Meekknuckle was still rubbing his sore ear as he guided Skrakch through the sewers, the Goblin’s guardian Golem plodding along slowly behind them. A small current ran by their side, filled with the city’s unmentionables, and the Ratling was well aware that most of Dray’Mel residents were happy to ignore any of the goings-on beneath them.

Personally, Skrakch thought that it was rather a shame. You never knew what you’d find down in the sewers. Goblins, Iskrin, Ghouls…maybe even the odd mutated Human. It was a regular madhouse if you thought about it. Not to mention, there was the added benefit of it being the perfect place to dispose of a body.

Gods Below knew, there would be something in the sewers that was going to be happy to munch away on any unguarded flesh. Those in the city above who would consider themselves expert mercenaries or murders were missing a neat trick for disposing corpses.

Meekknuckle easily bounded ahead of the group, the idiotic creature surprisingly light on his feet as he traversed a cluster of metal shards. No doubt the metal was from some leftover experiment some aspiring engineer had ditched in the Sewers, but the metal had long since rusted to the point of being worthless.

Still, Meekknuckle climbed to the top of it with ease, the scrappy Goblin moving with the assurance of a long-time denizen of the dark. Once atop this man-made mountain, Meek began waving frantically at Skrakch with all the excitement of a child discovering a new plaything.

Turning his mind to the task ahead, Skrakch shuffled forward quietly. He could see that, beyond the metal pile, up ahead the sewer path abruptly cut off.

“Here! Here!” Meekknuckle whispered frantically, practically hopping up and down with excitement as he pointed downwards.

Skrakch rolled his eyes and trotted around the metal to where the Goblin was pointing. The sewer path was cut off because it suddenly dropped down into a large cavern. As he looked down into the deep hole, he could see that the floor and indeed some of the walls, were covered in moss, vegetation, and, of course, Human filth. From what he could see, the cavern acted as a large hub for many of the different sewer runoffs that would lead to the different parts of the city.

Well, Skrakch thought, so what? It wasn’t like this was a new sight to him. There were plenty of these hubs throughout the sewer system. It didn’t make this one special. He frowned up at Meekknuckle who was still perched atop the metal pile and shook his head. Talk about a wild goose chase.

“No! You see?” Meekknuckle nodded towards the bottom of the cavern again. Skrakch screwed up his eyes to focus them. He had to admit since he’d stopped living in the sewers full time, his eyes weren’t quite as used to low light conditions. Ironically enough, Skrakch saw better in pure darkness than he did with a few flickering flames guiding him. As he focused however, he could just about make out a large number of shadowed lumps in the darkness. He sighed deeply. He hated when Meekknuckle was right.

The little shit knew it too. He slid down the metal pile, landing neatly next to Skrakch, his chest puffed out, his expression proud.

“How many of those things did you see?” Skrakch asked witheringly. He wasn’t about to congratulate him or anything. Too many compliments to a Goblin just made their heads far too big for their britches, as if they weren’t insufferable enough.

“Me count three tens and one big one. See in middle?” Meek replied. The diminutive Goblin focused on the bottom of the cavern again and suddenly leaped back. “Very, very big one! He trying to light fire.” he added, trying his best to hide behind Skrakch.

Sighing, and kicking his cowardly Goblin minion away from him, Skrakch was treated to a burst of light as a burst of flame came to life in the cavern below. Now illuminated by the flickering firelight, he could tell the lumps were indeed a pack of wild Iskrin. He could almost hear their teeth chattering as they congregated around the quickly built bonfire, the lanky creatures huddled together for warmth.

Gangly from a lifetime of harsh meals, the ferals looked like an anemic version of Skrakch. Flea bit and mangy, the Grey Iskrin pushed and snarled at each other as they tried to get closer to the heat. Worse yet were the short nubs they called tails, the filthy things a mockery to Skrakch’s best feature.

