[Mkguild] Divine Travails of Rats - Pars IV. Infernus (g)

[C. Matthias]

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Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx

Pars IV: Infernus

(g)

Saturday, May 12, 708 CR


Beyond the portal was another short corridor of 
stone followed by another series of large pits in 
which languished beasts of remarkable size and 
girth. Charles averted his eyes from each pit and 
from each cage, but the suffering seemed to exude 
from each. He could hear no cries, but each step 
tore at his heart, calling to his eyes, summoning 
him to the edge to peer over and know misery. He 
stumbled as he walked, drawn against his will to 
sate a morbid curiosity that balked at understanding.

How could anyone be so cruel to everything that had life?

The deep silence was penetrated only by the soft 
crush of stone beneath his paws and 
Qan-af-årael's gentle boots. The pits slipped 
past them like empty boats at a dock, miserable 
from rain and fog. Charles tightened his grip on 
his Sondeshike and finally stepped toward one, 
the effervescent touch of the Åelf's fingers at 
his shoulder bidding him come back. He slipped 
beneath his protector's grasp and peered down 
into the pit and ground his teeth together, hissing in sudden fury.

The pits in the chamber were large as if they 
were meant to contain an elephant or young 
dragon. Instead what he found was a small series 
of chambers separated only by different sorts of 
walls, some stone, others clay, and some wood, in 
each of which trembled a naked human. Three of 
the humans were covered with pustules bleeding a 
greenish ooze, with the old man in the corner 
also bleeding out of his nose and blinking 
rheumy, yellow eyes up at the rat. The other 
three did not appear to have succumbed to the 
sickness yet but they were chained to the ground 
so tightly that any motion caused them to bleed around their bonds.

Charles met the old man's gaze and shuddered when 
he saw the man's lips moving. Rotted teeth, 
blackened and loose hid just behind his lips. He 
tried to speak, but the enchantments placed over 
the pit prevented any sound, any glimmer of the 
words from reaching the rat's ears.

The rat lashed his tail back and forth and 
glowered. “We have to do something!” he hissed with a glance back at the Åelf.

“There is nothing you can do. Come,” Qan-af-årael 
beckoned with an outstretched hand. “This is the 
task of those who dwell here. You can do nothing.”

Charles seethed and peered back into the pit. The 
old man was bleeding from his ears as well as his 
nose. Horrified, he could only watch as the flesh 
of the old man's head ruptured in place after 
place, collapsing and then expanding as if some 
great pump were operating within. Blood trickled 
down out of his eyes, as the rictus of pain 
stitched itself across his cheeks and cracking 
his lips. It could have been only seconds that 
the rat watched but if felt as if hours drained 
past while the man's entire body fell apart. And 
yet, even as his flesh sundered, sloughing off 
like snow sliding from a roof, the life never 
seemed to leave his eyes. Blood-streaked and 
yellow from jaundice, nevertheless, a faint spark 
of life remained there in even as they dangled 
from his eyes sockets and bounced against the rotten flesh collapsing beneath.

Overwhelmed by nausea, and unable to look at the 
other victims, Charles flung himself to the stone 
path, one paw over his snout, the other against 
his belly willing everything within to stay 
there. His stomach protested, heaving, even as he 
clenched tight his throat and eyes. Something 
touched him softly between his ears and he felt a 
warmth fill him. The heaving subsided, and his 
nausea passed. His heart stilled and beat at a steady, unhurried pace.

He opened his eyes and stared into the pearl 
gray-skinned and golden eyed face of 
Qan-af-årael. There was an assurance there, a 
confidence that called to him, beckoned him to 
belief. Here was one in whom he could place his 
trust. Here was one in whom he would always find rest.

“When you are ready.” The words were warm silk 
and as satisfying as a long drought of cool milk. 
Charles nodded and climbed to his paws, averting 
his eyes from the pit, focusing instead upon the 
Åelf. He kept one hand wrapped about his 
Sondeshike, but otherwise looked only at his 
protector and guide, walking at his side and doing his best to ignore all else.

