La'Moire's Story

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Kyarei vupali tandu priavei,
Flanei imu tonomu,
Souvla monusion akanevu,
Isa seitru flaneishu,
Louri sinosial pirei,
Louri onsidal e trei,
Louri je poura savu,
Louri onduala seitru.

Kyarei vupali tandu priavei,
Flanei imu tonomu,
Souvla monusion akanevu,
Isa seitru flaneishu,
Louri sinosial pirei,
Louri onsidal e trei,
Louri je poura savu,
Louri onduala seitru.

Laska

So much had been happening all at once. The world wasn't at peace, the gods and goddesses around her had met and greeted each other like old friends. Laska hadn't known Adarani personally but she had seen her before. She knew Mathias a bit and Merida had stayed with her the longest. Laska watched quietly as they all began speaking of the chaos beasts. Even now she thought she could feel chaos pulling at her, whispering evilly in her ear. It almost sounded like one long hiss. She could feel herself tremble at what felt like fear of the creatures that threatened the purity and innocence of the world.

Laska was shivering as Merida fell to the ground in obvious pain. She was still too shy to react or say anything. It wasn't until Adarani had introduced herself that Laska had regained control over her emotions. She looked at the five other individuals, all much bigger than her, and suddenly felt more alone than she had ever been. Her thumb in her mouth, she reached out, almost instinctively for Merida's hand. (She only knew Merida well enough to even attempt it with her. The others were too scary and foreign.) She looked at them all with wide eyes, still trembling in fear. She took her thumb out of her mouth just long enough to say, "But what are we gonna do?"


Sithis

Chaos beasts flew and struck at giant bear men and floating rocks. Sithis was still listening to the stream of prayers that came from around the world. Not only snake prayers flooded Sithis’ mind now. The Klik’kik-t all sent prayers to Jute as well as creatures that obviously dwelled beneath the surface of the sea. Jute was filled with the knowledge of the location and activities of nearly every god and mortal of interest. Sithis saw an auction of godly artifacts, bloody battles between chaos beasts and trees, and many other activities of creatures both great and small. The most interesting occurrences that the snakes reported were the births of two gods. One left a cave high in some distant mountains and the other was deep in some dark caves, trembling in fear though there were no enemies nearby.

Sithis took all of this in even as Othuma struck down one of his own creations that had been corrupted. Othuma seemed distraught and full of malice as he killed his bear. Sithis knew that the battle was nearly over and that soon he would be able to speak to Othuma in peace. He spoke to Othuma, letting the prayers slide into another part of Jute’s mind. “I am here for you, my friend. Do not let yoursself be overtaken by emotion. We sshall sspeak when we can of the problemss facing you.”


The Crystal

"I see Jute as someone who can help me rid this world of the impure Gods, to rid the world of the disgust that they have installed in their creatures. I don't personally like her yet I respect her...I see her as a possibly great ally." Nylia had said.
The Crystal remained silent, considering the truth of those words. Jute had no love for any god. She hated them all, perhaps not evenly, but she did not ‘like’ anyone. However, allies did not have to like each other, they simply had to work together. The fact that Nylia considered Jute’s enemies to be ‘corrupted’ was enough to work with. The Crystal continued to work with Nylia as she had need and also focused on the prayers of some mortals.
Then Nylia spoke again, this time contemplating the stolen weapons of gods. "I'm not that interested, but I'm now wondering, wouldn't the power inside the weapons be gone by now? And if not, wouldn't it be too powerful for mortal hands and end up killing the mortals anyways?"
The Crystal responded, If these items do hold power, they will be greatly diminished with the loss of their wielders. Any mortal who found them would be greater than any other mortal. But they would not affect us gods in any way, I do not think. The mortal that found and used the weapon would have to be powerful indeed even to use it. I doubt there are many that strong.


Crysalis

In the city of Vedi'tum, crowds were making an uproar. The upper ring was filled with fleeing citizens, running from a lone figure that shown with god-like radiance.
The mortal guards had tried to put up a fight but in a show of godly power, Crysalis had killed twenty of them with a single stroke of her blade. Some few bowed to her in fear but most ran away. Crysalis cared not. To those that bowed to her she said, “Take me to your leader masked ones.”


