At least it wasn’t dark, I told myself. The damp air sticks to me like sweat, and I have to roll up my sleeves as I step through the echoing tunnels. Whatever was here would know that I was as well. I glance about frantically with every step that I take. Where are they? I could barely make out where the Fogwall began; some ways down the tunnel; just past a grate in the wall, that led outside of the tunnel system.

“What’s the objective here?”

“Destroy the temple.”

Fuck. Again. I groan. What were the enemies this time? It’s underground, so it was probably going to be the Ratmen. Maybe Rabbits? And in what direction should I go? An arching marble bridge spanned the rushing river and led to a similar walkway about a half dozen or so yards away. Thick doors of wood and metal lined the walls on either side. Do I have to check them all? I sigh. I hope Clio doesn’t mess up the room too much. I should have taken her out for a walk before this.

One of the heavy doors across the river opens up; perhaps to investigate the noise of my footsteps echoing down the hall. A rather small Ratman steps out. His gray hair bristles as his dark eyes rest on me. He holds his shield over his chest and approaches after giving the shield a few loud smacks with the black blade he carried. The clanging rolled through the halls like a bell.

“An awl, O’ thou servants of Gob the Highest, to strike my enemies,” I whisper as I point the staff forward.

The response is almost instant. A spike of formed marble stabs forth with fury just before the Ratman nears the bridge. The long, thin spike stabs through the creature’s groin — penetrating through the creature’s diaphragm. I know this by the hissing breath it took as soon as the bloodied point pierces through. It twitches for a second before dying. At that moment a brown-furred Ratman steps out of the door, nocks an arrow on the string of its black bow, and lets loose to me.

I move my arm to intercept, and the arrow bounces off the metal plates, falls into the water, and floats down along the current.

“Bombard my enemies, O’ thou servants of Gob, the magnomious.”

A chunk of marble rips from the ground just as another arrow is let loose. The arrow shatters against the flying boulder. The stone smashes the head of the Ratman and splatters red and pink against the white marble wall behind it.

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Not soon after, another Ratman flows out of the door. And then another, and another, and another. They hurry down the hall and toward the arched bridge, their weapons at the ready.

Shit. I run down the other way on my side of the river.

“Bombard my enemies, O’ thou servants of Gob, the magnomious,” I mutter as I run — pointing the staff at the bridge, now full of ten or so Ratmen.

The boulder smashes into the group. Two dead Ratmen fall into the water and float down to the grate. I pull open the nearest door and slam it shut as I enter the room beyond it.

“An awl, O’ thou servants of Gob the Highest, to strike my enemies.”

A spike drives its way out of the ground in front of the door.

“An awl, O’ thou servants of Gob the Highest, to strike my enemies.

Another joins it, and then another and another and another, until a spiked wall blocks off the door. It rattles as the Ratmen bang on it. It holds for a while until the banging ends. I was already on the other side of the room with my back pressed against the wall. The creatures on the other side chatter among themselves, and I hear the patter of paw pads down the hall, but still hear the chatter of a few.

What do I do? Panic surges through me. There had to be at least twenty of them, out there; and they knew where I was. I looked around the room. It was a small room; about the size of the room of my hotel room. Small tools lay across the ground and hung on the wall. Black steel chisels dented picks and small masonry trowels.

There was a single bookshelf in the room. I move over to it and look through it. Books with the scratchy language in them and drawings of various Catmen armored, armed, and jolly. I shove as many of them as I could in my backpack; just in case I make it out of there, I would have a fresh source to help decipher the language, and find out more about this world. Perhaps by doing so, humanity could learn how to survive this crisis. There was nothing there to help me in my current situation, however. No maps, or schematics.

I stretch my back and move to the door to peer through what slats are visible through the wall of marble spikes. One Ratman was happily chatting away with another; his back leaning against the door. From what I could see there were only two. If I had my wand I would have been able to use a spell through the gaps. Alas, I had left it in the motel room.

What were they waiting for? Were they just guarding it to make sure I didn’t escape? Maybe those who ran were getting something to break through the door. Whatever it was, I couldn’t sit around here. I had about half a bottle left of the water and about half a pack of crackers. I could probably stretch them out for a day or two. But what about Clio? Shadow? What if Ortega tried to contact me during that time?

What could I do? I step lightly across the room. What did I have that could be used in this situation? The boards of the door were far too thick for the blade of the kris to sink into the back of the Ratman. The cane that the Rabbit had used before? I pull open my backpack and find it wedged near the top. I feel the weight of it in my hand and swing my backpack on; clicking the clips in the front, and ready myself for battle.