They made their way through several more rooms 
filled with larger and more complicated pits. No 
longer did they just reside beneath them, but 
seemed to tunnel around in a vast burrow network 
like a gigantic colony into which the lord of 
this realm poured his infectious experiments. 
Twice they were forced to wait and hide while 
pairs of Gardeners checked on the victims, but 
both times they were fortunate not to be noticed by the monstrous insects.

Their fortune could not continue forever. In the 
granite passageway between rooms Qan-af-årael 
turned to him with a brow faintly furrowed with 
concern and whispered, “The Bridge is in the next 
chamber. So is this realm's master.”

Charles grimaced and nodded, trying not to let 
his friend see the fear clenching in his heart. 
How could they evade the author of the tortures 
and disease riddling this place? The rat steeled 
himself and rolled the Sondeshike back and forth 
in his hand, short claws tapping the brass 
ferrules at the each end. His snout fixed in a 
moue. His tail curled at his ankles and his toe 
claws dug into the stone beneath them. But even 
though he tensed for a conflict beyond his 
reckoning, the Åelf remained calm, radiating a 
sense of peace and stillness as of an ageless forest or a vast sea.

The passage widened as they continued and opened 
above them to the bitter sun much larger in the 
sky as if it were plummeting to the earth. A wide 
arched doorway stood open, and beyond a room 
fashioned from dark stone, and arranged in three 
tiers. The lowest tier had a pit of indeterminate 
size in its middle with sloping walls down to a 
small puddle of putrid brown water framed by 
blooms of yellow mushrooms with oozing 
phosphorescent caps. At either side of the pit 
waited two of the Gardeners, their green 
chitinous armor vaguely dimmed despite the 
blazing sun. Their faces were turned downward 
into the pit, and their antennae stilled as if 
they too were quiescent until beckoned.

The second tier rose up a horse's height from the 
first, and across this stretched a small garden 
replete with wilting flowers, drooping vines, 
stumpy trees riddled with blight, and a fungal 
bloom infesting every inch as if it were the 
ground from which all else sprang. Along either 
wall at the side of the second tier were cabinets 
filled with bottles and beakers and all other 
sorts of containers brimming with liquids, stews, 
and other concoctions of every hue and 
consistency. Though each were sealed and through 
the otherwise overwhelming stench of decay a 
miasma of chemical pungency jabbed at the inside of his nostrils.

But what he saw above this filled him with a 
terror beyond any horror of the nightmare forest 
that had driven him nearly to beasthood. The 
topmost tier was lined with shelves of what 
appeared to be books each with bindings wider 
than the rat was tall. These rose upward in 
stacks that stretched beyond his sight. A vast 
desk fashioned from bones from humans and animals 
surmounted the tier, stretching at least twenty 
feet wide and over six feet in height. Some of 
the skulls could have been those of Keepers, but 
it was impossible to tell if they were truly his 
kin or mere beasts. A few were still coated in 
rotting flesh and all of them were discolored 
yellow or purple to varying degrees; not a one of them had been polished white.

Sitting at the desk and writing with a quill pen, 
the strands of feather shriveled, was a tall 
emaciated man with pale skin garbed in a 
voluminous brown robe. His expression was cold 
and detached, dour without appearing hostile or 
contemptuous. His eyes were sunken so deep in his 
skull that Charles could not see their color or 
even if they had color at all. He had no hair 
anywhere that the rat could see. The pale dome of 
his head seemed blotchy but he could discern no 
imperfection; pasty and white it seemed an 
affectation rather than something natural. His 
entire form shimmered with a febrile sheen of a 
yellowish green mucus. Charles felt as if 
stricken with palsy at the mere glimpse of him.

He did not lift his head from what he wrote, but 
his voice coursed through the room, echoed off 
the walls, and enclosed them as if they had been 
grasped by a fist. “It is fitting that a mortal 
rat would peruse my work. You are untouched by 
the variety of my experiments though I am not 
unaware of your escape from my nurses. I am 
always keenly interested in the progression of 
disease through mortal kind and the effect it has 
on your physical well-being, but also the 
deterioration it causes in your mental and 
spiritual health. Your presence here provides a 
most advantageous opportunity. Though I am 
certain you are unaware of the necessity of 
control subjects in any experiment, allow me to 
expound on the importunity of your arrival in my 
demesnes and my intentions for your ultimate disposition.