Acanthus
Acanthus entered Torsc’s throne room. Riomu was almost completely healed. He had felt his barrier fall and rebuilt itself over the past 20 years. There was nothing he could have done, but the barrier had repaired itself, just as he had designed it to do. He turned to Torsc.

“It is nearly time, my friend. Have you finished the molds?” He looked at the work Torsc had done. “This is perfect Torsc! Thank you for your help. Now, when we get to the ceremony, I shall perform my magic and then we will return to normal time. I am afraid I will have to leave after that, my time with you was grand but my departure is long over-due. I wanted to say goodbye personally before my departure tomorrow, and I wanted to ask you a boon.” He turned to show Torsc six mortals, one of each of Torsc’s races. The six bowed to the gods. They were all very strong-looking but also had an air of wisdom and knowledge about them. “As to our agreement, I will be taking these mortals that I raised myself with me when I go, along with 16 of our creations. You may keep the others and do with them what you will. Is that alright?”


The Middle Realm

All across the Middle Realm, the chaos beasts were falling to their doom. In the far west, there were none to be seen. In the North, they had nearly been conquered by two great armies and even now the last of the chaos beasts fell to the mortals. In the East the chaos beasts found themselves having to fight the terrain itself and they were not succeeding. Even the few that had managed to get farther west were having trouble keeping their numbers up as they fought armies of mortals and found godly resistance.

It was only in the south that they remained, few though there were. There they stagnated, unable to find creatures to change and unable to continue their disordered existence in a completely ordered world. Over time they became more and more like normal creatures, highly mutated, but ordered in life functionality. Only those who had solidified into a creature able to function in desert terrain were able to survive for any amount of time. All others starved out and died.

---

Bartum, God of Cowards. Middle Realm.

Something not only had lingered in the dark, something was born out of it for the faintest of moments. The old ratty man recoiled further in the black, foul teeth and foul stenches lingered around him. He was not at all used to new things, in fact he was not at all used to old things as well but new things were even more sullied. He almost hissed at it, remaining as he was, crawling paddering little children that was a nest of rats skimmering all around his feet. In desperate times he often sick rats at his enemies by the thousands, to claw and bite and gnaw and devour.

It moved. The very chill of it felt like divinity. A new god? The old decrepit creature grinded his gums as most of his foul teeth were missing as he was the toothless one. Those ugly blades and drills within his mouth! Nah! No dentist! He almost went into a fit of rage thinking of it though he composed himself by gripping a random rat and rubbing his grubby hands all over its grimy fur. Therapeutic. There were large breaths within the darkness and then like that the presence had vanished off leaving him once along in the dark at the base of the mountain.

Something… felt strange after that. It was though as she left- she? It was a woman? He paused, as the raw base of fear was often not logic but emotion. The departing of her presence was like the vacuum of all emotion around him. All that was left was a strange longing of loneliness. The old toothless creature recoiled in the thought of that strange pain. Do not go! The world is but a cruel and horrible place and soon to end by his own maddening paranoia.

She was gone now, and with that there was a void. Follow. Follow he did as the man actually scurried towards the light of the entrance, vanishing from the security of his hiding hole to the greater unknown.

During her travelers he became her silent stalker, her shadow. He hadn’t a clue if she was dangerous or unstable or a long list of things as he scurried a great distance behind her. Through every terrain and through every obstacle often observing such amazing focus… and at the same time confusion. What was this woman? Soon they reached a place Bartum did not enter, the ruins of a place long taken back by time.

Bartum almost hissed at it in its very outskirts. It was a place of death. The death of an immortal. He was an immortal. This place was a reminder that he could die and no greater fear that quaked Bartum was that horrifying reminder. Suddenly, he heard her speak for the very first time.

"La'Moire... My name is La'Moire and I had died with this city... Didn't I?"

The ratty creature lifted his head up in a quake. He paused before he finally scurried inward. No one sulked and sneaked and hid like the god of cowards as it was an art that the old man practiced all his life to not be killed or hurt. Remaining in dark nasty places for decades on end. Finally he found a great stone to remain behind, a stone where he could flee to other places to hide if he desired, if she got too close.

“Then why come back!?” The voice behind the stone accused.

---

“Then why come back!?”

Bartum, God of Cowards. Lost Utopia.

”I don’t know. Perhaps, I wanted to be certain.”

