22 December 2022

There’s a lot going on in these scenes. It’s pretty tricky to balance, actually; the piper’s song seems like it should be fun, and joyous, all that. But at the same time, Naomi’s losing her only “friend”, and the piper has gathered a ridiculously massive swarm of rats to follow behind him. Which is terrifying. Doubly so if you’ve played either of the A Plague Tale games (I’ve still only played Innocence; Requiem is on my list, though). I may play with different iterations of this scene to figure out what fits the story best… after I have enough of the rest of the story to have an idea what that means, exactly.

The other concern I have is with Father Monroe. Who is he exactly? How much of an influence has he had on Naomi’s life? I think at this point I’ve decided he is not her guardian, but he does seem to have it out for her for whatever reason. I don’t know why yet; maybe she was born out of wedlock? I don’t really like that, for various reasons. I’ll think on it more.

…unnerved her.

Barton seemed fascinated by it, however. He even squirmed out of her grasp and ran out into the street. Naomi cried out and chased after him, but froze when she saw what was happening.

Pietr danced and sang his way down the street, playing his pipes all the while. How he could sing while playing the pipes, Naomi didn’t know; none of it made sense. But that’s what was happening.

That wasn’t what had caught Naomi’s breath, though. Behind him scurried a whole horde of rats, so think it almost looked like a river of fur flowing down the street. Rats sprouted from under doors and through cracks to join the throng.

Naomi snapped to her senses and found Barton a little ways ahead, rushing to join the horde. She yelped and chased after him. She’d nearly caught up to him, at the edge of the horde, when a strong pair of arms caught her and pulled her away.

“You don’t want to get caught up in that, little Naomi,” Baker Malcolm said.

Naomi squirmed and struggled to get free, but the baker’s grip on her was too strong. “Barton! BARTON!”

But the piper and the rats paid her no heed, if indeed the piper could even hear her over his own playing and the noise of the rats. He danced on his merry way until he was out of sight, and it wasn’t long before the last of the rats soon followed.

Malcolm finally let Naomi go, and she sank to her knees, too stunned to cry as she stared vacantly down the street where the piper had disappeared.

Around her, the other villagers began cautiously opening their doors. They looked around with pale faces before they slowly filtered out into the street. All of them huddled together, like they thought they’d just seen the devil himself.

As Naomi watched them, she saw a lot of the other kids clinging to their parents or siblings. Johan. Grace. Emma and Ruth. It struck at the hole inside her heart, and she squeezed her arms around her chest, as if she were hugging Barton close.

Only, now Barton was gone, too. And he wouldn’t be coming back. Once that sank in, the tears finally came, and the sound of her cries and sobs echoed throughout the village.

Perhaps an hour later, Father Monroe had gathered any willing to an impromptu, outdoor sermon. “Rats are unclean, the very spawn of the devil himself,” he said. “And any who can command them like that must be his servants. Indeed, eve those who merely consort with them are suspect!”

He glared across the square at Naomi. Ordinarily, she might quip back or at least return his glare, but today she couldn’t bring herself to care.

One of the other villagers, Robert, chimed in. “Yeah! If he can do that, how do we know he wasn’t the one as sent the rats in the first place?”

“Precisely.” Father Monroe nodded. “And it would be the gravest of sins to support one of the devil’s servants!” The crowd roared in approval, and he continued. “Therefore, we will not pay this foppish wretch so much as a single cent! We will not condone any witchcrafts or sorceries here. Instead, we must drive him from the village! If he will not, then worst comes to worst, we may be called upon to hoist this warlock on the pyre!”

Once again, the crowd roared, stirred up in a fervor of self-righteous zeal. Some part of Naomi thought she ought to go and warn Pietr, but the bigger part of her couldn’t be bothered. Besides, he was the one who sent Barton away.

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2 December 2022

Something about the story of the pied piper of Hamelin has always fascinated me. I’m not sure what it is. There was a D&D solo session I had around 6 years ago that played into it, but even before that, it’s just teased at the corners of my brain. I really noticed it after I wrote the scene with Duke Hareln during Nanowrimo; my first thought for his name was Hameln, and I was pondering on why that is.

Then I got to thinking about the story, and how fae-like the pied piper is. From there I thought about deals and trades and fairness in the way it applies to the fae, and I found one possible individual that the pied piper might have had no hold over. And that’s where we get our story.

Nella squeezed Barton in her arms and boldly stepped out onto the street. It was a new day, and she knew that it was this day. Today was the day she’d make a real friend. No offense to Barton.

First, though she had to work. If you didn’t work, you didn’t eat, and Nella needed to eat. She started at Baker Malcolm’s. Before she even made it in the door, though, Malcolm stopped her. “Eh-eh, little Nell. No rats.”

Nella pinched her eyebrows together and squeezed Barton tighter, enough that he squeaked and squirmed in protest. “Barton’s not like other rats. He’s my friend.”

“Still, no. He’ll nibble the bread, and then what have I to sell, eh?” He plucked a roll out of a basket and tossed it to her. “You still have not had a breakfast yet, no? Here.”

“Thanks.” Nella caught it and took a big bite. She peered past Malcolm into his kitchen, where a couple of rats snuck onto the counter. “I though rats weren’t allowed in the bakery?”

Malcolm looked back, then cursed loudly and began waving a knife around. Nella decided he’d be busy for a while, so she went to see if anyone else had jobs for her to do.

Next she visited Arnauld and Janine, the candlemakers. Then Robert the butcher and Renee the tailor. None of them had work for her, either. While she walked around town she spotted twelve different rats scurrying about. That was a lot more than normal. Maybe Barton told all his friends and family what a nice town it was here?

While she walked over to Margaret the weaver woman’s shop, she over heard Old Ethel chatting with her friend, Agatha. “There she goes again, that Nella, with her blighted rat. Stinks up the place something awful. Hasn’t she learned there are such things as baths?”

“Now, now. It’s not her fault, is it? And it could be worse. At least she’s the good, honest sort, not some sneak thief or pickpocket.”

Nella frowned. She lifted an arm and sniffed; she didn’t smell anything. And she took a bath just four days ago. Did she really stink?

In the end, though, she shrugged and forgot about it. Margaret, it turned out, did need some help, so Nella helped her weave baskets in the back room. Margaret was nice enough to treat her to lunch, and Nella thanked her before she ran out to go play with the other kids.

Or, well, that was what Nella had hoped for.

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