"Ugh, I just know something bad is about to happen," the cambion muttered under his breath. "I wish I could go home..."

Wait... I don't really have a home anymore do I? I don't even remember where home used to be in the first place. This memories thing is really getting on my nerves.

So much had happened on the edge of this little riverbank where the cambion woke up this morning. First his demonic hunger forced him to eat someone's pet cat, which subsequently transformed him into some kind of cat person. Then said cat's owner showed up (who he recognized from the cat's absorbed memories). It was a veritable giant of a man who was at least three times his size, and instantly tried to kill him, presumably for eating his pet cat. The cambion somehow managed to escape certain death into the river where he nearly drowned, but was promptly rescued via being carried out of the water and set back on the riverbank by the very guy who tried to kill him in the first place.

He wanted nothing more than to leave this place and go ho... er, that is, find a cave or a hobbit hole where nothing was trying to kill him. He also wished he had some clothes, but, yeah, that wasn't going to be the case.

The cambion had no idea that he was partly to blame for the attack that was about to ensue. His actions, intentional or not, had provoked Blomdorf to a heightened emotional state of rage and grief that literally shook the earth, if only a little. While the tremor was benign, the new skill the unsuspecting budding barbarian simultaneously unlocked and activated was not.

Blom-Blom had a high natural affinity with beasts. It was the trait responsible for his lifelong positive interactions with most animals and had at least a little to do with the easy trust he established with Mr. Blinky. The beast natural affinity was commonly found in those who unlocked the monster tamer job class. While it was not the only monster affinity a monster tamer could employ to good use, it was the most abundant, as well as the most commonly used to tame beasts of burden, war horses, and occasionally more exotic creatures such as griffin.

In Blomdorf's case, the affinity that never been developed, nor had it put to any real use. He didn't even know what affinities were, really, except for their being another thing he occasionally heard other people talk about and which he didn't really understand.

Despite his ignorance, however, the unwitting giant had unlocked and executed a new skill called enrage beast, a variant of the enrage skill that only affected beast-type monsters. It was a skill that when employed tactically by a skilled barbarian had the potential to redirect beast-type monsters to fight on his/her behalf. Typically, barbarians-in-training who were still new to the class and were still developing the skill, only ever regularly used it as a means to facilitate training and as a 'tanking' ability as it was possible to use the skill to draw monster aggression away from one's comrades.

Although the skill's effects might have been somewhat weakened by its inexpert and improper use, the severity of Blom-Blom's emotional distress at the time of his grief-stricken howl, amplified the skill's range and caused beast-type monsters within a mile radius to become enraged. Most of them broke free from the effects immediately, and perhaps some of higher level were unaffected. There were a number of monsters in the area, however, who were suddenly compelled to rush in the direction of the sound and were driven by a singular intention, a prime directive which had suddenly been hammered into their consciousness: hunt down and kill the one who made us angry.

Many magicks and skills become stronger with intention. It didn't matter that Blom-Blom's rage had extinguished less than a minute after it ignited. All that mattered was that in his great distress, Blomdorf had projected hatred toward a certain target to such a degree that the monsters in the area felt it.

The silver lining in this chain of unfortunate events, of which no one was really aware, was that things could have been a lot worse. Most of the monsters who heard the call outright resisted and/or ignored it. There were also a good number of monsters who were intercepted by the bandit captain Ripper, forcing them to redirect their aggression.

There was however, a nest of vicious nocturnal beasts that was currently empty, their residents having forgone their hatred of daylight thanks to said events. It just so happened that the target of their hatred and rage was the cambion.

"You do hear that, right?" asked the Cambion, his fluffy ears twitching nervously. "Something's coming..."

With his new ears, the cambion could hear countless high-pitched SKREEEE! and the scurrying of a frightening number of feet. His new nose scented something sickly and pungent that his stolen memories told him he should be able to identify but couldn't. All he knew for sure was that whatever it was smelled dangerous and hungry and was headed their way.

The cambion warned his would-be murderer and savior, Blomdorf, who stood up just as the sound reached the much larger man's own unenhanced human ears.

"Stay behind me, little one," said Blom-Blom, moving his considerable bulk to stand between the cambion and the tree line which stood only a few strides away. Between the trees, they could see an undulating mass of dark shapes snaking its way toward them.

There was nowhere to run, really. The sloping nature of the land around them, the uneven terrain and the rock formations to either side created the perfect bottle neck to pit them between whatever was coming for them and the river at their back. And the river had already proved itself to be nearly lethal the first time they braved it.

