as selected Skaven topple to the ground, the poison coursing through their vile bodies. One of the larger Skaven turns and shrieks in surprise. The look on his face is beyond rewarding as my blade cuts him down. My brothers are around me and like the fist of one of the Old Ones we smash through the vermin. One of my nearby brothers falls, several of the ratfolk dragging him down. Starlight bursts from his mortal wounds and I watch in fury as his form dissipates. I snarl and swing my blade in a wide arc, cutting down his killers and putting the others to flight. The Skinks have stopped firing, I can only assume they are also locked in combat or they have been overwhelmed. Despite this, the Skaven are fleeing, their numbers no match for our prowess. We push on. The last black furred Skaven in our path are cut down like long grass and I surge into the tent. Sitting in the centre of the tent on a throne of rusted metal is our target. He looks up and I fancy he is smiling, though his iron mask covers his features in cruel metal. Twin horns that look to be sheathed in a similar iron curl up from his head. Glowing green eyes regard us hungrily from the mask’s eyeholes and the figure slowly and mechanically rises. His body seems clad in plates of various metals and strange devices that crackle with energy. Ironfur. A metal claw moves in a blur and there is a loud noise. I grunt as agony courses through me and I stare from the smoking stick in Ironfur’s claw to the wound at my side leaking starlight. I smile. It is only a scratch. The two Saurus beside me leap forwards, their blades whistling at Ironfur. He blocks the first with a hissing metallic arm whilst the second clangs off of his iron frame. I ignore the pain of my wound and launch my own attack, battering aside the smoking stick and casting the target back against his throne. The metal Skaven seems to panic for a moment but then his glowing green orbs change to a crimson red. He gives a grating sound which I wonder might be laughter, and he rises up, claw outstretched. I whistle a warning but I am too late. Green tinged lightning erupts from his claw and engulfs us. The Saurus to my left collapses, smoke rising from where his eyes once were before his body seems to fade away. We are the Darkened Scale. We must not fail. I rise and drag my body forwards. I feel my heart hammer against my chest. I may be a memory but in this moment I am more alive than I have ever been. Ironfur falters for a moment, I fancy his soulless eyes flash with disbelief. Then he raises his other claw... Two deafening roars come from behind me and Ironfur twists backwards as two invisible fists strike him. He topples backwards, blackish blood oozing from two large rents in his armour. His glowing eyes dim and are extinguished. I collapse to my knees, feeling the pain of my wounds and the star energy leaking out of me. “Well, let’s have a scent-look at you, heretic” a voice behind me utters in a poorly accented human tongue with a high pitched quality to it. My nostrils flare and I recognise the scent. The strangely garbed Skaven from before. I make to rise but the voice makes a strange tutting sound. “No, you stay put, foolish lizard-thing. Move much-much more and your body will not handle it. Very nice work on the guard-things. Pity-shame there isn’t many left to interrogate.” The Skaven steps past me and I take a better look at him. A long red coat, tanned by the looks of it, wraps around the rat’s wiry form. The smell of brimstone lingers around the rat, perhaps ingrained in him somehow. He spins the two smoking sticks in either paw and thrusts them into holsters before drawing one of two blades at his side. He barely gives a backwards glance as he places the blade to Ironfur’s mask and prises it off. Shakingly I rise and give a low growl as Ironfur’s face is revealed. The Skaven also hisses something that I presume is also a curse. “One of Ironfur’s apprentices” the Skaven snarls and smartly sheaths his blade. “Looks like we’re both after the same heretic, I’d rather not have to waste fight-slaying you as well and doubtless Ironfur will be aware of this attack.” He straightens the crimson wide brimmed object on his head. “I take it you can understand human tongue, yes-yes?” I grudgingly nod; the wound at my side closing over and I feel my strength returning “Well, I think I know where Ironfur’s heading next. I have to destroy him and I imagine you do too. I am Kerzim, of the Skavenblight Inquisition, charged with removing this heretic and all his works. Are you going to get in my way?” The Skaven is wary, his paws within reach of his blades. I consider this unvoiced offer and weigh it against the treachery of these Skaven. Yet there is burning fantatical hatred in this Kerzim’s eyes on mention of Ironfur. I remember an old human saying: ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend...for now.’ I wonder what the real me would have done but I feel my heart beat in my chest. I smile. