Plague Rat

I awoke with a groan, still shivering from a cold I no longer felt. I blearily glanced about before freezing in place; this is not the half frozen sewer I fell asleep in. Now, it was definitely still a sewer, and it was definitely still half frozen, but it was not the same sewer.

I slowly got to my feet, quickly realising my perspective was much, much lower than it should have been. A single downwards look was all I needed to see what was wrong, though I still ended up staring for nearly a minute; I was standing on small, furred, hand-like paws.

My eyes raked across my body, easily making out what I had become; I had seen more than enough rats to tell. I was obviously quite large, a glance at the wall next to me told me I was roughly a foot tall at the shoulder and nearly two long (not including my tail). The stream of half frozen filth flowing through the center of the dark tunnel showed a blurry, putrid coloured reflection of myself.

Filth matted black fur, near glowing red eyes, yellow teeth, and an oddly milky-white worm-like tail met my gaze. I stared at my new form,  processing this change; even my muted emotions screamed with confusion and panic laden fear at being so suddenly and drastically changed.

I didn't deny what had happened; while hallucination seemed plausible, I'm not willing to bet my life on this not being real. Even if this is just insanity, I’m going to operate as if it were entirely real; the possible consequences of acting as if it weren’t real if it is are potentially dire while the opposite risks are mostly negligible for myself.

A faint noise brought me from my fugue; just the faintest sound of something scraping against the ground. I whirled, coming snout to snout with a pale grey rat slightly larger than myself. Upon being discovered, the larger rat snarled and leapt at me, jaw spread wide.

Even taken by surprise, my instincts had me acting immediately. Dodging to the left, I raised my paw, short claws extended to rake across the other rat’s side as it passed. My nails caught in its hair, barely scratching its actual flesh; still, this was enough for me to get a grip on them. Riding its movement, I pulled myself onto its back and (with some slight hesitation due to how gross this was) bit into the back of its neck.

It squealed loudly, pain and fear suffusing the panicked sound. Evidently it hadn't considered the possibility that it wouldn’t win this little encounter; so few ambushers take that into consideration. While my long teeth sank deep into its neck and feculent blood spilled freely between them (the all too familiar taste only tightening my grip), the murderous creature, to its credit, did not simply give up.

Rising on its hind legs, the larger rat desperately clawed at my face; forcing me to cover my eyes with my paws to avoid having them gouged out. Even with a suboptimal angle and poorly maintained claws, it still managed to get a few shallow cuts around my jaw.

-1 HP

The shock of receiving a notification was almost enough to release my death grip. -1 HP? Like… a video game? It had been a long time since I had played a game of any sort, but I still remember the basics. This requires investigation, though only after I’m not in immediate danger.

Snapping my jaws shut even tighter from where my surprise had loosened them, I took a page out of the shark handbook and began shaking my head rapidly from side to side; attempting to do further damage and widen the already inflicted wound.

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Skill Created: Death Roll

As blood flowed rapidly around my teeth, their struggles began to slow. Blood loss was clearly taking effect and I stopped shaking, not wanting to waste energy. A thrill of excited satisfaction rushed through me as my enemy stilled, further heightened by the notification that popped up in the corner of my mind.

5 Exp gained.

While the notification was probably a good enough sign that it was dead, I still gave its neck a few more sharp jerks just to be sure. When I got no response, I slid my teeth from its flesh.

Standing atop an enemy's corpse is not an experience I've had many times, but it's just as thrilling now as it was in those few back alley knife fights I remember. Panting slightly from exhaustion and exhilaration, I slowly stepped off my downed enemy; time to investigate these notifications then.

Alright, I've had notifications, both for my own actions in killing that rat and for another's actions in being injured. While I could injure myself again or seek out something to murder; doing so is unlikely to get me what I want. 

Okay, how about… ‘menu?’ Nothing. Okay… ‘Status?’

Name: Nameless

Race: Plague Rat (Blight)

Level: 1/10

EXP: 5/10

HP: 9/10

SP: 5/5

MP: 2/2

Strength: 2

Agility: 7

Endurance: 3

Wisdom: 12

Intelligence: 27

Charisma: 1

Will: 11

Perception: 15

Points: 0

Perks: 

Blighted: Your very essence is infused with pestilence. While this soul deep corruption influences your mind towards darker pursuits and actions, it can also be brought to the surface to add the Blight to your magical and physical attacks. It corrupts your flesh and blood, making your every cell deadly to consume. Godsblood runs through your veins.

Sociopath: You have no empathy and muted emotions. Immune to emotionally manipulating attacks.

Cast Iron Stomach: You can digest almost anything with no repercussions.

Skills: 

Death Roll: Lvl 1: Can shake physical attacks to inflict wider wounds and cause bleeding. Increase wound size and damage by 5% and adds a 10% chance to inflict bleed.

Titles: None

My annoyance at my lack of name and horror that I couldn't remember my original name didn't last long after seeing my race; Plague Rat!? Great. As if being a rat at all hadn't stolen any possibility of favourable human interaction (not that I had any real hope of that to begin with even if I was human), being a vector of pestilence will do me no favours as far as socializing goes. It's times like this I'm thankful for sociopathy. 

Blighted ends vaguely and is more than slightly worrying, though Sociopath may nullify the psychological effects of it. Maybe. Interestingly, death roll doesn't specify that it requires a bite, only an embedded blade; I think I can abuse that.

Vague memories of reading stories with a similar basis to this was all that gave me hope when I saw my max level. Either being max level will end my ability to get stronger, or it will enable me to evolve, perhaps. If I can evolve, perhaps I can evolve into something ageless. Rats have an average life span of two years, so I'll either die on the hope I can escape that fate or I'll die here. 

Death is inevitable; how it happens hardly matters. That is how I've always operated. Now, perhaps, I have found a way to escape the adamantine shackles of time; I will grasp for it with every bloodied finger.

 My growling stomach pulled me from distant, but never forgotten dreams. My crimson eyes turned to my defeated foe. While it wouldn't be the first time I've eaten raw meat, doing so is never pleasant or smart; then again, Cast Iron Stomach should protect from the deleterious side effects…

Well, meat is meat, eat what you kill and all that. It's always better not to starve to death.

Rats can gnaw through steel given enough time, flesh and bone are no challenge at all. Raw meat doesn't taste particularly good even after eating it dozens of times, nor does the blood flowing around my teeth ever get less metallic. Squelching and tearing sounds resounded around the small segment of sewer I was in, bouncing off the poorly aligned, filth encrusted stones and waste filled water.  By the time I was finished rendering down my prey I wished the nearby water was clean so I could wash off the blood slowly drying in my fur.

Title gained: Cannibal

I furiously scrubbed at my face, flaking off scraps of dried blood and flicking away that which was still wet. Not only is covering myself with the scent of blood a poor decision for a hunter, it’s uncomfortable and unsafe to boot.

Cannibal? Great, let's see what this is.