username: Goddess Sword
name: Ebera
gender: Male
role: Fighter
guild: Starsong
It had started off small.
///A few tonics missing from Dota’s shelves - She could only assume she’d used them tending to yet another of Rugan’s injuries from a night gone overboard at the taverns, and had been too tired to recall. Gods know how often she was up half the night tending to a black eye, or getting up early to nurse off another hangover; a bit of sleep deprivation was just an average day since she’d joined Starsong.
///Several coins from Rugan’s pouch… Had he really tipped the tavern keeper so much? Maybe a fight he’d started ended up breaking some glasses, and he’d bribed the bartender into turning a blind eye. That seemed like something he’d do.
///A bit of Firesprite Dust. Suterra could have sworn they’d had more than that… Perhaps they’d misplaced it and were simply having a hard time finding it with their poor eyesight? Shiru’s flaming dagger would have to wait, they supposed.
///Several apples, gone from the counter in the guild’s kitchen… Hmph. Sure, it was a public area, but everyone knew those were
her apples! Shiru would have to have a word with her guildmates about this.
///Still, it wasn’t like things going missing were unheard of in the Catacombs. Foragers would sometimes drop what they’d gathered upon the appearance of a monster in the tunnels, either to fight or to flee, and simply be unable to find them upon retracing their steps; careless merchants sometimes found their stocks or money less than it should have been at the end of the day; fighters might lose their weapons to a particularly nasty attack, stuck in a beast’s hide as it flees or simply destroyed in battle. Such was life, above or below.
///Now, when cats were putting up missing posters with rewards of several dozen coins or more in exchange for their lost items, however… That was when things started looking a bit odd. To think that half the city was misplacing their stuff would be foolish, certainly… but then, if not that, what else would it be? Theft, of course, but who in the world would bother with such little things as apples or salves?
///And besides. Perhaps it really was just coincidence that, every now and then, their newest guildmate would return home from a day of training carrying a sackful of coins, claiming to have found some cat’s lost coin pouch on the way home from the Blacksmith’s, but unable to identify its owner. Who were they to complain about extra funds, after all? Gods know feeding so many mouths on the money Rugan brings back after a night at the taverns was difficult; who were any of them to argue with the extra help?
///It was only when a certain item belonging to a certain tabby went missing that things started to shift.
///“Alright,” Dorban announced as he stepped out of his room, a stern look on his face, “have any of you seen my sword?”
///“Urgh, my head…” Rugan whined from his spot on the couch. “Talk a little louder, why don’t ya. Just shout right in my ears, yeah?”
///Dota sighed. “You realize this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d stop throwing so much money away at the taverns every other night…” she muttered, then looked up at the eldest cat. “I’m sorry, Dorb. I haven’t seen it since you left for that Freezesprite raid yesterday.”
///“I can’t really see it in the first place!” Suterra chimed in.
///“Yeah, yeah, ‘Terra, you’re blind as a bat, we get it,” Rugan complained, covering his ears dramatically. Dota rolled her eyes.
///“Don’t know, don’t care,” shot Fanael from somewhere down the hall.
///“You had it when you came back,” Shiru said, popping a grape into her mouth. “You sure you didn’t leave it in your room somewhere?”
///“I think I would have known if a flaming sword had been misplaced in my room, given that it would have set the guild ablaze,” Dorban answered in a tone far more biting than he tended to take with his younger guildmates. “But for the record, I spent the last hour tearing the place apart in search of it, to no avail.”
///“Oof, that sucks. Takes forever to save up the money to enchant those things. And with
someone losing track of all our Firesprite dust-” She looked pointedly at their leader.
///“What?” they responded, pouting in the direction of Shiru’s voice. “I didn’t
lose it, I just… miscounted how much we had. Thought there were a few more grams of it than there actually was, that’s all.”
///“Right, right.” She huffed. “You know, I’d be
fine with you, say, using it to season a meal, Suterra. You know how much the food in Catalena interests me. But I’d really prefer if you
said something to me about it beforehand.”
///“I didn’t use any of that dust in our
food, Shiru! I was saving it for enchanting your dagger, and you know that!”
///“Shut
uuuuuppppp,” Rugan whined.
