Slann
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Fiction Among the Dust - A What-If Duel between Felrix and Eli-Nesz
- Thread starter Y'ttar Scaletail
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spawning of Bob
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For some reason I was actually trying to avoid American Indian stereotypes. What was I thinking?
Troglodon
Y'ttar Scaletail
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Well, I have a couple extracts from the WiP, that may get a rewrite. If you wish to ruin the surprise and see a sneak peek, click 'em, if you dare!
Lord Roob prised off the second batch of Toad Lickas that he had been subjected to and was about to reply when there was a shimmer and tear in their reality. A ghostly verminous shape appeared amongst them. It was white furred with large horns crowning its skull, it’s face flickering between that of a rat and the true decayed monster beneath the mask.
“Beats me, we should enjoy it while it lasts. It’s not every day you get to live again.”
“Tell me about it!” came a shrill voice from the Gentleman’s and the doors swung open to reveal a skeletal figure wearing a large hat, mouldering shirt and trousers, and a gold etched six shooter covered in Khemrian glyphs.
“Doc Bones! As I live and breathe!” cried the Prospector.
“Henry” nodded Doc Bones in response and clicked his way to the bar, trailing what was either toilet paper or a piece of bandage behind him.
“Tell me about it!” came a shrill voice from the Gentleman’s and the doors swung open to reveal a skeletal figure wearing a large hat, mouldering shirt and trousers, and a gold etched six shooter covered in Khemrian glyphs.
“Doc Bones! As I live and breathe!” cried the Prospector.
“Henry” nodded Doc Bones in response and clicked his way to the bar, trailing what was either toilet paper or a piece of bandage behind him.
Troglodon
Y'ttar Scaletail
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You can't rush genius (but until we find one of those we'll have to make do with me.
)I'm looking at around 150-250 words a night, with the goal of having it finished somewhere between Friday and Sunday.
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spawning of Bob
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Write on, Pardner.
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tom ndege
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Great! The second smoking slann I see!
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spawning of Bob
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spawning of Bob
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With the examples I have seen, I can prove that smoking gives you puffy cheeks. Don't end up like Tom, kids!
Troglodon
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I can only apologise to anyone reading this...
Amongst the Dust
Chapter 4 (or 6 if you included its epic origins in The Bounty and A Memory? found here.)
“Once more, Lord Roob?” Lord Khan’Man said with a smile.
Lord Roob prised off the second batch of Toad Lickas that he had been subjected to and was about to reply when there was a shimmer and tear in their reality. A ghostly verminous shape appeared amongst them. It was white furred with large horns crowning its skull, its face flickering between that of a rat and the true decayed monster beneath the mask.
“Are you the two fool-thing mortals responsible for messing with my work?!” the ghostly Verminlord demanded.
“AHHH! DAEMON!” cried Lord Roob, sending a bolt of lightning that seemed to pass through the ghostly shape with little effect.
“You idiot, Lord Roob. The rat daemon is not here in any physical form, this looks like some kind of astral projection. It may be possible to harm it but there is very little way it should be able to harm us.”
“You have-haven’t answered my question-thing” growled the Verminlord impatiently, “I have been charged (or punished, I forget which) with recording the lives and deeds of Skavenkind. I noticed a little while ago that a certain Felrix Brightfur’s records are being altered. It took-took what seemed long enough to track down this anomaly and break through my prison-chamber to send this projection.”
“Ah” said Lord Khan’Man, “it was Lord Roob’s fault.”
“But...” began Lord Roob.
“We have been competing over how certain memory constructs will beat the odds against other memory created foes. I believe this Brightfur was a memory of a memory construct and seemed suitable for one of our bets.”
“Waitwaitwait...you are bending the universe’s laws, twisting the fabric of history, and creating a misshapen tapestry from reality into this bizarre fiction...all for a bet?!”
“Erm...yeah...” admitted Lord Roob.
“...What’s the bet-thing?”
Lord Khan’Man grinned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elsewhere
“So, we’re constructed memories?”
“Seems that way, stubbed my claw on doorway and bled starlight” Eli-Nesz said, sipping his Lustrian berry cider.
