Another Stupid Trilogy

by Bill Ricardi

  I’m not proud to admit that I yelped when those sharp teeth briefly nipped at the green skin of my ear.

  Toby snorted. “You have enough toys already, Ames. Sorch, as you might have figured, this is Ames. Ames, this is Sorch.”

  Will interjected, “He has a fascinating story. Absolutely riveting.”

  Then Rick chimed in, “And since we need you to babysit him for a couple of days while we make our deliveries and prepare for the expedition, you’ll have plenty of time to hear it.”

  I must have made sounds of protest or objection. Certainly no words were actually formed by my swimming head. Ames shushed me, putting a plush digit over my lips. I sat as still as I could under their very close examination. After a few moments, the cat reached down to grab one of my arms and forcibly wrap it around their midsection. “Hmmm. I suppose I could do that for you boys. I’ll show him the town.” I’m not certain if the feline even knew they were doing it, but that fluffy rump was slowly swaying in my leather-clad lap.

  Toby warned Ames, “Don’t get him arrested. Particularly if you put me in the position to be the one arresting him.”

  The dancer stuck their tongue out at the minotaur, “Don’t worry dear, I remember the last time you arrested me. There’s no fun in it. It’s just so boring in those cells.”

  A few things went through my mind. Firstly, my friends had just put me in the care of some kind of exotic dancer and felon. Secondly, they were partnered with this creature and for some reason, clearly they had a high level of trust in Ames. Third, I really didn’t want to stand up right now. For modesty reasons, you understand.

  But apparently I wasn’t going anywhere. My friends were. They all rose and slid out of the other side of the booth. Toby spoke for the departing group. “Settled then. Sorch, enjoy the tour. Ames, we’ll meet you here in exactly two days time. Dress appropriately.” The ease with which the creature in my lap smiled and made an exceedingly rude gesture at the giant minotaur was disturbing.

  That feline nose twitched, burrowing into my dull black hair as the creature explored my scent. Ames nosed their way over my left temple and then down to my ear. I shivered, feeling the whiskers tickle my lobe. In a sultry, breathy tone, the cat murmured something I’ll never forget:

  “I need to get downtown to fix a door. Come with me.”

  I didn’t know if that was some kind of code, but it was just about the least sexy thing one could say in that situation. Mutely, I allowed myself to be led backstage. There were catcalls and playful jeers from the crowd as Ames took me to their dressing room. I closed the door behind us, it seemed like the right thing to do in any case.

  The room was for more than just dressing apparently. It looked more like a tinkerer’s workshop with an added bed and closet. Everything seemed quite tidy and well lit. Three oil lanterns hung from hooks in the ceiling, removing all hint of shadow from the windowless chamber. A bookshelf on the wall above the headboard of the bed was filled with both regional and global research materials. The bedding and pillows were all white. Given the potential fur shedding issues, that seemed to be a wise choice.

  Ames let out a huge sigh of relief and rumbled, “Good show, I think. Grab my clothes and leathers from that chest would you?” The were-cat hurriedly started to assemble what looked like a custom lock picking and door breach kit, taking parts and tools from the drawers of their workbench.

  A little disappointed that things took a turn towards the mundane, I nevertheless did as I was asked. Upon hearing the chest close again, Ames lifted one leg, balancing on the toes of their right foot with ease. I watched the lithe creature. Specifically, I watched that fuzzy rump and swishing tail.

  Pausing from their tool assembly, the feline glanced over their shoulder. A hint of a smirk graced that white muzzle. “Pants?”

  I was jolted out of my erotic revery by that simple one word request. Quickly I grabbed the golden hued breeches and helped my new adventuring partner to step into them. I’ve never been a body man before, but I think I did a fair job of dressing the were-cat. Their mind was occupied with assembling the kit required for this job, so I had to do most of the work. A simple linen undershirt, dyed gold to match the cotton pants, was slipped onto the creature when the opportunity arose. Then the brown leathers and boots followed. At that point, Ames had finished assembling their gear.

