Open Chronicles Late Night Rat Problem

[The Spear Thistle Fairy]

It was the dead of night at the Elbion College of Magic. Scant few were walking the halls and no one was in the college’s expansive food Pantry. A surplus of goodies both local and exotic, kept fresh by magic which allowed seasonal delicacies all year round for the students and staff.

Amidst this tranquil garden of earthly delights, stood a rat who had just crawled in through a suspicious hole. The rat looked around and then began to squeak into the hole it had emerged from.

“You found it?” Replied a voice from below.

The whole enlarged and a small purple haired fae crawled into the store room.

“Ha! I knew those prissy wizards would have one heck of a greedy stash!”

The fae struck a victorious pose then pointed a blade of folded grass at the hole she had created as it grew more and more.

“Come on you guys, me and colonel squeakers hit the motherload! Ain’t no sewer trash for you all tonight! Tonight, you eat like kings.”

Seemingly on command a swarm of rats flooded up into the college store room. They took no hesitation before chowing down on all the fruits and grains and meets and veggies they could get their tiny hands on.

Spear Thistle followed colonel Squeakers to a luxurious wheel of artisanal cheese. The two shared a bite, shuddering at the finely aged flavor.

“Mmm, I need to steal from wizards more often.”

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

Pomrick whistled himself a tavern tune, as he snuck down into the pantry, holding a lantern before him.

This was one of the few joys afforded him in the College. His own precious little secret. He had managed to figure out which key belonging to his master opened the normally locked door to the pantry.

Nothing helped calm down his nerves like stuffing his face with cheese, ham and other delights down there. He also found himself inordinately hungry tonight. Starving, really.

He clicked the key in, almost cackling to himself below his breath, turning it with twisted glee. Tonight, he would really hit the motherload. He opened the door, letting his light spill into the low-ceilinged chamber of preserved goodies.

No one would be the wiser. He closed the door behind him, hearing a lot of scrabbling, for some reason. Just him and the--

Rats.

Rats?

...RATS!

"Wha--uh, Gods above!!"

The Spear Thistle Fairy

 

[The Spear Thistle Fairy]

The School Pantry was a full on rat party by the time Pomrick arrived. The initial mad dash had died down and the rats were organizing themselves in a startlingly intelligent matter. Plenty were still eating but quite a few had formed organized lines of rats carrying food out of the pantry to store for later eating.

Meanwhile the eldest and strongest of this rat swarm were joining Spear Thistle atop a counter next to a wine rack. The rats were all awkwardly holding thimbles filled with Thanasian Red, joining the prickly Sidhe in a toast.

“And of course where would all of us be without Colonel Squeakers? Who truly lit a fire in all of our hearts of a better life for Elbion’s rats, I-“

Spear thistle looked across the room to see a young human, appearing utterly startled by all of the rats scurrying about.

“Oh crud!” Spear Thistle exclaimed, dropping her thimble of wine as she instinctively threw back her arms in surprise.

Panicking, Spear Thistle cast a stunning spell at the unexpected human. As a Sidhe, her magic was far more potent than her size would suggest. Doubly so given that the school was so rich on ambient magic with which she could pull from.

But, Spear Thistle was unfamiliar with Pomrick or his condition, and thus no one could truly predict what effect her spell would end up having.

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

"Help, help, I'm being--"

He only managed to claw at the door, trying to re-discover its handle in the dark, before the lantern fell from his grasp, shattering glass on the floor, scattering shards in a brilliant shower.

The spell should have arrested his mental faculties. Instead, it sped up his physical properties. His beard, specifically. Not only that, it twisted and formed his stubbles into long, colourful feathers, resplendent like a rainbow. Or a peacock growing its tail in the wrong direction.

His surprised outcry turned into horrified gasps, scrabbling at his new, feathery beard - reaching his waist - desperately trying to tear it out.

Though the spell had mutated into something different, he might as well have been stunned, smacking his back against the wall, panicking and attempting to stop constant growths from spurting out from his chin.

The Spear Thistle Fairy

 

[The Spear Thistle Fairy]

Most of the rats picked up their pace while the “bravest” stopped to gawk at the panicked human desperately pulling at a face full of colorful plumage. Colonel Squeakers shot Spear Thistle a confused look while one of the older rats chittered what sounded like a question.