The Prospector glanced over at Felrix who was snoring loudly from the top of a card table, her Warp Coffee rush having finally died off.
“And what was the lass’ reaction?” he said, jerking a meaty thumb at the Skaven.
“For a moment it looked like the brightness in her eyes were extinguished and replaced by something of pain and emptiness...and then it reappeared again and she spoke nothing of being a memory of a memory. I don’t think she believed me...or wants to believe me.”
“Hrrr” grunted the Dwarf, “So any idea why we are here?”
The Skink shrugged and took another drink.
“Beats me, we should enjoy it while it lasts. It’s not every day you get to live again.”
“Tell me about it!” came a shrill voice from the Gentleman’s and the doors swung open to reveal a skeletal figure wearing a large hat, mouldering shirt and trousers, and a gold etched six shooter covered in Khemrian glyphs.
“Doc Bones! As I live an’ breathe!” cried the Prospector.
“Henry” nodded Doc Bones in response and clicked his way to the bar, trailing what was either toilet paper or a piece of bandage behind him.
“Ye missed the Underwriter, again” said the Prospector, still wearing the frown from being called ‘Henry’.
“Alas” whispered Doc Bones, “that swine owes me a mint for death insurance. Probably trying to find a loophole to worm his way out of it...”
Doc Bones paused as he glugged down a measure of Arabyian Snake Tail that was slid to him by the barman. “So, what happened to the Underwriter?”
“A piano fell on him” said Eli-Nesz into his drink.
“Huh” said Doc Bones, “did you make the shot...mr...”
“Nesz, Eli-Nesz. And no, I did not make the shot. She did.” He jerked a claw to point at the still slumbering Felrix.
Doc Bones clicked his way over to the sleeping Skaven and gave her a tap with a skeletal digit. The resulting screech of horror was nearly outpaced by the roar of her Warp-pistol and the six and a half holes that appeared in the wall directly behind Doc Bones.
“Ya really need ta stop doin’ that ta people, even Skaven” muttered the Prospector as Eli-Nesz put a blanket around the now very pale and shaking Felrix.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I scent-see...Now what?”
“We give them a challenge and see if they prevail. Do you wish to come up with their opponents, Lord...”
“I will not-not give you my titles nor my full name-thing in case you are the sort of mortal-things that will say it thirteen times whilst staring into a mirror-thing. Just call me R’ttig. And yes-yes...I have a fitting idea-thing...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Felrix suddenly sat up ramrod straight, tail quivering nervously.
“Darn it, Doc Bones! Ya’ve done it again!” cried the Prospector. But Felrix instead rose to her feet and moved towards the saloon door, as if in a dream-like state. Eli strained his ears and thought he could make out the sound of pipes, sorrowful and lonely, as they hushed their way through the wind.
The Prospector and Doc Bones had also risen and slowly walked towards the doors, their eyes seemingly glazed.
“What are you all doing?” asked Eli-Nesz with increasing concern; the sound of the piping seemed to grow louder and more insistent. Eli felt his body being pulled towards the door and the strange music. He fought back against the feeling but it was like swimming against a roaring tide. His own eyes glazing over, he joined the others in their helpless march.
The four stepped out of the tavern and onto the dry earth. Not a single cloud hung in the sky. The sun glared hatefully down at them in a simmering rage.
Standing astride a barrel was a tall Skaven in faded colourful garb, wearing a strange hat with bells attached that jingled as he moved slightly to the rhythm of the flute his paws feverishly worked over. Every now and again he would raise his right leg and place his right foot against his inner left thigh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hmm, I thought we were sticking to a theme for this one, R’ttig” ventured Lord Roob warily.
“Oh...yes-yes...we can make him more...appropriate...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The flute playing Skaven seemed to shimmer for a moment and his clothing seemed to shift into something similar to his four victims slowly being dragged towards him. The Skaven grinned widely as he altered the notes ever so slightly and the four halted.
The flute took on a darker tune, throbbing the air with piercing notes that seemed akin to warcries and the clanging of metal on metal. Trembling, Felrix, Eli-Nesz, and Doc Bones raised their pistols to point at each other. The Prospector meanwhile jerkingly shoved a strange red candle in Doc Bone’s jaw and began to light a match.
