Season of Bloom - 1. Adventurous Allies

Eyes stared in shock and fear as they walked down the street of the new town. Lapis was used to the fear; it had been following him from Osirion, but the catfolk would never let it stop him. Khemet never seemed to mind and neither would he. It wasn’t often the white furred tiger steered him wrong.

Dark skin clashed with white ear and tail fur, the blessings of Bastet plain to see throughout the amurrun’s being. A rich blue ankh with seven red arrows piercing it hung in a gold setting around his neck, the holy symbol of Bastet combined with her sister Sekhmet to venerate both at once. The silvery robes of Bastet’s moon were bordered by the red of Sekhmet’s sun, the tiniest white butterfly sewn into the left breast of his vestments to show a veneration of Desna, goddess of travel. It was a panoply of multiple deities, each with their own role in Lapis’ life, each guiding his steps hundreds of miles from his home city of An.

His body was lithe, lean muscles speaking of years spent dancing for the gods, arms corded with muscles from hours of shooting with the bow on his back. Most mistook him for a ranger of the wild, and indeed, Lapis had once spent a year learning to shoot under a ranger, hunting jackals with Khemet in the deserts of Osirion. But that was nearly four years past now, and the natural wanderlust of the catfolk had seen him to Absalom to learn under Desna’s priests before gently being shooed back onto the roads to worship his new deity through travel.

And now here he was, in a land torn by recent strife and coming strife, a hotbed of adventure and excitement. The amurrun set a hand on Khemet’s head, gently scratching the white tiger between the ears as they walked through the small town that marked the capital of this new land.

“So this is Ismenia? Huh… not bad for being barely two months old,” one of his companions smirked, the figure’s dark skin and white hair hidden by a red hooded cloak.

Lapis wasn’t sure why he wore it; it wasn’t like people were going to take a second look at the hollowborn beyond a remark that he must be from Garund like Lapis. Hells, the catfolk hadn’t even known dark elves existed before he met Faes in Absalom, let alone bred with humans. Though to hear Faes tell it, he hadn’t been a child of love.

His words brought the catfolk back to his other companions, Kiba, a kobold armed with a scimitar, and Faes Duvan, a half-drow born in a village under attack by fire elementals and filled with the power of flames. Lapis had never met anyone quite like the half-drow, and he had proposed they travel together when they had met in Absalom. It was Faes’ idea for them to travel to the River Kingdoms, promising Lapis plenty of travel. Upon reaching Brevoy, Faes had learned of a just missed opportunity, and he immediately set about convincing the catfolk to follow him to the new barony of Ellesmera. Surely a new baron would be eager for the help of adventurers, untested though they may be.

They had only seen each other in action once, when bandits threatened them on the journey north from Absalom, but their bonds were already forged by travel, and more than that. Faes worshipped Calistria, and it hadn’t been long before he had drawn out the story of Lapis’ upbringing as a sacred prostitute of the Osiriani cat gods. Their relationship was one of not so gentle goading, but Lapis didn’t mind. After years of travel trying to find friends who wouldn’t flee every time Khemet yawned too widely, the amurrun was just happy Faes wanted to travel with him and the tiger, despite his blessings from Bastet, despite the blackened scar on his chest and the strange mewling he made in the throes of passion.

They had only had sex once, celebrating the full moon as the followers of Bastet did. Lapis had been surprised when Faes offered him the dominant role, though he had been quickly assured that next time, he would be on the bottom. He didn’t mind either way, as long as they venerated Bastet appropriately. Even Calistria received her due, though according to Faes, she was a much easier goddess to please when it came to love.

Kiba was a more recent acquisition to their party. They had rescued the dying kobold from a chain under an enormous sycamore tree two days ago, the dirt covered blue-grey creature promising Faes his eternal service when the half-drow conjured a flame for light. A scimitar became his weapon, the blade shoddy work even for mites, but at least it was a weapon. He claimed to be a hero of the Mite Wars, plenty of scars covering his body as a way of proof, and Lapis saw no reason to disbelieve him

They made such a strange quartet, a kobold, a dark elf, a cat person, and a tiger. Lapis wasn’t surprised they were getting stares as they walked through the town; he probably would have stared too.

