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King of the Rats

A rat, that is what I am. Well, to be exact I'm a man rat. an abomination of untold proportions, a deviant to the beauty of mother nature. Born to inhabit the dirtiest of sewers and the deepest of holes. To hide away beneath the dirt only leaving to hunt down some of the weaker prey. That is the race I was born into. The weakest of the weak, a fetid and miserable group whose hatred for one another is only beaten by our immense dislike for Goblins. Those scummy little green trash. But me, I am an outlier to this, an anomaly of sorts. For I was not born a brainless buffoon who can only feel hatred and hunger. I was born intelligent.

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Not all that glitters is gold

My dreams were twisted and disjointed. Images of twisted mannequins and endless trees haunted them. Occasionally I would feel myself escaping the forest only to see a city built from the whitest of marble. Gold crests hung in the clouds suspended from the domed rooves of the larger buildings.

In the centre of the city was a statue. made from what looked like solid gold. The statue stared expressionless into the distance. Its beautiful gold features glimmer in the sunlight.

The statue was very clearly female with long flowing locks of golden hair which seemed to almost move with the swaying of the wind.

Where the eyes of the statue should be was instead replaced by a smooth white cloth which wrapped all the way around the head of the statue.

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