The Erstwhile Druid (Tralheim)

Chance Meeting (1)

Luke did not want to be slain by a rat. Neither did he want to be clothed in the tatty rags he’d entered the world in. A faded blue tunic sagged off his shoulders, a size too large. Gray shorts hugged his thighs, a good foot from covering his knees.

“Wish I could've started with some better duds,” Luke said, focused on the monsters before him. He brushed away a few stray strands, black hair hanging over his eyes.

Rats were deadly, full of pestilence and spunk. Brown disease-ridden bristles, saggy skin, and those two front teeth... Luke had seen fellow beginners rent to pieces, flesh torn. In front of him were three of those rats, red eyes glowing in the darkness, like the gatekeepers of hell itself had come for him. They squeaked amongst themselves, little pink feet padding, moving their tiny bodies forward.

He'd never been eaten by a rat before. He shuddered. It was an experience he was intent on avoiding.

The stench of rotten foods and human waste created the worst of smells. Luke scrunched his nose, a futile attempt at limiting the flow of pure stink rocking his sensory system. It stinks in here. The narrow corridors of the brown-stained sewer amplified the putrid smell, sealing it within. There were no vents. No escape. There was only... methane. And rats. Lots and lots of rats.

Luke held out his rusty sword, waving the somewhat dangerous edge in front and preventing their approach. The rats bided their time, tails twitching. He gave an air of false confidence, insides churning with nervous energy.

Defeat ten rats and you shall have your reward, the guardsman had said. Luke had accepted without complaint: currency made things move here, just like in the real world. Ten platinum could buy him a suit of chainmail, or a new set of weapons. Something better than the dinky sword in his hands. Risk and reward. That's how Tralheim worked.

But no one told me about this stench. Luke narrowed his eyes and considered his next move. Plus, these rats reach my knees. Teenage Mutant Ninja Rats. Below, his feet trudged through muck, each step squishing, jelly-like substance sticking to his boots.

The standoff had already lasted five minutes; it was time to draw. Any longer and Luke would've been able to brew a cup of joe. Maybe add in a couple lemon slices.

Luke rocketed forward, sword raised high. He slashed, aiming for the middle rat. The rodent tried to run, but its stubby toes couldn't get it far. With a whine, it tumbled, falling flats on its face.

The sword whooshed downwards like an executioner's axe. Cleaved in two, the rat disappeared in a shower of pixels.

But Luke did not have time to celebrate his work.

The remaining rats snarled and pounced. One latched onto his arm, teeth sinking into Luke's leather bracers.

Yelping in pain, Luke flapped his arms, trying to dislodge the feral monster. Soon, the other rat latched on to his other arm.

The rats clung for dear life, refusing to abandon ship.

Stupid rats —

He slammed his left arm against the wall. Bones cracked. The rat's hold loosened. It fell to the ground twitching, red eyes dimming. One down.

With his now free hand, Luke plucked the other rat off, chucking it into the sewage. The rat plunked into the contaminated water with a yelp. That’s what you get when you mess with me, dirty rat.

The rat paddled, trying to keep its head afloat. Then, it was gone, taken by a row of teeth. Luke blinked. And blinked again. One second it was there, the next second it wasn’t.