The song grew to a great crescendo, the last notes building up for the explosive ending...
There was a dull thunk and a crunch and the Skaven flautist fell forwards.
“I don’t like your music, and there can be only one musician in this town!” growled Ti’Rakz, pausing to look sadly at the nice metal pan that now had the imprint of a Skaven’s skull on it.
The spell broken, the four blinked and dropped their weapons.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lord Khan’Man grinned.
The silence in this room beyond reality seemed to drag on.
The Verminlord began to clap.
“Well played, mortal-thing. I take it he’s tone deaf, yes-yes?”
The two looked over smiling at Lord Roob who sighed and let his defensive shields down. In moments he was covered by another batch of giggling goblins.
“So, a Skaven flautist? I probably shouldn’t have expected more from a daemon” said Lord Khan’Man, still smiling.
The Verminlord tapped his decayed snout.
“Ah, but you scent-see...i’m not done yet. They’ve only slain the herald.”
“The herald?”
“There is an old Skaven legend of the last pipe call before the end of everything. This herald has played his song, albeit cut short, and our little mortal friends will soon meet the Underwriter’s siblings.”
“Care to bet on that, Lord Roob?” Lord Khan’Man chuckled deeply.
“I hate you.”
Amongst the Dust
Chapter 4 (or 6 if you included its epic origins in The Bounty and A Memory? found here.)
“Once more, Lord Roob?” Lord Khan’Man said with a smile.
Lord Roob prised off the second batch of Toad Lickas that he had been subjected to and was about to reply when there was a shimmer and tear in their reality. A ghostly verminous shape appeared amongst them. It was white furred with large horns crowning its skull, its face flickering between that of a rat and the true decayed monster beneath the mask.
“Are you the two fool-thing mortals responsible for messing with my work?!” the ghostly Verminlord demanded.
“AHHH! DAEMON!” cried Lord Roob, sending a bolt of lightning that seemed to pass through the ghostly shape with little effect.
“You idiot, Lord Roob. The rat daemon is not here in any physical form, this looks like some kind of astral projection. It may be possible to harm it but there is very little way it should be able to harm us.”
“You have-haven’t answered my question-thing” growled the Verminlord impatiently, “I have been charged (or punished, I forget which) with recording the lives and deeds of Skavenkind. I noticed a little while ago that a certain Felrix Brightfur’s records are being altered. It took-took what seemed long enough to track down this anomaly and break through my prison-chamber to send this projection.”
“Ah” said Lord Khan’Man, “it was Lord Roob’s fault.”
“But...” began Lord Roob.
“We have been competing over how certain memory constructs will beat the odds against other memory created foes. I believe this Brightfur was a memory of a memory construct and seemed suitable for one of our bets.”
“Waitwaitwait...you are bending the universe’s laws, twisting the fabric of history, and creating a misshapen tapestry from reality into this bizarre fiction...all for a bet?!”
“Erm...yeah...” admitted Lord Roob.
“...What’s the bet-thing?”
Lord Khan’Man grinned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elsewhere
“So, we’re constructed memories?”
“Seems that way, stubbed my claw on doorway and bled starlight” Eli-Nesz said, sipping his Lustrian berry cider.
The Prospector glanced over at Felrix who was snoring loudly from the top of a card table, her Warp Coffee rush having finally died off.
“And what was the lass’ reaction?” he said, jerking a meaty thumb at the Skaven.
“For a moment it looked like the brightness in her eyes were extinguished and replaced by something of pain and emptiness...and then it reappeared again and she spoke nothing of being a memory of a memory. I don’t think she believed me...or wants to believe me.”
“Hrrr” grunted the Dwarf, “So any idea why we are here?”
The Skink shrugged and took another drink.
“Beats me, we should enjoy it while it lasts. It’s not every day you get to live again.”
“Tell me about it!” came a shrill voice from the Gentleman’s and the doors swung open to reveal a skeletal figure wearing a large hat, mouldering shirt and trousers, and a gold etched six shooter covered in Khemrian glyphs.