“No that was not what I meant to do!” Exclaimed Spear Thistle. “The spell was cast right it just got all *wonky* as soon as it hit him. Well! Guess that just means we gotta do this the old fashioned way!”

The small fairy flew up into the air and cast a different spell which hit a trio of Gawking rats. The rats morphed and contorted, growing larger and larger until they finally stood up on their hind legs and hissed at Pomrick. The three rodents were now a kind of rat Beastmen. Just a bit larger than a your average adult halfling.

“Go my comrades! Capture that weirdo before he goes from a nuisance to a problem!”
The rat men hissed in agreement and went to grab rope and cloth with which to tie Pomrick up. A small swarm of rats also scurried forth to aid their transformed allies.

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

One might think a student resistant to magic would launch into a powerful spell now. Here was the chance to put what he had learned into use - weave a clever spell. disperse the mutated ratlings and save the day!

Unfortunately, before these horrid creatures, every meagre spell and incantation Pomrick had learned vanished from his memory like a candle abruptly snuffed. Their teeth were as large as his fingers. Truly horrifying, the stuff of nightmares.

As such, he curled into a whimpering ball, hands over his head and clenching his eyes shut, begging for his life through his rustling rainbow beard:

"Please! Spare me! I beg you! Please! I haven't done nuthin'! I won't tell anyone! I saw nuthin'! Please, please, please . . ."

Truly, the finest crop of Elbion College on display. It was small work to tie him up.

The Spear Thistle Fairy

 

[The Spear Thistle Fairy]

The swarm of rats carried the bound up Pomrick into the pantry and closed the door behind them. Spear Thistle stood quite proud at how well the capture had gone, until she realized there hadn’t been any real planing on what to do if they captured a human (presumably), let alone a wizard!(also presumably)

“Quick guys, huddle! I’m uh, sort of at a loss here.”


The Spear Thistle Fairy gathered together her “council” of rat leadership and began discussing how best to deal with Pomrick. Since the feather-bearded mage didn’t currently understand rat, all he could do was overhear what Spear Thistle was saying and hopelessly extrapolate.

“Yeah but I don’t think my magic will…” “isn’t that a bit extreme?” “Maybe if the moon was full”. “Yeah, I guess that…”

“Of course, great idea Granny Smallnose!”

The huddle broke and the small fae stepped forward with an attempt at military style authority.

“Human! (I think) you now find yourself at the forefront at a changing of the times! The moment where rat kind makes its ascension onto the world stage!”

Spear Thistle began to pace back and forth while shaking her finger for dramatic effect.

“I am The Spear Thistle Fairy, a high Sidhe of The Spring Court! (On unpaid leave) I am one who has heard the plight of the Elbion sewer rats and seen how they are mistreated. Families unable to feed their hungry children, elders slowly losing themselves to filth and disease! All while those above sleep in comfy beds and feast on fresh world famous food! Where’s the fairness in that?”

“Well, no more! Tonight is where the rats begin their liberation from this cruel oppression by the Bourgeoisie that would label rats as vermin!”

Spear thistle stopped and offered a hand to Pomrick. “Do my words not light a fire in your heart? Can you not see now that this cause is just? Join us as a comrade. Join us in building a better world for rats everywhere!”

The rats swarm looked up at Pomrick with the light of revolution, waiting for his response. Then they all collectively realized that his mouth was still gagged and promptly freed it so he could actually talk

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

Spoiler: Music

Since the feather-bearded mage didn’t currently understand rat, all he could do was overhear what Spear Thistle was saying and hopelessly extrapolate.

Pomrick's eyes darted from rat to fairy and back to rat, feverishly trying to parse what was going on, tied into a bundle of ropes, arms behind his back, cotton in his mouth, beard of feathers spilling over him. When she finally addressed him, his mouth quivered out so some sort of answer:

"Wh-uh--whut? A-afven-fen?"

Muffled, his attempted question went unheeded.

He didn't get much farther though before the Sidhe launched into an elaborate scheme of rats overtaking the college - or something - her tiny form pacing back and forth before him like some miniature general.

He had never considered that rats could feel oppressed. Well, in fact, he'd never considered rats could think in the first place, period. Up until his point, his encounters with rats had usually been of the variety of trying to swat them with a broom, keeping them out of his master's quarters.