The answer she gave hallowed the ratty deity as his grubby greasy hands smoothed the roughed edges of the large boulder that had smashed through much of the brittle ruins around him. His foul toothless mouth gummed together at the sight as he itched beneath a fine feathery hat that was a brilliant hue of violet, nothing but a dirty flakey scalp beneath it. Was this woman crazed!? If she had died here that could only mean she could die here again! She needed to flee! Get out of this dangerous place and never return to it again!

As foot falls faded away from the scene, Bartum had been left alone in this desolate place. Nothing stirred, nothing moved, nothing was there beside the two deities and that just made Bartum more nervous. No birds in the skies, the wild animals overtaking this wasteland not even insects within the soil. It was dead, fully dead, a corpse, a reminder that chilled the boney ragged being to his flesh and bone. He gridded his gums and remaining foul looking teeth together as he somewhat brought the patchy coat closer to him.

Bartum had never remembered being a young man; he had awoken into this earth an old smelly dirty coward. He remembered being spit on and drove away by the likes of primitive creatures and left to wallow in the cesspools of the Middle Realm. He grimaced at the sight of this barren place, carnage littered across fallen stone and weeping works.

He scurried after, still obsessed over that raw lingering of emotion that trailed with the other’s steps. The grubby dirty man did pause at the entrance of the chamber, his eyes peering intently into the scene of the crumbling chambers. The woman before him, the new goddess he had never seen was almost within a trance. Her back was turned, she was motionless and slightly breathless staring a furnish long scattered and decaying into dust.

”Then, why do I feel much of an audience than an actress?”

She asked to the phantasm she could only perceived. Bartum did not see others and began to cringe at the thought there were other people within the chamber which he could not see. Moving about, sneaking behind him. She turned to exit and the old ragged creature shifted swiftly along the covering side of the door gripping it tightly as to not make a sound or a motion. The ratty dregged man could hear her stop once more abruptly and speak out of confusion and yet clarity.

”That is me.”

What!? What was she talking about!? This mad woman did not make any sense with her dangerous follies and quests!

”Thank you, La’Moire.”

“Whom in the devil are you talking to!?”

The door now demanded, the figure behind it slightly shifting further from the entrance of the chamber.

---

“Whom in the devil are you talking to!?”

Bartum, God of Cowards.

The ragged creature clenched his dirty nails along the sides of the door. He almost had his own eye balls pop out of his tattered boney face at the sight of such a direct question as she casually walked over to the other side of the door. The great coward had listened to the birthed god’s cryptic tale silently. Boney gaunt finger ran through the weedy turf of hair at the top of his flakey scalp as he listened, fidgeting his nostrils about as was the nervous habit. Now here she was; his chest pounded, his eyes widen and his nostrils kept inhaling and out haling as he clung tighter to the brittle door frame.

"Pardon me, do you know what is happening to this world? And if possible, what is your name?"

The man response was rather simple and yet bold: Crashing through the old door and retreating into the chamber itself. The man collided into the old brittle door breaking it apart as he stumbled at first and then began to flee inward screaming and flailing his arms almost like a mad man. For an old decrepit he ran remarkably fast, faster than any great champion as there was no fleeter foot than that of the fleeting Bartum.

”STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY! I DON’T WANT TO BE KILLED! ANYTHING CAN BE KILLED HERE!”

The old man bellowed on the top of his lungs, the only time when he did was not scurrying he was running. The man in the large patch coat held on top of his rather embroiled cap clenching it tighter as he was now among the rubble. He poke out among the rocks, the wide eye old creature spitting out words through his foul black teeth.

”You! You stay where I can see you!”

He demanded. She had died before, he did not want to catch whatever she got as he held his coat up to his nose and mouth. As he spoke, rats began to crawl out of the bottom of his coat beginning to slowly form a very large nest and colony as they scurried all over this chamber in abundance as more crawled out of his coat still. He paused for a moment looking up to the air as though slowly figuring out something before bellowing some more.

”I’ll answer your questions but you must promise to keep a safe distance! Every time! Do it!”

He almost demanded, this man was in a very obvious and unhealthy fit of paranoia. Fear seared off this man’s eyes and his continual sweaty visage. He was actually beginning to sweat out rats themselves through his pours.

