Whispers and heat stuffed the tiny dorm room of the Collegiate Arcanum's student building. The walls blackened, mounted notes incinerated on reddening nails. The bed burst into a blue-white flame as his desk melted into a pool of black iron. The world Caldwell loathed dismantled before his manic gaze and he laughed.
A human-esque succubus coalesed within the chipped and disappearing remnants of the circle. She opened her arms and he ran into them as if they were made of gold and honey and catnip. What followed after was as indescribably horrible as the succubus was indescribably attractive.
Goodbye, minion number Six.
When the screaming and slurping subsided, I opened my eyes and realized my spellbook lay prone where Caldwell had dropped it onto the floor. Within several feet of it, the demoness was preening herself. She'd spun her head around, to lick that impossible spot on the back of her shoulder, when I reached out of my cubby, hooked a claw into the leather binding, and dragged it to me. I manuvered it beneath my body and settled into a comfortable position. I looked up and saw the succubus grinning at me. Never one to miss an opportunity to practice my vocal skills, I struck up a conversation.
"You've got a peice of liver stuck between your fangs." I tapped a toe against my lower front teeth, "Right there."
Uncertain, she tilted her head towards me and sniffed the air.
I tapped my toe, again. Same spot.
Her eyes crossed as she ran her forked tongue along her bottom fangs.
I snickered at her expression.
Finding nothing, she snarled, "How dare you...!"
"How dare you!" I interrupted, "You thought this was going to be just another free meal and a romp through the fields? Ha!"
She hissed; coiling her body close for a violent lunge.
"As long as we are trapped in this stinky room, I shall make your stay as insulting as you eating Former Minion Number Six without giving him the traumatizing pleasures promised by your..." I took in a breath of air, "...sort!"
Quick and silent, she rushed forward and lashed out with her taloned hands. Her right came into contact with the my hovel's outer casing first. She drew back; howling in pain and writhed into the far corner of the room. Her smoldering right hand clutched tight against her chest. "How?" She whimpered.
I gave her a toothy (fangy) grin, "Them's called wards, baby. Holy wards straight out of Brintha's temple almanac of how to build the best of EVERYTHING! And unlike my poor number Six, I scratched them into my walls, my floor, and my ceiling." I chuckled, "There is no 'getting-in-for-a-kitty-cat-snack-a-foo' for you. I get to sit here, safe as the moon, and I get to point and laugh and snicker at your uh-uh-ugly permantly scarred appendage."
Screetching at the top of her lungs, eardrums popped and hearts filled with fear.
Behind these wards, I wasn't, at all, affected. I snickered.
Enraged further, she gripped a chunk of the melted iron desk and ripped it from the floor. She used it to beat down on my paw-made cave. Pieces of the outer shell flaked off. It was made of cheap oak painted bone white months prior to the succubus' grand entry. I'd scratched in a couple of creepy wide eyes and a pair of hole where a nose should be. All in all, it wasn't bad for my first attempt to create a giant's skull cat bed. It was a reflection on the cat bed number One had bought me when I was just a kitten. Number Six was too damn poor to buy a real one and definitly too lazy to make me any toys... On that note, I realized I may not miss number Six.
A lunatic's cackle pulled me out of my thoughts. I felt the vibrations, beneath my foot pads, as she steadily broke through the oaken layer. As the iron chunk came into contact with the adamantine layer, electricity surged through her body faster than a blink.
Her screams warbled between feral panic and stunned horror. Everything that could possibly be lovely about her fried beneath the spell's terrible force. Minutes passed before it ran out of juice and dropped her like a lump of overcooked meat.
"All praise Brintha and her mighty kitty boxes!" I shouted.
In response, she twitched a little and gurgled.
Silence filled the room. Outside I heard a flurry of movement and banging on the door. The dorm rooms had an illusion of security. Though the doors were made of petrified wood and the locks were unpickable, the walls in between the rooms were as fragile as paper. Someone else must have realized this, for within moments, an axe was coming through a neighbor's wall.
I stretched my claws on my ratty-tatty spellbook and tumbled into another reflection. My Former Minion Number Two was an eccentric old coot that lasted a little over a week. He was more a tinkerer than a mage. He'd made all sorts of useless-to-me gadgets. For example, he had these two crystals where one crystal's facets showed what the other crystal's facets saw. He'd tie one onto my collar and send me into the ladies' dormatory saying, "They keep sweet treats hidden in the folds of their robes. Just take a peek and you'll see."
I like sweets. One day, I found a scoop of deep fried butter on a stick hidden in big Betty's slip pocket. There were so many folds in that robe that I easily snuck in, took it, and ran out of there. When I returned to number Two's room, located in the administrative tower, I'd noticed that his favorite window was broken. Looking through it, I found him smushed on the ground far below. I turned around and returned to big Betty. Then made her my number Three.
Despite his abrupt suicide, number Two did leave me one useful device; a halter for my spellbook. Now, I slipped into it and fastened the straps around my belly. While the eyes of the liberators were drawn to the twitching mass on the floor, I darted out through the hole in the wall, between the boots of the onlookers, and down the nearest staircase.
I found a shadow behind a vase and took a moment to clean the debris from between my toes. No cuts, no bruises, just neatfully pressed fur and soft foot pads. I am king! I jutted out my chest and took in a deep breath of free air... catnip?
I sniffed again. Yes! Catnip! The gods are kind to their feline fancy. I tracked the elusive necter to the dormatory's common room. There a young, female human zipped back and forth snatching up shiny objects and tossing them into a large sack.