He would certainly need a big broom for these ones.

Spear thistle stopped and offered a hand to Pomrick. “Do my words not light a fire in your heart? Can you not see now that this cause is just? Join us as a comrade. Join us in building a better world for rats everywhere!”

The rats swarm looked up at Pomrick with the light of revolution, waiting for his response. Then they all collectively realized that his mouth was still gagged and promptly freed it so he could actually talk

They finally pulled the gag out of his mouth, looking at him expectantly. As if they wanted him to . . . join them. He saw only one way out of this fever dream. Play along.

"Umm . . . " he began, stirring words to begin his speech. "I, uhh . . ."

He swallowed heavily, imagining what they would do to him if he said no. Gnaw him to death? Scurry him off to some deep, dark hole? He dared not think it. Play along was the name of the game!

"Yes. A great fire has been lit, in my heart," he said mechanically, eyes peering from the fairy to the rats for their reaction. They looked almost . . . encouraging. Huh. Perhaps it was time to take some artistic liberties with his rhetoric. Or, something along those lines. "I mean, like, not just a normal fire. A real big - bonfire." The rats chittered among one another approvingly, spurring him on. "Like, imagine that bonfire had lamp-oil poured on top of it, and, err, was used for a Wall of Fire spell," -magic his master had often talked about, but which he knew not what was-"and you sorta, sucked that in, I mean, to your heart; that--that sort of fire. Is in me. Raging inferno, sort of thing. Kind of burns a bit, actually. Yup. I find this cause just very--eh--just. Like justice is best served warm, you know?"

He squinted his eyes and cringed, hoping for the best.

The Spear Thistle Fairy

 

[The Spear Thistle Fairy]

If a master Thespian had been present in the rat-filled pantry, they would have said that Pomrick’s theatric potential was middling at best. Spear Thistle’s expression told a different story however. The small fae had a smile on her face that was absolutely beaming.

“It is best served warm, isn’t it? Oh, I knew there was something special about you since the first time I tried to magically paralyze you!”

One of the bigger rats squeaked and chittered at spear thistle.

“Yeah, I know that was like a minute ago, and not the friendliest of actions. But hey, what’s a bit of attempted paralysis between friends Feather Face? Actually don’t answer that.”

*clap clap*

“Okay guys, untie this big ol’ ally to the cause!”

The rats scurried to undo Pomrick’s bonds to do this the smaller ones ran up and down his body in a manner that was cute, but mostly creepy.

Just then, there was a creaking at the pantry door. Something that was prowling the halls had come to investigate the commotion. The door then swung open to reveal one of Maester Drakspae’s familiars (pets?)

The creature was some kind of large cat with colorful markings and whisker-like head tendrils. It seemed surprising to find just how many rats there were in the pantry at that moment, or fae and feather bearded students for that matter. The surprise was short lived though, since the beast knew its instincts.

“what in Nairth’s oil covered abs is that?!” Exclaimed Spear Thistle; who had no idea what the creature was, or why it was here.

Pomrick Bloomsfield

 

[Vaezhasar Drakspae]

Pomrick Bloomsfield
The Spear Thistle Fairy
The pantry door creaked wider and admitted a draught, and a creature that looked as though a heraldic painter had been told to design a cat without reference to earthly cats. Long and pantherine, it came with the offhand assurance of an animal that knows precisely where it ranks in the order of things. Braided whisker-tendrils swung like tasseled cords; bronze plates guarded the forelegs; a cold gem rode its throat like a magistrate’s seal. Spear Thistle’s exclamation, something about Nairth and lubricant, hung in the air as the beast surveyed the scene: one fairy in mid-harangue, one student being thoughtfully un-gagged by his captors, and more rats than any bursar would tolerate before breakfast.

The lips peeled back. What showed was not the familiar arrangement of fangs and useful molars but a saw-edge right across, as if Nature had tried her hand at a pastry wheel and then left it installed in a jaw. Above that grin, the round eye set in the creature’s brow unshuttered. Blue light, not the cozy blue of a hearth charm but the steady, bailiff’s-lantern blue of an arrest, spilled across the nearest ranks of rodents.

