[IC] Rats in the Mall

[Elgappa]

R A T S I N T H E M A L L

The start of the NOW-NOW time

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The Cellar, far below the Rat-Sea, a bit before the NOW-NOW times

..and so, his magnificence, he-he who speaks for the Creators themselfs, glory-glory be his name, declared that a punishment-ment shall be unleashed onto the Clans of Sinners on the Ground floor, while the Faithful shall be rewarded! It was the Pious-Pious Warband of the Noble-Noble One-Eyed Heesh, who would purge in the Creators name! Many-Many was his Pack, endless-endless his Might-Might! Death-Death he shall bring! Glory-glory be the Creators... Slave-Scribe, Uz-Softpaw, Chronicles of the city of Glass

Hundred...Thousands...cant-cant count! Found way through Tunnels! Soon be here! Will kill us all... Irrek Many-Litter, last survivor of the Tush-Tush Clan, destroyed by the Warband of One-Eyed Heesh

Squeek Twich-Jaw, had always been an curious rat! Far braver, then most of his littler, he had ventured below the security of his Clans Burrow. It was this bravery, that had made him into this excellent scout, and got him a place on the side of their glorious leader, the great One-Eyed Heesh! And just like he, Squeek Twich-Jaw, was his right Claw, their clan soon would earn their way onto the side of the City of Glass, becoming the embodiment of the will of the Creators themselves! Soon, the drums of war would roar through the first floor, and all who defied the Creators would be punished for their wicked ways! The Ratpublic would be purged of all Heretics, washed clean from all who defied the will of the City of glass! Cutlak would been made an example off, and not even the Litters would be left alive...Squeek could feel his fangs twitch by the thought of the feast that would follow the butchering.

Sniffing the winds, Squeek once more rested on his spear, before allowing himself a moment of rest. He knew these tunnels well, having rushed through them a thousands times, or maybe even more, for he never had been good at counting. He knew how to sniff the wind for the stench of the Clickers, or how to sniff out a Many-Eye, the dangers that lured below! They no longer could suprise him, like any ordinary rats! For him, they were nothing more, then a welcome snack, even through, he longed for a different kind of Prey.

It had been not long ago, that he had found them, in form of a small group of Hunters from the despicable Clan Cutlak! Two died quickly, yet the last one, Squeek had questioned, a task that brought him endless joy! And like all Heretics, he had caught in his life, the Scout had made him spill out all his secrets in time! Indeed, Squeek would have much-much to tell to his masters, and once more secure his position in the clan. A short shiver ran down his fur, as he shortly hissed. Raising his spear, he quickly jumped onto two Legs, aiming at the shadowy vastness in front of him. For a moment, he thought to see something, yet then, he calmed himself. Just his old mind, playing a trick on a Tired rat! "Last-Last time for me to be here-here! Soon-Soon, i will be in City of Glass! Feast-Feast and Sleep-Sleep.." A chuckle escaped him, before he quickly turned around, stabbing into the darkness behind him. He had felt the movment in the ground, yet to his surprise, his Spear had hid nothing, and once more he stood in silence.

Breathing faster now, the Scout growled. "COME-COME OUT! I AM SQUEEK TWICH-JAW! I KILLED MORE RATS THEN I CAN COUNT-COUNT! NO..." His challange was interrupted, as something reached for his Legs, pulling him off his feet, and sending him flying. A sound of fear, escaped him, as he tried his hardest to escaped the cold grip that had layed onto his legs.

Then he saw what had taken hold of him, and Squeek screamed. With a kick he could free himself, before quickly turning onto all fours, and running blindly into the darkness, away from the Nightmare that had taken hold of him. Few things in this world were faster then a scared Rat, and Squeek, even in his older age, still could run like a fresh born litter. Then, he felt the cold sting of something in his shoulder, a coldness slowly taking hold of his body. In pure terror, he tried to fight against the coldness that took over his body, yet he couldnt move a muscle, as the nightmare once more moved closer, before another one moved behind him, followed by another one. Silently, they glared at him, before a ice-cold voice whispered into Squeek´s ears. "You will answer-answer all my questions..."

The whole Mall,the NOW-NOW times

Clans fall apart, succumb to war or sickness, or simply starve, yet at least some degree of them always survive! Even the Night of Death, and the loss of the World Below must have had some survivors, as all Rats still know about it. As such, the horrors of the discovery of what had happened to the Massive Warband of One-Eyed Heesh was indeed unsettling, even for the ones that would have fallen victim to its assault!