---

”STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY! I DON’T WANT TO BE KILLED! ANYTHING CAN BE KILLED HERE!”

Bartum, God of Cowards. Ancient Ruins

The furred rodent curious smelled the finger tips with it wet crusty nose. It had stood slightly upward to be patted before scurrying further into the massive cluster of crawling creatures. Most were scurrying about still as a few crawled into Bartum’s weedy hair, into the ragged pockets of his coat, into the rough spun tunic and across his body as the boney old ghastly creature was now covered in his children. A part of him was silently anticipating calling this new colony to protect their father.

Often when he was cornered Bartum called upon the rats to save him, droves by the thousands crawling and climb and feasting on whatever Bartum was afraid of. No matter the size, no matter the numbers, no matter the power, all fell to their incisive hunger. This woman before him did not give him an excuse for such a call though. She did not spur at the sight of him, at the sight of his children whom she beckoned like a loving mother. She as such a raw torrent of emotion, in a sense he was almost drawn to it and at the same time repelled. Perhaps her plan was to lure him in so she could eat him, perhaps she had eat other deities of emotional outburst which is why she carried their presence around her.

The man remained crouched in the corner by the rubble, allowing the rats to freely climb about him as his wild crazy eyes remained on the woman. The dirty man looked to the open holes in the sky, no that was the roof. The filthy creature was aghast at the sight of fire gracing the airs, fluttering creatures that made him scream.

”THE SKY IS ON FIRE! THE SKY! THE SKY! END OF THE WORLD!”

As loudly as he could before he paused and slow over and over feeling more and more calm at the sight of it still cringing further away recoiling to the dirty floor itself. His eyes passed back to the woman, not knowing what to make of her. She spoke…

”Death is always a scary thing… I fear it too… So, why not share it with me? Let us be afraid of it together. I cannot promise you anything but as of now, I would never harm you.”

She then extended out her hand. He pondered it for a moment, it was so clean, so bright compared to his own dark grubby mess. She wanted to share being afraid? The grubby man spoke.

”My name is Bartum!! I am he who sees the world through the eyes of panic and truth! The gods do not see it but I do! We are all doomed! All of us! The chaos beasts are just the beginning! Harbingers of the end times once more! We must find a place in this world to hide from the end times! We must outwait the end times! We must crawl out after and rebuilt! Rebuilt to await the next ends time to hide again!”

He babbled either like a genius or a madman, most certainly not both.

---

Bartum, God of Cowards. Ancient Ruins.

The old man kept his rather maddening eyes upon this graceful fluttering creature that introduced herself. His nostrils fidgeted once more as he gripped a rat with his boney pale hands. Long dirty nails scratched across the soft fur over and over as the wet nosed creature silently stared outward as a thousand of his cousins continued to idly fester about in this half standing structure. To listen he actually lifted his head upward, the decrepit ghoul of a man was vulnerable in age and even sensory had failed him from time to time.

”A pleasure to meet you Bartum. I am La’Moire. The one who feels the unseen, gives hope and illuminates the darkness.”

He gripped at his own skinny bones, often he was afraid of the darkness and at the same time found solace in its comforting obfuscation. She was gentle and kind, almost like a mother or wife; something the ragged creature had never truly known in his years. He listened to her still crouching within the ruins and the rubble and the other pile as the rat he had patted between his ghostly hands was idly sniffing and licking his palm.

"The end of times... It is a frightful thought. Yet, we still need to rebuilt what was lost. I am considering of restoring this Fallen Metropolis."

Her smile was kind and warm, but this place did not same safe at all. If it could be brought to ruins once it could twice again! His shifty eyes met hers for a moment. In hers he saw a certainty that he could not understand. How!? How could she be so certain that no danger would befall this desolate place. Perhaps hope itself was a contagion: for when he looked into her eyes the frightful flighty deity became hopeful as well… if for a shred of a moment.

"Will you accompany me in this endeavor? You are free to stay here hidden under my care and companionship. Although, I do wonder of one thing.... What kind of other gods scattered across this realm... I sense them so deeply..."

”A new city will need new people! New mortals! New citizens! People to toil earth for crop, to crave stone for quarry, to smash grape for wine… I shall call upon my elk. Those that whisper and hallow my word and my name to gather their belongings and make a journey here. Long secret journey and to be certain not be followed.”