“But first you must pardon my inattention as the 
chronicles of my work occupy my hands for but a 
moment more. I am confident that you will not 
proffer any argument at my necessary delay.”

The two gardeners – 'nurses' as Tallakath had 
called them – turned toward them both but made no 
move to intercept them. The reverberating echo of 
the daedra lord's voice held Charles immobile 
more firmly than the insects could even with all 
of their limbs. An iciness crept up his legs and 
his grip on the Sondeshike faltered. Out of the 
corner of his eye Charles could see the edges of 
Qan-af-årael's lips moving though no sound escaped his tongue.

After a few seconds more the daedra lowered the 
quill and folded his hands over the volume in 
such a way that despite the angle Charles could 
see them clearly. His fingers were long and bony, 
the nails a discolored yellow at their tips, but 
otherwise perfectly manicured. The flesh covering 
his bones appeared cold as if he himself 
possessed no life. And yet the daedra's words, 
firm and unyielding, returned with an icy grip 
that clenched deep into his heart. Charles felt 
certain this being could snuff his life with an errant blink.

Tallakath studied him for only a moment, seeming 
to pay no heed to the Åelf at his side. “Your 
method of travel into my demesnes is of no 
interest to me nor is your intention to leave. In 
any event that is no longer possible. Very 
shortly I will provide you with a place that you 
will remain so that you can offer an invaluable 
service to the pursuit of knowledge I am 
undertaking and which occupies my time. It is the 
work of generations and aeons but it is work of 
inestimable value and numerous applications.”

Charles had an image of himself, fully disrobed 
and cast into one of the stone pits he'd 
witnessed, shivering in the bitter cold shade, 
and blistering in the unforgiving fire of the 
sun. And all the while suffering from the 
terrible consumption of disease as something 
devoured his flesh and riddled him with endless 
agony. All to satisfy this daedra's curiosity and 
nothing more. He would become a data point in one 
of those volumes, a curiosity dictating further 
experiments to be unleashed on his brethren in 
Metamor at the first opportunity.

Tallakath's lips did not even offer him the 
suggestion of a cruel smile. “But before that you 
can assist me in expanding the wealth of 
knowledge concerning the mental anguish that 
accrues to mortal-kind when witness to suffering. 
You have seen many in this place who are in 
various stages of disease, consumption, and 
degradation. As a mortal you are naturally 
equipped with a degree of empathy that allows you 
to vicariously share in the sufferings of others; 
I noted this while you witnessed my nurses at 
their tasks. I am keenly interested in sampling 
that voyeuristic pain. Please, in detail and with 
complete honesty, provide for me an account of 
the anguish you experienced in your soul.” Bony 
shoulders rose and fell negligently beneath his 
robes. “Also, quickened by a live, beating heart 
and flesh, you offer a rare opportunity to 
examine the effects of my research. I have long 
sought to understand how the illnesses I initiate 
here can be transferred to a living host, which 
requires a living host – such as yourself.” He 
tapped the ragged end of the quill pen against 
his lips as if in thought. “And that will allow 
me to sicken, and remove, a tool of my sister by 
which you came into this realm. The Dreamers have 
long thwarted my nurses when they seek to find 
mortals wandering her realm to aid in my work.”

The icy grip that heretofore rooted him in place 
seemed to withdraw from him. Charles blinked 
several times as he tried to understand how that 
could be and what he was being asked to do. The 
Gardeners with their multifaceted eyes, 
glimmering black like diseased fish eggs, stepped 
closer, rubbing their arms against one another in 
a discordant hum. Qan-af-årael did not move apart 
from his lips which framed soundless words. The 
rat took a deep breath and stood as tall as he 
could. One paw traced the sign of the Yew and 
with a defiant stammer he said, “You will learn 
nothing from me! I deny you, and in Eli's name I confound you!”

