Morbid Morsals Season 2. Episode 9. The Rat-King

Beneath the city, something stirs. The whispers of a long-forgotten terror creep through the streets, carried on the scuttling of countless tiny feet. In the darkness, an ancient hunger awakens—something more than man, more than beast. It watches. It waits. And soon… it will rise.

All hail the Rat King.

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Transcript

SPEAKER_02: 0:01

This episode contains mature language and adult situations.

SPEAKER_04: 0:06

Listener discretion is at the Hello, my friend. And how is it that you stumbled into my calves in the abyss? I am ancient. I am forever. And I have been chained down here for millennia. I am a shadow dweller. Here to keep you company until the abyss swallows you home. I've been here for eons and collected stories. I will tell you a tale to pass the time. Short stories of horror. Tiny tales of the creeping. I will show you by the end you'll be screaming with madness. A short detail of madness. To let's just say carry your tremendous suffering over to the longer, further episodes. Your torment and endless suffering has helped me go stronger. To reunite my brothers once again to open the port for here, the nether realm to your work. To release darkness and chaos upon all mankind. We have grown stronger by passing these tales of madness on to you. Not only will we feast on your souls, but we will unleash hell on earth. We'll be seeking new, unfortunate swords to torment, new chapters of fear, tales of the unbelievable, and more skin episodes. Remember, your dark thoughts lead you to me. I won't have to find you. It will be you that seeks me out.

SPEAKER_03: 3:27

Beneath the city, something stirs. The whispers of a long-forgotten terror creep through the streets, carried on the scuttling of countless tiny feet. In the darkness, an ancient hunger awakens. Something more than man, more than beast. It watches, it waits, and soon it will rise. All hail the Rat King. In the labyrinthine depths of the city, there existed a man shrouded in darkness and mystery. His name was Silas, but he was known to those who dared speak of him as the Rat King. Silas had a peculiar and terrifying power, an unholy alliance with the rats that infested the sewers beneath the city streets. These rodents were mere pawns in his malevolent game, carrying out his every command, whether it be theft or even murder. Silas had made his home within the grimy, winding tunnels of the sewer system. It was here that he nurtured his maleficent connection with the rats, forming a symbiotic bond that grew stronger with every passing day. The rats obeyed his every whim, their beady eyes glinting with a sinister intelligence. For years the city lived in fear of Silas and his verminous minions. Whispers of his deeds spread like wildfire among the inhabitants, each story more terrifying than the last. Merchants woke to find their stores ransacked, the remnants of their livelihoods being carried away by a sea of scuttling paws. The wealthy elite trembled as their secrets were exposed, their lives ruined by the relentless invasion of the rats. Silas reveled in the chaos and destruction he inflicted upon the unsuspecting city dwellers. He basked in the power he wielded over the creatures of the night, commanding them with a mere flick of his wrist. But as his control over the rats grew, so did his arrogance. Silas became reckless, demanding more and more from the rats, pushing them to their limits. Yet the rats were not mindless slaves. Unbeknownst to Silas, they had developed a collective consciousness, a silent understanding among themselves. They had grown tired of being mere tools for his malevolence. A rebellion was simmering beneath the surface, a revolt that would shake Silas to his very core. One fateful night, as Silas ventured deeper into the heart of the sewers, the rats turned against him. The walls seemed to pulsate with a sinister energy, the sound of thousands of tiny feet growing louder and louder. The tunnel ahead of him darkened as the horde of rats swarmed, their eyes gleaming with a newfound ferocity. But his power had abandoned him. The rats, once subservient to his will, now had a mind of their own. They lunged at him, gnashing their razor-sharp teeth, their claws tearing into his flesh. They devoured him from the inside out, their hunger insatiable, their vengeance unyielding. The echoes of Cyrus's screams faded into the depths of the sewer, drowned out by the cacophony of the rat's triumph. His reign of terror was extinguished, his power consumed by the very creatures he had once commanded. The Rat King had met his gruesome demise, a warning to all who would dare to toy with forces beyond their control. And so the city breathed a sigh of relief. The nightmare of Silas and his rat horde finally at an end. But whispers still lingered, tales of the Rat King's fate, serving as a chilling reminder that even the most fearsome powers could be consumed by the darkness they embraced. The city above thought itself rid of the Rat King, but in the labyrinthine tunnels below, something festered. The rats did not merely kill Silas, they absorbed him. His flesh, his thoughts, his very essence seeped into them, coiling through their hive mind like a parasite in a host. The rebirth, the sewers pulsed with a sickly life of their own. Deep in the tunnels where the city's waste festered, the rats gathered. Their bodies quivered, shifting unnaturally, as if something inside them struggled to escape. A grotesque amalgamation of fur, flesh, and bone began to rise from the writhing mass, a pulsing, seething form made of countless rat bodies fused together. The sewers pulsed with a sickly life of their own. Deep in the tunnels where the city's waste festered, the rats gathered. Their bodies quivered, shifting unnaturally as if something inside them struggled to escape. A grotesque amalgamation of fur, flesh, and bone began to rise from the writhing mass, a pulsing, seething form made of countless rat bodies fused together. A head emerged first, its face a horrific blend of Silas's decaying features and rodent-like distortions. His once human eyes flickered open, now black pits glistening with hunger. His mouth stretched unnaturally wide, filled with jagged rat teeth, his voice a wet, gurgling rasp. His body was no longer singular. It was an undulating, slithering mass of rats bound together by sinew and decay, shifting and reforming with every movement. He was no longer just Silas. He was something worse, something that could never be killed. In a forgotten alley near the sewer grates, a homeless man named Garrett huddled beneath a filthy blanket. The city streets were cruel, but he had learned to survive the cold, the hunger, the dangers lurking in the night. Tonight felt different. The air smelled rancid, thick with a musky, rotting stench that made his stomach churn. He heard skittering, normal enough in the city, but this wasn't the usual scampering of a few scavengers. It was an ocean of movement. A thick, wet sound echoed from the sewer grate nearby, like something heavy and bloated pushing its way up. Then silence. Garrett froze. His breath came in shallow gasps. He peered into the darkness of the alley, but he saw nothing. Just shadows. Then a whisper, a guttural gurgling rasp that oozed through the darkness. In its center, Silas's malformed face stretched into an inhuman grin. His rat-filled mouth parted, drool thick with blood. Garret turned to run, but the rats were faster. They poured from the walls, from the grates, from cracks in the pavement. They swarmed over him in seconds, biting, burrowing. He shrieked as they forced their way into his mouth, his eyes, his ears. He collapsed, convulsing as his flesh ballooned and ruptured with skittering movement beneath his skin. By the time the scream stopped, nothing remained of Garrett except his clothes and the bloated rats, engorged and twitching, their bellies stretching with new writing life. Stylus had returned, but he no longer needed to command his children. He was his children. He was the swarm, and the swarm was him. He no longer needed mere theft or petty terror. He needed flesh. He needed to spread. The city above slept, unaware of what crawled beneath. The sewers were no longer just tunnels, they were veins, and within them pulsed something monstrous, something insatiable. The radicated was dead. Something much worse had taken his place. All hailed the radicated.