He rambled, scurrying over to another part of the ruined and rambled chamber. Strangely enough he did not even address the question of the other gods. He did not want to. The gods were destructors of other gods and as a god they were his destructor. He looked back to her with his ugly gaunt face fidgeting his nose once more.

”There are many arrangements to be made… Many indeed.”

He rambled again.

Havel, Deverall Worshiper of Bartum. The Rural Town of Romstag along the Yanaze River.

Till the earth, till the earth, till the earth some more. Havel broke a sweat as he reached into the pocket of his tunic for his favorite handkerchief. Havel was quite fond of handkerchiefs; the young man had particularly sensitive skin and kept an assortment for every occasion. The one he held now as a sturdy sort, quilled to break off the grime from his face he always collected when he worked his uncle’s land. They grew hops and barley like many in Romstag when they were not tending to their gardens for personal use.

It was a village well known for its beer. Some of the richest men in the town were the owners of the local breweries that made the fine drink to be barreled and shipped to the city further up the river. It was a good and true life in Havel’s opinion. A fond smile came to his face, the yard was close to maturity and soon the picking season would begin. It was always a great deal of fun, even a small game was invented in the village to do so as entire clans of people came together to gather the harvest.

Wiping his hands still, the lanky green skinned blue haired farmer took a small stride pass the hop yards that had been gripping and strangling the local fencing erected the hold the neat rows together and forwards to the homely looking cottage in the distance. It had bars upon its windows and latches upon its door, its thatched roof was oiled in a strange flame retarded mixture and its walls had been studded and reinforced. The young man did not see this as odd at all, as most houses in Romstag were like such, in fact the town square was practically a citadel.

Reaching back into his tunic he pulled out three keys pausing for a moment to remember which lock was which as his work to unlatch each to gain entrance. Inside was a homely, warm environment. There was a rich history inside this home, tapestries homespun from long gone ancestries, furnishes craved and brought from lands once settled, plates and cups that were almost two centuries old.

“Ah Havel! There you are!” His Uncle walked from the nearby room, somewhat getting dressed in a tunic that was rather tight on his bloated frame with a feathered cap to over the baldness of his head. It made him itch his big blue beard as he spoke. “Get your best clothes on! There is going to be a meeting of the congregation at the abbey tonight! Some sort of big announcement!” He bellowed.

Havel paused. An announcement?

Blind Man Errion, Valeish Dwarf Priest of Bartum. The Royal City of Kelzekia.

The White city. Always brilliant and awe inspiring in the glistening splendor of the sun. It was perhaps quite a shame Errion could never see such a thing. He could however hear. What he heard was the drunks, the fouls, the loud noises and the usually squabbles that came with city life. From toothless whores to pompous nobleborns this was quite a den which the half man found himself in. One particular place of interest of course was The Broken Helmet, a local pub which he and his friends would often gather.

Errion would found it odd for a priest to drink, yet then again he had never considered himself much of a priest to begin with. “Are you going to be playing cards all day? We do have things to discuss.” He fore mentioned to present company, quite the company indeed.

“I’ll raise you an extra ten bits Quorum, the old woman got her allowance today from my not father.” Gelvenin the Bastard Childe spoke up.

“I’ll see your bet with this here brooch I’ve organized. As pretty as the day it was being lowered into the earth.” Quorum the Grave Digger cackled.

“Festering hells Quorum! No man here wants to know where you got that hot piece of metal! Keep your talk to yourself and we’ll all be happier men to the constables!” Rorum the Rat Catcher spoke up afterwards, actually fiddling with a rather rabid looking vermin inside a small wicker cage as the two remaining gamblers played their parlor.

A meeting of a Blind Man, a Bastard, a Grave Robber and a Sewer Dweller. Truly a match made for Bartum’s leading body here within the city.

“The shrines are mute, which we all knows means that Bartum is off on one of his tangents. The last I could get of him he was hollering about nonsense of the Chaos Beasts roaming wild.” The Valeish had been left ignorant of the events as they all nodded. Often Bartum would go mad with one terror or another taking flight for a period of months at a time.

“With Bartum gone for now, I am to resume the day to day decisions of the cult at large. The other priests and beggar herders here in the Valeish have agreed on this notion.” It was very common, one of the reasons why Bartum’s Cult was so loose in organization at least on an international basis.

