The Drifting Letter

A drunk patron staggered out of the Tavern, ducked into an alley before he had gone far, and braced himself against a wall to vomit. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, reeking of liquor, then lurched down Street and into a company of Cavalry preparing to leave the city.

"Damn drunk..."

Soldier shoved him away in disgust and followed the hundred-strong company out of Breeze City.

They mounted warhorses outside the city and galloped toward the East.

They rode from morning to afternoon, then on toward dusk. Beneath a brilliant sunset, the Soldiers reached a vast Wheat Field.

Thin trails of smoke rose here and there among the fields.

But as the Knights followed the raised paths deeper into the Wheat Field, rats surged out like a low tide, squealing as they climbed the horses and tore at flesh.

The Warhorses bolted and screamed, throwing their Knights from the paths. The Cavalry hit the ground unprepared and were swallowed by rats, reduced to writhing balls of fur.

"Rat Tide! Rat Tide! This is a Trap! All soldiers, get out! Someone has to carry the news back!"

Their commander had made a mistake. Once the Soldiers lost the will to fight, the battle became a rout. Even the few riders on fully armored Warhorses were struck down as they fled by sickly green Fel Energy fired from the Wheat Field.

Thin trails of smoke still rose across the fields, climbing one by one into the Clouds of dusk.

Bloodied, mutilated bodies and severed limbs lay scattered through the red-stained Wheat Field.

The Rat Tide receded, revealing a Ratfolk wearing Goat Horns. It picked up a tooth-marked piece of Plate Armor, and a bloodstained letter slipped from between its layers.

He murmured something to the other Ratfolk, then flicked his bald