Tunnel Rat Chapter 123 Rough Draft (Patreon)

The hat was silly. A plain black skull-cap with round fake ears that stuck up obnoxiously, making sure everyone noticed the outsider in the room. And because "all outsiders look alike", his new name was stenciled on the front. The halfling exhaled a long breath and steeled himself for what came next. 'Jethro' had died when he betrayed his family and now, he was 'Clumpybigtoe'. He put the skull-cap on, and made sure the fake tail was hanging from the back of his belt. He'd been warned of punishment for being outside of his own burrow without either of them. And these guys took their punishments seriously.

The irony didn't go unnoticed. The fake ears and tail were to show his submission to the clan, and acceptance to his new boss. But rather than make him accepted, his new attire just pointed out to everyone that he wasn't an ally or hired mercenary, just someone desperate enough to beg for a small spot in the Hollow.

It had been a desperate move. His family had been after him, and the sharp knives were at his back. His family wasn't big on forgiveness when your actions ended up with them taken into slavery. When they were miraculously rescued and set free Jethro had run, and kept on running. Wurchwitz Hollow was the end of the line - a place so bad that his family would leave him here as punishment rather than kill him.

Hat in place and firmly held on by a chin-strap, Clumpybigtoe left his burrow, and made his way down the long tunnel to the main part of Wurchwitz Hollow. Around him, exhausted ratkin peasants trudged between work and sleep. They were packed ten to a burrow with barely enough room to sleep. At least he had his own burrow. The Cheese-Master had told him it was because of his lofty status of 'One-who-cuts-the-cheese', but he'd heard the snickers from the commoners that it was because of his 'horrible smell'.

Two Cheese Fiends were stationed at the end of the tunnel. They glared at everyone who went by. The ratkin hid their faces and stared at the ground. Jethro waved to them, causing the confused fiends to scratch their heads and wonder why. He smiled at everyone like it was the best day of his life. It was a small rebellion, but he refused to let them beat him all the way down. More fiends guarded the cheese factory. He and the others who worked the last shift of the day waited to take their positions. The cheese factory was never quiet. It took a lot of cheese to feed the assembled army of Cheese Fiends that the Masters of the Hollow used to keep the populace in line.

Bells rang, the shift changed, and Jethro took his position on the assembly line. He declined to put on the gas mask, decorated with fake whiskers, that the worker he was replacing had worn. Stinky cheese didn't bother him, he was a halfling and his clan had endured the most pungent of the stinky cheeses for centuries. He had to admit though, that Milkenbase was pretty bad. The site of the little cheese mites that squirmed out of the cheese as he cut it was also disturbing. But if you wanted a good, stinky cheese, you did what you had to do.

The first round of magically-aged cheese was shoved down the assembly line to him. He took his huge cheese knife did his job. It was time to cut the cheese!

Whelp Master Gangrene gave his guest a friendly slap on the back and watched him stumble forward. "Good to see you again, Sneaky. How are the weaklings up at Limburger Hollow."

Sneakybadguy winced in pain. Gangrene had a liking for causing pain in others. He'd earned his name by forcing wounded soldiers to keep fighting for weeks against the spiders during the great wars. Cheese had kept them going, their brains buzzing, while their wounds festered and rotted. Those that didn't become Cheese Fiends rarely survived without losing limbs or dying outright. Looking at the stumbling ranks of whelps, he saw that the Whelp-Master hadn't changed his methods.

"They are still the same! Espousing the false bad lies that by working together the Hollow is a better place. But they are ripe for taking over. The Shadow Stalkers are bored and wish to play dangerous games. Most of the population labor at menial jobs like mushroom farming and mining, making them excellent peasants. There are few who would resist and fight."

Gangrene listened carefully. Everyone lied, and judging an enemy’s strength by the boasting of an ally was tricky. "And what steps have you taken to earn your position as Master when we take over? Tell me why we need you."

Sneakybadguy had gone over this conversation in his mind, he had his answers ready. "I have labored hard to become useful to my fake-Master. When the time comes, I will easily supplant him! The guards are demoralized after I addicted one of them to badcheese and turned him into a Fiend. The spider colony nearby will begin attacks soon, weakening them. I managed to arrange the deaths of several noble spiders to make sure they stay angry. The mages fight among themselves, and spend more time battling each other than preparing the defenses of the hollow. But my best and most fiendish plan involves the 'players'."

"Players? How are they useful?"

Sneakybadguy laughed softly. "In two ways, great one. Firstly, some have tried to join the Hollow, but are greedy for power. I will be showing them the quick path to great power soon. Secondly, I have spread rumors in the human city above of the riches that can be gained by raiding the hollow. Between players, spiders, and my own fiends I can bring Limburger Hollow to its knees and have it begging for help!"

Gangrene liked the plan, but wondered how much of it was true. "It seems you barely need help. So why are you here?"

"To destroy the Hollow is one thing, but to rule it I need the expertise that your Hollow is known for: Fiends to keep the peasants in line, special cheeses to addict the populace and keep the fiends happy, workers for the cheese factory, and of course minions to pack back a share of the profits to this Hollow."

"A share? That sounds...undefined." Gangrene liked his contracts with teeth in them. "You want to be Master of the Hollow? Fine. That is your reward. Three quarters of profits from the mines and the cheese factory will come back to me here. I will send my own Tally-Master to oversee that things are done fairly."

Sneakybadguy protested. "No... that is not what we said. You asked only for a small cut!"

A blade flashed and Sneakybadguy feel to the ground, his leg bleeding. Gangrene roared with laughter. "And there is your small cut. Would you like a bigger one? No, I didn't think so. Time to quit playing games. Wurchwitz will take what it likes and you will be our agent there. Or I can find another who will agree. My spies tell me that there are several good prospects in the Hollow. Even a mysterious loner who seems to be challenging the Tail-Master for his position. He's ambitious and powerful. I like what I'm hearing about him."

Sneakybadguy rolled on the ground, trying to staunch the bleeding. "NO! Tall-squeak can't be trusted! No one knows where he comes from. He joined the Hollow already halfway to becoming a fiend! No one knows his goals, and he is hiding secrets! So many secrets!"

"Oooh, I like him already. I'll have to meet him somehow. As for you, we have our deal. Go get your cheese shipment from Clumpybigtoe at the factory. And remember that I have options to replace you."

Clumpybigtoe was annoyed when a limping stranger started yelling at him about cheese. He wasn't from this hollow, that was obvious. "Yeah, yeah. I'll get to it. How are you packing it off?"

Sneakybadguy didn't like this new cheese cutter, he had odd looking ears. Waving his hands like he was casting a spell, two Cheese Gathering bags appeared. "Fill those up, they take more than you would expect. And hurry it up. I need to be back at my own Hollow soon!"

Clumpybigtoe could care less, but smiled at the weird little ratkin. "No problem. I'll cut them up as they slowly come down the assembly line." This guy was an idiot. He should have asked for whole wheels. Once you cut Milkenbase wheels, the smell was horrible and the cheese mites squirmed all over. He would never get them out of those bags. That was his problem. Clumpybigtoe had enough of his own.