“Right. To business then?”

---

Bartum, God of Cowards. Ancient Ruins.

The old creature’s bugged eyes widen at the sight of it. Light shining into the room, a foul thing he was caked in all sort of things as though light place greater reveal to the general ugliness of this god. He feared the light as much as he fear the darkness because of this.

”Get it away! Get it away!”

He hollered and hollered again scurrying further into the dark recesses of the demolished chamber. The tortured orbs stared longing into that of the grace and gentleness that was La’Moire; transfixed, almost obsessed. The rats nest that flooded this chamber scattered in all directions at the presence of the new illumination. New things frighten the perspiration born vermin. Bartum listened from where he was, ragged fingers gripping the nearby collapsed stone as though running through it nervously.

”No name! No name! The City with No Name! Name Forgotten! So no Map will find it!” He hollered again and again for some time till his coward driven madness spurred into gibberish.

Blind Man Errion, Valeish Dwarf Priest of Bartum. The Royal City of Kelzekia, The Broken Helmet

“So the Valeish has a new King.” It started almost like the start of a joke. Errion broke a scrap of cheese, it certainly felt like chees and smelt like it and when it came to cooking those were the two things he had to trust before it tasted like food. “Aren’t we Valeish there Errion?” Quorum spoke up. Another parlor game at the Broken Helmet. It was strange that this place was considered the thriving center of the Bartum machine that dominated most affairs concerning their share faith in the city.

Gelvenin was not at the cards yet, a few trinkets had already been won by the two remaining players. Errion did not trust cards because the half man did not trust people. Who’d tell a blind dwarf the truth when money was involved? “Strange Quorum, no fancy rings or gold crowns in the pot tonight? The Iron Backs breathing down your neck is that it?” Rorum mocked with a grin that only a mother who’d lived in darkness all her life would adore. ‘The Iron backs’ were the name so ceremonially dubbed to the new constabulary here in the city that was making life such a gods awful hassle for these assortment of men.

“I would be very reluctant to belittle Quorum for his troubles, if I understanding this new King favor the constables a great deal.” Errion spoke as he ate, as a boy he had been denied a great deal of food in his belly and now enjoyed it at any opportune moment. “He is there official patron here in the city and they managed to weed out most of the thieves that fester here and drive out most of the mad and unclean in the hands of the clergy for gods know what.” Such was the cost of cleaning the blight. Rorum said nothing somewhat itching at his nose “I’ve lost twelve good beggars this week. The damn organized clergy cutting into my racket here in the city and are doing what the herders used to do! Food! Shelter! Warm Cloth! But these self-righteous sods are doing it for close to free!”

Quorum shook his head “Savages.” The corrupt grave keeper announced.

“Yes, Yes. The White City is becoming quite the different place. If we mean to survive in this city we will need to adapt.” Errion spoke registering the voices and noises about. His colorless eyes rolled about for a moment his being becoming stiff as he talked. “Quorum.” He spoke at first.

“The Iron Backs are investigating what you have been doing at the crypts. I want you to find someone, one of the boys in your ward. I want you to give him a job, your apprentice. You will change your position to grounds managers at the graveyard, and in the background you are going to teach this boy the ropes of your trade. He will do the digging from now on, and what vanishes from the tombs will be responsible from the men and women whom mysterious know how to navigate every lock, entrance and secret way in and out.”

The Blind Dwarf was not done, his voice has hushed a longer time now as the impaired Valeish knew spies lingered at every corner of the city. Even here.

“Rorum. The Thieves Chieftains are mostly hung, killed resisting arrest of fled across the mountains. I want you to start plying what they left behind. I want you to especially keep a steady eye on these new cleaning bureaucracies. As a rat catcher and someone who has been in the sewers longer than half the men place together I want to see how far you can flirt with these new systems. Those are the new jobs which every unfortunate bastard down on his luck will want to put food in the bellies of their children. Control the crew, control the masses.-Where the hundreds of hells is Gelvenin!?” he rattled up.

When he expressed he heard his voice as he moved in. “Evening Chief.” He spoke, a vibrant grin across his face. “Got another ten bits from you-“ Quorum was cut off and the Blind Man knew for a fact he didn’t calm up easily. The three men were beholding the latest member of the Constables taking a seat at their table. “Do you like the uniform!?” He asked them. A beautiful coat with the brazen symbol of the Police and the City stitched into his clothes.