  My efforts earned me a toothy smile and a peck on the cheek. “Thank you Sorch.” the feline rumbled.

  The cat belted on pouches and a sheath, then slid a meticulously cared for short sword from between the mattresses of the bed. It was sheathed and then peace-knotted. Once the gear was loaded into Ames’ well used backpack, the two of us donned warm coats and slipped out of the room. We proceeded out the side door of The Spastic Vole.

  We headed north using mostly side streets. This was a different perspective of the city, for sure. Debris was scattered amongst old shattered shipping crates. The homeless made their homes in whatever pile of warm material they could gather, usually backed up against a wall that had some sort of boiler, fireplace, or oven on the other side. Small gangs of ‘citizens’ were gathered around barrel fires, looking for marks that were either too naive or too drunk to understand the danger they were in. It should be noted; they always gave Ames a wide berth when we passed.

  The cat opened up the conversation as we bustled. “So, you’re an orcventurer are you?”

  I had never heard the term before. I assumed it was just a little joke. “Indeed I am. Although I’m relatively new to the game. Most of my adventures revolved around survival until a few months ago. Actually seeking out danger and the unknown wasn’t really part of my life as a tribesman. And you are a… catventurer?”

  Ames seem pleased by the term. “I wish. I mean, I’ve been on a few of these expeditions, but my income comes from a lot of different sources. The Vole takes more than she gives sometimes, so I’m also a locksmith, a private dancer, and a body for hire.”

  I didn’t need clarification to know that Ames wasn’t talking about being a bodyguard.

  The were-cat shrugged as we moved down a particularly tight little alley. “But I wish that I was a full time adventurer, at least when I’m not checking up on my business. I find it thrilling.”

  I laid a hand lightly on the white cat’s shoulder as they deftly weaved through the cluttered alley. ‘Just to help me keep up.’ I thought to myself. “How much of the business do you still own?” I asked curiously.

  The feline chuckled softly. “Seventy percent. Toby, Rick, and Will each own ten percent. It allows them to get free meals and drinks. They understand that they won’t see any real profit for some time, if at all.”

  “It’s an interesting place.” I muttered, half to myself.

  “Why thank you! “ the feline rumbled. Damn cat ears.

  Louder this time, I commented, “The booths are very comfortable. But some of those chairs look fairly dainty. I’d be afraid to sit in them.”

  The feline turned their head and flashed a sharp, toothy smile at me. “You’re a big specimen certainly. Does that hold true everywhere?” At that particular moment, I didn’t expect the brief but firm grope that my crotch received.

  I blushed a nice deep pine-green and stammered, “W-well, I… that is to say, maybe y-you should-”

  “Too late greenskin. We’re here.”

  We emerged from the last alley onto a bustling main street. Ames led me over to what I could only describe as a pawn shop. The building was made of stone, possibly so that no jilted lover or angry husband could burn it to the ground. There were windows filled with strange and seemingly miscellaneous items, and a metallic shutter that could be drawn over the windows and locked down at night.

  The human shop owner was waiting for us by the front door, which had clearly been tampered with. “Ames, thank the gods. Some idiot tried to break in last night, and my key doesn’t work anymore. I think they poured acid in the lock or something, it’s a mess.”

  Ames ga
ve the tall man a toothy feline smile. “It’s alright Mister Benson, we’re going to replace the whole thing. When your message came in, I figured it was a lost cause attempting to repair it.”

  A few simple words from the feline made the man’s countenance transform from stress to relief. “You’re the best, Ames.” There was a long pause as the gaunt man looked me over. “Ummm, who’s your friend?”

  I quickly offered my hand, a ritual that Will had drilled into me. “Mister Benson, I’m Sorch Stonebender. It is good to meet you.”

  A look of surprise bordering on shock passed over the merchant’s face. Instinctively, the long-fingered, pale hand reached out to shake my green, calloused one. “Mister Stonebender. May I say, you’re Common is quite a bit better than my Orcish.”