The ancient scientist scoffed with a lazy 
chuckle. “Your contumacious reply is hardly 
unexpected.” Tallakath waved one hand before 
resting it back on its twin. “Nor is it entirely 
as uninformative as you have no doubt intended it 
to be. By demonstrating a degree of resistance 
you also demonstrate that the suffering you have 
witnessed during your journey has not caused a 
level of anguish requisite to inducing 
compliance. However, it does imply that the 
suffering you have seen has wounded you. You are 
affronted by it; your personal sense of justice 
has been violated by it. What anguish you did 
experience has hardened you to a degree so that 
in some aspects you are no longer concerned for 
your physical well-being. Yet as you did not come 
to this chamber to challenge me under the 
misguided assumption that you could bring what 
transpires in my demesnes to an end it is clear 
to me that you have not been disturbed to the 
point of seeking to right a perceived a wrong. 
This leads to one of three possibilities 
regarding the initial state of your character 
which will provide the necessary baseline for my 
subsequent analysis. Either you are a callous 
individual for whom the sufferings of others 
provides only a minor degree of discomfort, or 
you have hardened yourself against the sufferings 
of others in order to accomplish some other goal 
which is more important to you than the 
well-being of your fellow kind, or lastly you 
have hidden away your empathic reactions in order 
to avoid the emotional instability engendered by 
them for the purpose of escaping this place.

“The interesting question at this time is which 
of these three will be the true response you will 
choose. In order to discern that it is necessary 
to continue my experiments. Now that I have you 
within my presence I am capable of directly 
noting your reactions to various stimuli. Given 
what I know of your travels through my demesnes 
the first possibility, that of a callous spirit 
bereft of all but a meager empathy appears the 
least likely and so unless your reactions 
indicate otherwise we can dismiss this for the 
moment and focus instead on gauging whether you 
have steeled yourself or hidden yourself in the face of suffering.”

Charles flicked wide his Sondeshike, and began 
twirling it over and over in his paws. What else 
did he have left but bravado? If not this he 
truly should be a rat in mind and body. “If you 
don't want two more of your gardeners to die 
you'll keep them away from us both. I warn you I 
will not hold back if you do not.”

The emaciated figure picked up his quill and 
jotted something in the volume resting upon the 
desk of bone. “An intriguing reaction. I have not 
yet provided any stimuli of suffering to gauge 
your internal state and yet you react with 
hostility. A curious reaction given that at 
present I am not interested in bringing you to 
any physical harm.” His fingers splayed toward 
the insectile servitors, “I am worried not of 
their fate, I have more. As I previously noted I 
am interested in your reactions as a control 
subject at this time. Your experiences will 
expand the horizons of knowledge and contribute 
to our understanding of the human spirit and 
enable me to expand my work more directly through 
your somnolent flesh while it is still quickened 
with Life. While I can glean the truth from 
anything you say and any reaction you provide, it 
is simpler if you would convey your internal 
state without useless posturing or threats you lack the ability to consummate.”

Charles kept spinning his Sondeshike, focusing 
all of his fearful trembling into his tail to 
keep it from his snout. His whiskers twitched 
anyway as the Gardeners shifted back and forth, 
their mandibles rubbing over one another and dripping.

Tallakath's musings continued as if silence were 
unnatural for him; and yet, though his voice 
enclosed them in the room and drove out all 
thoughts from their minds, it never raised above 
a conversational din, nor seemed emotional in any 
way. Cool, detached, and without empathy, it 
chilled the rat's limbs anew. “Perhaps it may 
help ease the transmission of your valuable data 
if I were to describe my intended experiment once 
I no longer have need of you as a control 
subject. The souls which I usually have at my 
disposal react somewhat differently to the 
various contagions I prepare for use on the 
mortal plane than a mortal such as yourself 
would. They are not capable of death as you are, 
merely of being drained of all useful essence. 
Your ability to die – your living flesh, to be 
precise, as I will retain the spirit wrestled 
from it – provides a valuable data point in my 
studies, as well the progress of that contagion 
through the mortal realm you have created such a 
convenient bridge to by coming here, to my very 
workroom. By allowing a disease to run its course 
very near to completion in you I will be able to 
better determine the final stages of the 
disease's development before expiration. And if I 
am careful enough in the application of 
restorative measures I will be able to obtain 
valuable data on the progression of not just one 
but many different diseases, and perhaps even 
begin to understand the interplay of multiple 
active diseases in your system. The fact that 
your human physiognomy has been supplemented with 
that of a rodent will not be an impediment to my 
investigations as there is a great deal of 
similarity between the two. The points of 
convergence far outweigh those that diverge; 
there will be little issue of your rodent nature 
compromising the value of any data I obtain.

