Two out of Six Cats

The two surviving, inky-black, Displacer beasts finally slow their pace.

“How hurt you?”

Growls one to the other.

“About same as you.”

Despite their weird, dimensional-sliding powers, they’re both covered with cuts, scratches and stab wounds from their recent and unsuccessful sneak-attack against the group of two-legs.

“Others gone?”

“Certainly.”

“Even Alpha?”

“Saw her dead before we fled.”

Both monstrous, panther-like creatures stop to consider what’s just happened. Their whip-like tentacles, quivering above their first and second sets of shoulder-blades. 

“We killed one horse though.”

“Good eating and now only split by two.”

A Matter of Wife and Death

Head buried in his hands, Lord Urdurel weeps for only the third time in his life. The first time he was just fourteen, watching his parents slaughtered. The second time at forty-seven, when his beloved first wife; Dulcetta died of a mystery illness and now at forty-nine.

Lamenta is dead. His daughter. The last remaining light in his life.

Looking up at Commander Aglet, his blue eyes burning with tears and anger, his mind finally clears.

Dulcetta’s mysterious death, Hetzabah’s sudden appearance, Briefadel’s birth and Lamenta’s murder… it was all connected. Now, in this moment of clarity, it all becomes obvious; Hetzabah had just used him to gain power for herself and her mewing baby boy but it was Dulcetta and Lamenta who’d paid the ultimate price.

“What do you mean, ‘Hetzabah’s left the castle?’. Send a couple of your men to her chambers and drag her to me!”

Castilian Aglet steels himself before responding.

“We went to her chamber immediately after you discovered her halving of Lady Lamenta’s guard but she’d already left in a hurry. Such a hurry that she’d abandoned your infant son in the arms of his wet-nurse.”

Lord Urdurel stops at this news. His son; Briefadel. He’d strangely felt nothing but resentment when Hetzabah became pregnant immediately on their wedding night and he felt nothing for the boy now. Still, he was an innocent and not responsible for his Mother’s crimes.

His eyes suddenly dry and his voice icy, he gives a new order.

“Select a squad of your twenty best men and have them join me, fully armed, in the courtyard. I’m going to find her myself and make her pay for every atrocity she’s committed against me and our people.”

Four Fatherless Men

Megarna gazes down at the scrawny young woman knelt before her in the dingy, smoke-filled hut. 

‘You have the rare gift of prophecy child. A gift our coven needs. Tell me what you see.”

The young woman, with a certain amount of trepidation in her hazel eyes, coughs nervously before finding her voice.

“I see four men. An Elf, a Half-Elf, a Halfling and a Human. Tied together by fate.”

A scruffy black moggy hisses from atop a roughly made wooden shelf and Megarna responds directly.

“Yes, yes, I know that she’s being vague.”

And then back at the raggedy, young woman.

“Go on… And do better!”

The younger woman bows deeper over the bowl of smeared animal blood and rune-marked knuckle bones, her eyes rolling back further into her head.

“These four men, raised without knowing their true heritage, without knowing their true names or even their true Fathers. Tied together by a past they have no knowledge of and bound by a purpose they cannot comprehend… I see a war. The greatest war this world has seen in over a century. I see these four men leading armies. Armies of Humans, Elves and… Even Halflings. A war against a seemingly endless wave of red-eyed demons!”

The thin-backed, black-clad old woman leans closer, her long, yellow stained teeth bared. 

“Tell me more. Tell me how we can break their spirits? Tell me how we can most easily defeat them?”

The young woman quails.

“I… I don’t know. My visions are clouded and I can’t properly decipher all the myriad possible outcomes.”

Megarna spits.

“You’re pathetic! Useless! Your paltry gifts are barely worth the bother of recruiting you. Our last Augur was worth twenty of you.”

Eyes snapping back into place, the young woman finds a little courage.

“Your last Augur? Where is she? What happened to her?”

The old Witch scowls.

“Viccissa was her name. She was talented, far more talented than you but she betrayed the coven for her own selfish needs. Worse, she betrayed me, and so I had her hunted down by our assassins and slain.”

Tacky Cat-Tics

As if moulded from oil and smoke, the six huge, cat-like creatures stealthily flow around the wide rooted trees of the dark Fey forest, in search of their nighttime prey…

A large-ish group of assorted two-legs, alongside a quartet of horses and a stinking dog. Bizarrely, the group seemed to have been attempting to track them, but now they’d pay a price for their temerity.

The pack leader halts and Half-twists in place, her sharp-fanged head, front taloned paws raised and two long barbed tentacles waving above, while her four back padded feet remain firmly planted on the leaf covered ground, long, thin tail quivering in anticipation.

“Quiet. We close. They stopped. But not resting. Not sleeping. Still, plan is good. Ready or unready.”

Her voice is quiet but loaded with barely restrained menace and the other ‘cats’  purr submissively.

“Three pairs. Spread out. Take position in dark. Use cover. Be silent. Stay hidden until my signal.”

One of the other shadowy, deep purple creatures moves slightly forward and growls low; questioning.

“Why hide? Surely dark cover enough?”

The pack leader growls back to assert her dominance.

“Dwarf there. See good as we. Will warn others. Spoil surprise!”

The second in command narrows her yellow eyes.

“Target Dwarf first?”

The pack alpha shakes her boney, fur covered head.

“No. Dwarven meat no good. Too salty. Too tough. Be swift. Go for horses. Kill vile dog if get chance.”

The five Betas nod in agreement before the Alpha finishes her brief.

“Watch for me. I go first. When they move to intercept me. You come from other sides of clearing. Pick off weak.”

Marriage Vows

Eleven months pregnant but still tall (by High-Elven standards) and elegant, Lissomny calls to her chambermaids to have her second-cousin Filigren granted entry to her private chambers.

“Have you read the documents I had couriered to you? Do you agree to these terms?”

The shorter elf sneers in response.

“A marriage of convenience. I gain a sizable share of your wealth and my family name is elevated back into the upper echelons of Glendorian society. What’s not to understand?”

Lissomny Sighs. 

“And in exchange, you marry me and promise to claim this child as your own and never reveal their true origin?”

Filigren scowls. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll pretend your half-cast brat is mine but when his true heritage is eventually revealed and this charade is finally over, I’ll still expect you to continue financing my, soon to be lavish, lifestyle.”

Lissomny sighs again. 

“Unlike you, I’m an Elf of my word but, if my son ever does discover the truth and I find out that it was you who told him or were behind it in any way, there will be nowhere for you to hide and I will have you killed.”

For the first time since entering Lissomny’s chamber, Filigren’s sour expression pales.

“I swear, if and when the time finally comes, it’ll not’ve been me who told your mongrel son the awful truth.”