The first memory that he had was of the darkness.

Full, encompassing, it covered everything like a mantle. The world was a thing of smells and scents, and he, for the first time in his life, did what he would always be good to.

He listened, and smelled, and felt.

His ears told him of rustle of fur and bodies; his nose spoke of feces, urine and damp; his touch of… of warmth, fur again and… and something else he wasn't sure about.

Suddenly, his nose picked up something different.

Deliciousness. Food.

Groping blindly, he moved in the direction from where the smell was coming from.

His paws found a soft mass, then a big nipple. There! He latched to it with his mouth, then began to suck eagerly. Refreshing, godly goodness streamed in his throat and he drank with joy. The stream abated after a while and him, wanting more, pressed alternatively at the sides of the nipple. The milk returned, faster, and he drank and drank.

When he was satiated, he detached from the nipple, milk dribbling down his mouth's sides. He burped, then he left himself slide down, drowziness already taking hold of him.

Still, he had to find a good place where to sleep.

Groping around, he felt fur and warmth against his body. He fumbled with the mass for a while, searching for a good position. But the warmth kept on shifting, and he couldn't find… oh, well. He was good enough as he was.

Thinking that, he left himself fall down with a satisfied little burp.

His mind was swimming through the haze of sleep, when a sound came into his ears. Soft and melodious, it was; a chirping melody that sent a wave of contentment echoing inside of him. It caressed him, made him feel welcome and loved. It was… nice.

He felt warm, safe, welcome.

He felt at home.

Time passed, alternating between sleep, groping blindly through the furry darkness, tasting the sweet milk and listening to the beautiful song.

During that time, he realized that there were others there, in the darkness, groping like him, eating and sleeping and listening like him. They aroused his curiosity, but not enough go out of his way: food and sleep were more important. At best, he writhed with them in the fur, searching for the most safe and warmest place.

One day, he was searching for the nipple again, when something pushed him back, stealing his place. Irritated for the interruption, he tried again, but a paw pushed against his snout, keeping him from reaching his prize. He tried another way, moving over what it blocked him, but, again he found flesh and fur blocking him. Despite his efforts, instead of going forward he was pushed back more and more, until the warm fur ended. He shivered as he felt the cold air, and tried to return into the fold, but all his efforts were for naught. The fur was like an unpenetrable wall.

Dejected, he renounced. He leaned against the fur, trying to take as much warm as possible. His stomach rumbled, and he felt very unhappy and very alone.

After a while, the mass of fur slackened and moved. Pushed by relief and hunger, he rushed forward, searching for the nipple. When he found it, he attached to it. The feeling of the sweet milk rushing his tongue felt heavenly, and he sucked with happiness. After a while, though, it ended, and, no matter how much he pressed, no more milk came out.

Anger burning in him, he drew back from the nipple and returned into the furry darkness.

As he laid between his brethren, hunger pangs beating inside of him, he realized his first and second lessons: the first, he was not the only one seeking for goodness. The second, and more important, all the others were competitors for it and, as such, enemies. Those were the lessons that the furry darkness taught him, pure instinct in a mind uncapable to understand words yet, and he remembered them.

In that moment, though, the song managed to sooth him, at least a bit.

After that first time, every time that something from the furry mass tried to push him away, he replied with pushes and kicks. He was kicked and pushed in turn, and were more the times that he ended without eating all of his fill than not, but he managed nonetheless, sucking as much as he could and fighting the best that he could.

The song was ever there for him. Everytime he laid in the dirt, stomach cramping for the hunger, or during the lucky day, as his mind swam in the comfortable warmth of his full belly; the song was there for him, soothing him, lulling him through the pathways that brought to sleep. It happened, from time to time, than a hard mass descended from the same place where the song came from, caressing him. When it happened, he leaned against it, a happy chitter softly rumbling his breast. It lasted always for a little, the mass soon moving to give its attention to another, but each time, it left him feeling happy and loved.

More time passed, and with it, came vision. Little at first, then fully after, he opened his eyes.