Be it to their own scouts, through rumors or to other ways, all clans would in the end learn about what had been found in the old Metal Room, between the two Floors. Thousands of corpses, displayed in an almost marcabre looking scene, piled high onto three piles. Cruelty among Rats was nothing new, yet the way these Corpses had been abused, was even for the most Ferocious of clan, a horror to behold. All Eyes had been taken, even the sole good one of One-Eyed Heesh, who lay in the mid of his army, cold as ice, his fur already falling off his body. Yet most unsettling of all, was a strange stench in the air, sweet, yet at the same time abhorred.

The blood, was already thick and reeking of Death, just as the corpses did, all in different stages of losing their fur. This, had not been a battle, but a massacre, a trap to kill this army in one swift strike! Yet, even while inevitably some Clan will claim this attack for them, the implication of this terrible assault now lay obvious. Something is out there, something strong, powerful and deadly....

Something that hates eyes, as it seems!

[Enigmatik]

“Quiet-quiet. We now enter their territory.” Patch held a single finger up to his lips, before thrusting his torch forward cautiously. They had exited the lower tunnels of the Cutlak’s digging, and were now inside the cellars. These were a dark and terrifying realm, but such was his job. In one hand, the experienced hunter held onto his weapon- the shiny head of it made from a relic that had been sharpened down to a lethal edge, and then bound to a long spike. It could be jabbed into a many-eyes if it tried lunging at you, and it could be swung in order to kill a rat or get through a web. Behind him were nine other rats, all with their own torches and weapons.

They fanned out into a rough semi-circle and moved forwards. Their job was to ensure that around the tunnels there were no many-eyes, and if there were, to make sure they weren’t going to be there for long. Their little torches seemed tiny in the vastness of what the creators had made, but Patches could feel something was wrong. His fur stood up and he paused. “Something not right-right…”

“Boss-boss… Web.” Patches turned, his fur rising up even more. “Light it.” The rat nodded and lowered his torch, the flames licking around it. The silk itself began to curl up, before the dust and grime that had accumulated on the silk caught light, the web going up with a faint ‘woof’ noise. Looking up, Patches gasped. In the new light, the web was… Larger than he had ever seen before. And now, rising from inside, was a spider larger than he had ever seen before.

“RUN-RUN! WE BLOW THE TUNNELS! RUN!” It was… Huge. Black and brown legs waved out at them, followed by a pair of fangs. Not having to be told twice, the group turned tail and fled. Many eyes they could deal with, but giant many eyes? Paws thudded on the ground as they sprinted towards the tunnel. “BOSS-BOSS! IT’S G-uuurrk…” There was a horrific gurgling sound as one of the rats screamed for the last time, the rest of the group running faster and faster. They reached the tunnels and filtered in, panting heavily.

It only got worse from there. Around one of the dropped torches, glinting eyes could be seen. The tunnels would not be big enough for that giant one, but the smaller ones… “You!” Patches pointed his finger to one of the smaller rats. “Run to the boom-rats. The tunnel-tunnels must be destroyed!” As soon as this was said, he turned back to the group, the other rat already sprinting off.

Around him now was seven other rats. The tunnel was big enough for perhaps three rats, and maybe two many-eyes. “You, you, you. In front.” He shuffled around a bit, the rats he had chosen grinding teeth on teeth. They all had shields, which would help, but in their other hands they had only torches. It was a good job none of them had dropped any. “You, you, with me.” He pointed to two other rats, those with slightly longer weapons. “With me.”

Finally, there was one more rat. “You… Squeeze in.” He pointed to one of the sides and shuffled along a bit, the tother two doing similar. Luckily, the dropped torch seemed to have stopped them from attacking immediately, but it was sputtering out. When it died, there was the sound of skittering, and the rats braced themselves, all manner of flames and pointy bits sticking out.

“Hunter-hunters never run! Defend! Defend!

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Rolling along, dragged by two hamsters, the carriage bumped along the road. The Honorratble Jazin Hackslash was walking along, bored out of his mind. Strapped to his back was a weapon that would be capable of slicing the annoying rat next to him clean in half, vertically, but he knew that doing so would lead to the same blade being used to cut his own head off. He hated escort jobs.

“Remind-remind me. What did we-we get for this?” He banged the side of the carriage with his metal-covered fist, and raised his eyebrow at the administrator next to him.

“Well-well! It was… Ah… How you say-say it? Boom powder?” The other rat thought for a little bit, before nodding. “Yes-yes. Boom powder.”

