Stories of the Nezumi
In this section, there are various stories from Way of the Ratling, the First Edition of the Role Playing Game, originally published by AEG, July 2002.
It was written by Rich Wulf, Shawn Carman, Seth Mason, and Rick Raven.
I am providing these for archival purposes, not for profit or benefit.
It was written by Rich Wulf, Shawn Carman, Seth Mason, and Rick Raven.
I am providing these for archival purposes, not for profit or benefit.
Bones and Blood
Hikapi Longsnout moved through the underbrush like a shadow. Only a whisper of rustling leaves and the tiniest hint of a moving branch betrayed his presence. He passed within feet of a trio feeding goblins, although they never knew he was there. Hikapi turned up his nose at the decayed stench coming from their meal. There were some things that not even the Nezumi would eat.
It was uncommon for the Tattered Ear tribe to move into the dark-dark lands. Their normal territory included a migrating pattern through the Big Forest and into the lands of one of the small human tribes. The Lean Time had been difficult, though and the constant fighting among the human tribes had made it difficult for the chieftain, Stikak, to feed the tribe’s young. The final straw had come when the big-big snakes had started coming out of the forest.
Hikapi shuddered. He didn’t want to think about them.
But the Shadowlands were not foreign to the Tattered Ear by any means. There had often been scouting trips during the Lean Time to check on their tribe’s territories. Hikapi liked slinking about through the shadows, surrounded on all sides by danger. It had always made him feel like one of the dark-dark humans called “Scorpions”. He admired the human samurai tribe, and had in his youth hoped to learn from them at one of their big mounds.
The Nezumi scout stopped short in the brush, every muscle as motionless as stone. There was a new smell, one he did not recognize. It was the scent of another Ratling’s pheromones, but not from any of the tribes he knew. It was a strange, pungent scent that burned his nostrils with its fierce aroma and hint of bitter ashes. Hikapi crept forward cautiously, his insatiable curiosity spurring him on to find the source of this mysterious new smell. Topping a small rise, Hikapi looked down from his hidden perch to see a young Ratling with black fur moving slowly along the bank of a large, stagnant pond. The Nezumi seemed to be moving slowly, as if injured, and was paying little attention to its surroundings. A fatal mistake in the dark-dark lands. Before Hikapi could call to the Ratling, he saw the water near the edge of the pond rippling.
“Ugly-stink-water-woman,” the scout hissed under his breath. The bog hag moved swiftly and silently up the bank toward the injured Ratling. At the last minute, the creature noticed her approach and shrieked loudly. Backpedaling furiously, it tried to reach the Hikapi edge of the clearing and escape into the rocky surroundings. It was obvious the hag would reach the Ratling before it could escape. Hikapi gnashed his teeth in great frustration. He could not hope to survive an attack upon one of the powerful bog hags, but if he did not the black-furred Ratling would be torn apart by the hag's talons With his tail twitching with fear and anticipation, Hikapi tensed himself to dart from the bushes and strike the hideous creature from behind.
Suddenly, the black-furred Ratling stood upright and withdrew a jagged stone knife from within the tattered rags it wore. With a look of unabashed glee upon its face, the Nezumi issued a shrill, high pitched whistle and darted to the right on two very uninjured legs. The hag snarled in confusion, turning to follow the Ratling's path-
Which left her completely vulnerable to attack from the three young Ratlings who erupted from their hiding places among the rocks behind the hag. All three carried sharpened sticks with fire-blackened tips. Even as the hag turned back around to investigate this new sound, the three struck in unison. Two of the sticks glanced off the hag's filthy, wrinkled armor, but one took her low in the back of the leg and punched through. The hag shrieked in agony and lashed out with her claws, but the Ratlings had all darted well out of reach.
The four young Nezumi formed a ring around the hag, keeping her separated from the water. They constantly circled her, looking for an opening to attack. But Hikapi knew the dangerous cunning of the bog hag, and she carefully guarded herself from their attacks. Cackling darkly, the hag began chanting in low tones. Hikapi's whiskers twitched in disbelief. These strange Nezumi were fighting the hag instead of running. And now she was calling for the dark-hurt-pain to strike them down and still they stayed.