///Ebera stretched his wings out and jumped down from his place on the counter (How many times had they told him to just use a chair like a normal cat?), stretching out with a yawn before padding over to Dorban. “I haven’t seen it either, I’m afraid,” he said softly, as if trying to avoid bothering the merchant with the sound of his voice, “but perhaps it was left in one of our rooms by mistake? You and Shiru were up quite late last night with that battle, after all - I heard there were, what, three of the things? Quite the fight, I’m sure. Shame I was caught up at the blacksmith’s, would have loved to help you out.” He paused. “Ah, but where was I? Perhaps with how late the fight ran, you were so tired that you accidentally placed it in the wrong case. I know I’ve got a display for my weapons, and I’m sure Shiru does as well, what with her being so excited to receive an enchanted dagger of her own. Sort of need one to avoid burning the building to the ground!” Ebera laughed, one which was quickly stifled as Rugan gave a whining growl from where he lay. “I’m sure we’d all happily allow you to check our quarters for that sword of yours. Isn’t that right, everyone?”
///Shiru shrugged. “Pretty sure I would have noticed if I woke up to burning steel in my room, considering how long I’ve been waiting for it…” She shot a frustrated glance at Suterra. “But sure, go ahead.”
///“I don’t really, uh, have any weapons… unless you want to count some surgical knives, I suppose? But, ah, you’re welcome to give mine a look as well, sir!” Dota proclaimed.
///Rugan gave an indiscernible grumble. “What he said!” Suterra agreed, seemingly taking his mumbles for ‘go ahead!’
///Dorban sighed. He doubted he would have left the blade anywhere but by his side, but… he needed to find it, and he supposed it was worth a shot. “Very well. I’ll have a look around, then.” And he padded off down the hall to resume his search.
///Ebera rolled his shoulders, as if trying to work out a kink in his back after sitting on the hard granite for so long. “Well,” he said, “while Dorban works on that, I’ll be heading to Rune’s. Need to get some extra practice in to catch up on the experience I lost out on with the raid yesterday. I’ll see about maybe getting us a discount on a replacement sword for Dorb while I’m out, should it come to that - I’m quite the haggler, you know!” He smiled, an innocent sort of pride in his eyes, and made his way out the door… upon which his smile quickly faded, and he glanced quickly back at the building, huffing as he shook his head ever so slightly, the subtlest hint of a smirk playing upon his lips as he set off.
---
///It was significantly after he’d left that he finally made it to the blacksmith’s, for reasons that really should have been obvious at this point - But his guildmates, for the most part, were overly trusting, and the ones that weren’t were either too cynical and rude or too hungover to be bothered to notice. By that point Dorban should have found that his sword was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was still searching, even. Ebera didn’t really care either way; with no sword to be found in his room, the suspicion was off his back, and that was all he cared about.
///At least… that was how things
should have gone.
///To say that Dota was surprised to see her newest guildmate squeezing out from a tiny crevice in the wall of a tunnel on the outskirts of the city would be an understatement - In no small part due to the fact that he could barely fit in and out, horns scraping the rock as he twisted his head to fit through. Hiding behind a stalagmite, she watched as he glanced around, and, seemingly content, padded off towards the center of town once more.
///Quite curious. Zulfiqar and their foraging would have to wait, she supposed.
///Noticeably smaller than her guildmate, and even the average cat, she struggled only slightly to make it through the crack in the stone. Soon the crevice widened until her sides no longer brushed against the walls, and her scarf was no longer being pulled from its place on her head. And then the crevice opened up into a small cavern, isolated from the light of the outside city and instead illuminated by… frankly, it was hard to tell
what it was illuminated by. Candles, torches, and lanterns hung from posts driven into the walls and floor, burning weapons scattered on the ground, enchanted jewels and glittering silks stuffed haphazardly among piles of dried, preserved food and tangy leaves and sweet berries and more mushrooms than Dota knew what to do with. Crystals plugging the caps of potions in a corner. Bedding and deconstructed furniture stuffed into a heap off to the side, books stacked surprisingly neatly next to them. Pouches of coins tossed seemingly at random across the room, bags of Fire and Freezesprite dust stuck inside of simple purses. And, hidden in the back of the cave, a certain, well-worn sword half-buried in earth, as if to hide it especially, sputtering a few licks of flame.
///Okay. That was
interesting.///She wandered through the room for a while, pawing at the various objects. There seemed to be little consistency in their value; expensive enchanted knives sat alongside squished berries, worth maybe a coin or two at most. Rare, near-mint tomes sat alongside moth-eaten diaries and thick, hardcover books she soon found were hollowed out, with knives hidden inside. Simple bows and arrow-filled quivers were wrapped up in fine linens, while silver spears poked into piles of food like massive, makeshift kebabs. The whole place seemed to be without rhyme or reason; and, whatever the reason may be, Ebera had slipped his way in and out of here, on who knew how many occasions, hoarding piles of nothing and everything, as if preparing for the apocalypse.
///How exactly was she supposed to respond to this?
