John Harken

Standing on a field of victory, Harken decided that the smell in the tunnels had changed. The den of Ratsins hadn’t, couldn’t smell better, but there were differences to be found. Few would note more than a bad smell. Being one for details, he had observed the manner of the changes. The smell of the bottom tunnel was mainly rotting waste laced with the damp musky odor of the Ratsins. At the Vile Fields, the scent of filth fades as the rat thing’s musk rises. Though, the primary smell is that of the glowing flora. A distinct fragrance that is like broken glow sticks and soil.

The upper tunnels offered a new combination to sniff. The chemical sting of the glowing moss was distinctly overriding, but there was a strong underlying smell of something predatory. A perfume of rotting flesh and old blood. Looking at the flesh corpses that slowly powdered inspired worry in Harken. The first battle had gone well. Almost too easily. Their steady training and the new gear could have weighed the odds. Maybe, but it felt too much like a slaughter. The now dead opponents seemed the start of a joke. One that was in poor taste. The punchline, grimaced the priestly man. That is the thing we shall have to be wary of. I fear the finality of it.

Smells were one thing, but the story told by the monsters was another thing. The sight of the dreadful things squirming out of the holes in the wall would stick with him. Franic squirming and snapping fangs. Pulpy flesh that appeared ready to slide off. Nightmare fuel. The images were nauseating, but Harken found himself going over them still. Not for self-torment though. Instead, he was seeking to understand what he saw. The Heartsong whispered. His mind’s eye was focusing on goop and shreds of strange flesh that was draped upon the rat things.

He pondered the nature of that detritus. The loathsome ooze reminded him of something. The word that floated up from within was pupae. The image of a newly freed butterfly, wet from their escape, mixed with that of a chrysalis broken too soon.

A frown deepened across his gaunt face. Pondering the nature of those empty pits and why what came out looked so unfinished. The Pure Ratsins had lesser changes, considered Harken. Those ridges and a further physical divergence towards a hominid form. The Bloated… he shuddered at the memory of their slurry forms. I do not look forward to the horrors those become.

Harken was deep in thought when Malachi came over. Their chosen leader had to speak several times before raising his attention. “Yes, what can I do for you,” asked the priestly man with a raised eyebrow.

“The group is getting ready to move further in,” announced Malachi. “We’ll head out once those who took the cores get back.”

The priestly man looked around him. The corpses were gone and there were no cores in the sight. Time can pass quickly when reflecting. Especially when communing with the song inside. “Ahh, thank you,” replied Harken. “I lost myself in thought.”

Malachi was quiet, reviewing their surroundings, but concentrating on him. “Penny for your thoughts,” offered the sword acolyte mildly. It was friendly, but the bearded man’s eyes were sharp.

“I wonder if we will ever see a penny again…” wondered Harken.

“Hmm… in our dreams, or perhaps the screens have some,” grinned Malachi. “It’s a surprisingly large catalog.”

“Haha, yes it is,” agreed Harken, allowing the tangent. He wanted time to find the right words. “I now wonder if it would appear there because we spoke of it.”

“That would be a bit terrifying if I am honest,” decided Malachi. “Whether because of the clarification that we are being watched that closely or that they would so easily have the power to add such things to the screens because of random conversations.”

“The only thing more terrifying than the power of the gods is their motivations,” said Harken looking upwards.

“You think it is gods that brought us here?”

“It is as likely as anything… although, ask me tomorrow and I will tell you a different theory,” grinned Harken. “I don’t know enough to say, so I will weave a thousand different possibilities.”

“It’s best to stay open-minded, but I believe it safe to assume gods aren’t the answer,” stated Malachi.

“How did you come to that hypothesis?”

“The cuckoo clock,” stated Malachi before explaining. “Watch the show on every hour and you will see a progression of stronger creatures. The makers of that clock, and likely The Pit too, placed humans above even angels and demons. My feeling is no gods have anything to do with this.”