Well, at least the journey wasn’t a complete waste of time.

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"Next order of business-business!" There was a clattering as a paw was slammed down onto the table, and the Arch-Magos' looked up. The one who had banged his fist cleared his throat briefly, before standing up and brushing off the gown of leadership that he wore."Have-have you all heard of the death-death of Hesh?"

Their was a brief moment as the magos' murmurer and nodded. "And have you heard of the giant many-many eyes?"

Again, another series of murmurs and nods.

"The one who killed Hesh-Hesh hates eyes."

More murmurs and nods.

"Gentlerats. There is an obvious solution."

"These two enemies can work against each other."

[Bright_Ops]

The old metal room between floors.

Torch light flickered over the macabre scene of mutilated bodies piled up and left to rot, the light creating shadows that danced with a sadistic glee among the corpses. Several members of the expedition shivered in their fur at the sight of such brutality; One or two had quietly thrown up the contents of their stomachs, but no one felt inclined to speak of such things aloud because there was no shame in being shaken by something this... sick and twisted. The group was a mixture of Rats and Smalls of different colors and ages, through it was clear that the older ones seemed to be handling the gruesome sight better then their younger counterparts.

The team of Warrior-Monks that had come as escorts and protectors of the investigation's steel discipline was tested and proven, but the experienced eye could tell that they were on alert with paws tightened around weapons that were at the ready. At the moment they were dealing with an unknown enemy of great skill and monstrous intent who had slaughtered an entire Clan-Pack of warmongers in the thousands, mutilated their corpses and then transported them to leave on display as a message to others... this was not a situation that they were comfortable with letting continue. As one of the tenants of their order wisely stated 'If you know yourself and your enemy, you need not fear the outcome of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory you earn you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither yourself or the enemy, in every battle you will succumb.'

They did not know their enemy...

That needed to change.

"We start-start with this pile." Beef Noodle spoke aloud, through the cavernous darkness seemed to make his voice echo louder then he intended. A rat of graying fur, Beef Noodle had accepted his position on the Council happily but his knowledge as a healer was always of use to the Clan... and while it might have been unorthodox, it made him perfectly suited to discovering how someone had died. Right now, they needed answers to find out what had sealed the fate of the Warband of One-Eyed Heesh. "Take your time-time and take note of everything-everything!"

With grim resolve, the examination of the corpses began. Discovering how the Warband had been killed would answering a number of questions such as the methods used to slay them, the tools and means that would require and most important of all, the claw or fang required to make such a thing happen.

[ClocktowerEchos]

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The sun rose as the light gently filtered through the silk stocking curtains of the Lord Merchant's bed chambers, flooding the floor with a haze of rose pink and snow white light. A sole butler walked in and lifted the veils to let the pure sun into the room and thus the Lord Merchant's eyes. As the Lord Merchant and his wife rose from their sheets, a pair of maids wheeled in a cart with covered plates and bowls.

"Today's breakfast will be-be of splint-roasted baby fish and a sweet-sweet herb salad. Served with-with is grain toast or biscuit." as the butlerat announced the morning's meal, the maids lifted the silver covers off the plates on the cart, revealing beautifully cook minnows with glimmering herbs, freshly picked from the estate's own gardens, "Your tea for today is a Lipton Black scented with orange, imported from far-far Rathay."

With delicate hands, the maids brought out small tables and placed it in the laps of Lord Merchant Lokier Swiftsilver and his wife and placed their dishes on the finely carved wooden tables. A goblet of fine spirits had been placed on each of the night tables besides the lord and lady, Lokier preferred a hearty, stout ale with his meals while his wife enjoyed a sweet red wine, most often made of fruit imported from Spartsia. Both the Lord and the Lady offer their first bites to the maids to make sure they were not poisoned before lifting their own forks and knives and eating with small, dignified bites.

"In the morning, there will be a council meeting for Lord Swiftsilver regarding expiditions to Rathay. Lady Skyjewel and Lady Redsoul will also be arriving with their children for the scheduled tea party with Lady Swiftsilver." The butlerat listed off the day's activities as the maids cleaned up the remains of the Swiftsilver's breakfast and brought out various fancy garmets for the two to wear. "Midday, Lord Swiftsilver has been requested to meet with Commander Grismaine Tailbiter of the House Ritter Guard. That is all that is planned for today milords."