///And so she paced the cavern, contemplating this for a time, before picking up Dorban’s sword and awkwardly shaking the dirt off of it, unsure of if there was some way to extinguish the flames to brush it off properly. Didn’t matter, she supposed. She was a forager, not a fighter; Dorban could handle it himself when it was returned to him.
///…If it was returned to him.
///A strong yet quiet curse broke the light echoing noise of her footsteps on the cave walls, and Dota looked up to find Ebera standing tense in the entrance of the cave, watching her unblinkingly.
///The two watched each other for several moments. And then…
///“…You, uh. You have a problem.”
///“… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
///“Dude.”
///“Frankly, I’m as surprised at this as you are.”
///Dota covered the sides of her face with her paws and dragged them down, exasperated. She’d been so happy to have been offered a position in Starsong, but gods, was it really worth the absolute madness she endured day in and day out? “You came out of here this morning,” she said. “I watched you. Your horns were scraping against the side of the crevice out there.”
///“Wasn’t me.”
///She stared blankly at him. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, tone flat.
///“Doing what?”
///“Oh, for the love of- Would you
stop?!” she snapped, gesturing around her. “This! What are you doing with all of
this?!”///“…It’s not mine,” he answered.
///“Oh, no,
really? I couldn’t tell!” Dota waved their eldest guildmate’s sword for emphasis. “I assumed you just
found this sword, and
found those potions, and
found those books and those silks and those sheets and-” She exhaled a long, deep sigh. “Why?”
///Ebera shifted awkwardly. This wasn’t working. “I need them,” he said.
///“What,” she snapped, “could you
possibly need all of this for? What do you need the
leaves for? The Freezesprite dust? You’re not even a mage! The hell are you, a doomsday prepper?”
///The thief huffed. “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you,” he dodged, and she was struck by how different he sounded; that polite, even somewhat proper tone he so regularly took on at the guild had all but vanished. Had he been acting all along?
///Dota growled - A rare display from the normally softspoken cat. “Try. Me.”
///“…Put the sword down and we’ll talk.”
///“You drop that knife of yours first.”
///“Tch,” he muttered. “On three, then.”
///“Fine. One. Two…” the clattering of weapons on stone masked the sound of the last number, but the two were unarmed.
///Dota suddenly recognized that this probably wasn’t the smartest idea on her part; though not a large cat, Ebera was still bigger than her, protected with scales, armed with horns and sharp, extended claws. As she approached, she glanced quickly at the pile closest to her. A polearm, a claymore… Bulky, especially with her small frame. She could only hope she would be able to handle them, should it come to that.
///“Why,” she repeated, “do you have all this…
stuff in here?”
///“Told you,” Ebera answered. “I need it.”
///“For the love of…” She huffed. “Okay. Okay. Would you care to
elaborate on that?”
///“In case something happens,” he said.
///“…So you
are a doomsday prepper,” she remarked flatly.
///He chuckled. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way,” he said.
///“No?”
///“No,” he confirmed. “In case something happens. I get kicked out, or you guys die. Things like that. It’s a backup plan. Food that won’t go bad quickly, like those dried apple slices. Money, and stuff to sell for it. Potions in case I’m hurt. Bedding, furniture, lights, so I have a place to stay. Weapons to defend myself.”
///“I see.” Dota pursed her lips. “And why,” she asked, “do you feel the need to have a backup plan. In case we
die, in particular?”
///He shrugged. “‘s happened before,” he said nonchalantly.
///“Has it, now?”
///Ebera nodded. “Folks died when I was a kid. Dad got messed up in a raid. Defective shield crystal. Shattered and pierced him. Bled out on the way back from the fight, apparently. Don’t really remember it; was just a kid, y’know?” He flicked his wings. “Ma worked herself to death trying to make up for his absence. Got sick and was too exhausted and weak to recover. Didn’t have any other family, and Ma was so overworked she’d lost touch with her friends. Not like I had anywhere to go, y’know? What’s a kid to do but steal to get by?”
///Dota’s eyes softened. “Oh,” she said. “Well… I guess I can see where you’re coming from. I don’t agree with you,” she added, “but I guess I understand what you mean.”
///He gave her an odd look. “You understand,” he said, “but disagree?”
///She nodded.
///“Then what would
you have done if you were orphaned?”
///“Exactly what I did,” she answered. “Well, I was abandoned, I think. Not orphaned. But, you know. Same idea,” she clarified. “I learned to, uh. Heal others. Make potions, stitch up injuries. Foraged for herbs and berries and became an apothecary to earn a living. Hoped at some point someone might. I dunno. Feel bad, or decide I was useful enough to keep around. In the meantime, scrounged up what I could working for other people and hunting around in the tunnels. Holed up between stalls in the market at night. And, I mean... “ She flicked her tail. “Well, Starsong is kind of a mess. I mean, you’ve seen how often I’m up until dawn trying to get the swelling on Rugan’s bruises from his nights at the bar to go down. But hey. I have a roof over my head, and food to eat, and… Friends, I guess.”
