[color=silver][center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjk2LmNiYzZjNi5VbUYwY3cuMA/priestacy.regular.webp[/img][/center][s][/s]
And thus, [s]hell[/s] [s]chaos[/s] [s]pestilence[/s] [i]Rats[/i] were unleashed upon the camp in a volley of three tiny, squealing bundles of fur, teeth and nails. In a desperate attempt to break their fall, they latched onto anything their flailing little hands could reach; hair, clothes, tent fabric, the scary lady's bosom. 

Even amidst its fight against gravity, one in particular had the presence of mind (or perhaps the strength of nose) to remember their original objective however; the crock full of food. And if one rat had the mind to do something, by definition so too did the others. 

So after scampering about scratching and kicking at things in panic, the three eventually united, launching themselves at the scary lady. They squealed and scratched about with reckless abandon so that, hopefully, in her attempt to be rid of them she would knock over the pot. Why? Because then the food would be on the ground — which seemed to them far more accessible than the crock, although admittedly more difficult to carry. But that was a problem for another [s]post cycle[/s] phase of whatever plan they may or may not have been carrying out in their terrified, hungry little minds.

Larry, meanwhile, was working towards his solo leveling quest, using the chaos outside as an opportunity to... take... stuff. He wasn't sure what the stuff [i]was[/i], but some of it had writing and was pretty light, and some smelled like it had at least been in [i]contact [/i]with food, and was technically food by proxy. 

Now, while he was the biggest of the bunch, Larry was still a rat, so it wasn't like he could carry a lot; but what he could get moving (a few supplies, some scriptures), he stuffed into the pockets of a robe, buried into its hood, and then hightailed it out of the tent like the ghost of a priest past.

As for the three rats with Muste? As they gained distance from the rest of what made them [i]Rats[/i], they grew increasingly restless, running and digging around in whatever place they had hid in, feeling as though they had to return to the rest of their mischief.

That was, until something else entered their mind. A presence, a power, something familiar and yet not. At first Muste would hear only incessant squeaking, but as he focused, the Rats' thoughts would become clearer, their intents bare, then finally condensed into words. 

[color=#ffffff]"Return! Reunite! Fight! Food!"[/color]

... No one said their thoughts were very complex, yet.
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