TO CULL THE RATS

[latte 2238]

Spoiler

this is just a fun precursor rp post to a wick holiday i wrote up for fun

 

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖙𝖘

 

The squelching of grass and rustle of the trees were audible as a small child of no notable history bolted through the dense scenery of the Wickwald. The boy, adventurous and playful, hopped over pits of mud, climbed the ancient oaks and crossed fast paced, treacherous rivers.

 

 With his wooden sword, he brushed thick greenery out of the way until it disapeared. As he ventured deeper into the forest, he noticed an opening in the path that led to a small man-made establishment; Camp Kerzenwick. A look around and he realized it was absent from mankind. This would be the perfect place to take a rest.

 

He sat down on aged oak, placing his small hands near the tended fire. The warmth of the flames kept the boy distracted as he sang the hymns of his forefathers - for he did not notice the enterouge of hisses and squeaks, the rumbling from the ground beneath.

 

As the foreign noises grew stronger in the air, the boy whipped around, fearing that his moment of free-loading was over. He saw nothing at one moment, but the next the boy’s expression fell into one of horror, eyes wide and jaw unhinged, his body tensing up, hands splayed on the wooden surface he sat upon.

 

The angry pitter-pattering of the ground and the now loud squeaking gave way too… rats! The size of small house cats were barreling towards him at a rapid rate! It wasn't one or two either, but a horde; a whole army of them. 

 

 

[!] Above is a depiction of the mass horde of rats

 running about the Wickwald in disarray.

 

 

Stuck in a panic-stricken state, the boy nearly fell backwards on the log, he used all of his strength to grab his sword and backpack, turning his heel to sprint into the direction of saftey. But safety was not there waiting for him, as he was now circled by an angry hoard of giant rats. Turning in a circle, the boy realized he was surrounded, and even worse, that he was no match for these mutant rats.

 

He would’ve been doomed, if not for the noble figure of Casimir Wick in the distance, his broom in one hand, a lone candle in the other. “Back! Back I say!” he shouted towards the horde, the broom swinging wildly as he dispelled the rats. Soon enough, they scurried off, leaving him and the young boy alone. A sigh left him, glancing over to the shaking adolescent. He sent the boy off from whence he came, and Casimir too returned to his abode.

 

 But he knew one thing, they would come back if there was nothing done about it. It was time.

 

It was time to cull the rats.

 

[Security_ 2287]

The savory aromas of fresh ratkebab swept through the Wickwald. Casimir sat by the fire tying down string to baskets, tossing cheese into the net-traps.

 

“Looks like we’ve got some Bad Rats.”