SPEAKER_04: 12:51

Until there is nothing left of you in your state. Your dark thoughts always lead you to me. So, my friends, until next time, I look forward to tasting your fear.

SPEAKER_02: 14:48

Hi, I'm Troy Birsch, creator and producer of the short horror story audio podcast Into the Abyss. If you like what you're hearing so far, please consider leaving me a five-star rating review wherever you can. This helps get my show out there to listeners just like you. Also, uh like, subscribe, download, and uh hit the notification bell. That way you'll get a heads up every time a new episode drops. Thanks to everyone who listened so far, and um I'll have my information in the show notes.

SPEAKER_01: 15:19

I have the QA feature on Spotify as well. Drop me a comment or ask a question, and I'll definitely respond. Thanks again for listening and downloading. Keep sharing the show, either through social media or with your friends or family.

SPEAKER_02: 15:36

If you'd like to support the show, you can go to buymeacoffee.com forward slash the shadow dweller73. This is a one-time donation and will be greatly appreciated. Any donations that I receive will go directly to the show, better equipment, and to put out the best product out there for you guys to enjoy. So that's buymeacoffee.com forward slash the shadow dweller73. And anything helps. Thanks, guys. Follow me on Facebook or Instagram. Facebook is into period the period abyss period podcast. Instagram is into underscore the underscore abyss underscore podcast. Be sure to check out DJ Trillum tracks. These are most of the songs that I make up to put in the show's outros. These are sick dope beats to keep your head drinking.

SPEAKER_00: 16:44

Push in my vibe, like I push out on the black. Coming from the bottom moving straight to the top. Coming with the foot up for the number one fast. Push in my vibe, like a push up on the flap. Holdin' my glass, suck up a step lost. Coming from the bottom movie straight to the top. Come on with the bottom for the number one fat. Push in my vibe, like a push up on the flap. Put in my hand up.