Erick learned something he had not known before. Certain species of ants can shoot acid from their abdomens. He had stopped and turned to bash a few more of the faster ants, caving in the head of one of the soldiers and then swinging down on a smaller worker. Then from behind the front lines, a section of ants rose on their back four legs and curled their abdomens under them to point at him. Ten streams of acid hit him in the chest, the arms, and the face. The acid wasn't exceptionally strong. It burned his skin and was probably only discoloring his coat, but it blinded him. The enrage allowed him to ignore pain, but being blind was being blind. He turned and attempted to flee, tripping over the curb, running into cars, and once running face-first into a light pole.

  One of the ants caught him when he was recovering from the run-in with the light pole. Trying to get a hold of his leg, the ant only manages to get its jaws around the leather coat he wore. He kicked out knocking the ant back and was up and running again. After a few minutes his enrage ended, the burning sensation on his face, chest, and in his eyes became all he could think about and he screamed. He curled up into a ball as the pain overwhelmed him and waited to be eaten.

  After a few minutes, the pain had somewhat faded. His boosted stats had healed more than he first thought and he was already starting to see shapes and outlines again. Whimpering as he lay there, he was surprised that the ants hadn't caught up. They had been tenacious and didn't seem like the type to just give up. Looking around his vision continued to clear, he realized he was in a rougher part of town. The area east of the Walmart hadn't always been so run down, but times had been tough lately. He'd heard tale of some of his old co-workers getting mugged traveling through here and the place looked it. Grafitti on the walls and trash piles on the streets were just some of the signs that this area wasn't taken care of.

  Looking closer, Erick noticed that there were claw marks along the walls. Fresher than the graffiti, they were strange because of the number of parallel lines. Only three, as opposed to the four he would expect from wild beasts marking their territory. He moved closer, running his fingers along the marks. They were jagged cuts on the wood, though more like scratches on the concrete. "what the heck," he said shaking his head.

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  There was no sound to accompany the attack this time. No hiss or growl, just a piercing pain in his shoulder as something heavy drove him to the ground. Erick wasn't sure if a flicker of shadow had warned him or if he was developing some kind of sixth sense. The attack had been aimed at the back of his head, and he'd flinched to the left just in time to avoid a one-hit kill. He groaned in pain and pushed off the ground trying to roll. The weight on his back disappeared as he moved, a sound like angry chittering and hissing greeting his ears as he raised himself to his knees.

  Standing before him was what looked like a cross between an adolescent child and a rat. Not even four feet tall the thing's head was almost completely rat-like and would've been large on a full-grown man. Its arms were spindly and ended in delicate claw-tipped hands, each holding a rusty iron punch dagger, made from what looked like scrap. Both daggers had three parallel blades, obviously the tool that made the claw marks. The creature continued to hiss and chitter as it crouched in front of him, seeming to try to be both threatening and curl in on itself at the same time. Staring at it for a second gave him a 'helpful' blue window.

Ratkin Scavenger (level 2)

  "ah, useful. I am going to grind this skill as soon as I get the chance. Hopefully, higher levels will give me more information than a name and level." He grumbled to himself. He tried to activate his enrage again but nothing happened. He just sat there in shock for a moment, and then he felt a clawed hand grabbing his hair and pulling his head up. He didn't even see the claw dagger that whipped around and slashed his throat. The ratkin in front of him seemed furious, chittering and hissing at something behind him. All he could do was gurgle, blood pouring out of his throat. The hand in his hair released him and he toppled forward onto his face.

You have died.