The world welcomed him with the colours of grime and filth. Curious, he began to explore. Every stained pebble, every filthy-encrusted bit of dirt was a marvelous discovery, and he joyously lost himself in the research. After a while, his snout found the world's end. It was a wall of dirt and stone. Curious, he raised himself on his hind legs, leaning against it and sniffing. Above, he could see that the wall ended, but it was too tall for him to reach. He drew back, delusion blossoming in his chest.

It was just in that moment that he remembered about all the things he had felt during his period of darkness.

Curious, he turned around.

His siblings were all there, sniffing around like him was doing. They were small rat-like creatures, covered by short fur and with luminous eyes. He watched them for a while, but experience had already taught everything about them, and his interest waned fast. Instead, he watched the corpulent, furry figure at the center of the pit.

Affection blossomed in his chest as instict told him that was his mother.

Timidly, he shuffled forward. He wanted to get her attention, but how?

He stood there, fidgeting unsure.

Thankfully, she noticed him a moment later. The broodmother smiled and beckoned him forward.

As he shuffled closer, she leaned a pudgy paw toward him. He watched it with suspicion for a moment, his eyes darting between it and the broodmother's smiling features. She didn't pressure him, leaving his paw hanging just out of reach. Suspicion and affection warred in his mind for a moment, before he lowered his head, accepting the gesture. The broodmother caressed him on the head, eliciting a pleased fur from him.

Suspect melted under that simple gesture, and he leaned against that talon, grasping at it with his little paws as it kept it on caressing him.

"Aren't you an affectionated one?" The broodmother purred, moving him close to her.

He hugged one of her sides, chittering with affection.

The broodmother chuckled, before snatching him up in the air.

"I think i'll call you Morr, just like your father." She said, holding him up before her.

After a moment of surprise, he squeaked in protestation, little legs kicking in the air.

The broodmother laughed.

"And defiant, too! An appropriate name, then."

She put him down, then patted him on the head.

"All good, see?"

He glared at her hard.

"Aw, what a face. You're going to keep it to your mom?"

Before her smile, his gaze faltered, eyes darting up and down, before settling on the floor. She opened her arms, and he timidly ran into them.

"All good!" The broodmother laughed, hugging him softly.

His ear against her wide chest, he felt it as it rumbled with her laughter. She smelled of fur and warmth and mom. He didn't understand what she had said, but he felt like he could agree with it.

All good, yes.

They remained like that for a couple of moment, then, to his discontentement, she put him down between his siblings.

"Be good now, ok?" She told him, gentle but firm.

She didn't understand the words, but the tone sounded like he had to run along. It didn't feel a shove aside, though.

Understanding, he returned to his sniffing and discovering.

This time, he sent his attention towards his brethren. They were scuttling around, the little buggers, playing and tumbling. He inspectioned them one for one, with the serious intensity of a seargent with his troops.

They were all enemies, he remembered.

The first smelled of angry and tough. He was black and big, and he whished his tail and showed his teeth as Morr regarded him. His eyes burned like hot coals. Morr thought for a moment of standing up to him, but then the fact that he was smaller came to mind. His insticts told him of lower his head, and he did so grudgingly, before scuttling to the next.

The second's scent tasted like sick and weak. He was little and his coat was dotted with bald spots. As Morr watched him, he raised unfocused eyes toward him. His nose ran with mucus and what little fur he had was matted with filth.

Morr was deciding what to do with him when the paw of the broodmother scooped the little one. Morr watched with surprise as he was nestled by his mother against her breast. Then, she began to sing, lulling him softly, while licking him.

Morr felt a surge of jealousy, and gave his back to the scene with irritation. Who cared! Pah! Angry, he searched for the third.

This one was pushing against the big one, his scent tasting of determination and defiance. The big one seemed more amused than angry by his efforts, and pushed him back easily. Still, he kept going back at it, his tail swishing with animosity and his eyes burning bright.

