Wet Nose

leader of the 4th Ratling scout expedition

“This lowly rat will do his best!” Squeaked Wet Nose while saluting. His grey fur and iron spear thrower were especially blinding today, polished for this unique occasion. It was not every day that the rat-kin were sending out an expedition into the Unknown! And it was not even the above-Unknown! No! From the Watery Gra-... Watery Place into the network of the wet tunnels and unexplored rivers.

The bad-bad things below had already been subjugated by the combined might of the dungeon and its inhabitants, but it still elicited a twitch or two from the more cowardly denizens. Or was this just the random Ratlings?

Anyway - Wet Nose was just a rat like that.

To tell the truth, his reaction was justified - his very name came from a time where conquest was waged against the Watery Place, more so - when a glorious battle against the glassy snakes was being fought. Blood, sweat, and squeaks filled the air.

And yet for Wet Nose, a most important memory of this day was one of drowning, of being dragged into the depths by the unrecognizable horrors… to never again see the Queen-Mother and his ratty brothers.

And then he was saved.

His nose wet from tears and lake water.

As a reminder of this shameful display from this day he was known as Wet Nose. Which was both rare and strange course of action, as not many of the Ratlings had ever earned a name. Bad as it was the name remained a source of pride.

Was this why he volunteered for this expedition? Him, a rat deathly afraid of rivers and lakes? Or any source of water deeper than a few centimeters?

Nope.

It was the master Scout of the Silent Council that had decreed so and with this decision, only volunteering was left. Or death.

Sometimes Wet Nose thought death was preferable. And today was one of these days.

“For the glory of the Creator! This lowly rat serves until his death!” He squeaked once again, a frail leader to the twenty Ratlings. His new subordinates were mostly busy with looking grimly at the wild current flowing by. The atmosphere indicated that every rat on board of the flotilla would rather prefer to fight with some adventurers than traverse this hellish waterway.

The underground river, if one even could call it that, began with a barely eighty centimeters high half-filled tunnel. Its flow was fast and random, endangering the makeshift boats made from local plants and things stolen out of Tall Ones camp. No sane person would ride on them willingly.

There were five such contraptions, with wide, flat decks and wooden edges protruding only a few centimeters above the water table. Each of them had a large steering paddle attached on the far end and carried some pieces of food strapped to the deck.

Due to their experiences on the surface rats already knew that leaving the safety of the dungeon meant being exposed to hunger and thirst.

Out of five boats, three were carrying five Ratlings each - most of them soldiers, with a few crafters thrown in. These scholarly rats were looking especially desperate, their wild eyes darting from the water towards the crazily laughing captains. The leading watercraft had only two scouts on board, while the ship on the far back carried two Dragonflies, their pilots, and a navigator.

“This lowly rat will do his best!” Wet Nose whimpered once again, eyeing his superiors with puppy eyes. Please, let me stay! He screamed silently.

“The dungeon blesses you, child.” Said Queen-Mother while motioning him to depart. Her intention was clear and Wet Nose could nearly hear her real intention - Fuck off and go do your mission or die trying! Just don’t waste my time!

Sighing and coming to terms with his fate the unwilling expedition leader boarded the second boat. It was close enough to the front to safely give orders and yet far enough for the others to die first in case of some trouble.

He thought it was an elegant solution.

As the flotilla left the shore he waved furiously at his two friends standing nearby. They responded with loud squeaks. They were simple workers, whose sole emotion they felt right now was a relief. Neither of them had been named, as it was a kind of a rarity in Ratling society, yet considering that only Wet Nose and Bronze had a dubious honor to gain an individuality they would much more prefer a long and boring life to the blaze of glory.

And inevitable death.

Wet Nose was a reminder of rat cowardice, Bronze, on the other hand, was a shield that defended his fellow Ratlings - a handsome and powerful individual with a rare, bronze-looking fur - yet none of that mattered if they were to be thrown out like used goods.

Bronze being so headstrong could be the reason for becoming a leader of the earlier expedition... Mused Wet Nose. Why me, then?! I’m a nobody!

His panicking inner thoughts weren’t exposed to his subordinates though.

“We’re ready to start, leader!” Squeaked the navigator, eagerly waiting for the signal to begin. Unlike most rats, they weren’t afraid of the water and even revered the dangerous currents instead.

“This one orders: do it!” Wet Nose spoke in his usual tone, closing his eyes from fear. Yet for an outsider, he instead sported a charming and wise figure.

Inside? Inside he was still screaming out his grievances.

