text: [Themes: fantasy, RPG]
  
  You are a young explorer from Montana. You have been curious about the Arctic for a long time, but you haven't been experienced enough to go there. Now, after 3 years of exploring jungles, rivers, forests, deserts, and more, you are finally ready!
  
  You rent a jet to take you there. The journey lasts 4 days! You can't wait until the jet lands.
  
  As you step off with your exploring backpack slung over your shoulder, you are instantly glad that you wore a special insulated explorer's suit. It's still very cold, even with the suit's high-tech heat!
  
  You trudge through the snow for a while, just looking for something interesting. You come across a beautiful glacier just off the shoreline. You take a few pictures of the seals frolicking underwater.
  
  Then you spot something even more exciting. A real ice cave! You run inside with mounting excitement. This is where the legendary Arctic Bat is said to abide!
  
  Suddenly, the ground shakes. It's an avalanche! You try to run back out of the cave, but you're too late. Giant clumps of snow and a few icicles block your exit. It becomes a lot darker, because only a few rays of sunlight can penetrate the icy barrier.
  
  Well, you're going to need to find an exit, and fast! You can't stay stuck here forever! You see a carving on the wall, and 3 paths.
  
  The right path looks dark and narrow.
  
  The middle path looks dark and wide.
  
  The right path has something shining in it.
  
  > Right Path
  You have decided to try the right path.
  
  You walk into the right path; and your jaw drops in amazement. Hundreds and hundreds of gems are piled on top of one another in old mine carts!
  
  They aren't like any jewels you've ever seen! They are all crystallic and come in so many different colors! You see a few gems still frozen behind the icy cavern walls.
  
  You choose a mine cart and sit next to the gems. You pull the lever and the cart whirs to life. The next thing you know, you're hurdling down the track with precious ice jewels piled right next to you! You come to a fork in the path. Should you go left or right?[Themes: fantasy, RPG, war, fantasy]
  
  There are many races, species and creatures living in Kronnland. Still, some have a greater impact. Some make a difference. Some stand out from the millions of masses, irrelevant of species.
  
  This is the life story of a young Ratman that made a difference. What is a Ratman, you may ask?
  
  Well, it's hard to describe, but they look mostly like this:
  
  The average Ratman is a bipedal humanoid with rodent features. They are slightly hunched, but they still reach 5'11'' on occasion (1.75 meters). Surprisingly, their weight is rather low, giving them incredible agility, but rendering them unable to wield heavy weapons or wear heavy armor.
  
  Ratmen are sentient, but are a mutation of the less sentient ...rats. Breeding is easy and fast, thus keeping true to the rodent standard, but the offspring are not actually Ratmen, but rather slightly larger rats. They don't grow into Ratmen, but rather turn bipedal and sentient upon consuming a small quantity of the plant known as Ratweed.
  
  The Ratmen are a relatively new species to Kronnland, with a known history of only 100 years. Their evolution from rats under the effects of Ratweed is explained by a major event in Kronnland's history: an epic battle between two powerful Gods, that ended with the death of both, releasing tremendous amounts of magic into the world, changing many species of animals and plants. Ratweed, formerly known as "Blue Banshee Flower", due to it's faint blue glow in the moonlight, was on the list of affected plants, causing mutations to any who consumed it. Somehow, rats managed to consume it and mutated into what we know today as Ratmen.
  
  The Ratmen evolved, forming societies resembling those of early humans. Although they prefer underground caves and tunnels as homes rather than surface dwellings, some do live on the surface. Over time, they formed Clans, with strong leaders that would rule them until death, and different sets of laws for each clan.
  
  The most powerful clans were Deathscreek, Blackfur, Greenclaw, Redscar, and the evil Warrats.
  
  The Ratmen have three enemies: the vile Goblins, who tried to enslave them when their numbers were still low, the splinter faction of Rust Lords, Ratmen who betrayed their race and became Shamans for a race of insectoid creatures, and the worst of all, the large, dangerous, and stupid Swamp Trolls, who see the smaller Ratmen as toys, and since they have little to no brain, the only way to "play" with them is to club them to death with their various improvised weapons.
  
  The average Troll looks like this: a hulking green beast, with mucous-like flesh and skin, patches of messy hair covering random parts of their murky bodies, red eyes that glow in the dark and give away their location, three-toed legs that may or may not be fully able to keep the whole Troll standing, and BIG noses that always drool with green , poisonous muck. Oddly enough, because of the muck they're made from, their regenerative abilities are impressive, and they can turn into pools of quicksand-like mud, which is their main way to travel, as their fragile legs cannot hold them.
  