“An interesting detail,” mused Harken. “I will have to put aside the time to see what ticks on the hour.”

Malachi groaned, “Puns, huh? Is that your sense of humor?”

“When the mood strikes,” smiled Harken. “I also know every “a priest, a rabbi, and etc” joke. I collect them like decorative plates. Even scholars need hobbies.”

“As much as I would love to hear them, we have gone far afield,” said Malachi, bringing the conversation back to a serious field. “Something was holding your attention before. I would like to know what that was.”

Harken took a moment to recollect himself. To reflect and find the right words. “The Ratsins, the ones we drew from the wall pits… I believe we interrupted them in the middle of a transformation.”

The other man’s brow drew down, “Transformation?”

“Yes,” confirmed Harken. “A metamorphosis. Like a worm to a butterfly… or a tadpole becomes a frog.”

Frowning and slightly shaking his head in disagreement. Malachi countered, “They are... their rats.”

“And potentially mammals, yes,” nodded Harken. “But, how much does that matter with monsters? Do the divisions of the kingdoms mean anything? I doubt it very much. I think so even if I hadn’t seen the evidence.”

“Mmm, the goop… and those strange... shreds,” reflected Malachi. “I didn’t get a chance for a closer look. The esoteric monster biology aside, what do you think that means?”

Harken locked eyes with their chosen leader, willing the bearded man to feel the dread that was collecting on his shoulders. “I think... we have yet to test the real mettle of the rat things. I fear this battle here will give people the wrong impression. What we defeated wasn't a stronger breed. Not yet. I believe it was only the newly reformed… and the freshly changed. Weaklings. This march, let us move with caution and not overconfidence. Hubris always invites disaster.”

Silence drew out as the word disaster seemed to fill the moment. It weighed in on the next few moments and sharpened the breath. Malachi was slow to respond. His jaw muscles wreathed under the skin. The priestly man could see the weighing and appraising. A churn of calculation.

“I understand the concern,” the bearded man said finally. “We’ll go slowly. Carefully. This place gives me the creeps and I don’t want to underestimate it. After all, we’re trapped with monsters in the dark.”

The attempt at a reassuring smile wasn’t very effective on Harken. He reluctantly allowed the conversation to end there. It was clear that Malachi felt the warning was adequately considered. The priestly man felt it hadn’t sunk in enough. Still, the leader wasn’t his main concern. He's a good leader and cautious for those under his care, thought Harken. I don’t doubt his sincerity in that. It is everyone else that leaves me with unease. Unrelenting success has its own dangers… and our new equipment is bolstering the convictions in ourselves.

Everyone around him gleamed like gems in the dark where phosphorus light touched metal or polished leather. He didn’t doubt that the new armor greatly increased their battle effectiveness. The previous fight, and those before in the Vile Fields, proved that. It was not their prowess that worried him. It was this foreboding sense of doom for their rising pride that did. Though the tunnels held horrible things, the setbacks had been too minor, Harken explained to himself. A defeat could prove our confidence too brittle for many. I shall have to see that any disasters are averted, or minimized. When the Sixty began to head further in, Harken claimed a position near the front. Eyes straining in the gloom to predict any coming danger.

The atmosphere of the upper tunnels had returned to its peculiar silence highlighted by the echo of distant cries. The squish and crunch of footsteps was the only nearby sounds. The tunnel curved as it traveled slowly upwards. Narrowing as it went so that the Sixty marched with the walls closing in. As the Vile FIelds disappeared around the bend, a brightly lit alcove came into view.

A giant Ratsin pulsing with blue light stumbled out into the main tunnel. It was aimed to move upwards, but paused. With predatory slowness, the monster turned to face them. Azure eyes stung brightly in the dark as it hissingly snarled at them. A large leg lifted towards them. A sudden spasm ran through the abomination’s body and the head swung viciously away from them with a snap of the jaws. The rat thing glared up the tunnel. It began to switch back to growling at them, but the monster was entranced. The Sixty stood ready to intercept a charge that never came. Whatever caught the Ratsin’s attention, the pull of it was too strong. It left them behind.