///“…Hmph,” Ebera muttered. “Easier said than done. You’ve got a talent for that sort of stuff.”
///Dota was quiet for a moment… then laughed loudly. “Oh, gods no, it’s not a talent. I damn near killed a patient or two as a kit. Mistook some black bryony berries for sweet berries; didn’t use a lot of them, thankfully, but needless to say they decided to look elsewhere for their care after that.” She shrugged. “It’s all experience, really. Live and learn, right?”
///Ebera was quiet. “Yeah,” he said at last, “I guess so.”
///She smiled softly. “And, hey. There’s a lot of us here now. Suterra, Rugan, Shiru, Dorban, Fanael, me... I doubt all of us are gonna end up dead out of nowhere-”
///“Unless you poison them, too,” he jabbed.
///Dota rolled her eyes. “And if ‘Terra’s willing to let messes like Rugan and Fanael hang out with us, I don’t think they’re gonna be kicking you out any time soon. Starsong is just a hoard of disasters, really.”
///“…Heh. Fair enough,” he said, then paused. “I can still keep this stuff, though, right? Just in case.”
///“Tch.” She stepped back and grabbed Dorban’s sword again. “Come on, Ebera,” she said, “we’ll start small. Giving Dorb’s sword back, to start. You know this belonged to his dead friend, right?”
///“Oh. Well, now I feel like kind of an ass.”
///“Hah! That’s a good place to start,” she declared, and slipped past him into the crevice.
---
///He didn’t remember his father’s death; he’d been too young for that, far too young. But he recalled his mother’s, still just a child. How she’d worked herself to the bone to keep them both alive.
///Hah. Yeah, that had worked out.
///Above all else, it felt… anticlimactic. How she’d grown sick slowly, but worked ever harder to provide for them. How, when she got to be too ill to go out, she would provide him with a pouch of coins she’d hidden away and have him go out to buy food.
///It was never enough, really; a clump of sweet berries here, a hearty mushroom there, nothing for two cats to survive on. So he did what any kitten would do… or at least, what he’d thought until now that any would do.
///He stole.
///It wasn’t like it was anything they’d miss; a butcher with dozens of prime cuts of meat would hardly notice a package of chucks had vanished. A guild full of experienced foragers surely wouldn’t notice that one of their group had come back with a pouch a bit lighter than the others; write it off as a bad day, no doubt. “Happens to the best of us,” they would say.
///And then one morning, rather than two mouths to feed, there was one.
///He hoped that, as much as it could be, her death was a peaceful one. Simply falling into a dreamless sleep and never awakening - Of all ways, he supposed it must be one of the preferred methods, to simply be unaware of your last moments. But in the end, it made no difference at this point. His mother had passed, and he still lived. And if he wished to remain that way, he would have to leave the mourning for a time in the far future, when he himself was about to fade into whatever afterlife there may or may not be. No time to ponder what comes next, what happens after death, if she even noticed that she was gone, assuming there was any sort of soul or spirit or other such thing to remain after her body grew cold and stiff at all. He needed to eat, and to eat, he would have to steal. And what good would a thief be if he spent all his days mourning and crying like a child?
///Never mind the fact that he was one.
///It didn’t matter now.
///So it went for a time, with him slipping quietly in and out of shops with meats stuffed in a bag hidden under his wings, plucking berries from distracted foragers on their way home through the crowded Catalena streets, pilfering mushrooms from the stash of a fighter with glowing orange spots…
///Oh. Now that he thought about it, that was probably Rune. Well, he hoped the blacksmith didn’t remember him. That would make his training sessions pretty awkward.
///But then came the day when his home was no longer his. It was inevitable, really; Were a cat to arrive when he wasn’t there, which was all too often, they could only assume the worst. What was he to do, bury her in the hard rock floor of the caves? It simply wasn’t feasible; he couldn’t so much as lift her, let alone break through tough stone to give her a resting place. And cremation was hardly an option, lest he burn the building down with him inside of it in the process. So when he returned to find a crowd of cats around the house, muttering to themselves about the death of its strange owner, he’d simply taken it as another inevitability, and slipped away unnoticed.
///In hindsight, perhaps he should have revealed himself to them. Maybe someone might have taken him in, and his story would have changed. But what use was there for crying over missed opportunities and theoreticals?