Blomdorf stepped forward and grabbed a large bucket from where he had dropped it earlier near a tree. The cambion hadn't noticed it before and distantly thought that the giant must have brought it with him to draw water from the river. It seemed somewhat small in the giant's hands but was nearly as big as the cambion. It was empty, though, and the cambion didn't think it would be much use. It's not like it was made of a sturdy metal.

Blom-Blom took a couple of steps back and assumed a fighting stance, raising the empty bucket behind him and cocked himself for a swing.

The cambion tensed as the first of the creatures broke through the trees. His nose wrinkled as the smell intensified. His hackles rose and a distinctly catlike groan bubbled from his chest.

Misshapen rats as big as mastiffs poured out from behind the trees in a loose column formation, making a beeline toward Blomdorf and the cambion. Their hideous bodies were covered in large tumors of varying sizes and irregular shapes. Clumps of fur were missing, revealing leaky boils on oily greenish-black skin.

The head of the first rat had beady-red eyes in the wrong places, where tumors had warped its skull. It ran with its head oddly cocked and its mouth open, revealing black jagged teeth that looked long enough to pierce straight through the cambion's scrawny arms.

"R.O.U.S's? You're shitting me!" the cambion exclaimed, suddenly, unable to contain his emotion, which even against his will held a strong sense of unwelcome amusement along with the horror.

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Rodents of Unusual Size... Why do I feel like I'm supposed to think it's hilarious that I'm about to be killed by rats. Is it because I'm a cat person now? 'As you will', Wesley! Whatever the heck that means!

Blomdorf ignored the cambion's comments (he wouldn't have understood them anyway), and measured his swing. He sucked wind and with a shout, swung his bucket like a club, smashing it against the first rat's side. The strength of the blow sent the creature sailing back through the air, where it splattered against the tree then fell dead to the ground.

Well, that was more effective than I was expecting.

Blom-Blom followed up his first attack by kicking a second rat to similar effect, then squishing a third under his massive boot. He swung his bucket back and forth, killing the R.O.U.S's with startling efficiency, employing his improvised weapon, his feet, and even his fists.

There were too many in the constant flood, however. To the cambion's horror, some of the monsters began skirting around his protector and set upon him.

"Stay back you gross fuckers!" the cambion hissed. "God damn it! Even when I curse, I sound too damn cute. It's unmanly!"

The cambion gritted his teeth and drew his claws. He had no idea how much good they would be against R.O.U.S's that were practically as big as he was. He had no illusions about being able to match the ridiculous ease with which the stupidly strong giant was putting them down.

And yet, his blood boiled in anticipation.

"Fuck it!" the cambion shouted. "Let's go after it like this is some cheesy anime!"

A rat with pus-filled eyes lunged at him teeth first while two others closed on him from either side.

The cambion skirted out of the way of the first rat’s lunge and even managed to dodge a claw swipe and another bite from the others. Still, rats seemed to be swarming on him from every direction.

He was pleasantly surprised at how nimble and graceful his body's movements were. He could leap easily over a single rat, though the second time he tried it he came away with his first injury of the fight. The creature lifted itself on its hind legs just as the cambion leaped. It opened its jaws to take a bite out of him and would have successfully done so if not for the cambion’s mid-air twist. He managed to kick the side of the rat’s jaw instead of landing inside it. With his other foot, he pushed off the creature’s chest, both redirecting his momentum and causing the monster to lose its balance. Rather than fall on his face as he expected, the cambion felt his body move on its own. He twisted mid-air once more and landed on his feet. It had been an impossible feat of acrobatics that fell short of being a flawless by virtue of the gash the rat’s claws inflicted on his leg just before falling over.

The cambion realized his feline body was much faster and elegant than these rats could ever hope to be.

A wide smile split his face as he dashed between a pair of rats to position himself behind them. At the same time, he raked his claws along their flanks, experiencing the sensation of tearing flesh with his bare claws for the first time.

His claws unintentionally split open several of the tumors. These turned out to be less firm than he had first imagined and burst unpleasantly with a sickening plop, ejecting a fatty yellow substance along with blood which splattered all over his exposed skin. The cambion was suddenly viscerally reminded he wore no clothes.

I'm pretty sure right now that this ranks as the number one worst smell and most disgusting sensation I've ever experienced on any world.

The cambion felt his status window pulse in the back of his mind almost as if asking for permission to say something. He ignored it and continued to desperately avoid becoming rat food.

