Ratkin of Necropolis Lords of the Sewers

*A short, dirty woman leans against a wall of the sewer tunnel, smoking a cigarette. She hunches inside a crumpled old army surplus overcoat, and a black stocking cap covers her ratty looking black hair. She sneers at you when you approach her. She speaks with a strong New York accent.*

So, ya wanna know 'bout the Ratkin of dis here town, Kansas City? What the leeches call Necropolis? Sure, I can tell ya, fer a price.....

The name's Roadkill Sally, Tunnel Runner of the Ratkin. I been in Necropolis fer a while, an' I likes it here.

The Ratkin are shapeshifters, like the Garou or the Bastet, 'cept we turn inta rats. It was out sacred duty to keep the humans in line, keep 'em from growin' too numerous. They had too much grain? We'd eat it. They havin' too many babies? We took care of that, too.

It was all good. It was out Gaia-given duty. Then the Garou decided to change t'ings.

The wolves decided they should be doin' ever'thing, an' the rest of us shifters should bow down an'let 'em do it. We, jus' like all the Changin' Breeds, told the Garou to fuck off.

So the damn dogs tried to kill us all. The "War of Rage" it was called. They killed off whole breeds of shifters, an' left very few of the survivin' ones alive. They herded us together and slaughtered us. Murdered our children. Executed our leaders. Fuckers.

But we survived! That'z what we do best now. Survive. An' we still do our jobs. We're Gaia's spies an' assassins. That bitch Gaia may've screwed us over, but we still know our place. There ain' nuthin' dat goes on down here dat we don' know 'bouts. An' we'll tell ya what ya wanna know.....fer a price...

Ahem. Now, on to some other shit....