I UNDERSTAND THAT THE LAST THREE EXPEDITIONS FAILED AND SO IT’S THE RATLING WAY TO SEND YET ANOTHER ONE! He yelled angrily. I UNDERSTAND, BUT, OH FOR THE MERCY OF THE CREATOR, WHY ME?! His last words were filled with resignation.

It was simple, really.

Due to how many Ratlings were born the tunnels were getting crowded. That meant that expansion was a must. Thus the “devouring tunnel”, as the common rat called the waterway, was a good way to get rid of the surplus and maybe even conquer some new lands.

The members of the Secret Council even decided that whoever managed to conquer this route out of the dungeon would be granted an audience with the Creator. A rare honor.

And since it was Scout’s turn to choose...

Unlike his predecessors, he simply decided on a rat who had numerous brushes with death and yet managed to survive all of them - the one called Wet Nose. It was an incomprehensible choice for his fellow council-rats but the person in question trusted his intuition.

Besides, what he had to lose?

It was just a game.

This was however unknown to Wet Nose himself. He was more focused on the simple fact of being chosen as a leader meant working hard and shouldering the sudden responsibility to the best of his ability.

Thus with Wet Nose small nod the flotilla drifted a few meters forward and was immediately snatched by the greedy current.

A small tunnel they traversed was half-filled with water and much too claustrophobic for any bigger being to fit in. The various twists and turns made it even impossible to move through without some kind of water-breathing ability. And preferably a lack of bones.

Or somebody could just go for a hard way and squeeze a flotilla of rats guided by the mad navigators and hope that some of them survive the journey.

“Hyahahahahaha!” It was when he heard his navigator high pitched laugh, Wet Nose understood what the leader’s job included.

“Grab the railings, people!” He screamed, hopefully, loud enough to reach the other vessels. “Grab for your dear life, for Creator’s sake! This one orderssssssssss!” His voice echoed as a rock after rock appeared from the thin air and immediately disappeared behind them.

How we are still alive?! He thought to himself while observing nearly supernatural movements of his navigator.

“Gyaaaaaaaa!” One of his soldiers' claws had suddenly loosened and the poor fellow flew through the air, screaming, until a second later a wet crunch sound silenced him forever.

“We’re going to die!”

“Keep it together!”

“Not like this, not like this!”

“Claws to the railing. Breathe. Claws to the railing…”

“Oh, Creator, please guide this wayward soul…”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The crew reactions to certain death varied, but for Wet Nose hearing them cry out meant that they were still alive. He was much more concerned about the silent scout ship.

Still, he could see a silhouette or two moving onboard, so at least somebody was alive out there.

It isn’t so bad. He thought with relief.

Just as he was coming to terms with the situation his navigator cried out.

“Raaaaaaaaaaaaaapids!”

“This one doesn’t understand! What the hell do you mean, by rapids?!” Wet Nose was confused.

“We’re fucked, leader.” The rat had a manic grin on his face. A grin that meant that he was ready to die and welcomed it. “Now I understand why nobody returns from The Tunnel!”

And then all hell broke loose.

The rest was a parade of broken pictures.

Rats screaming.

A boat crushed to bits by the current.

Dragonfly drowning helplessly, while its pilot dived after it and never surfaced.

The navigator singing.

Somebody praying to the Creator.

And finally…

A large rock appearing from the foaming water, right in their path.

The rest was consumed by darkness.

…

..

.

At least until the Wet Nose woke up on the riverside. Hurt, but alive. Some of his subordinates were also there, slowly returning to consciousness.

Around them, pieces of wood and other flotsam danced on the now peaceful waves.

Unknowingly to anybody present a blue box appeared. If Uno was here to read it he would laugh gleefully knowing that his creations could grow more and more powerful on their own. Sadly that discovery had to wait.

Wet Nose (Iron Ratling Spear Thrower) had evolved into Wet Nose (Fatetwister Rat)!

When he came to the first thing he saw were… cattails. That’s what they were called? Tall, sturdy and stiff plants with brown growths on the top and green-brown wide leaves. It was a sea of cattail-like plants to be exact. He breathed in the air, happy to be alive, only to cough heavily, throwing up some water.

Above the survivors, a cave ceiling with suspicious light-giving crystals was covering the horizon. It looked far away, but they were still underground. Behind the small snippet of a rocky beach, they landed on the wild river stagnated into another lake.

Most of all the air was thick with mana.

The taste was not dissimilar to their home dungeon, but still not completely the same.

Just great. Thought Wet Nose. I just hope that no bad-bad monster lives down here.

Then he wrinkled his nose.