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The beat of crudely fashioned drums filled the air, in a marching beat. A song emerged from the mouth of every soldier in the caravan, as they used toy cars lashed together to wheel around goods. Each rat was dressed in the standard uniform, a Rattio Segmenta, a form of armor made out of sporting goods equipment, and carried a heavy-looking shield painted with the logo of the empire.

Further, a small shortsword sat in a sheath, one of the fancier weapons available to them. Crudely fashioned Raliums, throwing spears, dangled at their hips. Atop a ferret, in the middle of the caravan, sat the caravan master, clearly an Raptio, an officer within the Legions of Spartsion. They were on their way to the docks of a nearby settlement, to charter a vessel to take them to Origilio.

Surrounded by sea, the only way in to Origlio proper was through its docks, ferried upon by ships to the main island. It was no surprise of course that dozens of coastal villages and docks ahd sprung up and that the most important of these had become major trade hubs in their own rights.

As the Spartsion caravan reached such a hub, a group of pikerats in finely wrought armor carrying long, decoarted lances walked up to them and asked for their names and purpose, standard formality for traders. Their considerably more ornate and standardized equipment compared to some of their comrades marked them out as a Household Retinue of one of the Merchant Clans of Origlio who were as used to fighting each other as they were with bandits or dealing with paper work, "Welcome to the Most Serene Ratpublic of Origlio, please state your name, purpose and origins by decree of the Merchant Lord Lokier Swiftsilver."

The drums stopped as the caravan halted, the caravan master slowly riding up. He spoke out, clearly, "We are a caravan from the Spartsion Empire, bringing wines and grapes by the request of the Merchant Clans. I am Raptio Decisis, of Legion Gardania. Our passage is already paid for. I understand that we may charter any of the ships in dock to take us to the capital?"

"Should figured it was Spartisians by the drums and flags," the pikerat muttered under his breath with a hint of awe, "Alright! Let them through! Bookie, did you get all of that?" A Small confidently slammed his log shut and gave a thumbs up who in turn nodded to a guard manning a bolt-thrower tower.

"If you would, there is a Ironback waiting for your caravan at Dock 4 to take you to the mainland. Have a good day sir and fair fortunes." the pikerat gave a casual salute before marching off with the rest of his patrol.

The rat on the ferret nodded, and once the salute was given, yelled out to his caravan, "Classus, bear rites!" and with that, each rat stood up onto their backlegs, placing their free, non-shielded hand over their heart with their fists closed. Then, they brought it out, holding it at an angle in front of them. After that was done, they dropped back to all-fours and moved on.

They marched without drums as they entered the settlement, to avoid scaring the locals, but they displayed Legio III banners proudly as they began singing their marching song again. They made their way to Dock 4, bypassing throngs of locals. Once in sight, the marching song was ordered ceased while the Raptio searched for the Ironback.

Once found, he asked, "Are you our chartered vessel for the ride to the mainland?"

"Aye sir, me and old Balgrund were commissioned to ferry ye by Prince Groval." the rat gazed at the banners of the foreigners, "And speak of the Creators, there he is now."

"Mister Decisis! Mister Decisis!" a rather jolly if not portly rat dashed his way downs the docks, covered in expensive fabrics and jewelry in an effort to flaunt as much wealth as he could to anyone who happened to look his way, "Ahh I have been waiting for you-you for long time! I worry you would be lost-lost on trail!."

Clambering on to the the Ironback, Prince Groval whistled to a gaggle of dock workers who were behind him to help load the caravan's goods on to the Ironback's howda and the raft if towed behind, all while invite Raptio Decisis to sit next to him, "My friend! your journey must be long-long! Here, some brew for your throat!." Unveiling an ornate flask from somewhere beneth his flowing robes, Groval offered it to the caravan master, "Its a rich, fruity ale, quite the local favorite and one of my kinsmen owns a brewery so I get some of the good stuff hehe."

The caravan master gratefully accepted the drink, taking a swig with thanks as he recounted his story, telling of a tale of a road particularly infested with skulkers. He made sure to bolster his ego by reminding the prince that the skulkers were no match for a man of the Gardanian Legion. Then, he embellished his story with a second reminder that no matter the dangers, the men of the Legions could be trusted to complete their task.

"... Perhaps some day, once I have completed my tour of duty in Legion Gardania, I could come as an advisor for your military affairs. Make your household guard feared throughout the land, just like a legionary of Spartsion," he finished as he handed back the flask.

