"Steeling themselves, the pitiful remnants of the city's once proud populace descended. In the ancient halls of kingship they found the Dwarfs, now naught but gnawed bones and scraps of cloth. And there they saw by the dying light of their torches the myriad eyes about them, glittering like liquid midnight as the rats closed in for the kill. The manlings stood back to back and fought for their lives, but against such implacable ferocity and countless numbers of the verminous horde, their weapons were useless. The tide of monstrous rats flowed over them one by one, dragging them down to be torn apart, the yellow chisel-teeth sinking into their soft-flesh, the dark-furred mass drowning their pitiful screams with their hideous chittering..."

—Translated from the Tilean tale "The Doom of Kavzar," also called "The Curse of Thirteen"