///Instead, he’d resumed his thievery, all the more determined to live now that he was left with nowhere to go. Huddling up beneath porches of guild buildings and homes in the evenings, he made do with what he could carry on his person, wandering the streets and stores during the day to gather what he could to survive.
///And then, while slinking along behind a group of foragers headed out for the day’s collections, he found the crevice. A thin opening in the rock walls of the caves, he’d slipped in out of curiosity more than anything. And though it was dark, he eventually found it opened into a hollow chamber, hidden and protected from the outside. No fear of the beasts that roamed the tunnels, nor being found by those whose goods he’d claimed as his own; it was the safest place he’d known since his mother’s death.
///So it was that he’d taken it as his new home, and in doing so, grew more bold; He could steal more than he could carry on his person, now, and as far as he was concerned, he was right to do so. Look at those cats, with their warm homes and lavish meals and comfortable beds and fancy jewels and sharp weapons; how lucky they were, to have such things. And how unfair that circumstances had driven him from any hope of attaining the same.
///With all their luxuries, they surely wouldn’t miss what they hadn’t noticed he’d taken.
///He had started off small and practical - A sheet, disguised as a headscarf wrapped snug around his neck; a pillow tucked beneath his wings; food, more food than he could eat in a day, stored safely in the dark; candles and lanterns, sparks of light for his shadowy home; coins, in case he couldn’t manage to sneak a meal should his stores run low. Then, more brazen - Furniture left out on patios and in yards, quietly taken apart and spirited away while their owners slept; jewelry and silks left carelessly in houses with open windows; books, slipped out of the library without the keeper’s notice; weapons plucked from sheathes after long raids, potions for if he were to be injured.
///What their former owners didn’t have wouldn’t hurt them. And being prepared wouldn’t hurt
him, either.
///It would hurt to let twenty years of habit and preparation go, however.
---
///Ebera and Dota returned in the evening, just in time to find Dorban faced away from them, head in his paws, looking upset beyond words. An awkward silence hung over their guildmates as they munched on their dinners; even Fanael seemed uncomfortable with this experience.
///After a moment of awkward glances, Dota pushed the blade into the thief’s paw and nudged him, as if to say, “Well? You stole it, you give it back. Get on it.” He grimaced in return.
///Yeah, just give the sword back, admitting to being a habitual liar and a thief in the process, to a cat easily his size and a half. While surrounded on all sides. Right, because that couldn’t possibly end badly.
///He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and slunk through the shadows of the hall towards his guildmates… Gods, they were watching him. Even the blind one was watching him. Damned flames had broken his cover, of course…
///“Hey, Dorb? I think your sword’s back,” Shiru said, pawing at the older fighter.
///And there it was. The panic. A gleam of steel as Dorban turned his head in curious surprise, only for it to turn to confused shock as he found a dagger drawn and pointed towards him with one paw, the other clutching his lost sword. Ebera perched on his hind paws, ears drawn back against the thick back of his horns, hackles raised, wings drawn tight against his tense body.
///And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone, a clattering of metal on the floor and surprised shouts as flames scorched wood ever so lightly the only proof of his now-departed presence.
///Dorban lifted the sword from its resting place as Fanael fired a burst of ice magic at the smoking floorboards, cursing his head off.
///“…Huh,” was all he said.
---
///He’d been a young adolescent when he took on a fighter’s lifestyle. It hadn’t really been by choice, mind you, but he’d taken it up nonetheless.
///It had been a rough time in the catacombs - While not outright famine, food supplies throughout the caves were running short, and the monsters of the tunnels were becoming bolder in their attacks, no doubt in hopes of picking off cats for easy meals, or stealing what little food they’d managed to grow and scrape up to leave them for dead. Ebera wasn’t sure what the cause of it was. Magic faltering, shifts in the earth, hoards of cave rats… He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care.
///All that mattered to him was that the shortage had made the others grow more wary, and in turn made stealing what he needed to get by just that much more difficult.
///It was late in the year, just after the Fall Festival had concluded, that his stores of preserved food had nearly run dry. Only a few strips of cured meat and dried berries remained in his hoard - And even the inedible goods that he’d gathered over time were fast vanishing, sold and traded to unaware merchants for scraps of food or the coins to buy them whenever he could.
///Whenever, in this case, was not often.
///So it was that he’d chosen to sneak into the shop of a merchant that day, in hopes of finding something that might hold him over for a few more days. And find something he did; among the wares they were offering was a fine, fresh cut of meat, cool and damp to the touch, as though it had been severed from its former owner only hours ago - A delicacy even in normal times, no doubt twice as rare now.
///Whatever had driven him to attempt such a heist, he didn’t know. Pride, desperation, longing? He could have lived on a roast like that for days, he imagined.