“This place sure stinks.” He murmured. A stench of rotting plants, brackish water, and unmistakable rotten meat suffused the whole place. Standing up was hard, but being out here, in the open seemed like an even worse solution.

At least the rest of his crew were already waking up, most of them in worse shape than their leader. Twisted ankles, cracked teeth, damaged skin, and torn tails plagued the survivors. But at least they were alive.

Only six rats made it out.

Six rats and a Dragonfly.

The thing stared at the Ratlings warily, its pilot already lost under the waves. What’s worse one of its wings had cracked during the journey, grounding it and making flying impossible in the short run.

But while the others considered killing it for meat Wet Nose simply waltzed right up to it and started to pull it by the halter. Seeing the confused gazes of his subordinates he explained.

“The Dragonfly may not be able to fly right now, but it’s still useful as a beast of burden or even a war potential.” He caressed the insectoid head of the monster. “Besides all its legs are intact. We can carry our wounded this way.” He smiled shyly and the Ratlings conceded.

Nobody addressed the elephant in the room.

The Dragonflies could be only tamed by their riders. Left alone they reverted to their wild behavior. And yet somehow this specimen accepted Wet Nose as its new rider? Talk about ridiculous.

The five underlings quickly gathered any useful tools and food left from the shipwreck. There wasn’t much to save, but then again there weren’t many supplies on the boats in the first place.

They had more pressing concerns.

Finding a place to rest, scouting the area and, most importantly, just surviving.

More rats will be coming - that was certain, as the Secret Council persistence was known to all rat-kind. They had to carve a niche in this… place. Whenever it was.

One of the scouts managed to survive - a small, nimble creature taught in the ways of silence and subterfuge. Wet Nose immediately asked it to check the surroundings, making a priority finding a potential base location.

“Tunnels would be nice.” The unlucky leader murmured. “And maybe a bigger cavern to house the Dragonfly? Then water and food in proximity.”

The rest of his subordinates huddled together behind the plants, shaking off the water. The tamed monster also crouched nearby, more for the company than any real need. One of the crafters cautiously set its cracked wing straight, the same treatment given to any wounded rats.

Still, it was only a temporary solution.

And then they waited, cave ceiling up high glistening with a constant, mysterious light. Neverending dusk ruled in this place.

What interrupted their rest was a panicked scout shooting out of the bushes.

“Snakes!” He squeaked in terror, immediately hiding behind his compatriots.

“Defensive positions!” Screamed Wet Nose. “Remember your training!” He added and the rest of the rats automatically spread out in a half-circle, spear throwers ready to fire at any incoming threat. Even the scout somehow regained enough control to join the survivors.

Their eyes scanned the tightly growing plants, trying to pierce the living wall. Silence descended on the small group, scout’s heavy breathing being the only sound they could hear.

And then the enemy came into view - a trio of serpents slithering through the mud, forked tongues tasting the air.

Each of them stood twice as tall as the common rat, their eyes glinting with greed at the sight of what they perceived as easy prey. The one leading them had a blue belly with green scales covering the rest of its elongated body. Two others flanking it were completely green and visibly smaller specimens.

Their arrival was completely silent - were it not for a scout’s warning the expedition remnants would be completely taken by surprise.

Both sides sized up their opponents for a single moment before jumping into an inevitable battle. Unlike the sentients, these monsters had no need for diplomacy or subterfuge. Their might would decide who’ll end up as today’s dinner.

The first exchange was awfully one-sided. The Ratlings shot their spears, wounding two of the attackers and outright killing one. Serpents weren’t discouraged by their losses though, lunging forward with widely stretched mouths. Their fangs dripped with venom.

The blue snake was visibly more skilled. It avoided claws and teeth of the defending rats and bit an unwary soldier on the leg. The Ratling trembled and in mere seconds succumbed to the paralytic poison, eyes glazing over. His green-scaled compatriot wasn’t as lucky though, one of the spears stuck in its flesh already severely limiting its mobility.

A few of the additional attacks pinned it to the ground where it was simply mutilated by the frenzied rats.

Seeing this turn of the events the only surviving monster grabbed his victim and started to retreat. Yet while it was focusing on the armed opposition an attack came from its blindspot - the formerly still Dragonfly extended its insectoid head and took a bite out of its body, eliciting a hiss of pain.

It was enough of a distraction for the rest of rats to charge recklessly forward, tearing chunks of flesh from the serpent.

With a roar, the snake freed itself from the assailants and started to escape. A singular spear flew through the air and skewered its head at this moment, Ratlings frozen by the sudden attack.

