Ul'dah was a city of byways and back roads, of shadows cast along cramped and narrow corridors while the sun shone bright upon its major streets, brilliant marble and white cobblestones contrasting with the dark and common rock. Pearl Lane was one-such place, and certainly a notorious one, but far from the only alley to be in such a state.
It was in one of those nameless roads that Verad had lain his trap. He had surveyed the area with great care, and, having found a likely place to find his quarry - close to the backdoor of an Ala Mihgan cafe, not so close that it would be in competition with more common vermin - he had gone to great care to ensure that everything was in place. There would be no chance of escape once matters were set in motion.
The following was plainly visible for all to see: In the middle of the road, there lay a rat. It did not move, in large part because it had been trussed up in the manner of a damsel in distress about to be thrown onto the Thanalan railways. Verad had been very particular in the tying, to the extent that the string which held the rat in place was finished off with a bow near its back. Lest an observer think this inordinately cruel - and Verad certainly did - the rat had been placated with a piece of old fruit within nibbling distance, upon which it was content to snack.
Surrounding the rat was a circle of rope in the manner of a noose, knotted together and with a rope trailing conspicuously back to Verad's hiding position, around one corner of a wall that jutted out in a fit of Ul'dahn architecture's efforts to put angles on curves. Behind it, Verad waited, rope in hand and ready to pull.
Near this rope were a series of small signs, propped up with sticks. In a simple Eorzean script, they read: "Free Rat!" "Come And Take It!" "Not A Trap." He wasn't certain that his quarry could read, but after the incident with the cactuars he wasn't taking any chances.
With all pieces thusly in place, Verad waited. And waited. The rat grew fat on its offered refuse, and settled down to doze. Only then did he see the glistening, soft image of his quarry - a solitary pudding, small from an urban lifestyle lacking the large prey of its wilder cousins, creeping out from the gutters and tentatively squidging its way towards the ambush.
"Come on," he whispered from his hiding position. "Come on now, take the bait."
It was in one of those nameless roads that Verad had lain his trap. He had surveyed the area with great care, and, having found a likely place to find his quarry - close to the backdoor of an Ala Mihgan cafe, not so close that it would be in competition with more common vermin - he had gone to great care to ensure that everything was in place. There would be no chance of escape once matters were set in motion.
The following was plainly visible for all to see: In the middle of the road, there lay a rat. It did not move, in large part because it had been trussed up in the manner of a damsel in distress about to be thrown onto the Thanalan railways. Verad had been very particular in the tying, to the extent that the string which held the rat in place was finished off with a bow near its back. Lest an observer think this inordinately cruel - and Verad certainly did - the rat had been placated with a piece of old fruit within nibbling distance, upon which it was content to snack.
Surrounding the rat was a circle of rope in the manner of a noose, knotted together and with a rope trailing conspicuously back to Verad's hiding position, around one corner of a wall that jutted out in a fit of Ul'dahn architecture's efforts to put angles on curves. Behind it, Verad waited, rope in hand and ready to pull.
Near this rope were a series of small signs, propped up with sticks. In a simple Eorzean script, they read: "Free Rat!" "Come And Take It!" "Not A Trap." He wasn't certain that his quarry could read, but after the incident with the cactuars he wasn't taking any chances.
With all pieces thusly in place, Verad waited. And waited. The rat grew fat on its offered refuse, and settled down to doze. Only then did he see the glistening, soft image of his quarry - a solitary pudding, small from an urban lifestyle lacking the large prey of its wilder cousins, creeping out from the gutters and tentatively squidging its way towards the ambush.
"Come on," he whispered from his hiding position. "Come on now, take the bait."
Verad Bellveil's Profile | The Case of the Ransacked Rug | Verad's Fate Sheet
Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