The results were gratifyingly economical. The front files froze as though they had suddenly remembered important engagements elsewhere. A thimble of wine halted in mid-tip; a length of pilfered cheese became the pivot of a tiny tableau. One rat-man, caught half-hiss, discovered that maintaining a dramatic posture is hard work when the muscles have decided to be statues for a moment. The beast did not roar or pounce. It merely let the light do accounts that claws would have rendered messy.

With the first wave satisfactorily audited, the familiar padded forward, setting a massive paw between Pomrick and the immobilized vanguard. The gem at its throat ticked once, like a ward setting its abacus. The tail described a narrow question mark, an inquiry to those still mobile as to whether they wished to be next on the ledger.

It glanced, if such a word can be used for a third, luminous eye, over the fairy general and her soldiery. Nothing personal was implied; it was the sort of official scrutiny one receives from port inspectors and senior librarians. Should the fairy attempt a fresh enchantment, the light promised to become very intent indeed.

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

Fear. Crippling, paralysing fear. It was an accustomed feeling to Pomrick by now - right near familiar at this point.

But this time, it was of such a calibre it near locked all his joints together. He had just been freed from the ropes, only to be doubly shackled by mortal dread.

What broke his immobility, was a feather. His nasal inhalations had gotten so intense they might well have rivalled a bellows, pumping air in and out, chest heaving, his sole movement for a few, long moments. But that elicited a feather to gradually get sucked into his nose, until it finally zipped in like a bird into a tree-hole. A mouth twitch, a nose twitch and then his whole face twitched involuntarily, little anticipatory sniffs escaping him.

"Ah . . . ah . . ." his eyes shuttered tight before his massive sneeze. "ACHUU!"

His whole feathery beard blew off in one, violent puff of air. It scattered a cloud of prismatic feathers about him, obscuring his sight - and that of everyone else. For a crucial second or two, a wall of feathers emerged between this feline guardian and its prey. The feathers jerked, before arrested by the blue light, suspended in the air like a glittering, shredded curtain.

Certainly, they blocked view to the Sidhe's small form. And perhaps they might even offer Pomrick a chance to escape, if the beast's paw didn't clamp down on him first like a judge's gavel.

The Spear Thistle Fairy
Vaezhasar Drakspae

 

[The Spear Thistle Fairy]

The giant feline had made its presence known very quickly. The rats it froze in place were only some of many, but that did not make the potential of the cat’s power any less concerning.

“Great thinking feather face! Let’s show this kitty some real dazzling lights!”

Spear thistle flew into the air and cast a cone of blinding light right at the Cat familiar through the shimmering feathers. The feathers caught the light with terrifying efficiency, making the cone of light even more intense and the whole room to be illuminated for a brief moment.

Spear thistle tried to get as much cat and as little rat as possible, though many rats on the floor were left utterly unable to see from the blast.

Colonel squeakers then gave the order to attack, in the moment where the cat was blinded and advantage could be seized. Scores of rats leapt from the rafters while others scurried across the ground to go and bite the feline’s limbs. The magnitude of rats was terrifying to behold.

 

[Vaezhasar Drakspae]

The Spear Thistle Fairy
Pomrick Bloomsfield

The pantry became a lantern of white pain when the little Sidhe loosed her flare; even through the fluttering curtain of feathers, it had the hard, pitiless luminance of a dissecting room. The cat, being no fool and being possessed of a commendable regard for the continued efficiency of its own senses, flattened its ears and screwed shut all three eyes as the rats came on in a gray-brown tide from floor and rafter alike.

For one alarming instant it vanished under arithmetic: a dozen at the shoulders, five to a foreleg, two of the bolder ones trying for the tongue as if this were some municipal competition. The heap quivered; it looked as though the beast would go down to the law of large numbers. Then a thick, mule-ish neck gave a short, savage twitch. Half a dozen common rats described comic parabolas. One misshapen rat-man tumbled end over end, braids and whisker-tassels flying, to light feet-first in a basket of onions. The cat’s face showed scratches (or gauges, if you will), but no blood, there being none in circulation to begin with; a point which would have gratified the bursar in charge of sanitation, had he been present.

It drew breath. Not the irritated snort of a house pet, but a draught from the cellar, deep enough to balloon the gullet and set the gem at its throat ticking like a ward’s metronome. The whole animal thrummed once, as if some unseen hand had plucked a string tuned to “inconvenient for crockery.”