Morr felt contempt for him. The big one was too big for him to win like that. He had to do like he did and stay low. It wasn't like he meant it for real…

Turning his back to the scene with derision, he turned to the next.

This one, the fourth, was a female. Her scent tasted of vitality and exuberance as she moved erratically up and about, her snout seeming to find an endless list of things that attracted her attention. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with a light that Morr hadn't ever seen anywhere.

Intimidated, he shuffled back away, careful as not to attract her attention.

As soon as he was at a good distance, he huffed. Who was next?

He moved his snout left and right, seeing other two ratlings that he hadn't checked. They were playing, scuttling and pursuing each other. It was a simple game, with one pursuing the other, with the pursuer and the pursued changing without pattern. They both smelled of joy and excitation.

Morr felt the impulse to join them, but pushed it back swiftly. He had things to see, stuff to do! Who else?

It was then that he saw him.

The monster.

He smelled of hunger and dark, dark things for which Morr had no name. He was enormous, so much that he had exchanged his bulk for part of the gloom of the pit.

And he was close.

Morr realized it with a surge of panic. The monster was close to his mother, strewn against her in fact. He squeaked in alarm, and jumped up and down when his mother's gaze moved on him. It was dangerous! Dangerous!

And still, there wasn't alarm appearing in his mother's eyes, nor fear for the thing that was just beside her. Instead, Morr saw a sad light appearing in them. He was confused as she petted him with soft affection.

"Go greet your brother." She whispered, and pushed him gently towards the monster.

Morr tried to resist, scrambling against her paw, but he was pushed and then dropped delicately before the black mass of fur. He fixed his eyes in it. As he watched, an eye opened before him, its pupil black as obsidian. It rotated around once, then fixed on him and focused.

Morr felt sweat prickle his skin. He squeaked weakly and tried to run, but his mother's hand kept him blocked there. He raised his eyes, pleading. She encouraged him softly.

Seeing no escape, he swallowed and steeled himself, or at least, tried to.

The eye was still watching him.

Timidly, he moved towards it, nose sniffing.

The fur moved, making him yelp and draw back, but no aggression arrived. Instead, another snout appeared, sniffing at him.

Morr shrank back, ill at ease, but then, seeing that the monster seemed to harbour no ill intent, curiosity returned, and he began to sniff on his turn.

He smelled of hunger and dark, yes, but, now that he noticed, he smelled even of… strenght, deep and stable as the walls of the pits, and, and… contentement, and serenity.

He was immersed in this olfattive recognition, when the monster pushed his snout against his own.

Morr squeaked in surprise and jumped back, tail swishing and fur straight as he prepared to defend himself.

But, again, no aggression came.

Instead, the monster chittered softly, his big chest rumbling with… laughter?

For some reasons, that sound made outraged pride erupt inside of Morr. He stomped to the monster, thoughts about how big he was shoved aside, and showed his teeth straight at his face, chattering aggressively.

The monster stopped, surprise appearing in his eyes.

Morr realized what had he done with a gulp. Sure, let the big one stay and go make angry the really big one, why not?

He was starting to think about retreating, fast, when the monster erupted in another chitter. Morr watched with startled surprise as the monster's ears relaxed in joy, while his eyes closed for the same feeling.

A paw emerged from the thick fur, smacking against Morr.

He squeaked and fell back. Was… was the monster attacking him?

Fast as lightning, he found refuge behind the paw of his mother.

Her laughter mixed with the chittering of the monster.

"Morr. I present you your brother. His name is Gargant."

Hidden behind the paw, feeling something hot burning in his chest for those two laughing, Morr sneered at the monster.

He was surprised by the caress of his mother on his head.

"Be friends to each other, ok?" She cooed, smiling at his surprised gaze.

Moor felt his expression sink. He wasn't exactly sure what she had said, but the tone, and his instict, told him that wasn't anything of pleasing for him.

He stared hard at the monster. He was the cause of everything. He knew it.

In response, the monster grinned widely, his large ears flapping with joy.