“Do you have any thoughts on my proposal? As the 
host for the development of pathogens I am keenly 
interested in understanding your perspective on 
the experience and not just the physiological 
changes that will naturally occur during the 
course of any disease's progression. Please, be honest in your appraisal.”

With each question the lord of pestilence seemed 
to withdraw his hold on the rat. He could take 
him and break him at any time and he wanted 
Charles to know it. Knowing it might be his last 
moment, Charles snorted, casting a quick furtive 
glance at the Åelf whose eyes had narrowed to 
slits. His pearl-gray body seemed rigid yet soft, 
as if it were waiting. His gaze pierced the edge 
of the pit toward the brown pool below.

He turned back to the daedra lord and spun his 
Sondeshike faster. “You like to hear yourself 
talk don't you? Well keep talking if you wish! 
You will learn nothing from me, nor through me!” 
With a lift of the spinning shaft he struck 
downward, ringing the ferrules upon the stone at 
his feet with a scintillating bell-like note that 
reverberated in his ears even as the shaft 
continued it humming revolutions. “The only words 
you will have from me are contempt!”

“Your intransigence is not unexpected,” Tallakath 
replied without any change in emotion. Despite 
Charles' bravado, he felt a terrible weight in 
the daedra's words, one wearing heavily on his 
soul. He could not help but remember all of the 
people and beasts he had seen in the pits, left 
to wallow in their own excrement and covered with 
sores of such excruciating pain that to even move 
was to invite mind-rending agony. “Seeing as 
revealing my intentions for you has not secured 
your cooperation I will proceed with my original 
intent of determining a baseline for your spiritual and mental health.”

He made no motion. From his place behind the desk 
of skulls and bones the lord of pestilence and 
plague vanished, to appear on the second tier in 
that same moment. He had in one hand a long, thin 
blade the likes of which Charles had seen in a 
healer's hands, only longer and larger, intended 
to harm rather than heal. In the other was a 
carved human leg bone inscribed with green script 
of no language Charles knew. “There are certain 
elements of both physical contagion and magical 
inducement I will demonstrate that I might elicit 
a response to indicate your current state. Your 
guardian has prepared while my attention was 
focused but I cannot allow its work to be 
completed, nor its spirit to persist though it 
can offer me no insights.” Tallakath's wrist 
flicked toward Qan-af-årael, the edge of the 
blade in his grasp gleaming a pestilent hue. “It 
will be eliminated, for it can no longer protect you, mortal.”

The Gardeners advanced on Qan-af-årael who 
remained where he stood for only a second more. 
His voice was quiet but sure, and with simple 
assurance murmured, “It is done.” He spread his 
arms wide and a fiery blue light erupted from 
both palms to bathe the Gardeners. Chittering 
screams erupted from both as their armor seared 
away, arms flailing and abdomens erupting in a 
vile yellow froth. Bilious and filthy, the mucus 
smeared across the wall up to the second tier and 
ringed the outside of the pit as the two 
Gardeners crumpled into writhing piles of flailing limbs.

“Into the pool!”Qan-af-årael pushed the rat 
forward. While Tallakath watched with the same 
dour expression he had borne on their arrival, 
rat and Åelf raced down the sloped wall into the 
pit. Charles held his Sondeshike tightly at his 
side and took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes 
shut as he jumped into the pool, sinking quickly into a limitless depth beyond.

As they disappeared within, his tail whipping 
over his head, he heard the master of that vile 
realm murmur, “So that was your secret purpose. 
Hardened against suffering...” And then his head 
plunged beneath the slick surface and all went black.

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May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias
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