  Now that you know enough about the Ratmen and their enemies.....
  
  [Author's Note: Part of the larger "Legends" stories, Rat Story explains the side-story of a Ratman from the mythical Kronnland, who finds his long-lost brother.... Note: This story has two "good" endings.]
  
  > The Story of a Ratman
  The Blackfur Clan, one of the biggest civilized Ratmen Clans, stands proudly on the crossroads between the now-extinct Blackdon Volcano, the human city of Dumadran, and the dangerous Darkmoor Swamp.
  
  The Blackfurs have fought many battles against the Swamp Trolls from Darkmoor, but the Trolls have been gaining the upper hand lately. The Ratman leader, Lord Stormclaw II, has lost many of his sons in recent battles, and has fallen into a grave depression, further bringing the Blackfur to the edge. One by one, the best warriors either perished or defected to other Clans. The Cult of Rhoden, a self-proclaimed Rat King has gained popularity, incorporating many clans already, but the Blackfurs have not joined... Instead, many of it's warriors left for the "safety in numbers" seemingly provided by Rhoden. Stormclaw was desperate.
  
  To make matters worse, a band of humans has sneaked in and stole most of the valuables hoarded over time by the Clan, leaving them unable to trade with others for things they need.
  
  Stormclaw's two youngest sons, Blackscree and Greyfur, consumed Ratweed to become Ratmen, but for some reason they did not transform yet, even if the effect is almost instant. To make matters worse, the Clan's Shaman Council all had the same vision: Stormclaw dead, with the Blackfur camp in flames , at full moon, during a rainstorm, with Swamp trolls claiming victory. Usually, Ratman Shaman predictions are quite accurate, especially if it happens in groups, which meant that Stormclaw's days were numbered, as the full moon hanged upon the evening sky and clouds of storm amassed above the Clan's Camp.
  
  At sunset, the guards alerted Stormclaw of a slowly-moving group of trolls approaching, bearing a white flag and a large chest. As the group of seven trolls shuffled to the camp, Stormclaw ordered the guards to watch the group closely and at his sign, to attack from all sides.
  
  When the Trolls reached the camp, Stormclaw didn't greet them, but asked them outright what do they want. Struggling with the use of comprehensible language, the leader Troll mumbled almost incoherently that Stormclaw needs the contents of the chest they bear. He then opened the chest, revealing stolen potions from a Wizard who's tower stood near the Trolls' Swamp. Those weren't cheap healing potions, those were special potions used to increase the amount of food, which the Blackfurs lacked lately. As the troll spoke to Stormclaw, the Ratman guards followed their orders and surrounded slowly the seven trolls, but everyone felt they were missing something.
  
  A sudden downpour of rain started to soak everyone, and all the trolls started grinning and smirking. It was known that they fail at bluffing; they cannot hide it when they have an evil plan that's about to be revealed, and large, dumb grins on their green faces were the sign they cannot be trusted anymore.
  
  The Troll leader offered to give up the chest , demanding in exchange that the Ratmen help the Trolls against a band of thieves that settled in their Swamp. Stormclaw refused outright, knowing that it was a lie, but as he was about to give the attack order, he remembered the Shaman Council's prediction... and noticed something that made him realize that it was too late.
  
  As the Ratman Guards moved from their watch posts to surround the Trolls, small pools of mud, shapeshifted Trolls, moved freely behind them, infiltrated the camp , and surrounded them. The prediction was about to come.
  
  The end was close. But he was not going to fall without a fight. Both Stormclaw and the Troll leader ordered the attack at the same time, and the massacre began. Many Ratmen fell before they knew what hit them. Seeing the mess, some decided to give up and run away, as the Trolls couldn't catch up with them even when shapeshifted.
  
  The Troll Leader engaged Stormclaw personally, and smashed his skull with a precise hit. A lightning suddenly hit the roof of Stormclaw's den, setting it on fire. The soft rain was not enough to put it out, and the fire spread to the nearby huts. The Ratmen were defeated. Stormclaw's sons, Blackscree and Greyfur, not being fully grown, were easily surrounded by the Trolls. In a dash of adrenaline, Greyfur jumped on the back of a Troll, and started biting, clawing his way to the beast's minuscule brain, to stop it. The Troll waved his club around aimlessly trying to hit the rat on his back, but instead hit a fellow Troll. Seeing the two trolls now fighting each other, the dumb trolls flocked to the two, siding with either one or the other and clubbing to death other trolls randomly. Stormclaw always knew that the stupidity of the trolls can be used against them.
  