Somewhere in his verminous, ratling heart he felt that he would have started to hate that stupid grin of his. Heck, he disliked it already!

"Alright, boys and girl. Time for food!"

Those words weren't enough to make everyone forget their pains and occupation, but her mother laying back was. Even Morr forgot his grudges and, together with his siblings, rushed to the eager search of good, delicious milk. They were all thrown aside by Gargant, but that was but a detail for a starved little pack of ratlings. They were back up and charging as soon as they hit the ground, little chittering warcries on their lips.

The broodmother chuckled.

Inside the pit, time didn't mean much, if not just the movement between sleep and food time.

Morr was caught between sleep and drowsiness, the weight of a unusual feast of milk weighing down on him, when he felt snippets of words. He recognized his mother's voice, and… another, that he hadn't ever heard.

Curious, he roused himself up, but didn't move. Instead, he opened his ears and listened.

"…he needs more than i can give him. Just look at him!"

"He doesn't look so big to me."

Morr winced slightly. The new voice was unpleasant to hear, sounding more like an aggressive hoarse bark, and sent shivers running down his back.

"That's because you're half-blind, fool! Send one of your thugs down and he will see him!"

"Then, what? You're going to sweet-talk him against me? No way. You're gonna keep your runt as it is." The voice took a mocking tone. "And anyway, what. You're telling me that you alone cannot feed him? No way that a broodmother can't feed just a runt, and if he's good as you say, he will take what he needs."

"I… i don't know why…"

Morr frowned. He couldn understand only snippets of the words that were being exchanged, but the hesitant tone in her mother's voice caught his attention.

"He just… he doesn't take all. He always let some for his brothers. I… i don't know why! You must do something or he will die!"

"Pah! What kind of skaven do that? Good for nothing! Better let the Horned One take him back, i say."

"Wait!"

Morr almost jolted. He had never heard such urgency in his mother's words.

"What now? Don't waste my time."

"Just a control, just once. Come down here and see him. Just once!"

"Again with this story? I told you, i don't fall for it. I am not giving you more food for whatever lie you're inventing."

"It's not a lie, you damn fool! …very well then."

Morr barely repressed a squeak. He had always thought of her mother as the sweet, caring, calm voice of food and affection, but now that same voice was charged of a deliberated cold that shook him to the core.

"If you don't listen to me and make sure that my child is well-feeded, i… i will bring the matter directly to the warlord when he arrives."

A moment of silence.

"… you're kidding."

"I am not."

A snicker.

"You're just a low-grade broodmother. The warlord doesn't even glance at you when he enters here. Why do you think that he's going now?"

"Because he isn't a blind fool like you, Sneer, that's why."

A pause. Morr could hear his heart pouding.

"If you disturb the warlord for something like that, and then it's not true, he will have you killed."

"I know, but it won't happen."

Another pause.

"This runt of yours. It's truly as big as you say?"

"Come and see. And then the reward for bringing him up to the warlord will be all yours."

"Let's see then. But if it's a lie…"

Morr shivered at those trailed off words.

"See for yourself."

There was a sound of steps getting closer, and a great shadow appeared at the rim of the pit.

Scared, Morr pushed his head against his brethren's fur, shutting himself from whatever was happening. Something was invading the world, something coming from outside and he didn't like it. At all!

He buried himself so deep between the mound formed by his brethren, that he didn't hear the exclamation of marvel launched by Sneer at seeing his brother, nor he saw the pleased expression, even if rimmed of sadness, appearing on his mother's face.

The next day, or at least, when Morr woke up, a foreign object was in the pit.

It was tall, almost as tall as mother, and was made of wood and iron. A strange metal contraption jutted out of its lower half, bending in a curve.

None of the ratlings had ever seen a barrel before, and so they swarmed it with eager curiosity.

Morr was the first to pick up the scent of milk coming out of the contraption. More curious than famished, since he had already had his fill, he sniffed around, searching for where it actually came. His siblings joined him shortly.

