Best Of

I lost the earlier log out of my buffer with the constable, alas, but here is a tidbit of fun times chasing rats in hats with @Uzriel that amused me. Also the think command is my favourite thing ever for amusing myself. 


Sprinting in short bursts, a smog-stained rat scurries in from the down.

You pet a smog-stained rat ingratiatingly.

A smog-stained rat's ears perk up.

You say, "Stop running, little fellow."

Voice muffled by his mask, Geochemist Uzriel i'Xiia says, "We made you cheese."

Uzriel drops the platter at his feet.

You urge a smog-stained rat onwards.

look rat

Larger than most rats, this svelte specimen of vermin looks to be a fairly unique strain. Covered in a sleek coat of long, black fur that is shot through with grey, patches have been stained intermittently with smog that has left a coat of viscous brown oil. Slightly curled, large whiskers sprout from either side of its triangular pink nose and flutter with every constant, curious snuffle that seems to escape it. Almost comically large, two enormous teeth sprout from beneath its nose to scrape near its chin, the rest of its mouth filled with needle-like teeth. A whipcord thin tail sticks up towards the heavens behind it, bent close to the base, seeming to be shaped by its propensity to stand on its powerful hind legs. In defiance of all logic, perched upon the head of the rat is a baleful looking, pointy hat.

A smog-stained rat is a humble-looking creature.

You say, "It's alright. We are not looking to hurt you."

You think to yourself: Right now.

A smog-stained rat's nose twitches as it sniffs at the air.

Uzriel holds his hands up to show he means no harm.

Sapphira nods towards the shard in Uzriel's hands. "Curious little trinket you had there, Mister."

Voice muffled by his mask, Geochemist Uzriel i'Xiia says, "We just want to know where you got it from."

Sapphira nods in agreement, smiling in a friendly way, reaching out once more to give the rat an affectionate little pet.

Uzriel tells you, "This rat is different from the other one, its hat is different."

A smog-stained rat bristles at the words and takes a step back. A little shard glinting in its hat.

You say, "...Oh."

Uzriel tells you, "The other one had a white skin hat."

Sapphira drops to her knees and beckons to the rat. "Oh silly me, you are definitely not the same rat. You're too handsome."

Uzriel aims his magnum at the rat, "Drop it or die."

Sapphira glances at Uzriel with a faint sigh.

A smog-stained rat looks from you to Uzriel, utterly confused by the change in tone.

You think to yourself: I can hardly grab it if it runs away. Men.

Uzriel nudges the platter, "Carrot" then waves his gun, "Stick. You pick."

Sapphira extends her hand once more in a non-threatening gesture.

You think to yourself: Just a little closer and I can grab him around his little neck.

A smog-stained rat gives Uzriel a pointed look and approaches the platter, getting closer to you.

Uzriel backs up, tucking the gun away with a nod towards you.

Uzriel tells you, "See. Good scientist bad scientist. It works."

Sapphira shuffles forward a little. "There's a good boy. Go ahead, have a taste. I just want to admire your hat."

A smog-stained rat sneaks a slice of cheese away from the plate.

You have emoted: Sapphira reaches out, stroking the fur on the creature's back, fingers wandering towards the hat. "See. Carrot is good."

It occurs to you that the rat is now close enough that you could GRAB it.

You reach out and attempt to grab a smog-stained rat before it can flee.

A smog-stained rat tries to avoid your reaching hands but only manages to dance right into them. You squeeze the vermin hard but it bites your finger. You refuse to relent but its squirming is loosening your grip.

The rat manages to squirm out of the grip but in the struggle it loses something attached to its hat. It falls to the ground with a clink.

Exasperated, a smog-stained rat scampers away fast as it can. Its hat askew as it looks over its shoulder to make sure nobody is chasing it.

You pick up an angular mirror shard.

You say, "Oww. the wretch bit me."

You gently pull on one of the tiny guardian sea creatures of a seaglass calendar of the Star Palace,

opening the tiny drawer and retrieving the trumpet shell within. Curious, you lift the trumpet shell to 

your ear.

"Baby squid, doo doo doo doo doo doo! Baby squid, doo doo doo doo doo doo! Baby squid, doo doo doo doo

doo doo! Baby squid!" The inane tune echoes in your ear, as visions of endless squid dance before your 

eyes.

... I think I might hate you just a little now.