"Oh gods, there is so much to take. Should I come back later or should I take it all now? What if..." On and on she went, talking to no one in particular. Except maybe the voices in her head.
I focused in on the nip. It lay somewhere within that enourmous sack on the floor. I decided to crawl in. The bag was filled to the near brim with gemstones, coin purses, mysterious potions, and paper. Lots and lots of blank paper. It was extremely difficult not to make any noise so I just crinkled away to the very bottom. I noticed that she had gotten very quiet.
I was within clawing distance of the pouch filled with nip when I called out, "BOO!"
"Eeeek!" She squealed closeby. There followed a loud crash similar to one of those floor to ceiling bookcases falling over. There soon came a man's shouting. The girl grabbed the sack, slung it over her shoulder, and made a run for it.
I was jostled and squished. Bottle stoppers popped opened, spilling their contents within the bag. I felt dusty, and creamy, and edible, and just so damn happy. I'd gotten that pouch of nip and clamped it between my front teeth. It held close to my nose and with each breath I slipped deeper into a peaceful kaldioscope of joy. The world became fluffy; screams laughter; magic ticklish. I didn't want the feeling to end! But hunger came and then thirst.
I spat out the thouroghly chewed satchel and attempted to bring my awareness to the here and now. I felt wet. I don't like being wet. What is that noise? Weeping? Who is hugging me? I hate hugging! Happiness is leaving me!!
I unsheathed my claws and swiped. With a cry of pain, whatever held me reflexively tossed me away. I was flying in reverse from the young girl whose eyes grew wider in the realization of what she's thrown. I landed on my back with a whump. A colorful dust cloud erupted from my fur. I sneezed.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" She reached out for me and I gave her a look that caused her to shrink back.
I rolled over onto my stomech and immediatly licked down my back to smooth out the fur. I stopped mid-way, eyes widening as I came to grips with the awful tastes embedded in my wonderful fur. I threw up. Then, I threw up again. I couldn't stop. If I had tears, I'd been crying.
Gods bless her, the girl called out to someone. Keys jangled and a gate screetched open. I winced. A small bowl of liquid was set beside me. I dunked my face into it and breathed most of it in.
Medicine! A good potion that eased my stomech and cleansed my palate. Pulling my face out of that fine brew, I dipped my paws into it and cleaned my coat. Semi-grateful, because it really was all her fault, I let her pet my fur down.
I'd never been outside the Arcanum. Never really was allowed to explore beyond my minion's quarters due to cages with really good locks. So I took my time thouroghly examining the room we were trapped in. And mostly that because I didn't like it much and I wanted out. Every area, except for the gate, was made of cold, quarry stone blocks. A single cot sat against the wall and smelled like it hadn't ever been washed of its last thousand occupants stinks. The gate was locked most of the time. The man at the desk would unlock it twice a day to hand us meals. Unfortunately, the bars on the gate were too close together for a well-fed cat like me to fit through. Maybe after a month of only eating the gruel I could escape.
They called the building a 'jail' and the room a 'cell'. It was a place where they kept people who broke the rules of Ravenswatch. If she wasn't the only comfortable place to sit on, I would have been too mad to let that girl pet me. For her failure to steal from the mage school properly, she didn't deserve a cat (who are thieving perfectionists) to comfort her in this hole.
Days passed. The girl's sister bought us out. While she recieved a stern reprimanding, I meandered past the guard and into the lost and found chest. There I found my spellbook and strapped it once more around my belly.
I didn't have much of a plan now that number Six became Former Minion Number Six. I thought to return to the Arcanum and mooch off some unsuspecting novice. I was heading out of the jail when, while passing by the worst thief in Ravenswatch history, she knelt down and scratched behind my ear. I halted into place and grinned at the attention. Suddenly, I was scooped up into a very effective cradling hold that prevented me from gouging out her eyeballs.
At home, she let me loose on her bed. Taking my spellbook, she settled in for a good read. Forbidden to leave the house for a month, she'd have plenty of time to practice the cantrips.
Meanwhile, I'd spotted something wonderful amid the piles of junk in her bedroom; a well polished, sanitized, and HUGE troll skull. I crawled in and discovered, with delight, that it already had a soft silky bedding of discarded stockings. I popped my head through the eyehole and shouted, "Hey! Number Seven. My name is Zelegeth. This is MY bed. You will feed me and toss my poop outside."
Her hesitation to respond was much shorter than most mortals when confronted with a talking cat. "My name is Ariella Winterwine. You can have anything you want as long as you hunt your own food and poop outside." She returned to the book.
"You... you allow me to go outside?"
"Aye."
"Alone? Without supervision? Without funny crystals that see up ladies' slips?"
She raised an eyebrow, "I don't know nothin' about crystals. But, aye. You are a living critter and all critters need to go outside whenever they like. Otherwise they will grow up crazy... and pick up bad habits... like being a smart arse."
I twitched, "I still talk in my sleep?"
"Aye."
"And I can still stay?"
"Got plenty of wax to plug my ears."
"I LOVE YOU!!" I leapt onto the bed and hugged her face. After coughing up a good sized ball of belly hair and patching up the scratches on her ears where I hung on during her convulsions, she still let me stay. Number Seven may even beat out Former Minion Number One in awesomeness.
~The End
((Here is the photo that inspired the story. Thought of writing a piece located in the warehouse, but Zelegeth argued he wouldn't be caught dead, out in the open, with a succubus on the prowl. Just to clarify any confusion about the mechanics of this character: Zelegeth isn't a "familiar" in game terms. He is a cat that has been experimented on by the various owners he's come across in his unnaturally long -for a cat- existance.))