"Oh that would be wonderful! Such a brave-brave rat like you could do well in Origlio! Exprienced soldiers and commanders are always in high-high demands by the Merchant Clans for their own retinues. But if you would, come to me first-first." Groval gave a heartly chuckle as he called down at the Ironback and its rider, "How much longer until we arrive?"

"Thou needs not worry thineself milord." the Ironback spoke slowly but eloquantly as if to make every syllable count, "Shan't be long fore we reach the shores of home."

Chuckling once more, the Prince went back to reclining on the chair, discretly measuring Raptio to see if he would really be worthy of the praise he just gave, "Good friend, how is your cargo? I hope that it made it through in one piece with all the skulkers and stinkers and what have you."

Decisis was by all means a worthy rat for his position -- the legions were an entirely different culture from the statehouses. Only the upper echelons of the ranks were promoted based on social standing. In the lower ranks, like a Raptio, skill was everything. Decisis responded leisurely, saying, "It all made it through. Not a single stinking mouth or grubby paw touched the goods. We pride ourselves on our ability to defend our cargo," he paused, before saying, "after all, my men are legionaries of Gardania. The best defenders this mall has to offer."

"Ahh good-good!" Groval was noticbly more chipper as the Ironback arrived in Origlio. The city unveiled itself as a towering complex of platorms, elevators and levels looking less like a kingdom and more like a massive tower that reached into the ceiling as huge gears crancked and ticked, filling the air with a constant undertone of machinery and cog work. Gold was abundent as was fine artwork, clear signs of patronage by the Merchant Clans. No where else in the mall could a rat ever find something like this, something like Origlio, the City of Clockwork.

"Ohh! Careful now, don't-don't drop that m'boy!" Groval scolded a laborer as he off loaded the goods, "Now, my Decisis! Your meats should be waiting for you, just let me call them over. Fish, Small, I even pulled a string to get you some Worm meat! Very expensive but highly prized here! Take it as a token of friendship yes-yes!"

Of course, the worm meat wasn't as much as just a token, but a seed of a favor that Groval hoped to cultivate to exploit at a later date. External connection in Origlio were sometimes just as important as internal ones.

Decisus nodded once again, allowing his men to get onto the dock. He then said, "We appreciate the gesture greatly, Prince. I'm sure it will be looked upon favorably by the Caesar. Now, my men are weary from the march and the combat to defend the caravan, mayhaps there is lodging we may quarter for the night before we depart?"

"Oh of course, of course! I have some spare quarters in my villa for your personal use, your men can stay at an inn I recently acquired. Very-very good inn, clean and warm and plenty of open rooms! Food and wine is on me friend-friend! Just don't eat too much heh."

[Bright_Ops]

The Metal Room Between the Floors

Beef Noodle frowned as his examination of the fourth corpse came to an end. He hadn't taken the the next stage of examination (dissection to examine the internal organs) just yet because the mystery of the external vexed him greatly at the moment. Their bodies were cold and their fur was falling off, suggesting that they had been dead for some time before they were discovered... or at least before their team had managed to arrive to examine them. This made sense when one considered that the Warband had been located down in the Cellar and the distance that would be required to not only move them, but also how long it might have taken for scouts to uncover the bodies.

What wasn't expected was the complete lack of combat wounds. Signs of resistance were nowhere to be found... or at least none of the bodies on the outer layer of the piles seemed to show any. Considering that all the bodies appeared to be decaying at around the same rate... whatever had killed them had done so at around the same time... couple of minutes at the shortest, maybe ten minutes at the latest from the first death to the last if he was feeling generous, but only the eyes were missing and those had clearly been taken after death.

Whatever had killed them had killed thousands of rats quickly and silently without them ever knowing that they were in danger without leaving a mark on them related to their deaths. Of course, there were ways to kill a rat that didn't leave a mark on their body... but on such a large scale to so many at once?

Beef took a moment to crack his neck before he reached for his scalpel (a piece of metal that had been fashioned from a creator razor that had been re-purposed). If they were going to uncover the mystery of what happened here, they were going to have to examine organs. However, before his scalpel could meet flesh, a great deal of panicked and pained squeaking filled the air around one of the other examiners.

Abandoning the operation before it even had a chance to begin, Beef Noddle darted over to see what was going on, alongside many of the others within hearing range and several of the warrior-monks, weapons raised as they tried to spot where the threat came from. It didn't take long to find the source of the distress; One of the small healers seemed to have followed the same line of reasoning as himself and had started an autopsy on one of the bodies... only to have a strange liquid burst out of the corpse and spray one of her paws and the leg that it was connected to... and started to eat away at her flesh with much pain and bloodshed. Clearly some sort of acid hidden in the corpse?