“Doc Bones! As I live an’ breathe!” cried the Prospector.
“Henry” nodded Doc Bones in response and clicked his way to the bar, trailing what was either toilet paper or a piece of bandage behind him.
“Ye missed the Underwriter, again” said the Prospector, still wearing the frown from being called ‘Henry’.
“Alas” whispered Doc Bones, “that swine owes me a mint for death insurance. Probably trying to find a loophole to worm his way out of it...”
Doc Bones paused as he glugged down a measure of Arabyian Snake Tail that was slid to him by the barman. “So, what happened to the Underwriter?”
“A piano fell on him” said Eli-Nesz into his drink.
“Huh” said Doc Bones, “did you make the shot...mr...”
“Nesz, Eli-Nesz. And no, I did not make the shot. She did.” He jerked a claw to point at the still slumbering Felrix.
Doc Bones clicked his way over to the sleeping Skaven and gave her a tap with a skeletal digit. The resulting screech of horror was nearly outpaced by the roar of her Warp-pistol and the six and a half holes that appeared in the wall directly behind Doc Bones.
“Ya really need ta stop doin’ that ta people, even Skaven” muttered the Prospector as Eli-Nesz put a blanket around the now very pale and shaking Felrix.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I scent-see...Now what?”
“We give them a challenge and see if they prevail. Do you wish to come up with their opponents, Lord...”
“I will not-not give you my titles nor my full name-thing in case you are the sort of mortal-things that will say it thirteen times whilst staring into a mirror-thing. Just call me R’ttig. And yes-yes...I have a fitting idea-thing...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Felrix suddenly sat up ramrod straight, tail quivering nervously.
“Darn it, Doc Bones! Ya’ve done it again!” cried the Prospector. But Felrix instead rose to her feet and moved towards the saloon door, as if in a dream-like state. Eli strained his ears and thought he could make out the sound of pipes, sorrowful and lonely, as they hushed their way through the wind.
The Prospector and Doc Bones had also risen and slowly walked towards the doors, their eyes seemingly glazed.
“What are you all doing?” asked Eli-Nesz with increasing concern; the sound of the piping seemed to grow louder and more insistent. Eli felt his body being pulled towards the door and the strange music. He fought back against the feeling but it was like swimming against a roaring tide. His own eyes glazing over, he joined the others in their helpless march.
The four stepped out of the tavern and onto the dry earth. Not a single cloud hung in the sky. The sun glared hatefully down at them in a simmering rage.
Standing astride a barrel was a tall Skaven in faded colourful garb, wearing a strange hat with bells attached that jingled as he moved slightly to the rhythm of the flute his paws feverishly worked over. Every now and again he would raise his right leg and place his right foot against his inner left thigh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hmm, I thought we were sticking to a theme for this one, R’ttig” ventured Lord Roob warily.
“Oh...yes-yes...we can make him more...appropriate...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The flute playing Skaven seemed to shimmer for a moment and his clothing seemed to shift into something similar to his four victims slowly being dragged towards him. The Skaven grinned widely as he altered the notes ever so slightly and the four halted.
The flute took on a darker tune, throbbing the air with piercing notes that seemed akin to warcries and the clanging of metal on metal. Trembling, Felrix, Eli-Nesz, and Doc Bones raised their pistols to point at each other. The Prospector meanwhile jerkingly shoved a strange red candle in Doc Bone’s jaw and began to light a match.
The song grew to a great crescendo, the last notes building up for the explosive ending...
There was a dull thunk and a crunch and the Skaven flautist fell forwards.
“I don’t like your music, and there can be only one musician in this town!” growled Ti’Rakz, pausing to look sadly at the nice metal pan that now had the imprint of a Skaven’s skull on it.
The spell broken, the four blinked and dropped their weapons.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lord Khan’Man grinned.
The silence in this room beyond reality seemed to drag on.
The Verminlord began to clap.
“Well played, mortal-thing. I take it he’s tone deaf, yes-yes?”
The two looked over smiling at Lord Roob who sighed and let his defensive shields down. In moments he was covered by another batch of giggling goblins.