Their research was cut short by their mother, that, smiling widely, put a big bowl under the contraption. She turned the contraption and, lo!, a flush of delicious milk came out of it!

The ratlings exploded in a flurry of excitated agitation, not jumping straight at it only because they were already satiated.

Smiling, their mother waited for the bowl to be full, before turning down the contraption. The flow, at the ratling deluded "aww" stopped. The broodmother raised the filled bowl and shambled close to Gargant.

Curious, Morr left his sibling that swarmed around the barrel and followed her at a corner of the pit.

The biggest of the litter laid on the dirt. The stink of sickness laid over him and ribs protuded from his chest. His tail, the segmented bones visible underneath the skin, moved as the mother moved close to him. She whispered and Gargant raised his head. His eyes filled with hunger at seeing the milk, and he turned to look at his mother, trepidation and a question in his gaze. Cooeing softly, she put the bowl before his snout, then patted him on the head, pushing him softly towards it.

He hesitated, his gaze moving to look at Morr. The two's eyes met for a moment, before those of Gargant flicked to glance to Morr's full stomach. Just then, hesitation disappeared from his features, replaced by hunger.

Gargant plunged his snout in the bowl, lapping and drinking voraciously.

The broodmother laughed and patted Morr.

Morr took the gesture with a little wince, then raised his gaze towards her. She was watching Gargant eat, the light of affection in her eyes.

Morr watched Gargant in turn.

The great ratling was eating like his life depended from it. The milk splashed around the bowl.

Watching him, Morr felt an angry ember burn in his chest.

Envy. It burned in him like a hot flame.

Still, as time passed, that envy became puzzlement. By the time of the third full bowl of milk, it had become full-blown, mouth-open, wide-eyed amazement. How much that runt was going to eat?

Six bowls, each as big as one of the ratling, were needed to satiate Gargant.

As soon as he lapped clean the last each drop, the big ratling wavered, milk drippling down his chin. He stood still for a moment, eyes rounding around, then fell face first into the bowl.

Morr yelped, but the broodmother just laughed. Leaning close, she hoisted the ratling up. She patted him on the back until Gargant let out a massive belch that resounded in the pit like a war horn.

The broodmother giggled as the general attention turned her direction. Cooeing gently, she put Gargant down, then turned to Morr.

The ratling had his ears down, but they went back up as his mother patted him, soft affection shining in her eyes.

Morr felt light shining in his chest, but the moment was cut short as his mother pushed him forward and towards Gargant.

His chest softly collided with the side of his big brother's snout.

Gargant's eye watched him, a question in it.

He watched back, suspicious.

The eye's expression softened, just before that his brother jumped on him.

Morr squeaked as he fell, a chittering sound filling his ears. He realized with dismay that it was Gargant's laughter.

He ended on his back, Gargant jumping away from him.

Raising up, he saw him watching him with a eager expression and a tense body.

At first, Morr didn't understand what he wanted, but then it hit him. He wanted to play!

Slowly, he got up, dust and dirt falling from him.

Ah, so he wanted to play, eh?

A fierce smirk broke out over his snout.

With a squeak, he pounced.

Fast as lightning, Gargant moved out of the way, sending him to tumble in the dirt. Morr was back up in a moment, jumping again. In a moment, they were running around the pit, the small ratling chasing the giant one, under the puzzled gazes of the others of the litter. Morr squeaked fiercely, while Gargant chittered with joy.

Watching them play, the broodmother smiled softly. Still, thoughts of the future moved in her mind, and her smile become edged with sadness.

Only a little more now…

This story will have some things made different from the original Warhammer Fantasy. For the major part, it will be changes needed to fill logic problems.

This story hasn't been in any way commissioned by some elusive Council of some fantasy race of rat-men. In fact, there are no things like rat-men living under our feet and surely there is no ninja ratman pointing a dagger against my back as i write this. That is the truth and ayone who believes the contrary should be ashamed of himself.

Hail our overlordr, the Sk... Sigmar. That's what i wanted to say, yes.