"The flesh is much-weak," burbles the rotting creature, not acknowledging the Moulder Skaven with a look. "See how easily it succumbs to the almighty strength-power of disease-rot. See how easily it would infect-kill a mighty rat-ogre. The flesh-melder here is merely afraid of decay's power-power. Is a fear-coward the sort of rat you wish-want as a leader, O...Leader?"

The Pestilens Skaven swats away a fly buzzing round his head. Disease better-better, flesh weak-useless. Stupid Moulder ratling.