“So, a Skaven flautist? I probably shouldn’t have expected more from a daemon” said Lord Khan’Man, still smiling.
The Verminlord tapped his decayed snout.
“Ah, but you scent-see...i’m not done yet. They’ve only slain the herald.”
“The herald?”
“There is an old Skaven legend of the last pipe call before the end of everything. This herald has played his song, albeit cut short, and our little mortal friends will soon meet the Underwriter’s siblings.”
“Care to bet on that, Lord Roob?” Lord Khan’Man chuckled deeply.
“I hate you.”
Slann
Bowser
Third Spawning
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Finally someone managed to figure out how to collect on life insurance! Now just to collect!
This is what I truly enjoy about these characters. They're idea of a great plan is gambling and making new friends. They have this warhammer thing figured out.
This is really enjoyable. I can't wait for more of it! The underwriter's siblings is a great bit of foreshadowing! The four of them riding into town!
Troglodon
Y'ttar Scaletail
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Be interesting if they're in the business or four a' Poxmen of the Horsalypse mode.
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spawning of Bob
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Lord Khan’Man grinned.
The silence in this room beyond reality seemed to drag on.
The Verminlord began to clap.
“Impressive, Lord-thing. I take it that the one who defeated my flautist is tone deaf, yes-yes? You Sir have played a flawless game of sneak-deception worthy of the Great-"
Lord Khan'man cut him off with a sweep of his fat hand. "Please stop, R'ttig. When will you learn that flautery will get you nowhere?"
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."
"I hate-hate you, too."
The silence in this room beyond reality seemed to drag on.
The Verminlord began to clap.
“Impressive, Lord-thing. I take it that the one who defeated my flautist is tone deaf, yes-yes? You Sir have played a flawless game of sneak-deception worthy of the Great-"
Lord Khan'man cut him off with a sweep of his fat hand. "Please stop, R'ttig. When will you learn that flautery will get you nowhere?"
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."
"I hate-hate you, too."
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spawning of Bob
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Among the Dust
Chapter 5(7)
“Ti’Rakz - You saved us all,” exclaimed Eli-Nesz.
“Did I?” the saurus grunted. “I was just coming to tell you that I found a new hobby. Gold panning. Hold this.” He handed the dented frypan to Doc Bones and crouched down to examine the body of the tall skaven.
The Prospector scratched his beard. “That don’t seem your style, sonny.Sittin’ by the river side, patiently sifting gravel for hour after hour.”
Ti’Rakz looked up sharply. “My method is faster. Look what I collected already this morning.” He produced a medium sized gold brick which he handed up to dwarf, “just for looksies,” and returned his attention to pulling the gold bells off the rat’s hat brim.
The Doc angled the pan in the sunlightand poked a bony digit into two large surface irregularities. “I see you made an impression on this Skaven here. What about this other one?”
Ti’Rakz straightened up. “The Banker.” He retrieved the pan and did a practice swing. “I’ll have that back, too.”
The Prospector looked reluctant about returning the brick until the saurus did another practice swing about two feet lower.
Felrix sighed. “Town’s gonna be a little hot for us when the sheriff finds you aced the banker. We might wanna head for them thar hills.”
Ti’Rakz shrugged and asked the dwarf, “is there gold in them thar hills?”
“There’s gold in them thar hills. And better. And worse.”
“What are we waiting for?” The saurus kicked something among the dust with his first stride. The skaven’s flute. He picked it up and stuffed it into his sack.
Doc Bones fixed him with a glittering eye socket and wrapped his fingers around the butt of his Khemrian Peacemaker in its holster. “What do you want that for, son?”
“Shame to leave it lying around. Looks like silver. Could melt it down. Gotta problem, mister?”
Doc relaxed his hand. “Not at all, son. I was just making sure you wasn’t planning to play any more music.”
Chapter 5(7)
“Ti’Rakz - You saved us all,” exclaimed Eli-Nesz.
“Did I?” the saurus grunted. “I was just coming to tell you that I found a new hobby. Gold panning. Hold this.” He handed the dented frypan to Doc Bones and crouched down to examine the body of the tall skaven.