  I smiled a little bit at that. In Orcish I said, “Not even orcs speak Orcish if it can be avoided.”

  We both laughed at that. Ames looked up from their tinkering to mock-complain, “You’ve known each other for exactly one minute, and already you have secret jokes that I don’t understand.”

  After apologising to the were-cat, Mister Benson asked me to tell my story. I’ve recited it so many times by now, I had a version of the entire thing that I could tell in a brisk hour and a half. The pawnshop owner pulled over a table and three chairs from the neighboring cafe, and ordered brunch for three while he was at it.

  As Ames’ handpaws were covered with grease, we developed a system. The feline would growl over their shoulder, and I would pop one of the cafe’s tasty little meat rolls into an open and waiting maw. It was clear that the cat was listening to my story as they worked, ears flicking and swiveling when something of particular interest came up.

  As I was covering the caravan trip, Ames was cleaning up. The were-cat was able to join us for the last fifteen minutes of the story, handpaws clutching a hot mug of tea. I tried my best to be neutral about both my role in the battle as well as my injuries. My two listeners were impressed nonetheless.

  After I finished my tale, Ames chimed in, “The new double lock is in place Mister B.” Two pairs of keys were slid across the table to the shopkeeper. “The majority of thieves won’t even bother with this one. If you have any wards in place, make sure that the mage expands them to include the new lock.”

  The tall human pocketed one set of his new keys, and then tried the other set out on his brand new lock. The mechanism rotated smoothly, the shop door opening easily now. “You’re a life saver Ames. Here you go, I know better than to offer you trade.” He tossed a small pouch of coins to the feline. The pouch was deftly caught, and quickly tucked away.

  I helped Mister Benson to move the table and chairs back to the cafe. A couple of handshakes later, and we were on our way back to the Vole. This time we were in no hurry, so we traversed the main streets. Ames played tour guide, and pointed out some of the important merchant and government buildings that were on route. By the time we made it back to The Spastic Vole, I had a better grasp of the layout and the management of Ice House.

  Ames had to disappear for a while to attend to stockroom matters and to order some proteins. After a brief nap and performing my midday Enhancement spell, I looked around for something to do. I ended up in the back of the kitchen, helping to scrub and dry dishes. I didn’t mind. It gave me a chance to chat with some of the staff members as we worked, which was a good way to try out my social skills in a casual situation.

  When Ames caught up to me however, a slightly annoyed look spread across the feline’s face.

  “Sorch. You’re a guest. Stop that.”

  I grinned at the were-cat. “Idle hands are the plaything of the underworld.” I was unapologetic, but I did stop the voluntary work now that my host was back.

  The feline threw a towel at me. “Dry up. I think we’ve both earned some supper.”

  After saying goodbye to the staff, Ames led me to a small booth along the northern wall that was equally distant from the bar, the stage, and the restaurant. The booth bordered on the privacy wall, but the first wooden post was inward from the booth. That meant that this particular seat could draw the privacy curtain back and check out the action on stage whenever they liked. Still, it was the most secluded spot in The Spastic Vole barring employee-only areas.

  I commented, “I saw that you have snake on the menu tonight. Assuming that isn’t too rare or expensive in these parts, I wouldn’t mind seeing how you folks prepare it.”

  The cat tilted their head. “Well. Aren’t you full of surprises. I suppose being from the swamp you used to have snake from time to time.”

  “From time to time.” I affirmed.

  Ames nodded. “Consider it done.” The feline flagged down a waitress and ordered two portions of the BBQ snake with a root salad. I added an ale to the order, and my new companion asked for the same.

  After the server departed, I quietly asked Ames, “Would it be too bold to ask you about yourself and your people? You heard my story, but I’m afraid I know next to nothing about your past.”

  The cat considered. “I guess it would be better if you heard it from me and avoided any embellishments, outright falsehoods, or other tall tales.” The feline cleared their throat, and then launched into their story as we waited for our dinner.