Without delay Beef looked at the wounded limb to access the extent of the damage. It was bad. Reaching forth to sharply pin the flailing limb down against the floor, he brought his scalpel to bare and with his winters of training and personal experience, surgically removed the acid eaten limb as quickly and painless as he could under current conditions. While the poor Small was screaming her head off at the pain, Beef quickly shouted "Torch-Torch! Now-Now!"

A torch was quickly pawed to him, and he made use of the flame to cauterize the bloodied stump that had been left behind after the rest of the tormented limb had been removed. There was another round of high pitch, pained squeals from his patient, but once the flame was taken away and the threat of bleeding out or having the unknown acid spread to the rest of her body was dealt with she seemed to calm as she was left with the lingering pain rather then the active pains before.

As one of the other healers with the foresight to bring a pain fighter with them in their pouch stepped up to help the small, Beef stepped away in order to look at the body she had opened up with a frown and concern. Already the pocket of acid that had been exposed was eating away at the body, destroying vital information that they required to uncover what was actually happening here...

Turning to one of the Warrior-Monks with a longer, sharpened weapon (a steak knife), he solemnly requested "Cut-Cut one of those bodies open-open. Need to see-see..."

The Warrior-Monk looked grim as he nodded his head, stepping forward and readying his weapon... through he seemed to understand what Beef Noodle was worried about, since he took his stance some distance from the random body he had approached and took advantage of the reach his weapon gave him to make his cuts. It was a wise precaution; The new body seemed to have two pockets of the same (or at least similar) acid hidden under the skin, eating away at the innards. Just as there were pockets of acid hidden in the next body, and the three after that. They even checked bodies from different piles only to discover more strange pockets of acid inside of the bodies, seemingly content to eat away at their prisons at a leisurely pace until something exposed them to the outside world.

The closest that Beef had ever seen to something like this were injuries caused by Eight Legged bites. The eight legged beasts occasionally wondered into their lands in search of lairs with bountiful food and the venom in their bites was nasty; Acid that eat away at their victims even as it prevented them from struggling. But there were no bite marks... no signs of how the acid had gotten into the bodies in the first place.

This was deeply concerning, but one thing was made clear.

They were not going to be uncovering what had happened to One Eye's Warband. The danger to the examiners was simply too great to try.

With a sharp whistle, the party was gathered around in order to give the order to pack up and start heading back home with what intelligence that they had gathered. Beef Noodle himself took to carrying the injured small healer on his back, the pain fighter thankfully taking effect and letting the poor dear have the mercy of sleep to not feel her wounds. He was going to have to give a report for what they had found... copies would no doubt need to be sent to friendly clan-packs, as well as those clan-packs that wouldn't kill a Ook Stor messenger on sight.

Whatever had done this was still out there and needed to be forced out of the shadows it was lurking on before it claimed another clan-pack.

[Andreyich]

In the camp of the Moulden Horde

So sat-sat cross-legged the great Timurrat Khan. He smoked a pipe with a bit of the finest paint scraped off of the wall, ready to speak his wisdom.

"Harken, my sons."

He spake.

"Forty of you are now of age, and at a unique time you-you have matured. Gather round me for much is to be done."

So the young-young rats clustered around his greatness, awaiting his words.

"I underwent my own-own trial, I killed the rat who killed my father, and now-now is the anniversary of then-then."

After a squeak-squeak of memory and the pain of loss, the great Khan continued.

"Now, it is your turn. Taketh some of this paint, put it in the fire and inhale. Then, I want you to go on a quest to find your mount. Find the strength that I and those before me found. Find yourself a beast-beast and only then may you come back. Take some of these blue and white nuts with you, eat-eat if you feel hungry or the connection with the holy flames is waning."

So, they did. They breathed, and breathed. Much loud giggling followed, and then they sit off dancing like ballerinas with happy squeaks as interjections. Some had the sense of mind to bring a bow or food to tame an animal they sought, while others would have to rely on their wit-wits. Some banded together in their wisdom for the flames wanted them to come together to tame. Others did not, and the flame-flames saw they had a higher purpose, so they never returned.

The Khan-Khan sat, and smoke his pipe some more before laying with his wives. He didn't have issues with possibly having to wait-wait for long. He knew the flame-flame was on his side, and the rats would come back to the second layer's wastes, with or without their task done.