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So, here's the parts from the original draft that were edited/cut out. They featured one of my older Skaven characters who has never made a proper debut in something...and technically still hasn't. I decided to cut her out because without the full backstory, she seemed to come off a bit too much fanfiction-y and seemed to drain away some of the seriousness of the story. I'll let you be the judge if I made the right call: Spoiler: First reveal of Miss Brightfur One of the skinks, his name escapes me, holds up a darkened claw. I stop and peer through the darkened houses and spot it. A verminous shape flittering across a roof top, it is wearing something on its head. Not a hood. Through the gloom it seems to peak at the centre of the rat’s head and lips out as it descends. The figure does not seem to be wearing a cape but something different. A memory worms its way into my mind, the clothing reminds me of some human tribes that lived beyond the Spine of Sotek before our true world was lost. As I think on this, the Skaven drops down and vanishes from view. Spoiler: And the end Two deafening roars come from behind me and Ironfur twists backwards as two invisible fists strike him. He topples backwards, blackish blood oozing from two large rents in his armour. His glowing eyes dim and are extinguished. I collapse to my knees, feeling the pain of my wounds and the star energy leaking out of me. “Well, let’s have a looksee at our prize,” a voice behind me utters in a human tongue but with a high pitched quality to it. My nostrils flare and I recognise the scent. The strangely garbed Skaven from before. I make to rise but the voice makes a strange tutting sound. “Now ya stay put, move much-much more and ya body’ll not handle it. Or I’ll just shoot ya.” The Skaven steps past me and I take a better look at him. No. Strange. Not a he but one of their rarely seen females. Different though. A memory of the flesh crafters amongst the Skaven comes to my mind and I suppress a shudder. The female spins the two smoking sticks in either paw and thrusts them into holsters before drawing a large blade. She barely gives a backwards glance as she places the blade to Ironfur’s mask and prises it off. Shakingly I rise and give a low growl as Ironfur’s face is revealed. The Skaven also hisses something that I presume is also a curse. “One of Ironfur’s apprentices” the Skaven snarls and sheaths her blade. “Looks like we’re both after the same quarry, I’d rather not have to fight ya as well and doubtless Ironfur will be aware of this here attack.” She straightens the wide brimmed object on her head. “I take it ya can understand human tongue?” I nod, the wound at my side closing over and I feel my strength returning. “Well, I think I know where Ironfur’s heading next. I have a score to settle with him and I imagine ya do too. Call me Felrix.” I consider this offer and weigh it against the treachery of these Skaven. Yet there is a burning hatred in this Felrix’s eyes on mention of Ironfur. I remember an old human saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend...for now. I wonder what the real me would have done but I feel my heart beat in my chest. I smile. Lastly, I should probably give some background about some of these characters: Iron Seer Kratz Ironfur: First appeared in my campaign stories "More Machine than Rat" which followed the brutally altered Eshin assassin Jiào hún who was being used by Ironfur to destroy Clan Scruten and topple the Seerlord. Ironfur's goal is a united Skavenkind...by shutting off/cutting out the parts of his kind's brains that promote independant thought, personality, and emotion. Though there is usually some part of the original rat still trapped within... There is meant to be some ironic parallel between Ironfur and Tox's 'master'. Felrix Brightfur: On the UE, a number of the Skaven writers liked to alter GW canon by having female Skaven that weren't giant mutated baby machines. The theory is that female Skaven (much akin to real world rats) aren't bloated monstrosities at birth but are genetically engineered/mutated into being that. It's never been made clear if this was the case with Felrix as her original backstory (when Ironfur was demoted to a mere Warlock Engineer) goes as follows: This version of her would be fairly similar, with her persona being a coping method to stave off a complete mental breakdown. In this version she wouldn't have killed Ironfur but would be working do rectify that. A lot of her attire/equipment are meant to be references to historical figures and films. Her twin pistols (One named Oakley and one named Starr), a Bowie knife, a poncho with a hidden iron plate underneath, 3 warp-tobac cigars, and a stetson on her head. Kerzim: Felrix's replacement was a new(ish) character of the Order of Fire (led by Lord Commissar Gnawski) within the Skavenblight Inquisition:
I think you made the right choice here, Brightfur would be quite complex, and would like to read more about her, but I think that since you have put so much thought into thos character's background, she would have come out unsatisfactory to you, while the rest of us might have enjoyed the character, you may have felt you cheated your character. So a lot like Dr. Doom then!