A shout from his left nearly caused Hikapi to leap up and give away his hiding place. Another Ratling had emerged from concealment. Although very small, the new Nezumi had eyes that shone bright-bright with anger and power. The Ratling chanted back at the hag. Hikapi recognized some things this new Ratling said as the words of a Conjurer. The new Nezumi was a Nameseeker, a powerful shaman. The hag's growing powers faded, and the look of amusement on her face disappeared.
Hikapi saw fear in the ugly-stink-water-woman's eyes. The others saw it as well, and the four young Ratlings began a relentless assault, darting in from two directions at once and striking the hag's armor again and again. She tore at their flesh, but they would not yield. Within moments, they were covered in gore, both their own and the hag's. Finally, the young Ratlings pulled back into their circle around the bloodied, panting hag.
"Skintaker." The voice came from the edge of the clearing. Yet another new Ratling had appeared on the scene while Hikapi had focused on the combat. This Nezumi was older, with white fur and a stocky build. A long goatee trailed from his chin and a crude leather eye-patch covered his right eye. He wore a hodge-podge of the hard-skin that human warriors wore and carried a long stick with a sharp blade on the end, what the Crab humans called an O-no. "I Mat'tck, warlord of Crippled Bone tribe. We take-take this land for tribe. You send-send message to other dark things. Crippled Bone kill-kill any who come-come here."
The hag panted in crude laughter. A foul mix of Ratling and human speech slurred from her bloodied snout. "No take I message for you, animal!”
The grizzled Ratling snorted in disgust. "No take message, Skintaker. You are message. We mark-mark territory with your head."
The hag shrieked in outrage and lunged across the clearing, knocking one of the other Ratlings sprawling in her haste. Mat'tck moved forward to meet her at a careful, measured pace. Meeting her halfway through her mindless charge, the warrior lashed out with the staff of his weapon and struck the hag directly above the eye, snapping her head back with considerable force and flooding her vision with foul, viscous blood. Lashing out blindly in fear and rage, the hag was caught unaware by the Ratling's second staff strike, which took her directly in the throat and dropped her to the ground gasping and hacking.
Mat'tck regarded the hag on the ground before him with evident disdain. "Weak-soft-dark thing. All die to Crippled Bone." A single, brutal strike with the "o-no" ended the hag's misery. Her head rolled across the clearing and came to rest against the rocks. One of the other, younger Ratlings casually speared the head with a long. sharpened stick and held it aloft in victory.
Hikapi crouched stunned within the bushes. These new Ratlings were dangerous warriors with no fear of the dark things. He felt eyes upon him and turned to find the Nameseeker staring across the clearing directly at him. Hikapi knew that his scent could not be detected at this range and that the shaman could not see him, yet he knew he was there.
Fear filled the young scout. He quickly darted away from the clearing and crashed through the bushes with little thought of stealth. Only escape mattered. The tribe must be warned about these new Ratlings in their territory.
Three Nezumi sat within the dark confines of a rotted tree stump. The remnant of the gargantuan plant was rich in Name according to Tch'orr'tkk, the Tattered Ear tribes oldest and most venerated Rememberer. The old one sat within the dark chamber with Stikak, the tribe's chieftain, and Tikuku, the tribe's foremost shaman. They had all been present when the scout Hikapi had told his story. Many in the tribe were greatly agitated, and Stikak had called for the elders to meet and try to discover more.
Tch'orr'tkk's chattering had faded, and the old Ratling had ceased his rocking. Stikak knew from experience that this meant the Rememberer had summoned a memory from their race's history. He leaned forward, nose twitching in anticipation of the tale.
"In the Before Time, some Ratlings rule over others. Our great empire have leaders, those who aid the Chief-of-chiefs and make-make decisions for the One Tribe. After the Terrible Day happen, those leaders who survive no want-want leave the place of Before Time. They no wander like other Nezumi. They make-make old place theirs again, and go-go south where Heaven fell. Many-many days they travel, much farther than now tribes go toward Heaven's Grave. No one see lost Ratlings for many, many years."