  Soon, only half a dozen trolls remained alive. The fleeing Ratmen turned around, reorganized quickly and counter-attacked. They took the camp back faster than they lost it, but the casualties were huge. Five dozen dead Trolls piled up in the middle of the camp, rapidly decomposing in the rain, with Greyfur standing on top of them, claiming the pyrrhic victory for the Blackfur Clan. Blackscree stood nearby, showing signs of jealousy. With their father dead and Greyfur turning the tide of the battle, it was decided that he should lead the Blackfur Clan, even in his semi-evolved state. Blackscree was displeased; he was next in line at the throne. Without anyone's knowledge, the Troll Leader survived, and only faked his death, seeing the imminent failure of the attack. Seeing the young Blackscree displeased with his brother's promotion to Clan leader, a plan was hatched into the Troll leader's mind...... And neither Blackscree or the troll leader have been seen ever since. Blackscree was supposed dead , although his remains were never found.
  
  Five years later, the Blackfur Clan was prosperous again, under Greyfur's leadership. Greyfur was given the secondary name of Trollslayer, for his deeds during and after the attack, which led to the extermination of the Swamp Trolls, in a joint effort with the bandits, mentioned by the Troll leader, who turned up to be real. Trollslayer became famous in both ratkind and humankind: turning the tide of a battle single-handedly with the result being fifty dead Trolls, a force to be reckoned with even by human standards, was no easy feat, although Trollslayer himself often claims otherwise.
  
  But recently, news arrived to Trollslayer's ears; a mighty warlord of the Dragons, based in the Blackdon Volcano just a dozen miles away from the Blackfur Camp, has declared war on the Human city nearby. Drawing a straight line from Blackdon to the city, Trollslayer realized that the only possible battlefield would be his own camp, found exactly in the middle, placed on a strategic location that both sides would prefer to own. Peace was not an option; conflict was enforced on the Ratmen when a human emissary declared that either the Ratmen join them and fight in the front lines, or oppose them and will be destroyed.
  
  > side with the Humans! Let battle be joined!
  Trollslayer agreed to the emissary's proposal. He and his Clan would lead the humans into battle, from the front lines. Many Ratmen do not approve of this technique... but the alternative would have been outright annihilation.
  
  At dawn, the furious roars of the Dragons from Blackdon pierced the horizon, echoing upon the winds endlessly, giving the impression of a legion; and a legion it was. Massive , fire-breathing beasts, with wings big enough to cover entire cities, swarmed upon the plains below Blackfur Hill.
  
  Human archers lined up, Ratmen warriors charged. Trollslayer lead the battle himself. As the massive dragons landed to attack, the Ratmen used their small weight and innate jumping abilities to just hop on them and damage them by every means possible: poking out their eyes, pulling out their scaled, ripping off the skin from their wings. Trollslayer himself stabbed a Dragon in the eye, and the beast roared in pain, causing the ground to tremble. three dragons were down, but the massacre has just began. More dragons were approaching, and the archers were given the order to fire at will. Trained human Dragonslayers brought special fireproof nets and enchanted weapons to take down the beasts.
  
  Waves upon waves of fire, arrows, magical nets and more devastation has reduced the Ratman Clan to small groups still clinging from annoyed dragons. The scent of burned fur and charred flesh was unbearable for the humans. Trollslayer's kill count reached six dragons, but the battle was lost. the Dragonslayers were overwhelmed, the archers were dead, the surviving Ratmen were used as meat shields by the Dragons, and the Camp was burned to the ground.
  
  In that moment, a spiral of blue energy bolted through the dragon legion from behind them, killing a dozen dragons in a split second. The attention of the winged death turned to the source of the spiral; a lone sorcerer, with black robes and a blue, glowing staff.
  
  Sending forth another spiral of energy, the sorcerer killed yet another dozen dragons, scaring off the entire legions: the dragons were intelligent beings, knowing when to retreat. They left the battlefield in only seconds. Trollslayer was still clinging from his dragon, but the Dragon snapped him with it's tail, and Trollslayer fell to his death, six hundred feet, in the middle of the former Blackfur Camp.
  
  The sorcerer approached.
  
  "Too much have I been waiting for this...... Greyfur....."