A small rat scurried around the central bank of Yourz. The small beast looked round the walled building. Her small ears perking up at the voices of the two legs.
"Only five guys made it back," whispered one. "The old men don't know if they'll survive the wounds."
"Only five?" whispered back the other. "Fuck they got annihilated. I thought the cavalry and knight were on standby to help."
"I heard from a guy in the relief unit got to talk with the fifth man," whispered a third voice. "The knights and the cavalry that rode to help all died."
"Fifth man?" asked the second voice.
"The fifth survivor was the last guy to walk away from the fight," said the third man.
"I heard he didn't get away," said the first solder. "They pulled him out of the ashes after Brand torched the street."
"Lucky bastard," whispered the third man.
"Or fucking cursed," said the first man. "The old men where saying it might be best to just shoot him and put him out of his misery."
"If he's so torn up how'd he say anything to anyone?" asked the second man.
"He wrote it out for the master of arms," answered the third man.
"I don't know about that," whispered the first man. "If he had hands I don't think the old men would be debating putting him down."
The rat scurried into the main building. Her red eye surveying all the rooms she entered and exited. The creature's whiskers twitched at the smell of cooked meat. The rat followed the smell to a second-floor room. Five beds with stained bed sheets were occupied by men who where more scared than some of the dead ones. The men groaned softly in their sleep. With no caretaker or guard the rat decided she had was free to explore the room.
The rat climbed up onto the first bed to a hideous site. His face was gone. Thin strips of charred muscle clung to bone smoothed by acid. The rest of his upper body and torso had been burned to slop. One arm was shredded meat and bone blackened by fire. The connected hand was missing three fingers. His opposite arm was a chemical burned stump. The man's legs were chewed off up to past his manhood.
"Can two leg talk like that master?" asked the rat allowed to the air.
"Bags not think so," squeaked the rat into the air.
"AHHHH!" shrieked a man from a nearby bed.
The rat looked at the source of the voice to see a man with bandages covering half his face looking at her with his one exposed eye.
"The rat talks!" shouted the cyclops. "Sergeant! The rats have come to finish us of!"
The sounds of boots came from the hallway. The one-eyed man continued screaming at the rat. Quickly the rat jumped from the bed. She dove under the wood bed and hugged the wall until she came to the windows curtains.
The door burst open and a group of three orange coats rushed in. All of them had at least three diamonds on their shoulders. The wounded man pointed at the rat.
"The rat spoke I heard it!" shrieked the man. "It serves the dead ones and has come to finish us off!"
The orange coats looked doubtful, but one raised a stubby musket.
The hair on the rat's tail stood on end and the voice of her master echoed in her head that that was an extremely dangerous gun.
"Kill it quick!" pleaded the cyclops.
The solder hesitated and bags managed to reach the ceiling. She found a shadow and saw the two legs were searching for her. The other two had pulled knives.
"I can't shoot this thing inside I might his someone," shouted the solder. "Now calm down you said it spoke?"
"The damn thing spoke human I heard it," said the cyclops. "It must have eaten one of our men's tung and learned to speak!"
The rat heard her master laugh in her mind at the thought. The rat wondered what a tongue tasted like. It looked like a giant worm so probably very good.
"They were there last night sergeant," sobbed the wounded man. "Rats the size of a wolf. I saw them I did. They stole guns and powder and dragged Nox screaming into an alley."
"Its okay son," said the man with the blunder bus. "we aren't going to let the rats get you in here."
"They're coming," sobbed the man. "They are coming."
The mans shouts woke some of the others who started to moan loudly. And began to panic at the other patients screaming. The older solder leaned his gun against the bed and pulled the cyclops head into his chest. He stroked his head and whispered to the man who started to weep softly.
A man familiar to the rat entered the room. He was an old man with grey hair. His look was grim. A knife was in his hand.
"What's going on?" demanded the Sergeant of Arms.
"A… Talking rat," said one of the healthy men. "Welcome back, how did the meeting go?"
The old man shook his head.
"No reinforcements," he said. "No healer is coming either."
The Sergeant of arms approached the fifth man.
"Tomorrow Lord brand will begin to incinerate the city," declared the Sergeant of Arms. "Boy I'm going to make the pain stop."
The elder solder raised the ruined mans head in his arms. He brought his knife to the back of the man's head just above the neck. With a practiced hand he drove the blade into the man's skull.
The rat heard her master in her mind and repeated his words for the room. "Sad, I hoped he might suffer fore a while longer. He would have made a reasonably sacrifice to the dead."
"Who's there," Ordered the Sergeant of Arms. "Identify yourself."
Bags continued to speak her master's words. "I am the one who will avenge Yourz and the surrounding towns. I am the father of monsters and you will all be lucky to die as easy as that man did. See you tonight."
"Find him or that talking rat," ordered the Sergeant of arms. "Get the men on patrol, stacking bodies, or sleeping. If they have idle hands, they will start to gossip."
The rat took her chance to slip away out of the building into a nearby sewer. Her master gave her another order. She needed to have another litter.