"Then, in time of Kipptch, chieftain of Tattered Ear, three Ratlings come from far-far south of dark lands. Tell Kipptch that leaders need more Ratlings to make new Tribe of One. Tell Kipptch that he must bring Tattered Ear to Heaven's Grave to serve leaders Kipptch think funny, tell Ratlings to leave. They get-get mad, fight with Tattered Ear warriors. Ratlings driven off but many Tattered Ear hurt bad by fight. Kipptch take tribe north, past big rock cliff and into land of humans. There, Tattered Ear tribe live for many many years without trouble."
Tch'orr'tkk opened his eyes and stared at Stikak. "Crippled Bone tribe come north now, far from Heaven's Gate. They want-want land for hunting. Crippled Bone very angry with other Ratlings, think-think they abandon them. They ready to fight over small morsel when much food found somewhere else."
Stikak's whiskers shivered with dread. He did not want the Tattered Ear to fight other Ratlings. Too many other things in the dark lands wanted to kill the Nezumi for the Nezumi to fight among themselves. "No. No fight Crippled Bone. Tattered Ear go back to big-big forest. Fight bad snakes. Better than fight other Nezumi."
Tikuku and Tch'orr'tkk nodded in agreement with Stikak's practical wisdom. "Tell-tell others get ready. Go soon."
Te'tik'kir watched from a hill overlooking the valley as the Tattered Ear tribe departed north toward the edge of the dark-dark lands. He gnashed his teeth in frustration at their departure. He had hoped the Crippled Bone could crush them, eliminating the annoying upstart Stikak and his followers. The other Ratling tribes looked to Stikak and the Tattered Ear during those rare times when the tribes made decisions that affected the whole race. Though definitely not the leaders of the race, Stikak and his pack were respected.
Te'tik'kir wanted to hurt them, just to make the others see what fools they all were. They had abandoned their true chieftains long, long ago, leaving them to deal with the horrible things that destroyed the Nezumi's great empire near Heaven's Grave. They had fought the dark things ever since, until the great shaman of the dark lands had met and made the land come alive to attack the Crippled Bone. Not even his magic or Mat'tck's battle rage could stop the walking dark land.
Now the Crippled Bone would do here what they could not in the deep dark lands: they would bring back the Tribe of One. All tribes would join together, and the Crippled Bone would rule them all. Then the dark things and the pink walkers would all learn that the Crippled Bone tribe could not be stopped.
Te'tik'kir's tail thrashed from side to side as he thought about it.
It was uncommon for the Tattered Ear tribe to move into the dark-dark lands. Their normal territory included a migrating pattern through the Big Forest and into the lands of one of the small human tribes. The Lean Time had been difficult, though and the constant fighting among the human tribes had made it difficult for the chieftain, Stikak, to feed the tribe’s young. The final straw had come when the big-big snakes had started coming out of the forest.
Hikapi shuddered. He didn’t want to think about them.
But the Shadowlands were not foreign to the Tattered Ear by any means. There had often been scouting trips during the Lean Time to check on their tribe’s territories. Hikapi liked slinking about through the shadows, surrounded on all sides by danger. It had always made him feel like one of the dark-dark humans called “Scorpions”. He admired the human samurai tribe, and had in his youth hoped to learn from them at one of their big mounds.
The Nezumi scout stopped short in the brush, every muscle as motionless as stone. There was a new smell, one he did not recognize. It was the scent of another Ratling’s pheromones, but not from any of the tribes he knew. It was a strange, pungent scent that burned his nostrils with its fierce aroma and hint of bitter ashes. Hikapi crept forward cautiously, his insatiable curiosity spurring him on to find the source of this mysterious new smell. Topping a small rise, Hikapi looked down from his hidden perch to see a young Ratling with black fur moving slowly along the bank of a large, stagnant pond. The Nezumi seemed to be moving slowly, as if injured, and was paying little attention to its surroundings. A fatal mistake in the dark-dark lands. Before Hikapi could call to the Ratling, he saw the water near the edge of the pond rippling.
