Daniel awoke, curled in a ball besides a bush, with the sun shining into his eyes. Cracking them open, he stared at the sky for a short moment before rolling over towards the stream to reapply muck. It was go time. After smearing himself with sludge from the banks of the stream he grabbed his short spear and began to walk downstream, towards the pond.
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He had reached the pond, and now lay submerged in a few feet of water, eyes peeking above the waterline, doing his best impression of a log. Scanning the nests, the place was almost entirely abandoned. The hulking rats leaned against their staves, spread far apart, napping in the late-morning sun.
Slipping slowly up onto the bank, Daniel began to creep slowly up to the closest dozing brute, knife in hand. The scrape of rocks against rock caused the man to wince, the gravelly bank doing its best to foil his plans.
Thankfully, the sun drowsed monstrosity did little more than stir, its ears pricking slightly, before deciding that its sleep was more important than its job, leaning even heavier onto its stave.
Ten minutes of painful crouching. The mud covered man inched his way towards the unprotected back of the ratman. Every foot placed with utmost care, sweat mixing with the smell of dead fish and rotting plant matter in a brackish brine. He saw the diamond in his vision flash more than once, his skills leveling up from the strenuous task. He reached the back of the rat, a slight breeze cooling his drenched face and funneling the smell of fur and rat shit into his mouth. Holding his breath, the man reached up with the knife, gripping the handle tightly with both hands. Pausing about an inch away from the base of the rat’s skull, awkwardly reaching around a hunched neck. Angling the blade at about 45 degrees, the man exploded his arms forward.
Slamming into the very bottom of the skull, the tip of the knife punched through, scrambling the brains of the rat. Red and brown mixed, splinters of white bone flying in all directions. Letting go of the knife, Daniel grabbed the shoulders of the corpse and lowered it down, trying his very best to ignore the rush of pleasure coursing through his veins.
When the dead rat and spear were both lying silently on the ground, he slowly extracted a knife out of the brain of the filthy creature, grimacing at the faint sucking noise. Wiping the excess blood and bone on the fur of the corpse of the rat, Daniel slowly stalked to meet his next victim.
The next kills went the same way, with the second causing a brief panic due to a stuck blade. After calming down from the rushes of pleasure, the man took stock of the few nests in the open, dreading the task to come.
Their nests were largely wood, and extremely small. Add that to the large difference between nests and rats, and each domed woodpile was a deathtrap waiting for the man to step in. Fire wasn’t an option, he didn’t have enough time, and a prolonged assault over multiple days would just lead to his eventual death due to the number of creatures. He had to kill them now, and the only way to do that was a surprise attack.
Daniel tried to suppress the shivers running down his spine. He knew this would end in an actual fight, and he didn’t really like those. Everyone he had ever heard of who fought every fight in the open ended up dead. He didn’t want to die.
In the end though, the convenience this place offered was too good to pass up. Besides, every time anyone had ever left a potential future threat alone, it came back to bite them in the ass later. He’d rather not have to face armies of ratmen in the coming years.
Unslinging the spear from his back he stalked towards the closest den and peered inside. Five large shapes slept in a cluster, curled away from the light pouring through the uneven entrance. Praying that chance was on his side, he stabbed forward into the back of the closest ball, extending himself halfway through the hole. Instantly a pained whimper flew from the creature's mouth, slowly rousing the others. Quickly following up, he felt a slight resistance suddenly give, and the thrashing target went limp.
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By now the other rats had awoken, and had begun to squeak, almost confusingly, clearly communicating with each other. One, slightly brighter than the rest, raised its head as if to shout, exposing its throat. Taking the chance, Daniel once again thrust, once, twice, and the vile creature dropped with a gurgle.
A rush spread through his body, and the man smiled slowly, adrenaline and serotonin forcing his heart to pulse faster and faster, pounding a drum to which he could wage war.
He leapt forwards, again into the hostile force, stabbing at the eye of one of the creatures, where it lodged. Grasping at his waist, he bared his hatchet, waving it in front of him. He stepped quickly back into the opening, not wanting to become surrounded. A rat leapt at him. Raising his arm to block, he ignored the raking pain, and slammed his arm onto the ground. Flowing down with the axe he bludgeoned the creature to the beat of his heart, until blood leaked from its pulverised skull.
The last two approached him in tandem, on all fours, snarling and shrieking. Snarling, he leapt forward, a crack of the hatchet putting the one on the left out of commission. Fumbling at his belt, the man watched the final opponent approach. A divot sent him sprawling, and the rat struck. Claws scrabbled at his chest, moving up towards his face. Pushing a spittle-soaked mouth down with one hand, he scrabbled the ground around him with his other, grasping at a metal handle. Flicking the knife open, he smiled.
“Fuck you!” He screamed, stabbing wildly into the side of the creature. A shriek of pain shot from the maw of the rodent. If the rest of the ratmen weren’t awake before, they were now.
He stabbed again, slightly higher this time, looking for a gap in the ribs of his assailant. Finding one, he plunged his blade in over and over again, looking for anything that would kill the bag of disease laying on top of him. He fell into a trance, stabbing again and again. Realising only when the thrashing stopped that the creature was dead.
Rolling to his feet, knife in hand, he looked around. Rats were emerging from the nests now, snarls and chitters erupting from their snouts. A calm descended over him, the surging pleasure’s influence dampened. Eyes flickering over the gathering crowd he weighed his options, examining for weakness. Making up his mind, he put his plan into action.
Diving towards the cleared nest, he slid through the door. Tripping his way towards the first corpse, he placed his foot on its neck, grabbed his short spear and pulled. Stumbling back spear in hand, he turned to face the horde approaching the nest.
A wall of snarling flesh writhed forward towards the hole. The stale stink of unwashed fur assaulted him. A lone figure, overeager, leapt from the pack, aiming for glory. A thrust and a flick ended that dream. The sharp stick was remarkably easy to use, and somehow still hadn’t broken. Daniel quickly fell into a rhythm. Each of his thrusts wounded or killed a rat, creating a growing pile blocking off the opening into his killing hole. This was both a blessing and a curse. None of the larger scouts could reach him, but the stifling heat and ungodly stench made his head swim. Soon he began to make mistakes. Ten minutes after rolling into the nest, he stood slumped and exhausted, scratches and bites covering his body. The smaller rats, called Lesser Ratmen, were fast and small, and in his exhaustion, he couldn't always act fast enough. Scrambling and splintering came from all around him, the vermin looking to create new ways to reach their prey.
A blurred wave of brown flew through the gap between the dome and fur. Straightening, the man once again fell into a rhythm. Stabbing at all those he could, he then made the rounds with his knife, finishing off the wounded survivors. The handle was slick with sweat and gore, his ripped clothes too mud soaked to clean it. He had resorted to wiping the handle on rancid fur, gagging every time he did so.
Grasping for the splintery shaft of his spear, his mind worked millions of miles an hour, trying to find a solution to the trap he had placed himself in. As he was thinking, thuds began to shake the earth. A shrieking, warbling roar was heard, whipping the rats outside into a frenzy. Stabbing at the wave of gibbering rats leaking through the opening, he frantically swore. The need for a solution increased in urgency, and he began to cast his eyes around the dark space, looking for a way out.
There must have been another hulk. And from the sounds of it, he was very mad, and much more awake than his dead kin.