Their heads turned towards the direction from which it appeared only to see a gigantic, bronze-furred rat smiling at them. The countless barely-healed scars on his body, a crazed look, and enormous muscles didn’t inspire confidence in the survivors though. They warily watched him approach, only for an awkward silence to be broken by their leader.

“Bronze! You’re still alive! This little rat couldn’t be happier!” Wet Nose squeaked while running forward to hug the giant Ratling. The new visitor looked startled for a moment but recognizing the incoming rat his tension also dissipated.

“Wet Nose! Of all the rats in the world, you’re the last I would expect to lead the expedition in the Unknown.” He hollered, his voice deep and growling.

“Don’t remind me. This lowly one was chosen.” The smaller rat shook his head in despair, changing the mood. But a smile blossomed on his snout a moment later. “At least you’re here! Now we truly have a hope of survival!”

“Yes, yes little brother!” The giant smiled shyly. “It is hard to live in this hellish place, but together… together we shall conquer it in the name of the Creator!” His bellows roused something in the surrounding warriors, their eyes suddenly hoping for more than a place to rest.

“This one would be happy with just a peaceful and dry resting place.” Mumbled Wet Nose quietly. So quietly that nobody managed to hear him.

“Follow me. We need to administer the antidote to the one bitten. And worse, the commotion might have drawn more of them. Of the Tall-Short Ones.” He added mysteriously.

“Yes-yes.” Nodded the expedition leader. “Get the wounded and paralyzed on the Dragonfly. And don’t forget to butcher the snakes!” His head turned. “Please lead us, this rat will follow.” He bowed quickly and in the meantime his subordinates busied themselves while eyeing warily the still monster. The tamed insect, however, regarded them with calm indifference, still chewing on a piece of meat wrenched from the snake’s body.

The group organized their meager belongings and walked in a single file towards the promised safety.

Bronze was leading them quickly, but warily.

An hour later they arrived at a small cave entrance hidden behind a few large, but twisted leafless trees. Their roots made for a quite lovely labyrinth - something that every rat could appreciate. Thankfully the cave proper was large enough to house both the new occupants and their tamed monster.

The wounded were taken care of properly, poisoned given an antidote and hungry had their bellies filled. Thus, in the safety of the new home, questions brewed in the heads of those who managed to survive.

And most of them were answered.

Bronze talked slowly, but surely, like each word was a precious coin he loathed to part with. His deep voice echoed off the walls, as the rats gathered around the burning flame.

He spoke about the three earlier expeditions. About the battles against the constant stream of snakes assaulting them and the strange two-legged beings who turned the simple hunts into a three-way war. About the painful losses, new poisons they discovered and simple, dull things they did for survival.

About learning about the enemy and waiting for the unavoidable reinforcements.

About lonely patrols, searching for the supplies and survivors. Finding bodies.

About scavenging and even cannibalizing.

About rats dying left and right, while learning about dangers and braving the mud.

About the constant struggle.

And planning.

Constant planning their great revenge.

“This place is huge.” Said Bronze, staring into the flames. “We managed to scout most of the outer ring, but the way towards the middle is guarded by the stronger and stronger creations. There is even a snake that looks like the Tall Ones.” He shook his head. “These serpents… They spawn continuously, reminding me of our home.” The rats whispered, one of them bold enough to speak out.

“It’s a blasphemy, brother! There is no second place like our blessed homeland!” The speaker curled up seeing the madness in the larger warrior eyes.

“I know. This place is wrong. Full of mana, but wrong. Not at all like our home.” His snout relaxed, remembering his birthplace once again. “But the way it creates is similar. And… I saw chains. Chains with words on them, binding something, someone in place.” He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And it looked similar to the Creator.”

A bunch of gasps emerged from the newcomers' mouths. They stared incredulously at the giant Ratling, waiting for his next words. It was Wet Nose who broke the charm.

“This simple rat has to ask then, what are you planning.” Bronze grinned, but what answered him was a different voice coming from the entryway.

“We’re trying to break the chains. A Dungeon Core has a right to be free.” The scarred, one-eyed rat answered in a cheeky tone. Behind him, ten more Ratlings were slowly making their way into the cave. “We wanted to wait for more of our brothers to arrive, but with a Dragonfly… yeees… with a Dragonfly, we can do it.”

“You think so?”

“As soon as its wing will heal we can start our attack. The Tall-Short Ones are growing lax nowadays since we’re killing most of the snakes.” A wild grin appeared on his snout.

“This lowly one acquiesces.” Wet Nose answered with his own smile.

In the background both the veterans and newcomers cheered with bloodthirsty expressions.