“I believe the throne room is in there,” he mentioned, pointing toward a large manor with a pair of guards out front.

“We could take them easily,” Faes smirked, the Elven words rolling from his mouth in a quick cadence that pricked Lapis’ ears.

“I don’t think the baron would appreciate that,” the amurrun frowned, his lips fumbling for a passable enunciation of the Elven language.

“Of course he wouldn’t appreciate it,” the half-drow laughed. “It’s not something I would actually do; I just wanted to point out that security seems rather weak here.”

Lapis could see Kiba pulling away slightly, the kobold frowning at the strange words, but Faes was quick to stop him, placing a leg behind his retreating pet. Lapis wondered about that. It had only been two days since they’d freed the kobold from the chain that staked him under an ancient sycamore tree, and Faes had originally been in favour of putting him out of his misery. But now he seemed to treat Kiba like a valued pet, trying to keep the kobold in line with stern words and the occasional display of fire magic.

And what was more remarkable, the kobold actually seemed to appreciate it. There were times when he hung close to the half-drow, when he seemed to be picking up on the way Faes would toss fire from hand to hand when he was bored. The previous night, Lapis had even seen the kobold trying to replicate the motions, with little success. The amurrun felt the barest inkling of power inside Kiba, an elemental connection similar to the one he felt in Faes. He wouldn’t be surprised if the kobold ended up throwing fire one day, but for now, Kiba seemed happy enough just pretending.

“We’ve wasted enough time. I want to get to a bed in the tavern,” Faes said roughly. “Let’s pay our respects to the baron and get this over with. Tomorrow, we’ll probably be on the road again.”

They were taken to an office. It made sense, Faes supposed, most rulers did not sit on their throne all day when there was work to be done. What didn’t make sense was the half-elf woman who stood behind the desk in the room, her eyes gleaming with a mischievousness that seemed to mask a deeper worry.

“Welcome to Ismenia,” she smiled brightly. “I’m Octavia, Baron Cassiel’s regent. Unfortunately, he is not here.”

“Faes,” the half-drow replied, hood still covering his face in shadow.

A flickering flame helped hide his face further, a miniscule expenditure of power granting a bit of light over the lip of his hood that drew the eye away from the depths of his face and cast it further into shadow. He had gotten an acquaintance to describe the effect to him once, and knew his violet eyes glowed through the flame with nothing else visible. It was a bit dramatic, but then, Faes had never been mundane, and he saw no reason to start now.

Especially when it fascinated his new pet so.

“This is Lapis, and his tiger, Khemet, and this is… Kiba, was it?” he frowned at the kobold, who nodded silently. “We are adventurers, and we hoped we might find work here. We come with recommendations from Jamandi Aldori, who bids you to remember your beginnings.”

He had no idea what that was supposed to mean, though it seemed to mean something to the regent.

“Truth be told, we could use adventurers,” the half elf said. “The lands to the west of here, the Narlmarches, have seen an explosion of kobold and troll activities. The kobolds are granting fire immunity to the trolls, as best as I can tell, and the trolls are rampaging through the Marches, eating everything in sight. It is not a tenable position, and Baron Cassiel has had his hands full trying to salvage what he can before it starts affecting our borders.”

“Trolls immune to fire?” Faes asked sharply.

“Yes. Your flame is quite handsome on you, but I’m afraid it won’t do much to help against these foes. But if you wish to try, we know where the troll lair is. I have a couple members of Baron Cassiel’s old adventuring party who would be glad to show you the way.”

Faes glanced at Lapis, the amurrun busy scratching Khemet’s ears as the tiger chuffed loudly.

“What?” the catfolk asked, showing he clearly hadn’t paid attention to the conversation.

“Does your god give you acid?” Faes demanded.

