The Ogre's Pendant & The Rat in the Pit
Swords V

The transformations had grown easier, she quickly discovered.

Agony brought on by splitting bone and boiling flesh suffused her being, but the peak of pain no longer rose quite so high and the change proved swifter. The rat humanoid shook herself as her other form solidified.

She glanced to the tiger - who watched her with rapt curiosity, and opened her mouth.

A pause.

…perhaps she should have transformed after explaining her notion to it.

Ah, well. It would see soon enough. She eyed the wall of the pit. No ramp wrapped about the edge to ease ascension: no doubt the wolfmen had feared that, given the leverage of a ramp to stand upon, the beast’s strength would have easily forced aside the reinforced logs.

She came to the wall and began to consider how to scale it. She could ascend one-handed, but would need secure leverage for what she planned to do upon reaching the top.

Something bumped her from behind.

The tiger had approached in its silent manner and eyed the logs above their heads. In a blur of motion, it bunched up and rose onto its hind quarters, supporting itself by placing its forepaws against the wall.

So massive did it stand, that it reached more than half the distance to the pit’s top. It then glanced at her meaningfully. She would have grinned, if a rat could grin. A quick leap carried her to the creature’s back and the little thief scaled it with ease. The claws on her uninjured hand jutted into its flesh, but it gave no sign of discomfort - its hide seemed resilient enough to face spears without parting.

Perching on the sabre-tooth’s head, she coiled and then launched herself into the air, her hand catching one of the logs above. She folded her body until able to hook her feet through the gaps in the wood and brace herself while baring her teeth.

Crnch.

She sank her incisors into the lumber. Vicious teeth shaved away the hardwood and sent a rain of chips falling into the hole below. Pausing upon reaching the cold bronze, she tried her incisors against the metal.

Scchhrrrnk.

Beady eyes widened as metal shavings cascaded through the air. Not surprisingly, bronze proved harder than wood, but her magnificent teeth made quick work of it all the same.

She could not help but curse herself.

How many past heists would have been eased had she known her teeth could reduce wood, metal, and perhaps even stone? She vowed to explore the possibilities. Pausing on occasion as splinters threatened her gums, the determined rat shapeshifter gnawed cleanly through a large section of the bound logs and-

Thmp.

A crisscross of wood and bronze collapsed to the bedding and bone below. With a triumphant chitter, she scurried through the hole and onto the surface.

Wurhi of Zabyalla paused beneath the cool mountain air and light of the full moon. Her body thrummed with excitement and it was all she could do to stop herself from screeching with joy.

She was free! By every demon and god in the world, she was at last free!

Scurrying to the precipice, she peered over at the snows far below. The pines bent to a dusting of white sifting through their needles. Moonlight shimmered on the river’s roaring tongue. She could almost feel its damp chill even from this height. The rocky sides of the plateau appeared scalable by one of her skill - especially with the claws of her bestial form.

At last - an escape route lay before her.

And yet, Wurhi the Rat turned from the precipice without hesitation.

She scurried to wrap an arm around one of the great rocks placed upon the logs.

A coward she might have been, but the cat below shared her hatred for these wolves, had not eaten her, and had helped her reach freedom. That - at least for now - made it a comrade, as strange as that was. She would free it from its prison before she departed.

Drrrrrr.

Her bestial strength proved great enough to drag aside the rock. Now, for the next…

The wind changed.

The scent saved her.

A familiar acrid musk, combined with blood and sweat-drenched bronze.

Whoosh!

Wurhi leapt to the ground as a great stone shot over her head and swept out to crash deep into the river below. She bound to her feet in an instant, her teeth bared at the attacker she knew to be waiting.

The beast-man had abided.

Quickly and quietly loping to the tiger’s pit, it had edged to the hole sometime earlier, stealthily peering into the enclosure from the side. Yet it had not spied its prey within. Grasping hold of frustration as taught by its master, it had snatched up a pair of the massive stones and withdrew to wait in the shelter within the tunnel leading deep into the mountain. It had plotted to remain hidden until sleep took the great beast, then shift aside the logs and skewer his enemy on the blade.

If the cat awoke, it would instead crush the rat-woman with the rocks, then replace the logs and be padding back to the comfort of its master’s side.

Its dull mind swelled with pride at such a cunning plan.

The hated rat-thing’s smell still lurked on the wind.

It knew she would return eventually.

All prey came back to their holes.