“Ugly-stink-water-woman,” the scout hissed under his breath. The bog hag moved swiftly and silently up the bank toward the injured Ratling. At the last minute, the creature noticed her approach and shrieked loudly. Backpedaling furiously, it tried to reach the Hikapi edge of the clearing and escape into the rocky surroundings. It was obvious the hag would reach the Ratling before it could escape. Hikapi gnashed his teeth in great frustration. He could not hope to survive an attack upon one of the powerful bog hags, but if he did not the black-furred Ratling would be torn apart by the hag's talons With his tail twitching with fear and anticipation, Hikapi tensed himself to dart from the bushes and strike the hideous creature from behind.
Suddenly, the black-furred Ratling stood upright and withdrew a jagged stone knife from within the tattered rags it wore. With a look of unabashed glee upon its face, the Nezumi issued a shrill, high pitched whistle and darted to the right on two very uninjured legs. The hag snarled in confusion, turning to follow the Ratling's path-
Which left her completely vulnerable to attack from the three young Ratlings who erupted from their hiding places among the rocks behind the hag. All three carried sharpened sticks with fire-blackened tips. Even as the hag turned back around to investigate this new sound, the three struck in unison. Two of the sticks glanced off the hag's filthy, wrinkled armor, but one took her low in the back of the leg and punched through. The hag shrieked in agony and lashed out with her claws, but the Ratlings had all darted well out of reach.
The four young Nezumi formed a ring around the hag, keeping her separated from the water. They constantly circled her, looking for an opening to attack. But Hikapi knew the dangerous cunning of the bog hag, and she carefully guarded herself from their attacks. Cackling darkly, the hag began chanting in low tones. Hikapi's whiskers twitched in disbelief. These strange Nezumi were fighting the hag instead of running. And now she was calling for the dark-hurt-pain to strike them down and still they stayed.
A shout from his left nearly caused Hikapi to leap up and give away his hiding place. Another Ratling had emerged from concealment. Although very small, the new Nezumi had eyes that shone bright-bright with anger and power. The Ratling chanted back at the hag. Hikapi recognized some things this new Ratling said as the words of a Conjurer. The new Nezumi was a Nameseeker, a powerful shaman. The hag's growing powers faded, and the look of amusement on her face disappeared.
Hikapi saw fear in the ugly-stink-water-woman's eyes. The others saw it as well, and the four young Ratlings began a relentless assault, darting in from two directions at once and striking the hag's armor again and again. She tore at their flesh, but they would not yield. Within moments, they were covered in gore, both their own and the hag's. Finally, the young Ratlings pulled back into their circle around the bloodied, panting hag.
"Skintaker." The voice came from the edge of the clearing. Yet another new Ratling had appeared on the scene while Hikapi had focused on the combat. This Nezumi was older, with white fur and a stocky build. A long goatee trailed from his chin and a crude leather eye-patch covered his right eye. He wore a hodge-podge of the hard-skin that human warriors wore and carried a long stick with a sharp blade on the end, what the Crab humans called an O-no. "I Mat'tck, warlord of Crippled Bone tribe. We take-take this land for tribe. You send-send message to other dark things. Crippled Bone kill-kill any who come-come here."
The hag panted in crude laughter. A foul mix of Ratling and human speech slurred from her bloodied snout. "No take I message for you, animal!”
The grizzled Ratling snorted in disgust. "No take message, Skintaker. You are message. We mark-mark territory with your head."
The hag shrieked in outrage and lunged across the clearing, knocking one of the other Ratlings sprawling in her haste. Mat'tck moved forward to meet her at a careful, measured pace. Meeting her halfway through her mindless charge, the warrior lashed out with the staff of his weapon and struck the hag directly above the eye, snapping her head back with considerable force and flooding her vision with foul, viscous blood. Lashing out blindly in fear and rage, the hag was caught unaware by the Ratling's second staff strike, which took her directly in the throat and dropped her to the ground gasping and hacking.
Mat'tck regarded the hag on the ground before him with evident disdain. "Weak-soft-dark thing. All die to Crippled Bone." A single, brutal strike with the "o-no" ended the hag's misery. Her head rolled across the clearing and came to rest against the rocks. One of the other, younger Ratlings casually speared the head with a long. sharpened stick and held it aloft in victory.