The half-drow’s eyes rolled, and he wondered not for the first time why he had chosen to travel with a scatterbrained cleric.

“No…” Lapis frowned. “Bastet gives the blessing of the moon and Sekhmet the courage of the sun, and Desna offers companions to travel with. They all work together though, I could sharpen Khemet’s claws with but a word or cast Sekhmet’s healing warmth with the soothing touch of a roadside cleric.”

“But no acid,” Faes reiterated.

“No acid,” Lapis admitted, touching his own chest with a small frown. “Just the enraged flames of the cat gods’ punishment.”

“I can send Regongar with you. He has limited prowess with acid and there are plenty of acid flasks for sale from one of our merchants, should you need them,” Octavia said. “Should you meet Baron Cassiel during your journey… Well, let him know I need to speak with him.”

They met with their guides outside the city, a halfling, half-orc, and human all squabbling in their strange human tongue. Kiba could barely understand his own companions, save for when they spoke Draconic, and that seemed to be something the dark one was uninterested in doing. He wasn’t sure about the cat.

A silver skink crawled out of his pocket, the kobold letting out a gasp as he grabbed for it.

“Great One, it is not safe!” he breathed, trying to stuff the smaller reptile into his pocket before anyone could notice. “The cats would destroy your mortal body!”

He picked up a handful of wriggling worms, shoving them in after the skink, the Great Dragon in lizard form. Sharp nips ran over his fingers, the kobold accepting his punishment for daring to correct the Father of Dragons. Sucking on the blood dripping from the digits, Kiba startled at the Draconic pouring out of the halfling’s lips.

“Hi there. I’m Linzi. I think I saw you in the battle between the Mite Queen and Chief Sootscale, right?” she grinned at him. “That must have been quite some battle. Perhaps you could tell me about it?”

“That was Kiba’s broodbrother. He held off the Mite Queen’s escape and died with honor,” the kobold denied. “Kiba was fighting in the mine. Tried to stop a patrol after the war ended, and was chained for disturbing the peace.”

“Then you weren’t a hero?”

He flinched at the cat’s words, eyes widening in shock. So the cat did know Draconic, if a rather… weird dialect. The kobold could work with it though.

“Kiba was a hero. Kiba led the softskin chieftain through traps, and the chieftain stopped the war,” he protested quickly.

“Oh, that was you? I thought you sounded familiar,” Linzi beamed.

The half-orc growled something, the group turning toward him. Linzi smirked, motioning toward her pony.

“Kiba, why don’t you ride with me?” she grinned at the kobold.

“Kiba rides with the cat,” the kobold frowned, moving toward Lapis.

Strong arms lifted him up, setting him on the back of a Dort Charger, the kobold dwarfed on the horse’s broad back. A weight settled in behind him, an arm wrapping securely around his body as Lapis let out a strange nicker behind him. Their mount let out a loud exhale, ears swivelling toward them as Kiba gripped the horn between his legs tightly.

Linzi mentioned something in the human tongue, and Lapis shook his head with a chuckle, replying quietly. The horse started forward, Kiba taking a breath as the world seemed to sway around him. Until two days ago, the kobold had never been on a horse before; had never dreamed of being on a horse. But it was what the dark one wanted, and Kiba had to obey if he wanted to keep Apsu alive in his mortal form.

A worm crawled out of his pocket, half eaten and bloodied. He felt the cat behind him twitch as it wriggled up his leg, and a hand sent it flying from the horse.

“No worms please,” Lapis said, his Draconic struggling where he had little issues with the softskin tongue.

Still, at least Kiba could understand him, and at least the cat was making an effort. It was weird for a softskin to care about including a kobold in their speech, and he wondered at the fact that there were two speaking to him now as if he was a part of their group.

In a way, he supposed he was. They trusted him to hold a blade, and to be loose. And if he could help the softskin chieftain, this Baron Cassiel, Kiba could think of no better way to get back into the good graces of the Sootscales. The softskin had helped them before; it was time the tribe repaid the favour. Apsu demanded it.