It made ready at the sounds of her return, but stilled at rough crunching rising from the pit. Perhaps the great cat was awake and eating, it surmised and prepared to wait.

Suddenly, the little rat emerged into the night, shocking the beast-man from contemplation into action. It hurled a boulder at her almost by reflex, missing the hated rat-thing.

Growling in frustration, it snatched up the shiny-pointy and stalked forward.

Wurhi crouched low as the ape approached her with fangs bared and eyes bloodshot. Its bulk seemed akin to the mountain above, yet it moved like a cat with her sword clumsily pointed toward her. She snarled, outraged at the sight of her blade in its hand.

She would have it back, even if she had to pry it from its cold, dead hand.

The thief darted at the beast, but it dropped low, thrusting the blade toward her. Her hind claws bit into the snow to halt her rush. The beast was alert now, carefully keeping its focus on her. Slipping through its legs in the arena had been a consequence of her speed, and its lack of caution.

Now it was ready.

She glanced past its broad frame, but its arms spread in response.

It would not let her pass.

She backed away, but could not retreat forever - once it had her pinned to the precipice, it would simply reach forward with those hideously quick reflexes and skewer her like a speared fish.

Unless…

A wicked grin took her lips, appearing on her rodent features as a vicious snarl. She thought of the pit only a few steps behind her, and the edge of the cliff beyond.

Snorting, she lowered herself as though ready for a charge.

The ape tensed.

Then, she turned and ran the hell away.

Racing across the logs, Wurhi aimed for the cliff at full speed. Her ears flicked back, catching the ape’s surprised grunt, then alarmed cry.

‘That’s right.’ She scampered past the rocks. ‘I’m making for the cliff edge. Follow me, you drooling bastard, or you won’t get me!’

As though answering her thoughts, she heard it charge.

Its feet pounded the stone.

Its weighty bronze jangled with every movement.

In its haste, it could not pause to consider - caught between the innate drive of an animal and the plotting of a sentient creature. The logs creaked as its weight hit them. Reinforced by bronze, they might have supported even its great mass, but she had already chewed a broad hole in their midst.

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They gave way beneath the headlong rush of Milos’ creation.

With a cry, the beast-man plunged through the collapsing logs, managing to grasp one with his remaining hand. In a desperate reach to save its own life, it released Wurhi’s blade.

And the Zabyallan did not hesitate.

She snatched the sword up and slashed a deadly arc across its ruddy hand.

Scrtch!

Fingers flew free from spurting stumps.

Bellowing in agony, it plummeted straight down into the pit below.

Crash.

Perhaps it was bestial instinct that drove it to its feet so quickly. Perhaps it was training. Perhaps it was simply rage. But, by whatever means, the beast-man bound upward and prepared to spring up after the hated rat-woman.

Groaaar!

Until an earth-shattering snarl froze it in place.

The sabre-toothed tiger leapt upon it from behind, driving it into the earth with all its titanic bulk. The beast-man cried out, trying to turn, but those deadly jaws quickly closed on the nape of its neck. Layers of bronze, unable to withstand the unyielding teeth of the giant cat, popped beneath their points.

The ape flailed as Wurhi watched coldly, bringing her wounded hand up as she did.

Crnch.

its exposed neck offered no resistance against the death-grip of those jaws, and the beast-man’s spine severed. A rasping breath escaped its barrelled chest and it shuddered as though chilled.

The creature gasped, then stilled.

It would lay in its master’s mountain forevermore.

She spit at it from above, then began to shift back to her human form.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the great cat as her body shook off the last throes of the change.

“Now, come on.” She gestured to the hole in the wood - more than wide enough for the creature to pass through. “You’re strong enough to jump that, aren’t you?”

It answered by way of bounding up, catching the side of the pit with its claws, and quickly climbing onto the plateau. The pair stood, triumphant in the moonlight.

Dark blood dripped from the sword in the rat’s hand.

Dark blood dripped from the swords in the cat’s maw.

They looked at each other and Wurhi glanced first to the cliff and then to her blade. She had been right. Reclaiming it had made her feel more vicious.

“Come,” she beckoned to the beast as she stalked toward the tunnel. “Let’s go make some trouble.”

The Zabyallan’s lips curved.

The cultists were very fond of keeping slaves and beasts for their entertainment.

Two captives freed had killed their leader’s prized pet.

Her smile widened.

So just what would happen were all of the captives set free?

She intended to find out.

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