Hikapi crouched stunned within the bushes. These new Ratlings were dangerous warriors with no fear of the dark things. He felt eyes upon him and turned to find the Nameseeker staring across the clearing directly at him. Hikapi knew that his scent could not be detected at this range and that the shaman could not see him, yet he knew he was there.
Fear filled the young scout. He quickly darted away from the clearing and crashed through the bushes with little thought of stealth. Only escape mattered. The tribe must be warned about these new Ratlings in their territory.
Three Nezumi sat within the dark confines of a rotted tree stump. The remnant of the gargantuan plant was rich in Name according to Tch'orr'tkk, the Tattered Ear tribes oldest and most venerated Rememberer. The old one sat within the dark chamber with Stikak, the tribe's chieftain, and Tikuku, the tribe's foremost shaman. They had all been present when the scout Hikapi had told his story. Many in the tribe were greatly agitated, and Stikak had called for the elders to meet and try to discover more.
Tch'orr'tkk's chattering had faded, and the old Ratling had ceased his rocking. Stikak knew from experience that this meant the Rememberer had summoned a memory from their race's history. He leaned forward, nose twitching in anticipation of the tale.
"In the Before Time, some Ratlings rule over others. Our great empire have leaders, those who aid the Chief-of-chiefs and make-make decisions for the One Tribe. After the Terrible Day happen, those leaders who survive no want-want leave the place of Before Time. They no wander like other Nezumi. They make-make old place theirs again, and go-go south where Heaven fell. Many-many days they travel, much farther than now tribes go toward Heaven's Grave. No one see lost Ratlings for many, many years."
"Then, in time of Kipptch, chieftain of Tattered Ear, three Ratlings come from far-far south of dark lands. Tell Kipptch that leaders need more Ratlings to make new Tribe of One. Tell Kipptch that he must bring Tattered Ear to Heaven's Grave to serve leaders Kipptch think funny, tell Ratlings to leave. They get-get mad, fight with Tattered Ear warriors. Ratlings driven off but many Tattered Ear hurt bad by fight. Kipptch take tribe north, past big rock cliff and into land of humans. There, Tattered Ear tribe live for many many years without trouble."
Tch'orr'tkk opened his eyes and stared at Stikak. "Crippled Bone tribe come north now, far from Heaven's Gate. They want-want land for hunting. Crippled Bone very angry with other Ratlings, think-think they abandon them. They ready to fight over small morsel when much food found somewhere else."
Stikak's whiskers shivered with dread. He did not want the Tattered Ear to fight other Ratlings. Too many other things in the dark lands wanted to kill the Nezumi for the Nezumi to fight among themselves. "No. No fight Crippled Bone. Tattered Ear go back to big-big forest. Fight bad snakes. Better than fight other Nezumi."
Tikuku and Tch'orr'tkk nodded in agreement with Stikak's practical wisdom. "Tell-tell others get ready. Go soon."
Te'tik'kir watched from a hill overlooking the valley as the Tattered Ear tribe departed north toward the edge of the dark-dark lands. He gnashed his teeth in frustration at their departure. He had hoped the Crippled Bone could crush them, eliminating the annoying upstart Stikak and his followers. The other Ratling tribes looked to Stikak and the Tattered Ear during those rare times when the tribes made decisions that affected the whole race. Though definitely not the leaders of the race, Stikak and his pack were respected.
Te'tik'kir wanted to hurt them, just to make the others see what fools they all were. They had abandoned their true chieftains long, long ago, leaving them to deal with the horrible things that destroyed the Nezumi's great empire near Heaven's Grave. They had fought the dark things ever since, until the great shaman of the dark lands had met and made the land come alive to attack the Crippled Bone. Not even his magic or Mat'tck's battle rage could stop the walking dark land.
Now the Crippled Bone would do here what they could not in the deep dark lands: they would bring back the Tribe of One. All tribes would join together, and the Crippled Bone would rule them all. Then the dark things and the pink walkers would all learn that the Crippled Bone tribe could not be stopped.
Te'tik'kir's tail thrashed from side to side as he thought about it.