///He should have known better, stayed smaller. Perhaps the cat might have even overlooked his transgression had it been something else; dried mushrooms, or a handful of leaves. They were all struggling, after all, and he was only a child.
///But no. Something had driven him to foolishness, carelessness. He’d made a choice, and it was the wrong one. One that had left him huddled under a porch, back against the foundation of a stranger’s home, hissing and snarling and clutching his injured foreleg, wing pulled tight around it.
///“Next time pay for your food, grubby little cat burglar!” The merchant snapped, storming off with their nearly-pilfered goods.
///“Hff… Ever heard of the phrase ‘sharing is caring,’ you prick?!” he’d yelled back, though his cries fell on deaf ears. He shifted a bit in the darkness, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Not broken… No, he would have noticed if it had been broken. It would have been so much worse had it been broken. Dislocated, then, perhaps.
///Even still, great. Wasn't that just
perfect? Here he was, half-starved, with a dislocated shoulder that would only make getting the food he needed to survive that much harder. All because some merchant would rather kill a child than pass up a profit.
///Hmph. Par for the course, he supposed. Sending him to join his family… He’d see about that.
///After some time he crawled out from beneath the porch, limping out into the light. Shrinking down and spreading his wings just slightly in a sort of warning pose, he hissed and glared harshly at an onlooker whose gaze lingered too long, and they quickly hurried away, leaving him free to flee, slow as it might be, to the relative safety of his cave. And on the way, thoughts buzzed through his head.
///Stupid. Should have kept under the radar. Now look. They’ve won. You’re injured, you’ve been spotted by onlookers, life will only be that much harder. They attacked you. And then another thought.
They attacked you, and got what they wanted. You threatened that onlooker, and they left. Cowards don’t fight back over such small things, not if their lives are on the line. If they notice you, and you can fight back…///Grimacing in pain and fighting off the tears quickly forming in his eyes as his injured leg scraped the side of the crevice, Ebera slid his way into his hole in the wall unnoticed. Medicine, fabric… he pawed through the dwindling piles in search of something to ease his pain and set his shoulder back in place as best he could. Tossing aside a handful of jewels and silks - He would need something thicker, stronger - He found a potion of unknown sorts, and he quickly downed it, uncaring of whatever it might be. If there was any chance that it might ease the horrid soreness in his side, he would take it.
///After some minutes, he felt the pain ease ever so slightly, though he also felt a wave of nausea overtake him. Right. Of course. Medicine is rarely intended to be taken on an empty stomach, and a full one was hard to come by in these times. Taking a moment to pause and catch his breath, he stuffed a dry, shriveled berry into his mouth; it wasn’t much, but it would have to do - With an injury like his and no new food to keep him going, he needed to save anything that he could. More than anything, as he returned to his search, Ebera hoped that it would do
something for his churning stomach. He tossed a book aside, and it fell with a thud and clatter to the floor of the cave.
///…A clatter?
///The cat rose from his pile on unsteady feet and padded over to where the book had fallen a few feet away. Turning it over, he found…
///“Oh,” he remarked, flicking his wings as he examined the hollow spot in the pages, carved out to fit the knife that had fallen from it as he’d tossed it aside. The thoughts, almost feeling like they belonged to another, again resumed;
If you can strike them first, strike them where it counts, you could leave before they could strike you back. And beyond that, even threats… With a weapon to back up your words, most cats would be unwilling to raise a paw against you. You’d be able to live.///An interesting proposition. Sitting on his haunches to take the weight off of his injured foreleg, he raised the dagger to his eye level with his good paw, examining it. The blade was sharp and clean, as if it had never seen use more than a time or two, and the handle was a perfect fit, with just enough of a hilt to protect the user from the cutting edge; not enough to protect from an attacking enemy, but just right to keep the weapon from slipping out of its wielder’s paw and turning its blade on themselves.
///He paused, turning back towards the pile, then quickly gripped the weapon in his teeth as he went back to digging through it. After a time, he found what he was looking for; a sheath on a belt, wrapped around a ratty, ragged blanket he’d taken long ago. Both ugly little things, but they were good. Perfect, even.
///With a quick slice, he carved the blanket in two, and tied it tight around his arm and chest, just above his wings, in a makeshift sling. With another, he cut the sheath from the belt, and with a needle and thread he’d tossed aside in his search, quickly sewed it into place underneath the pouch on his own and slipped the dagger inside; a secret weapon, in an all too literal sense.
///He hoped never to use it. But if the world would rather see him killed, have him join his parents in death, then he would fight back.
///He would live, fate be damned.
---
///Ebera’s heart still pounded in his chest.
Damn, damn, damn, he thought.