The roar that followed came out a good octave above common sense. The nearest window traced a crack from latch to lintel; glassware along three shelves expired in a civilized manner, shattering into a hail of pebble-sized shards that pattered across the flagstones like a sudden squall of sleet.

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

Pomrick clamped his hands over his ears and gritted his teeth painfully. He sought to escape the carnage of mutated rats and a monstrous cat duking it out with him in the middle. So he did what he did best.

He ran. And with rather surprising speed!

Staggering between scores of charging rats, Pomrick made it to another door at the end of the pantry. Where it lead? No clue. Still, he ripped it open with one hand, his feathery beard all gone and blown away, now giving way for the stubbles on his jaw quivering with distress.

Barely looking where it lead, Pomrick rushed inside and slammed the door behind him. Only to arrive in a pitch-black chamber, where he banged face-first into an opposing wall.

"Ugh!" he grunted in pain, rubbing his nose, feeling his way through the room. If another dead-end, perhaps it could at least serve as a hiding spot.

Vaezhasar Drakspae
The Spear Thistle Fairy

 

[The Spear Thistle Fairy]

The rat onslaught continued upon the mathematically inclined familiar. The beast was formidable, its strength, stamina, and cunning preventing the immense swarm of rats from overwhelming it through shear force of numbers. And so a gruesome matter of attrition was starting to form.

Spear Thistle was troubled by all of this and watching from the sidelines. Her most effective spells would invariably hit her rodent allies, and trying to output more powerful enchantments would put a lot of strain on her and limit how much she could do if something bad and unexpected happened.

Colonel squeakers had explained all of this to spear thistle already, but still she felt really anxious just standing on the sidelines. Then she saw the human she had dubbed “feather face” run out of the pantry and into the hall.

Spear Thistle followed, perplexed as to what the cause’s “new comrade” was up to.

“Hey why are you running Feather Face? Our comrades need us to do… something…”

“Oh, I get it! You’re going off to get some wizard artifacts to help us out aren’t you! Well I’ll help too, maybe there can be something that will supercharge me and I can punch that dumb kitty into next week!”

While Spear Thistle was fantasizing out loud she got a door slammed into her face (thankfully not quite literally) as she heard Pomrick sneezing and banging into something.

“Wah! Hey watch what you’re doing that could have hit me! Come on let me in, it will go faster with the two of us and we gotta help our comrades!”

Spear Thistle banged on the door with her tiny fists until suddenly she stopped when she noticed something. It was the cat Familiar, standing back down the hall with scratches and bite marks all over and a couple steadfast rats hanging onto its fur. The beast had spear Thistle in its sights and was eyeing the Sidhe like prey.

“Oh crud”. Spear Thistle remarked
“Oh crud oh crud oh crud oh crud oh crud!” She reiterated.
In a panic the small fae turned and flew up the hall to try and get away from the cat familiar who would likewise enter a pursuit. All the while, more rats would spill out of the pantry, lead by colonel squeakers to try and save their magic benefactor.

 

[Vaezhasar Drakspae]

Pomrick Bloomsfield
The Spear Thistle Fairy
The felid commenced its methodical extraction of the vermin that had attached themselves to its oily, cobalt-bluish pelt with what might charitably be termed workmanlike efficiency. The first rodent it bisected with a single compression of its jaws, an action requiring, by rough calculation, the energy equal to that of a spring-loaded bear trap. The creature then executed a rotation of its forepaw through an angle that would have been quite impossible for any member of the family Felidae as catalogued by taxonomists, and proceeded to employ its unsheathed claws in the systematic evisceration of two additional rats that had been worrying at the flesh of its chest.

Blood and viscera made their inevitable acquaintance with the oak planking below, spreading in patterns that would have interested a geometrician. Within the span of perhaps five seconds, the beast had rid itself of the bulk of its unwelcome passengers.

Yet rather than launching itself in the expected fashion toward the purple-haired interloper and her whiskered confederates, the creature instead oriented its considerable bulk toward the nearest set of doors positioned to its sinister side. These portals, constructed of what appeared to be serviceable oak some two inches in thickness, yielded to the beast's pressure with a groaning complaint of wood and iron. The animal's talons inscribed deep furrows in the panels, marks that would perplex the college's maintenance staff on the morrow, before the creature vanished through the aperture with a celerity remarkable in so large a specimen.

