A man shrouded in a cloak made of tattered rags snuck his way through the lower-income areas of his home city. With the price of bread and other foodstuffs skyrocketing, he and his conspirators technically did not need to hide themselves as they did, as many of the less fortunate folk had turned to gangs, cults and other groups in order to make sure they could survive. However, this man in particular belonged to a rather exclusive cult that many a citizen of the Bestiral Kingdom would quite literally do nearly anything to enter.

The members of this cult had it all, provided to them by the ‘angels’ of their god. However, this did not come without a cost. While once the cult was hunted and nearly on the brink of being excised from the kingdom, now they were getting new members far more quickly than they had expected they would ever be able to. Unfortunately for the majority of those who joined the Cult of Ratman, their rewards would be retribution for the acts they took against the cult prior to the crisis happening.

At least on the surface, the cult was nice, welcoming and gave the gifts of their God freely. But, deep beneath the surface, there was a very, very sinister game being played by beings that viewed their worshippers as inferior and flawed copies of themselves. For the members of the cult who were in on the rather sadistic joke, it made perfect sense why they were viewed as such. They were of the Races, those who were ultimately unworthy of being called Rattan, and therefore they could only accept the true nature of their being as beneath the Rattan and above the lesser Werean Sub-Races, along with the Elven, Dwarven and Human races.

In case you could not figure it out, this was a cult of Rodent Wereans who, for one reason or another, had turned to worshiping not just the Ruling Council, but the entire Rattan race in general. With that knowledge in hand, you can almost certainly guess what the various non-Rodent Werean cult members and initiates were ultimately subjected to. But then again, when your nation is collapsing around you and it is practically impossible to get a bite to eat without bankrupting yourself, what else do people turn to other than crazy people with grandiose ideas and high charisma?

But back to what our little bastard of a cult member was up to.

Said person winced with every step that he took, as he had never been able to find someone who could fully heal the damage to his loins that he had encored while trying to get some random cloaked bastard to move aside. But unfortunately for that damn cloaked figure, this cult member was very high up on the chain of command.

In fact, he was so high up that he could actually request that a Rattan assassin deal with any nuisances that popped up, at least unless the Under-Empire wasn’t feeling it. He had contributed so much to the organization, to the advancement of the Under-Empire’s interests and he had sent so many lesser beings to his masters to be used as labor, food or other such things that he was certain that he could convince them to take out the one who had slighted him.

Perhaps he could even get someone to heal him, or better yet, restore his family jewels to their original condition.

…

The Rat Werean that had his nuts crushed by Vaile’s foot finally winced his way into a special, hidden room, deep inside the city sewers. As he carefully took a kneeling position, careful not to cause himself too much pain, he felt the air around him distort and smelled the scent of smoke and death. He had indeed expected that he would need to request an assassin, but he did not anticipate that the contact he would be speaking to would be an actual assassin! This was his lucky day!

“Speak-talk quick-fast, lesser being! Answer my questions, and you-you may well-possibly survive.” The Rattan said in a feminine voice.

The Rat Werean lowered his face towards the ground while tilting it to the side, exposing his neck in an act of submission. Of course, he wanted to catch a glimpse of the obviously divinely beautiful superior being that was behind him, but he would not risk his life over that.

“Yes, of course.” he replied in what Vaile would have called a thick New Yorker accent.

“Your messenger talked-said that you need-wanted an assassin to kill-die someone with a much-very…interesting description. Why do you need-want to kill-die it? What did it do to you to earn such a destiny-fate?”

“That bastard crushed my… family jewels… after I yelled at it to move out of my way. I have served you and your empire for decades, so I beg of you to repay just the most insignificant bit of my-.”

“Enough!” the female Rattan yelled, shouting directing into the Werean’s ear. Before he could react, he felt a blade up against his throat as his right arm was twisted behind his back.

“But! But I’ve ser-!”

“Irrelevant!” the voice hissed, obviously seething with primal rage.

The Werean felt the world around him distort again and this time was thrown to the ground. In a momentary lapse of judgement, he stood up and turned around, only to behold a sight that nearly had him losing his lunch on the floor. Almost about to pass out due to the horrible sight of the five giant Rattan before him, he made the wise choice to simply fall to his hands and knees and refuse to look up.

“So,” a deeper, raspier and more venom-filled voice than that of the assassin but still just as feminine muttered its every word filled with hatred and evil, “where is he?”

“Wha-. I don’t-.”

“Where. Is. He?”

“I-!”

The Werean felt the force of gravity fade as he was magically lifted into the air and found his limbs and tail being twisted nearly to their breaking point. As he screamed in agony, he heard nothing from the five horrible monsters in front of him save for the occasional crackle of electricity or the flickering of flame. He was released from his torment after a while and fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

“This is your last chance.” the leader of the Five stated with a voice that was more frigid than the depths of Cocytus. “Where did you see him?”

“In the Bestiral Kingdom, outside the city of Eden’s Crater! I don’t know what happened to him after that! The Beastmen attacked and-!”

A bolt of emerald lightning filled his body and he crumpled to the ground, deader than a doornail. As his corpse cooled, sinister smiles spread across the inhuman faces of the members of the Five-Clawed Paw. Finally, they had a lead, and they would follow it to the end and claim what was rightfully theirs. Only a single command was given by their leader, and with it the whole of the war between the Beastmen and the Werean would be changed.

“Skwiik, go find our prize.”