///They knew. They
all knew. And that apothecary… she knew where to find him. Where his wealth of stolen items were. He’d threatened them, she would tell them where to find him, where to find his hoard…
///He needed to leave. Immediately. Before they could get to him. He could strike first, but against so many…
///How many were there, again? Six? The blind one, the old one, the Scottish fold, the apothecary, the scarred mage, the desert-dweller with a dagger of her own…
///He could take down a few of them, perhaps. The blind one, Suterra. They would be easy. They could never see him coming. Dota… he doubted she could fight to save her life. The merchant… he’d likely be too drunk to strike back, as he so often was. But the others…
///Shiru was fragile as she was agile. If he struck first, he might be able to stop her, but with such speed… she could get up close to him. And with that dagger and her strong legs, those of a dancer, he stood no chance. Fanael was one of the most skilled magic users Ebera had ever seen, like he’d been trained in the craft from birth. Ranged attacks… Bah! He couldn’t do anything at range, except perhaps throw his dagger, and if he lost that, he was done for. And Dorban… Older, bigger, experienced. He could easily tear his wings off with his bare paws, and with that sword of his returned… Ebera shuddered to think of what might become of him.
///No. He needed to take what he could and flee. He’d been lucky before, the times that he’d been caught. His antagonists had been alone, and the glint of his dagger had been enough to ward them off, ensure they knew to do and say nothing against him. But against so many? He couldn’t possibly silence them all.
///There were other societies in the catacombs. The desert that Shiru spoke of, her homeland… Perhaps he could make a life there. Or the Caligos… Hm. They hated his kind, but there was a chance. He was skilled, and he knew the city better than any of them. If he could leverage his knowledge and abilities…
///And then, of course, there was always the surface. It would be a difficult trip through the caves, but with all their beasts, the others would have to be absolutely foolish to follow him. Going up above was their goal, certainly, but it was still far from reach. Perhaps he could stuff enough rations in a pouch for him to get up above, and-
///“Uh… Dorb says thanks for giving his sword back.”
///Ebera jumped in surprise and turned to face the intruder, spreading his wings with a snarl as he drew his blade and extended his claws. Dota held her paws up in return; a gesture of ‘I’m unarmed, don’t shank me.’
///Pulling his wings back, but still clutching his weapon tightly, Ebera growled. “If I were you,” he warned, “I would take all your little friends and leave this place immediately. I might not be able to fight off all of you, but I’m not going down that easily. If you fight me, you
will regret it. If you let me leave, I let you all live. If you don’t, at least one of you will be joining my parents in their graves. Understand?”
///Still Dota stood there. “Listen,” she said, “the others aren’t here.”
///“No, they’re not here. They’re waiting outside the crevice to ambush me, I already know. It’s not happening. If you want to live, you’ll want to
leave.”///“They’re not, though! I didn’t tell them anything about this place, I swear, I’m just here to talk-”
///“And I’m just supposed to believe you?” Ebera scoffed.
///“Uh, well, ideally, yes!”
///He huffed. “Prove it,” he challenged.
///“What?” the apothecary asked. “How am I supposed to prove the nonexistence of-”
///He crept up to her, dagger still brandished and pointed dangerously towards her neck. “We leave the cave together, my knife against
your throat. If you’re telling the truth, I let you go and you can do whatever it is you came to do. Chat, I guess.” He squinted at her. “And if you’re lying, you get to be my meat shield.”
///Dota shrunk back. “I, ah, would really prefer not to-”
///“Then you’re admitting that you brought them with you, and you’ll be the first to die.”
///She grimaced. “…Alright,” she said at last, taking a shaky breath. “Okay. You can, uh… threaten to kill me. Yeah, that’s, uh… I guess I can… Yeah, I can, uh, live with that. Blade on my neck. That’s fine. Terrifying, but fine,” she stammered. “Let’s- Let’s go, then.”
///“Hmph. That’s what I thought.”
///Gods, she hoped that none of their guildmates had followed her.
///So it was that the two of them squished their way out of the cave, Dota in front and Ebera behind, save for the paw holding the dagger to her windpipe. “Alright, you bastards, either you back off and let me leave in peace or the apothecary is only the
first of you to-” Ebera growled, only to find that the entrance of the cave was… silent and clear, just as she had claimed. “...die.”
///Dota closed her eyes and sighed in relief, still shaky from fear. “So, uh, this… this whole…
thing was sort of unnecessary, right?” she squeaked.
///“ …Hmph,” was the winged cat’s reply as he drew the blade back. “Better safe than sorry.”
///“I… I suppose,” the healer agreed, and drew out from the crevice, stepping away from her guildmate and into the light of the tunnel. “Can we talk, now? Without you, uh, you know, threatening my life?” She gave an awkward, fearful half-smile.
