Vermin

You do not go to the Rat's Nest.

by Dominik Jaworski (Exalted | Fiction)

Vermin

You don't go to the Rat's Nest!
In the undercity of Nexus there weren't many rules. Inhabited by the deranged, the
diseased and the disfranchised, setting up any formalized law would have been to invite disaster. Even the council's Incunabulum held little sway. After all, most of the time the lower city's inhabitants were unremarkable enough to slip beneath them. But that didn't mean there were no rules in the sewers and catacombs where the sun never touched the ground. There were many, to the same margin incomprehensible and confusing. "You don't go to the Rat's Nest!" was one of these. Anyone who dwelled here knew this. Sadly, Garrul and Skree were surface-dwellers.
"Damned rats!" Garrul cursed as he forced the staff of his lantern down onto one of the rodents too curious to flee the two mercenaries. He was tall and well-fed, his armor awkwardly embracing his form, prone to break any moment. "C'mon Skree, let's go back. Is what that guy stole really worth that much?"
Skree, shorter and sleeker than his companion, didn't answer. He let his gaze wander ahead, but the low light of the lantern didn't allow him to look farther than a few steps. With a frustrated groan he walked on, sword at the ready.
"Another one. There must be a nest around here somewhere." The rat made a squishing sound as the staff crushed its head. The circle of light swung back and forth, letting the shadows dance around the old city walls. When the animal was dead, Garrul continued his whining, "I don't like it here. Those Hollow-folk are strange."
Finally Skree broke his silence, turning towards Garrul, "Think about all the money. If you wanna go back, fine. But that won't stop your kids from being hungry. And you heard that wizard. It's a rare artifact from the First Age, and he's going to pay a lot of money to have it back. That lousy thief must be around here somewhere. Second you know exactly that saying the H-word is forbidden by the council. If you want the Emissary at your neck, keep shouting it out loud. I won't lie for you. And third, if you don't stop swinging that damned lantern, I'm going to shove it up your..."
A rattle followed by a gasp interrupted the speech. The mercenaries’ gazes followed the sound just in time to make out someone with a silvery object running down the tunnel. Without a thought, Skree drew his sword and rushed after their mark. Garrul looked around and reluctantly followed his friend.
The thief was quick and seemed familiar with the territory. Skree had to give him that much. As Garrul lagged behind, there was not enough lighting for his friend to run as fast as he could. Their target easily widened the distance between himself and the two mercenaries, driving Skree to turn his head and politely urge his companion, "move your fat ass, Garrul, or we'll lose..."
With the successful use of his face the short man found the end of the tunnel, but there was no one there, beside them. As his friend came closer, he suspiciously eyed the walls and floor. "So, where is he?"
Cursing, Skree eyed Garrul, "how fe heck fud I know?"
"Well, you went charging in like someone possessed!"
"We didn't come here for a walk! We're chaifing fomeone, remember?""I'm no idiot, you know."
"I can't tell!"
Garrul didn't answer, sighed and moved the lantern closer to the wall, "he must've come through here. There has to be a way somewhere.... Hey, you think you can fit through there." The mercenary pointed at a narrow crack in the wall, barely wide enough for a small child to pass through.
"Not wif my armor...," his companion answered. Without any further words, he unfastened the belts that held the pieces of metal on his body and dropped them to the floor. Thinking of the money, the prestige and of Xenexh's warm but sadly costly touch, he bowed and climbed into the chasm, "when I'm fru, gif me fe lantern."

What Skree found on the other side was the huge dome of what in an earlier age must have been a temple. The walls were a dirty-grey with old dust, but a circle hat has been cleaned away from all staining, on the other side of the room, indicated that this had not always been the case. Five pillars, miraculously untouched by the years, carried the ceiling further up than the light of the lantern could reach. In the center lay debris and junk, piled up resembling the general shape of a throne. Among its pieces the mercenary could make out the silvery glove he and Garrul had chased through the undercity, reflecting the glow of the lamp. The mercenary had no idea where the thief had gone, as there were no other exits out of the temple, but he did not care. He moved to the object of his desire when a sound he hadn't expected to hear startled him, more than he ever thought it would. Garrul was chuckling on the other side of the wall.
"Wat if it? Why are you lafing?"

After he passed the lantern to Skree, Garrul found himself alone in the lightless tunnel. The darkness had enveloped him completely and he could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. Glancing around, he noticed something glowing on the wall through which his friend had just squeezed. The mercenary rubbed his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the darkness and read the glowing script that had caught his attention. He couldn't help but start giggling.
"I was right! There's a nest of rats around here. It says so on the wall!"
"Haf you gone fruoutly mad?"
"No, it's written on the wall. But only visible when there is no light."

Skree didn't answer. He was now close enough to the artifact to take it. Quickly he grabbed it and turned around to head for the exit. But he was not alone anymore. Three feeble men blocked his way, standing exactly at the threshold of the circle of light. Dressed in rags and under-fed they made him grin. Their leader spoke in a high-pitched voice appropriate to his appearance, "Leave it here, and leave. Maybe then he will not come after you!"
Annoyed by Garrul's incompetence to watch the entrance, annoyed to be threatened by undercity-dwellers, annoyed to be hunting some worthless junk through the stinking tunnels, Skree put the relic down and drew his sword, "make fay, or I will cut me one."
"Don't. He won't like it."

Garrul heard Skree talking to someone, but he was unable to hear the exact words. He bowed to the crack in the wall, cautiously leaning his hands on the damp stone. There were others there debating with his friend. Yet before he could listen more closely something small and furry passed next to his leg, making his heart jump. Forcing down a shriek, the big man jumped and stared helplessly at the darkness. Garrul heard the scratching and squeaking of rats all around him and fear took hold of his soul.
"Damned rats," he cried out, stomping aimlessly onto the floor. Over and over again, his shoes smashed against the cobbles. Frustrated, the mercenary produced his mace and hit where the noises came from. Then finally his efforts found a furry target. and Garrul was almost relieved. "Damned vermin," he proclaimed, before realizing that whatever he hit was far bigger than any rodent he had ever seen. Unfortunately, he had no time to consider the thought further.

"Screw him!" Skree accompanied his final words in the argument by a swing of his blade into the neck of his assailant. The other two hesitated, allowing the mercenary to burrow his weapon deeply into the left one's stomach. Only now the last man found his senses and tried to flee. Too late, as Skree downed him with one fell swoop.
With a curse on his lips, the man cleaned his sword on one of the men's shirts. As his eyes passed over the lifeless body, he raised an eyebrow. All of the men had split upper lips and pointy faces covered with grey and brown fur. "Fat the heck?!"
He gathered the artifact and ran toward the crack in the wall. While he made his way through the narrowing, he called out to his friend. "Garrul, you fere rigft. Fomfing's strange fere. But I got the fing, now let's get back up! Garrul? Garrul, anfer me, damn it!"
"I'm here," was the answer from the other side. "Come on, I'll help you!" A big hand grabbed his arm and pulled, surprisingly gently. When the mercenary did not move, it redoubled its efforts.
Skree felt little teeth burrow into his feet and drag him back into the temple. He cried out in pain. "Hold on, fomefing is holding on to me! Fey are dragging me back!"
"Oh I know, it's my childer!" That voice was not Garrul's anymore. It was someone... something else and it kept tearing at him.
"Pfleas, ftop!" Skree whined, but nobody listened.

Crescent Ear picked up the silver glove and put it on. "I remember," he chirped, "that belongs to me." Then he lowered his voice down onto the two human carcasses at his feet. "Damned vermin," the Lunar spoke to itself, "this is why you don't go to the Rat's Nest!"