That poor mother. She’d carved out a decent home tucked away in this corner of the woods. A life not unlike what
Kiros himself had once desired, albeit not quite as affluent as the priestly career he’d once expected to have. While the household was not destitute, they were clearly far from wealthy. Still, she was building up a good life, before the loss of her son had caused such sudden and justified grief. Little as she had, her son was clearly everything and her worry well-placed and evident.
While Garrod inquired with her, Kiros continued to scan the area for any of the boy’s belongings. Little was to be seen, aside from a few pieces of scattered clothing. As he conducted his visual search, he heard anew the same voice that had surprised them all earlier.
"I wish to not alarm you but it is I blain at your service" spoke the voice, and Kiros immediately turned his attention away from the bed, now searching for the source of the sound. Looks were exchanged with Nycto and Garrod in bewilderment.
"though I am but a cat my power can confuse even the dimmest of dangers. I do not seek gold no I seek something far more valuable..milk and mice to catch if you can provide me such pleasures I shall lay my life down for you and your child" the voice continued, finally making clear who possessed it. Kiros promptly looked down at Blain as he made his humble request.
A talking cat. Truth be told, he too had seen stranger sights. But this was a
cat. And as far as the devout priest was concerned, a sign of good luck. That Blain could speak, and did so about the powers he possessed convinced Kiros ever more that this was so, and he’d peer down at the feline for a moment in contemplation.
The announcement was followed by a request, and a most modest one it was. Milk to drink and vermin to chase, though the latter was more a service to them. Cats kept the less desirable creatures away from food stores and
settlements, and for that the Annuakati priest had gratitude. By his introduction, Blaine seemed little unlike any cat, aside from his powers and bravery of course. But if this was but a humble cat, surely they could honour his request?
“Have you any milk?” Kiros asked the mother, who herself was completely stunned by Blain. She was no explorer, nor adventurer; and a talking cat was the strangest thing she’d seen thus far. She’d heard tales of spirits, and vaguely of beings that took on animal forms to sow their mischief. She knew not what to make of it; and the clear shock upon Kiros’ face told her that the surprise had been his as well.
“Is...is he
good?” she meekly asked, still frozen in place.
“He is not foul; rather, a good omen upon us.” Kiros replied, covering for the feline. He’d sensed no
dark magic from Blain, nor any malicious intention. The added help was something to be grateful for.
“Oh, the gods! That means you’ll find him?” she exclaimed, her tone filled with both desperation and hope.
“With the four of us searching, I’ve no doubt we shall-”
“My boy will be ok!?” she blurted in interruption. Her hopes, so plainly stated caused Kiros to pause. How he wanted to simply affirm that he would be so – but as much as he wanted to bring a pained mother solace, he’d not want to give her lies and false hope. Such panicked words caused him to choose his own carefully, and it would take him a moment more to respond.
“I cannot know what fortune an omen brings. But you have asked for one, and four have arrived in search. Already his outlook is far better than moments ago, and we shall not tire in our efforts.”
“Please bring him back to me.” was all she could say, and even then she had to nearly sob out the words to do so. After a moment to compose herself, she did pour out a saucer of milk, leaving it atop the floor for Blain.
blain the cat
* * *
Within the house, there was little; these two lived a modest life on meagre means. The house and its furnishings were worn from age, use, and wear. Yet, etched low upon the wooden wall were markings that looked both deliberate, and childlike. A large triangle was etched atop the work, with a small triangle to its leftmost side. A winding path was carved along the middle, from the left triangle down to the bottom of the carving. Between the two triangles the wooden board took on a different texture, as if it had been rubbed by a rough rock, and within the area was further markings – a series of several x’s scattered about with a noticeably large one etched directly between the triangles.
Garrod Arlette
* * *
Outside, the afternoon sun lit the landscape, illuminating the grassy field before Nycto with its warm rays. The children certainly had a lot of area to play in. The field ran on for quite some distance before ending at a forest miles away. It covered the distant, rolling landscape like a deep green sheet, aside from the peak of a small mountain that poked though it. A smaller hill, closer by, sat to the west near the border between field and trees.
Nycto had a lot of ground to search, but by his fortune there was something to be found in his path. An odd artifact, a palm shaped disk made of brass and stamped in a strange language akin to
Elven, though it wasn’t any of the modern
languages. A hole had been punched through the centre, making the disk a flat ring. It bore numerous scratches and marks, all of which looked to be far more recent than the artifact itself appeared to be in age.
Nycto