///He was quiet for a time. “Fine,” he said at last. “But we’re doing it out here, so none of the others can sneak up and block my escape, should it come to that.”
///“Frankly, if the choice is between you slitting my throat or running off, I’d choose the latter any day,” she agreed.
///He gave a huff of bemusement. “Smarter than you look,” he said. “What do you want?”
///She paused in thought for a moment, unsure of how to word her query. He’d become so volatile so quickly, and with that dagger still gripped in his paw… To say that she was on edge would not only be a figurative understatement, but a literal statement. But at last she spoke, soft, slow, and deliberate, “I was wondering why it was that you pulled your dagger out when you returned Dorban’s sword.”
///Ebera scoffed. “Isn’t it obvious?”
///“Not to me,” she answered.
///“Hmph. I was surrounded,” he said. “All of them were there. Stronger than me. If they’d turned on me, I would have been dead. It was a threat, to keep them at bay.”
///“But they didn’t go after you, did they?” she pointed out.
///“Because it worked.”
///“But they’re not here now,” she said. “And they would have had the advantage, right? You said it yourself. That cave only has the one exit, and you would have been surrounded. If they wanted to go after you…”
///He eyed her with suspicion, unresponsive.
///She continued. “They could have come here and gone after you themselves here, where you’d have really been trapped. The shock would have worn off, strength in numbers… if it really came down to it, they could have followed me and fought you. And killed you. But they didn’t.”
///“…Yeah,” he said, glaring off to the side.
///She was quiet. Then, “Can I ask why you thought they’d turn on you for returning what you took?”
///“That’s how it always goes. Once they realize someone’s a thief, they’d rather see them dead than to just let it go, no matter the circumstances.”
///She gazed at him in concern. “How so?”
///He shrugged. “‘S how it always goes. Doesn’t matter what you’re stealing, or when, or why. Stealing bedding for a hole in the ground you’ve been forced to call your home? Stealing a weapon to defend yourself? Stealing food in a famine? It’s all the same. If you’re a thief, you’re a criminal. And if you’re a criminal, you ought to die. The circumstances are irrelevant. Even if they take the stuff back, even if you
give the stuff back, it doesn’t change the fact that you stole it in the first place. You’re still a criminal, and your head is still on the chopping block. That’s how it always is.”
///Dota’s tail flicked. “I suppose you must speak from experience…”
///He nodded.
///“…But that’s
not how it always is,” she remarked. “If it were, they’d have followed me here, right? To go after you?”
///Ebera’s face softened, and he looked almost… regretful. “An unfortunate thing, then, that I gave them a reason to change their minds about that in the future.”
///She gazed at the cat, and, after some hesitation, padded over and placed a paw on his shoulder, at which he winced slightly and drew back, and almost started to spread his wings and snarl, prepared to threaten her again - But no. She didn’t know. He’d lashed out enough for one day. The last thing he needed was to give her a reason to go running back to the others to nark on him.
///“I think,” she said, “they’d be understanding, if you told them what you told me.”
///He scoffed. “Right. I believe
that.”///Dota gave a sheepish half-smile. “Really, I think they would. Like I said earlier, everyone at the guild’s a little messed up. Suterra’s blind and obsessed with somewhere they’ve never known, Rugan’s a scam artist and chronic alcoholic, apparently Dorb let his best friend die? Shiru’s… pretty normal, I guess, aside from the whole couchsurfing and dancing for money thing, but Fanael used to be a Caligo, actively fought against us, and I’m half one myself.” She paused. “Uh, don’t tell him I told you about that though, it’s supposed to be a secret.”
///He snickered. “Wow. You’re all real pieces of work, then.”
///She laughed quietly. “Yeah, I guess. And, you know… a thief would just be par for the course,” she said, “if you wanted to come back.”
///“…I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice sleeping in an actual house with a real, proper bed again,” he admitted, then grew silent. After a minute, he asked, “You’ll vouch for me if I do? Go back, that is?”
///“Yeah,” she agreed, “I think I can do that… If,” she added, “since you’ll have a place to live and food to eat… you’ll promise to try to steal less? And maybe even work to return some of the stuff you took, if you can? I’ll go with you. Make sure nobody tries to give you a hard time over it?”
///“…Alright. Yeah. I promise.” he said, rising to his feet. “Lead the way. Ladies first and all that, right?”
///Dota rolled her eyes and stood in turn, setting off for Starsong’s base, Ebera following shortly behind her in the glow of the evening lanterns.
///This new guildmate was a real piece of work… but perhaps some work was all he needed.