What proved most singular, however, was the utter absence of vocalization during this entire proceeding. No growl, no snarl, no exhalation of predatory satisfaction issued from the throat of this entity, which measured, by conservative estimate, some nine feet from whiskers to tail-tuft. One might have supposed such silence the natural habit of the creature, save that all known great cats, when agitated to violence, are wont to make their displeasure audibly manifest.

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

Guilt and fear fought a bitter grapple within him, like two wrestlers vying for dominance in the arena of his stomach.

But eventually, the ultimate chokehold of guilt brought down fear to the floor. She trusted you. She needs your help. Whatever this fairy was, she didn't deserve to be torn apart by this Elbionese beast. He had to help her. Right?

Meanwhile, fear was pressed so far down past his gut it manifested instead in his bladder, granting him an intense urge to relieve himself. Now he was both hungry, scared and near to bursting. This was definitely not a good day.

He briefly considered whether he should attend nature's call in the corner before letting the fairy in, but by her desperate bangs and shouts, time might be running out. So he quickly went back to the door and snapped it open, waiting for her to enter. All while stamping his feet, left from right, trying to fight down any imagery of waterfalls, flowing rivers or bursting bottles of champagne.

"Get in, quick!" he squealed.

The Spear Thistle Fairy
Vaezhasar Drakspae

 

[The Spear Thistle Fairy]

Spear Thistle spun around at the sound of Pomrick’s voice to see the door open and the giant cat seemingly gone. Overcome with joy, she zoomed back to the previously locked and embraced the young mage (as best she could).

“Ah, I knew you’d have my back Feather face! You lanky, gerbil-eyed weirdo! Now let’s see what awesome wizard nonsense you’ve found.”

The dimly lit room that Pomrick had dashed into was nothing more than a small study room, with not much more than a table and some chairs. This left the small Sidhe scratching her head, as she could not imagine that her valiant ‘comrade’ had really just been fleeing for his life.

“Ok well, maybe we could distract the big kitty while you snuck up behind to hit it real hard with one of the chairs? Or-“

Just then a series of chitters and squeaks could be heard coming under the door.

“Colonel Squeakers!” Spear Thistle exclaimed

She went down to speak with the rat, and listened as colonel Squeakers had a surprising lot to say.

“Yeah? Yeah? Huh? Ok! Wow, that’s a great plan, thank you sir! Did you get all that feather face?”

Spear Thistle looked up at Pomrick only to see him looking confused and uncomfortable.

“Oh right! Most humans don’t speak rat. I’ll give you a quick brief since we don’t have much time.”

“Our forces are going to gather the wounded and however more food they can carry and retreat into the sewer. While they’re doing that, we gotta keep that nasty kitty distracted. The colonel noticed how it followed us outside of the pantry so we pretty much just gotta worry about not getting cut to ribbons.”

While saying all this, Spear Thistle fluttered up, and landed on Pomricks head.

“So I say let’s combine our strong points and gives our allies the time that they need.”

The Sidhe grabbed onto Pomrick’s shaggy hair and yanked like she was holding the reins to a horse.

“Oh, Bee-Tee-dubs, those points are my magic and your ‘running away’ skills. Which like, you should totally join one of those human running competitions if we avoid whole cut to ribbons thing; you’re like, crazy fast feather face!”

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

Pomrick's eyes rolled up to the very top of their sockets, trying to goggle up at the faerie riding his head. He winced and yelped at one of his locks being pulled:

"Au! Wha--easy, I don't . . ."

He paused, his understanding galloping to catch up with his still running mind. Did she say they were going to distract the cat? Madness!

Well, it was either doing that, or having the Sidhe casting another spell on him. And he didn't need more of a beard than the one he'd already got, thank you very much. Her praising of his running skills did little to comfort him currently.

But he could attempt to avoid having to deal with either her or the giant cat.

"Well, uh, what if more guardians, like, attack the rats? While they - while they retreat, I mean." He gulped, pulling in his own collar, which suddenly felt increasingly tight against his throat. "Maybe we should, uh, cover their retreat. That is, follow them, you know?"

Just then, he realised that this third option might not be any better. Retreating into the sewers with these crazed rats? What was he thinking?!

The Spear Thistle Fairy
Vaezhasar Drakspae