As he’d expected, they were a filthy grey color rather than a luxurious brown like Skrakch. Still, they were larger than him too, dense muscles compared to his sleeker build. Built more for brawn than speed, Skrakch had little intention of an upfront confrontation.

A ripple of silence spread throughout them as Meekknuckle and Skrakch observed them, as the torch-bearing Iskrin drew up to his full height. Quite a bit taller than Skrakch, it was clearly the leader of the motley bunch, looking better fed and actually wearing some ill-fitting clothes.

Most of the Ratlings wielded weapons, spears, and swords that had seen better days, rusted from the moist living conditions they dealt with on a daily basis. And likely stolen from some unfortunate guards. Skrakch only hoped they’d killed the guards cleanly after taking their weapons. He’d seen the remains of half-eaten Humans more often than he’d like.

Skrakch knew the feral creatures had little intelligence to them. Considered cast-offs from the Iskrin race, Grey Iskrin were barely considered sapient, no smarter than a particularly stupid dog.

Still, to have escaped The Depths below the city, with only tattered rags on their back? They had to have been well versed in combat, as the trek skyward was no simple stroll in the park.

Most likely the Grey Ratlings had practice defending themselves from weaker threats like Goblins, but Skrakch very much doubted they’d faced a threat quite as vicious as him. Still… the Ratling had to admit the odds were a bit stacked against them.

Ducking back out of sight, the Ratling leaned over to Meekknuckle and whispered into his ear, rolling his eyes as his Goblin minion flinched back in fear.

“There’s a bloody lot of them. Does the Master think that we can deal with this?” Skrakch said, shaking his head in consternation. “I think it’d be better if he got involved himself, we’re liable to get ourselves stabbed. Or worse.”

He wasn’t scared of course, Skrakch reassured himself. But, as they say, prudence was a virtue. Why bother to throw himself into the middle of some melee when simple magic would take care of the vermin?

“Father not dealing with them,” Meek replied, shaking his head so hard that his ears flapped side to side. “Too weak, too far. Not worth travel. Father only deals with threat when at village. Not just near village.” He nodded sagely as if this settled any possible argument. “Why don’t you tell them go away? They listen to you since you rat too.”

Hissing softly, Skrakch went to hit Meekknuckle but a large stone arm intercepted the smack. He tried to push the massive Golem backward but only succeeded in almost slipping in the slimy sewer water, forcing him to windmill his arms to regain his balance.

“There’s a difference between Iskrin, you vapid idiot!” Skrakch spat, injecting as much venom into his tone as a whisper would allow. “Greys are feral and attack other Iskrin on sight. They’d attack me as quickly as they’d attack you. Hells, quicker probably!” He shook his head at the ridiculous notion. “I can’t just wander on down there and offer them a tankard of ale and a friendly chat!”

“Oh,” Meek seemed wrongfooted by this. Not that it surprised Skrakch at all. The idiot had trouble stringing together a coherent sentence, let alone understanding such a simple concept that all members of the same species weren’t alike. “Why not just make you Grey. You Grey, they listen,” Meek mused, cowered behind Ornn as he spoke.

“And how exactly do you propose I change my fur color?” Skrakch let out a frustrated sigh. “You expect me to just whip up a disguise, walk over to those monsters, and what? Tell them to shove off? How about we make you look like a rat and toss you down there…talk about stupid ideas…” Skrakch mused, stroking his whiskers. On the surface, it was a plan typical of the type that came out of Zach’s ugly mouth. But, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the idea could be a viable option.

Feral Iskrin weren’t known for their intelligence and guile. If he could disguise himself, the chance was they’d be fooled. Once he infiltrated their little bonfire club, they didn’t really stand much of a chance. It would be like taking candy from a baby. Slightly homicidal babies but really, what was life without a little danger? Especially if that danger meant another chance to prove his mettle.

Grinning, Skrakch turned to his idiotic minion and beckoned him closer.

“Alright, I’ve just had a brilliant idea…”