The Prospector scratched his beard. “That don’t seem your style, sonny.Sittin’ by the river side, patiently sifting gravel for hour after hour.”
Ti’Rakz looked up sharply. “My method is faster. Look what I collected already this morning.” He produced a medium sized gold brick which he handed up to dwarf, “just for looksies,” and returned his attention to pulling the gold bells off the rat’s hat brim.
The Doc angled the pan in the sunlightand poked a bony digit into two large surface irregularities. “I see you made an impression on this Skaven here. What about this other one?”
Ti’Rakz straightened up. “The Banker.” He retrieved the pan and did a practice swing. “I’ll have that back, too.”
The Prospector looked reluctant about returning the brick until the saurus did another practice swing about two feet lower.
Felrix sighed. “Town’s gonna be a little hot for us when the sheriff finds you aced the banker. We might wanna head for them thar hills.”
Ti’Rakz shrugged and asked the dwarf, “is there gold in them thar hills?”
“There’s gold in them thar hills. And better. And worse.”
“What are we waiting for?” The saurus kicked something among the dust with his first stride. The skaven’s flute. He picked it up and stuffed it into his sack.
Doc Bones fixed him with a glittering eye socket and wrapped his fingers around the butt of his Khemrian Peacemaker in its holster. “What do you want that for, son?”
“Shame to leave it lying around. Looks like silver. Could melt it down. Gotta problem, mister?”
Doc relaxed his hand. “Not at all, son. I was just making sure you wasn’t planning to play any more music.”
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spawning of Bob
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I loved chapter 4, Y'ttar. Leaves us all with a sense of the stakes being raised to much higher levels. What I liked most about it is how you've run with casual details about the characters which may or may not have been put in just to pad out a sentence, and run with them. Six and half holes in the wall? So THAT's how it works!
In the spirit of this, I offer chapter 5, where nothing really happens, but the fact of Ti'Rakz with a frypan gets some back story, and a McGuffin gets stored up for later use just in case. Candidates for using the flute? Ti'Rakz - tone deaf, Eli - no lips, Doc Bones - no lungs, Prospector - stubby fingers, leaving Felrix - who is very unbalanced. Keep it in the sack.
I note that the Underwriter has an unspecified number of siblings. Some pundits have predicted that they will be the four riders, but I am holding onto the possibility that they are western anthroporphisms of Death and Taxes.
In the spirit of this, I offer chapter 5, where nothing really happens, but the fact of Ti'Rakz with a frypan gets some back story, and a McGuffin gets stored up for later use just in case. Candidates for using the flute? Ti'Rakz - tone deaf, Eli - no lips, Doc Bones - no lungs, Prospector - stubby fingers, leaving Felrix - who is very unbalanced. Keep it in the sack.
I note that the Underwriter has an unspecified number of siblings. Some pundits have predicted that they will be the four riders, but I am holding onto the possibility that they are western anthroporphisms of Death and Taxes.
Troglodon
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All I know is that all of this would make an epic 80s/90s cartoon.
Slann
Bowser
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And just think of the merchandising possibilities!All I know is that all of this would make an epic 80s/90s cartoon.
Troglodon
Y'ttar Scaletail
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Well, in my typical character creating fashion, Miss Brighfur has had a horrible existence. As said in the story comp thread, she's subconsciously shielding herself by adopting the persona of a Western Bounty Hunter. Faced with the reality of her not being real, she might well snap. Hence that moment where Eli saw the true Felrix.
I suppose I should add a little bit about R'ttig or R’ttig’wtil or (spoilers) the ascended Green Seer Nibbletail/Gnawtail/Bitetail. First appearing in my animosity 6.5 fluff, The Colour of Disease, R'ttig is eternally trapped in a prison chamber in the Realms of Chaos, tasked with writing a history of every Skaven that has ever lived until he can free himself. Despite this, he has found ways to cheat and affect the material universe (known agents of his are Herkter G. Underwells, an alternative Jiao Hun, and Nibtrik.) Ironically, R'ttig is likely rooting for Felrix to survive as in his mortal form one of his greatest foes was Grey Seer Ironfur (whom he kills in the main timeline.)
Also, will the real