All Errion had to do was felt it and then he knew, he knew their miserable assortment of leaders now had an insider within the Police. “Well done Gelvenin.” He spoke “You magnificent bastard.”

---

”No name! No name! The City with No Name! Name Forgotten! So no Map will find it!”

Nightling heard what the snake said and agreed to it. He smiled and said “it may take some time because I have to raise an army for this, with only two hundred nightlings” he screeched and the nightlings broke off the dragon hunt. The species whose gods had died and the beasts of the land were perfect. Over the next few days wolfs, Frogmen eggs, Rats, Minotaurs, Centaurs, and Orcs were kidnapped along with the items he had sold them.
Locking away the creatures he had sold he took time to evolve all of the races to be warriors but the rats who were stolen because he needed a babysitting race and because they grow so fast they can eat them and still have enough to raise the other slave races. Only two races got to keep their intelligence the others he evolved them in a path that reduced them to near beast like state. His tunnels were too small for the new races so he had to find a new city, he knew of a few cities but as he headed to check on one of the bigger ones he smelled two new gods. He poped his head out hearing them talk about people coming to the city. He pulled himself out of the ground and as the female held a creature she had just made he spoke up “this city is under the ground it’s in my domain and I want it, why do you think that because no one was here it was not owned. I will sell it to you if the male can beat me in a fight or if you eat the creature you just made.” He then looked at the male god and screeched his most fearsome roar.

Nightling turned to the two new gods with his smug face when he felt things go wrong. someone had activated his blood sigils his nightlings had hid because of the number was too many at that point. He grabbed some of the rats running around the floor, and slit the throats using them for his blood magic he opened a portal “I will return here but my treasures are being destroyed and I must teach them a lesson.” and stepped out close to the army. He snapped and the tunnels before them and behind them collapsed “I applaud you for having the brass to invade my realm, but you made a mistake you came into the tunnels of the god of tunnels, next you fought in the ground where the sun doesn’t shine, my army is relatively useless during the day right now.” He snapped again and the blades made from his flesh turned to ash. “You try to use my flesh against me, which is foolish, but a few new races for my army won’t hurt but sadly I only need an equal number of male and female the rest can die, but as punishment I will leave you in this collapsed tunnel.” Closing the tunnel off in front of him he ordered his men to watch and make sure that they don’t kill themselves. He made full speed to the island found the goddess residence and carved a message that said thank you for the gift I will take good care of them.

---

Bartum had gripped along the edges of the dirty smelly torn and pieced together coat he clung over to his ragged and ratty body. The boney old man silently flickered his fingers through the weedy strains of hair sprouting from his chin as he simply listened. He cringed a ‘City with No Name’ was indeed a name! His cringing at the concept was clearly visible as his face became shrunken as he grinded his few remaining teeth on foul infected gums.

”Most are far… far… spread across the world, so many far off places. None can get here by tomorrow or soon! Patience!”

He dictated before he paused, what had she been doing? He almost crawled out of the rubble, dragging the bits about himself before he made his way to scurry to get a better look. She was sprouting something from the earth! Rat tails! The hundreds of rats idly crawled about the chambers and the pair of uncaring gods, the pair had been so calm they did not bother to bite though the room was beginning to become festered with rat droppings. Unfortunate side effect.

A messenger?

”No! Not necessary! Not necessary! I will scream my faintest screams into my idols and shrines. They hear… they hear… they spread their silent words among themselves and leave these doomed people! They will come from all over the world and crave a new life from this old city!”

He rambled to the goddess. He turned to her again, he was inanely curious of the goddess as he could feel this was her first experience crafting. The first breath of life was always a curious thing, always a dangerous thing! Dangerous because you become so invested into it! Because you’ll cherish them above all other things! That you will be infected with the madness of going into danger for them. His dirty boney fingers gripped the fur of a rat stroking it again.

Oh Gods…. What was that!? He was looking at her creation now which she was proudly presenting. A beast! A furred beast with an alien rune on its head! His eyes bugged uncontrollably as he took very huge steps away from it tremoring like mad.

”It hideous! HIDEOUS! TAKE IT AWAY! AWAY! AWAY!”