Even as he contemplated the gross-factor of his current circumstances, he continued to dodge and occasionally retaliate with a swipe of his claws. The only thing he accomplished was getting more blood on himself, although at least twice he landed a lucky shot which blinded a rat. Otherwise, he wasn’t doing much damage.

Eventually, he found himself being pushed back until his feet touched the water's edge and he realized if he took just another pair of steps back he would find himself not swimming in the river again, but drowning.

His mind raced.

As he had danced around the swarming rats, experiencing near miss after near miss from rat claws and razor-sharp teeth alike, he had tried to activate his abilities. How he had managed to invoke barkskin last night was still a mystery he hadn't had the chance to explore and saying the name of the skill out loud hadn't done anything. His claws were easy enough to use and feline agility seemed to be an extension of his natural movement. Blink teleport, however, was the skill that he desperately wished he could use now.

This life-or-death situation was wild, sure. But it also made him feel alive. There was an animal inside him begging him to give in to his baser instincts and fight, and yet another that was begging him to run. Also, something akin to muscle memory from Mr. Blinky's memories kept egging him to blink teleport at the key moments that the original would have.

In summary, despite the thrill he was currently experiencing at the moment, the cambion felt certain that he was in over his head and he was going to die.

"Leave the boy!" Blomdorf's shout rose above the din of putrid rats, followed by a deafening roar that caused a subtle ripple in the air pulsed over the swarm. "RAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Blomdorf might not have known what he was doing on an intellectual level, but once again, his powerful intention activated a skill. It was the enrage beasts skill once more, this time used in the conventional manner. The intention behind his shout, if it could be given voice, might simply be stated as 'Fight me instead, you sons a bitches!'

And so the cambion suddenly experienced a reprieve. The R.O.U.S's that were just one snap away from taking his head off or pushing him into the river, lost interest in their target, made an about face and rushed their new target.

The cambion had even less of an understanding of this world than Blomdorf. He had no idea why all the rats inexplicably decided to set their sights on the massive meat grinder that was Blom-Blom. The giant was still swinging the bucket, which had by now become a twisted piece of scrap metal that he used both as shield and bludgeon while still using kicks and elbows and fists to turn rats into pulp.

Now that the cambion had a clear view of the scene due to not being attacked, he could see that despite his superior strength, it was only a matter of time before the giant was overcome by superior numbers. He was covered in rat gore, but also in his own blood. He suffered innumerable scratches. Chunks had been torn from his thick arms and forearms and a pair of teeth were jutting out of his left shoulder.

Blomdorf's face, while determined, was beginning to turn pale. However, upon realized the entire swarm was targeting only him, he began working his way into the woods and up the hill with somewhat renewed vigor, smashing rats into trees left and right as he went. The rats kept climbing on his back and sometimes he would reach over his back then fling them off, while other times he turned them to pudding sandwich when he slammed his back into a sturdy trunk. He continued this way, up the slope from where the rats had come until he was out of sight.

The cambion found himself following the procession of death and blood. There were smelly rat corpses everywhere he looked, and if counting had been something he remembered he could do, he mightn't have bothered, reaching the conclusion that there were just too many to count. There were also injured rats who wriggled slightly and others with broken backs who crawled weakly using their front legs.

The cambion followed the trail of carnage up the slope until he realized that the various rock formations that had boxed him in earlier were no longer an issue. The forest around him continued to slope upwards, but if he wished, he could head in a different direction than where Blomdorf had gone.

He was certain that if he kept to his left, went around the rocks and followed the river, he might eventually find somewhere safe. At least safe from the rats.

Thanks for the assist, Blom-Blom! Hope you survive that rat tornado you've got following you. Smell ya later!

The cambion breathed a sigh of relief and took a single light hearted step forward toward freedom. Then the image of Blomdorf's determined face popped into his mind. He was fairly certain the sudden it wasn't his own guilt he felt at prospect of abandoning his best and only friend. It was ludicrous to think that he owed anything to the man who tried to kill him... even if he did save him two times right after.

Aw, fuck...

He had no illusions that he knew what he was doing. Quite the opposite. He was fairly certain what he had in mind was a terrible idea and that it would get him killed.

I'm definitely not influenced by an unhealthy superhero complex. This definitely isn't that. Besides I'll probably see a bunch of rats and chicken out or something. Nah, there's no way... *Sigh* I'm coming Blom-Blom! Hold on and don't die!

The cambion sprinted in the direction the trail of bodies led, following the senseless zig zagging pattern the giant had taken through the trees, until he realized he could just follow his nose and ears instead.