A look of insane triumph appeared in her small eyes like the glass beads of the rat-orc Elysia was pitting against, and she opened her jaws in a bellow so powerful Elysia thought she would go deaf. The creature reached out a paw toward the catgirl, who slashed at it with her sword, slamming the razor-sharp blade into her knuckles. The orc-rat's eyes widened at the pain she felt and, whimpering like a child, she brought her knuckles to her mouth to lick her wound. Elysia took advantage of her distraction and half rose as she thrust into him, driving the tip of her sword into the rat-orc's crotch.
The creature let out a high-pitched screech and clawed at its nether parts. Elysia plunged her sword into the monster's gaping jaws, through her palate to her tiny warped brain; at that moment, the light was extinguished from her eyes and the rat-orc died instantly. Elysia experienced a momentary sense of triumph, but it faded almost immediately as she realized that her corpse was going to fall on top of her.
She leapt to the side, and the monstrous body crashed to the ground like a felled tree. As she paused for a moment to catch her breath, Elysia looked around her.
At least the rat-orcs were falling, for the mercenaries were on them like rats on a fox terrier, but victory had come at a dire price. There were many human corpses littering the ground for every rat-orc that had died. It seemed that only she and Frey had been able to defeat one of those beasts in single combat.
However, it seemed that the battle had turned in their favor, however brief and momentary that feeling might be. The ratfolk bosses, including the terrifyingly fat monster that had ordered the rat-orcs to attack, were retreating to the main street to regroup.
More and more people were gathering in the streets to fight the invaders, and in the distance, Elysia could hear the sound of trumpets and drums indicating that the small army surrounding the noble quarter had begun to advance towards the lower area of the city. city. She thought she would like to know how the battle was going, but in the furious whirlwind of conflict it was hard to tell. They had won a victory in that place; however, it was very possible that the ratfolks were succeeding in all other areas of the city.
"Maybe it's a good idea to go outside now to escape." Elysia thought.
Then she saw Frey, who was marching through the crowd towards her. A terrible smile showed her happiness, and the insane passion of battle filled her eyes.
"You've put up a good fight, cat girl." she said she.
Elysia nodded, and then she remembered how it had all started. Reaching inside her jerkin, she pulled out the piece of parchment and slowly unrolled it to read the message it contained.
♦ ♦ ♦
The Black Magician Dhalthar watched as the last of the soldiers passed through the portal, then stepped through it himself. He felt a sense of relief as the magical portal closed automatically behind him. Even for a great spellcaster like Dhalthar, holding it open while hundreds of warriors poured through it had been a tremendous effort.
Then he could relax and watch the plan unfold before his eyes. His tail flicked in anticipation of triumph. Victory was within his grasp! He would soon hold the human rulers hostage, and demand that they order their troops to surrender, on pain of the most horrible of deaths. If they refused, which Dhalthar really expected them to do, he would set an example with a few of them until the rest agreed. He was itching for some action. At that moment, a twitch of his nose told her something was wrong, and he squinted around the room to confirm his suspicions.
Yes, it was true; even his manastone-dulled senses could sense that this room was not the right size or smelled like a large corridor. He smelled like a dunghill. Dhalthar poked his head around the door and saw a corridor where warriors turned in confusion. This was not the corridor they had been told they would find. He saw the group leader studying the map with a perplexed expression, and the terrible truth became clear to Dhalthar: that incompetent jester Chang had placed the crystal in the wrong place!
Dhalthar bared his teeth in a fierce grin. Luckily for the master ninja of the Furtim Clan, he was nowhere to be seen, but Dhalthar swore to himself that when he found him, he would tear the flesh from his bones with the darkest magic he could wield.
Manastone-fueled euphoria and anger battled in Dhalthar's mind as he stalked into the hall to seek his goal.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia looked at the scroll. It was hard to be sure in the dim light, but the writing looked a little different, smaller, neater, more precise. Although that didn't matter now, as Elysia read the contents of the note in horror.
Humans! The traitorous Black Magician Dhalthar will invade the palace tonight and capture the female breeder Emilia and all her pack leaders! You must stop him or your city will fall.
That Dhalthar is also a powerful sorcerer and he will use his power to stop you. He must die-die or no human in the city will be safe.
Elysia looked down at Frey and handed over the note.
"And good?"
"Well what, cat girl?"
"Shall we go to the palace to rescue the noble rulers from the ratfolk menace?"
"They are the rulers of the humans, not mine!"
"I think this Black Magician is the one we found in the house of Fritz Helstaff, the escaped ratman. I think he might be behind the invasion."
"In that case, killing him would be a great feat... and dying trying would be a great ending!" Frey declared in a thunderous voice.
"Then, there's only one problem: we're going to have to fight our way through the city to get there!"
"And what's wrong with that?"
"Who knows how many wererats stand in our way?"
Elysia racked her brains to find a way out of this dilemma. It would take an army to fight its way through the city. When commenting this to her partner, Elysia saw in Frey's eyes what she wanted to do.
In a flash worthy of a hero's inspiration, Frey leaped onto a cart of corpses and used his powerful voice to speak to the crowd.
♦ ♦ ♦
Tell-Tongue cowered in Izak Grottle's shadow, and the huge Beastmaster stared at him hungrily. He still seemed to be in shock from seeing his prized rat-orcs defeated.
"I thought you said that the armored warrior and the accompanying female had received the message and were on their way to… intercede with the Black Magician Dhalthar."
"The message has been delivered, master of all beasts! I cannot be held responsible for what happened next. Maybe they got caught up in the fighting."
"Perhaps! Perhaps! But all this has left us defenseless! We must find another ratfolk force soon or return to the safety of the sewers."
"Yes, yes, oh, most perceptive of planners!"
"Have you seen Heskit One-Eyed or Caldovil?"
"Not since we attacked, oh greatest of devourers!"
"Pity. Well, let's get on our way!"
"Immediately."
♦ ♦ ♦
Filled with anger fueled by magical energy, Dhalthar stalked through the palace corridors. The damned building was huge and as intricate as any of the mazes he ran his human pets through. His carefully conceived plan had been blown to pieces by Chang's incompetence, for the plan relied on speed, surprise, and the fury of the ratfolks in order to overcome human defenses.
Then his elite warriors were reduced to running through the corridors and skirmishing with the sentinels. It was only a matter of time before the humans realized what was happening; they would concentrate their forces and begin to defend themselves. But even under these circumstances Dhalthar hoped for a victory. His warriors were many and fearless, though something could always happen to tip the odds against them. Dhalthar would have much preferred a sudden and overwhelming victory, without that interval of anger and doubt.
♦ ♦ ♦
One-Eyed Heskit squealed with excitement as he watched, once again, flamethrowers sweep through a building.
These massive human structures burned well, their wooden beams igniting easily and the soft stone and bricks of which they were made melting in the fierce heat of the flames.
Heskit had thought it a good political move to part ways with the others when his team of sniper marksmen unintentionally killed one of Izak Grottle's rat-orcs. He knew it had been an accident, but the members of the Shaper Clan were sick with suspicion. Heskit didn't want Izak Grottle to stab him, accidentally, in the back, so he led his soldiers away from the main battle to continue spreading destruction.
And how glad he was that he did! There was something captivating about watching the machines of destruction in full swing, feeling your face warmed by the heat of the flames produced by his warriors, and watching those gigantic structures crumble.
Heskit looked up for a long time, contemplating the collapse of the apartment building. But at the last moment he realized that the tons of burning bricks and wood were crashing down right on top of him, and then it was too late for him to escape.