He cried outward. It was his natural response close to any other animal from the dogs that chased to the horses that trampled to the fish that choked and the mice that bite! All horrible things! Horrible things! He felt something strongly emulating off the goddess, this emotion made him twist knots in his stomach the fact that he was feeling this weird sensation in the presence of this… thing made him loath it more.

Then something even more hideous came sprouting from the ground. He turned paler than he already was, his eyes grew mad at its fearsome presence, the promise of devouring this one had! The great consumer with jagged razor teeth that cursed the sun! He scurried, all scurried in this monster’s presence. His demands seemed reasonable! Yes! Throw that horrible thing into the creature’s belly! Let one live so everything else could live! Yet… he felt that strange madness again.

For all he loathed and hated that horrible thing, he knew La’Moire would be… IT ROARED. He forgotten everything else as his own face was struck in terror. In a fleeting moment he pointed his boney finger at it and like that every rat in the chamber looked to the creature, even the ones that were killed were eerily looking it the creature still.

“A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-ATTTACCKKKKKKKK!”

Every rat in the room swarmed at the creature in bulk, to scratch to gnaw to completely envelop and consume every fleshy pair they could gnaw and devour. The great devourer vanished, but Bartum was so struck with terror that it did not stop him. Rats began to pour out of his sleeves in droves as hundreds soon multiplied into thousands burrowing through the collapsed tunnels and still more were pouring out from every pour and eye and mouth and ear and nose and hold the old creature had.

Fear gripped him now, they needed to defend him! ALL NEEDED TO DEFEND HIM! EVERYWHERE! And at that moment, all rats everywhere lifted their heads at the cry of their frighten father and if it was apart of some sort of animal mechanism became mad and rapid.

From the slave pits of the Nightlings to the Free Cities of Hanriot to the Empires of Equallis and Disballis and where ever rats could be found, the mad creatures flooded out of their crawl spaces in throngs out of control and in havoc: The Rat Epidemic had begun.

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”I promise I will not harm you and you are under my care. I will protect you. We are companions after all.”

These words pierced through the ears of the screaming mad man vomiting a tidal wave of vermin from his pours, his ears, his nostrils, his mouth, every opening provided. The rats were red eye and mad crawling and clawing in an unspeakable frenzy that tore through the ancient ruins. In the forests, in the fields, in the farms and the streets did they terrorize, consuming crop, animal and flesh indiscriminately. It was almost horrifying before they began to cool first, throngs moving slower, acting less and less aggressive.

He had remembered it never being this mad, this bad, and this powerful. It naturally frightened him, made him feel so small and helpless in the terror of the great, great horrifying world. The eyes of the rats became dulled; the motions became sluggish and eventually docile. The same began to echo outward in all directions.

”It is now safe and Thank you for helping me to remove that hateful presence.”

The old ragged creature almost choked, coughing a horrible fit that echoed through the decrepit halls and chambers that were littered in fallen stone long toppled. He spat out a nest that lingered inside his throat. Each hairy rat tailed thing colliding to the floor to scurry about in the preverbal pool that was moving about. There were thousands of children, a large portion climbing down the large hole that the fester had been tunneling through. He fell to the floor, the rats till crawling all along his tattered worn form as he shook horribly.

”I will not allow him to harm you ever, Bartum. This I promise you.”

His bugged eyes still blinded in all the rat hairs that sagged his eyelids shifted to her still. The rat covered creature remained by the rubble. Safety, safety is what he desired more than anything. To remain unseen, to remain unheard, unthreatened.

”I whisper soon…. I whisper so low soon…. That not even the ears of the gods can hear my whisper….”

He wheezed for a moment.

”You must not see me as I whisper!”

He empathized almost with a terrified expression paled across his gaunt boney face.

”Must do it in private! PRIVATE! In such, only those that follow my path hear them! Hear them and tell those that follow them! I will tell them where to go! Where to find this… BRIDGE! Bridge to safe land! Bridge to No land! No Land that exist in the eyes of danger! City with no name for map to find it!”

He gripped horribly. He knew they would have to flee now. Bartum was the god of Rats and he could feel the horror that spread throughout the lands. They will blame those that follow him and those that follow them. They will hunt them. They will kill them. They will kill as many as his children as they could find in the forests, sewers, fields, houses… His precious children the rats.