Harken noted that several people wanted to chase after the monster, but Malachi called them to order. The priestly man agreed it was an unnecessary risk. There was still the alcove to be wary of. Not to mention, whatever may be waiting further ahead.

It was a tightened formation that moved forward, eyes watching in the two directions. The two branches of the tunnel before them. One continued bending upwards and the other was a short pocket of space. A field of blue flora that was this cave’s equivalent of tall grass. Several Ratsins that were of the same caliber as the departed one, shoveled the blue fungus into hungry mouths. Their jaws hung open to receive as much as possible. The abominations smashed the goopy handful in seemingly to eat as much to force all of it downwards. Taking the time to swallow seemed to be considered a waste.

By Malachi’s order, a detachment shifted to clear the alcove. Wanting a closer look, Harken joined as the primary healer. When they got to the edge of the flora, the Ratsins froze. The monsters gave up their feeding frenzy and rose. Four of the new glowing rat things stared down at them from their full height. Strength radiated from them in a way that ones that attacked the frontline simply didn’t have. Their muscular forms swelled and the azure light was sharper. Wet snarls ripped from the deformed mouths. Seeing that the battle would begin soon, Harken chanted to renew his defensive enchantment.

“Aegis of Purpose

Bolster the devoted

Stronger together

Reinforce!”

He felt reassured as the spell echoed out from him and spread as white light upon his companion. The Ratsins stopped their posturing and charged. Warner was the first of the Sixty to move, leaping into the coming pack. His fist flared with bright orange Mana as it impacted on the lead monster. The creature’s head snapped to the side and stumbled while the brawler moved past. A quick push off the shoulder tossed him into the next target.

His arms went wide, ready to hug the snarling Ratsin. Its eyes narrowed at the man. Orange glowing hands came together with a thunderous clap. Between a flash of light and an explosion of sound, the abomination thrashed wildly in reaction. In the confusion, the blinded Ratsin collided into a third. They fell together as a tangle of violent limbs. The brawler didn’t cause any lasting damage, but the charge was broken. Wrapped in a dark purple web, the fourth Ratsin had been neutralized by Molly. Straining to maintain the web, another spell echoed from her mouth.

“I Call Down Terror,

For Whispers and Shadows,

So All Becomes Unclear,

Confusion’s Parable!”

Needles of purple light appeared above the thrashing creature like a frozen swarm. The sharp rain fell to insert into the Ratsin’s skull, calling forth the image of acupuncture. A howl erupted from the monster’s gullet, not of pain, but terror. The rat thing became more reckless and frantic. Flying into an uncoordinated berserk attack on its kin. The beast damaged itself as much as the other. The response of the unaffected Ratsin was no longer to escape, but to fight back. The two of them were out of the fight for the moment.

Meanwhile, the punched Ratsin was steady on its feet again. A burning gaze shined down on them. A meaty clawed hand rose and fell with fatal intent. Hector and Phelain, shields ready stepped in. There was a flash of azure light as the swipe swept past. A lone figure stood in the aftermath with three gouged streaks across the shield. Hector was missing. The other man had been caught by the attack and flung into the wall. A spray of blood came out of the man’s mouth before passing out. The Ratsin glanced at Hector, but seemed to grin menacingly at the rest of them. It exposed disordered fangs like something that had never seen a smile.

Harken flinched at the sight and grasped for the spell Foresight. In his mind it hovered like the sun. Too bright to look upon. The power waited on his intent, but he knew that the cost was too high. I could see what is to come, but then I would lose consciousness before I could even speak a word of it, bemoaned Harken. What is the point of such a useless spell? Did I grasp ahead of myself? I have come far in my understanding of Mana, and still it is too far beyond me to use. The priestly man sweated. He could not do more, but turned to what he could. He recited Shepherd's Restoration. The light focused on Hector and the man’s eyes opened back up.