  “So. A thousand years ago, my race was once a lot like your own. We had smooth skin, and no tails. As I understand it, we were somewhere between orcs and elves in terms of body type. We were not really welcome in either society though. So we maintained a tribal culture, generally in cooler areas that weren’t as desirable.”

  The feline lightly traced little circles on the tabletop with a claw tip. “But that all changed with the coming of the First Great War. The elves and the humans fought on a massive scale, and the elves were searching for any advantage that they could get. They figured if they could transform my people into full blooded elves, their armies would grow.”

  Ames paused to thank the waitress as our ales were delivered. They took a long sip before continuing.

  “So in exchange for all of the benefits that elven society had to offer, the leaders of my people agreed to have our race magically and divinely transformed. There was a great gathering, and a ritual, and a planned celebration as tens of thousands of us were about to be reborn.”

  Ames glanced up at me and smiled, toothily and yet grimly at the same time. “But then something went wrong.”

  “In their attempt to divide our natures, the elven wizards and clerics created two races. The were-cats were the more independent and aloof creatures, while the were-wolves were more social and yet more violent in nature. It was chaos. My people, wolves and cats alike, treated it as a betrayal rather than an accident. They scattered to the four winds. Some of them even joined the human side of the conflict, when they were allowed.”

  I nursed my drink as the feline spoke. When they paused to take a sip, I asked, “And they were called were-creatures because they had the power to transform their natures, yes? Like modern day werebears and wererats?”

  Ames nodded. “Back in the day, hundreds of years ago, yes. They could transition into humanoids, or even tap into their animal natures. That was how many of them came to serve in the human army… they simply posed as humans. But as the generations churned, it became more and more difficult to make that transformation. As of a couple hundred years ago, there’s been no record of any of my people or the wolf people being able to transition.”

  I nodded back, then made a polite gesture to indicate that Ames could continue the story in their own time.

  “Soon after the war was over, my people became hunted by slavers. Specifically the were-cats… the wolves were beasts of combat and didn’t make for easy prey. My people, however, were known for their ‘delicate skills’. Specifically the females. The males were known to be ornery, petulant, and violent; they weren’t desired at all in the slave trade. In order to confuse the slavers and make them waste their time, my people used their transformation powers to take more andro
gynous forms. Everything that differentiated the males from the females of my species was either hidden under a thick coat of fur, or internalized. Now a lone were-cat on the road might be a male, useless to pursue and of no value to them on the open market.”

  “As I mentioned, transformation was getting more difficult with every generation. So eventually we became locked in this kind of a form. Androgynous in appearance. Not human or elf or orc, and not animal. But we retained a lot of the traits of our animal nature. In the case of were-cats such as myself, that included some fairly sketchy parenting skills. I was left to fend for myself at an early age, when perhaps a wild cat might be considered mature and ready, but frankly not a reasonable age for civilized humanoids.”

  I must have looked sad, because Ames reached across the table and took my hand in their forepaw. “It’s alright. I learned quickly. Once my parents moved on, Ice House became my home. I know these streets, these caves, and this land as well as anyone alive. When I was hungry I could forage. When I was cold I could usually charm my way into some curious traveller’s bed for the night. When times were tough, I stole what I needed. And that’s how I met Toby.”

  I smiled a little bit at the mention of the big minotaur, and the smile was echoed in the were-cat’s own face. The feline continued their story.

  “Toby caught me stealing from The Order of the Snow. I robbed their main temple, over in the western quarter. He threw me in jail, and when I yelled at him he started to cry. Of course with a minotaur, that could mean they’re about to take your head off. But in Toby’s case I found out that he was genuinely sad. I had come to his attention weeks before. He had decided that the just thing, in my case, was to allow me to do whatever I had to do in order to survive. As long as I wasn’t hurting anyone in the long term. But an affront against the Order of the Snow couldn’t be ignored.”