Apparently unbothered by the damaged shield, Phelain stepped forward under the baleful glee of the Ratsin. Haughtily, the monster brought down both fists. A strong light gleamed across sword and shield. The aspiring warrior became a blur. The shield swung out to rupture the air and his sword slashed, then stabbed. One fist was pushed away by the shield bash. The second was weakened by a slash across the palm and then thrusted away by a gash through the wrist. The rat thing came down poorly on its arms forcing the man to skip backwards. The monster had collapsed so that it was on eye level with Phelain. The two glared at each other.

Terrible jaws unhinged to swallow, but a green arrow flew. An impact in the eye of the Ratsin threw the head away from Phelain. Behind him, Harken heard Clarissa bombastically cheer. Cradling its head, the monster got up. One wrathful eye stared at them as the air grew thick. Azure sparks came to play around the jagged spines that pierced the skin across the Ratsin’s body. It roared. A pulse of blue energy like fire descended on them.

Hector leaped to Phelain’s side. Together they placed a barrier against the shout. They were both tossed back as their barrier shattered on impact. Blue energy tore at the space where the barrier had been. Before the two of them could get back up, the Ratsin breathed in to roar again.

Warner was suddenly on the monster. A line of orange light was left behind as an explosive kick took the Ratsin in the throat. The big man grabbed the arrow from the destroyed eye socket and stabbed it into the other. A broken scream discharged from the monster. A blue aura scorched around the Ratsin and projected the brawler through the air. The arrow fell to the ground as both eyes healed up under the azure influence. The naked tail swished behind it as the Ratsin used its broken smile again. A shudder ran through the Sixty.

Harken grimaced at the sight and cursed himself for being right. The new form for the Pure Ratsins were much stronger once given time to ripen. The ones we fought earlier must have been freshly hatched from their chrysalis, he confirmed to himself. His eyes flickered to the other three Ratsins. Their bodies had already begun to powder while the last one looked fresh. It would appear giving them a chance to get rolling is a mistake. Like an avalanche, these azure beasts build up momentum. He reached for the spell again, to see, but nothing had changed. Foresight was still beyond him.

The Ratsin leaped at the heart of the detachment. Claws gleaming blue. A lance of red flames slammed into the chest of the monster and pinned it back down to the ground. A charred hole left it gasping for air, but the rat thing rose spitefully. The rest of the detachment had joined the battle. The rose blade of Vincent led the assault. The swordsman, backed by Warner, laid down a barrage of strikes that left the monster unable to heal or counter. It roared and swiped wildly to avail. Soren and Clarissa brought the fight to a close by a simultaneous strike at the heart. Seemingly, twin beams of green and red punctured through to the back.

The priestly man looks upon another field of victory and still feels the same dread. The sensation was strengthened by a new thought that they were being drawn in. Whether by design, or just random chance of our struggle, the Sixty are being tricked, thinks Harken as he plays out the thought. The Ratsins’ drop in power before rising is a liability that inspires too much confidence. Hubris. That word haunts me.

The Sixty celebrate around him. His own face displayed the same smile despite the woe he knows is in his eyes. The cores form and the detachment takes them back to be sorted in packs. The raiding party is together again, but he doesn’t feel any safer. The certainty of pending doom isn’t easy to ignore. Though he tries his best to reflect back the hope and confidence coming from around him. The priestly man comments to himself, No reason to taint our morale because of my own fears. I may worry unnecessarily.

He looks up the ascending tunnel. There were still the distant sounds of struggle. They came from somewhere ahead. A promise of their own. Harken considers if this is what calls up his fears, but there is a vague feeling of doubt to it. There is nothing else he can do, but hold to his vow for vigilance. And hope.