Mauz Komkat the Unremitting Leopard, Veteran of the Great Siege, MageSlayer

Role

Chapter 7

Fifty-odd summers passed now. Maybe more. Mauz has seen his Commander
pass as well. There are elves and dwarves now, four times his age, but
they are children in this war.

He has tried to serve the huts, to save the huts, but still they burn
left and right. He has pleaded with them as they strip their armaments
and grab a torch from the forge. They pay him little heed.

He turns his love for them to helping them learn, toward feeding their
minds. They are, of course, still children.

The Commander passes, a dark lord of the Pit arises. The Drillmaster
seems to spend more and more time away. After the shining days of Akedeh
dark days have come to the huts. He hopes to be a light for them, to
guide them, for they shall certainly need it.

The mightiest warriors in all the lands, yes, but also undisciplined
babes.

The Rites must happen soon.

Salyeris would make a fine Commander. Or perhaps someone a bit furrier.

Role

Chapter 6

There are legends galore of men who become beasts. There are fewer
tales of beasts who become men, but this is one of those stories.

There were shocks for the cat. Foremost was to learn that he could
speak. After that the words flowed like a river and the world opened
up to him. He learned of his people and how they had suffered. He
learned of the Barbarians who had carried him from the west. He
learned of men who can kill with a single blow. And he learned of
The Fortress of Light.

He learned that there are two ways that one might serve The Fortress.
The Maran hate the darkness and fight against it with every breath.
The Acolytes love the light and serve daily to protect it.

In learning about the Barbarians he saw that there were many among
them who defended The Village, and many more who protected The Tablet,
but few names among the generations of Villagers could be considered
an Acolyte of The Village.

Role

Chapter 5

The forge was warm. The cat sat at a table across from The Smith.
They sat as men, in chairs. There was a plate of raw meat in front
of the cat, but he seemed confused. The Smith sighed.

"What is your name?" the Smith asked.

The cat looked at him.

"What is your name?"

The cat opened his mouth, at the same time the question made no
sense, yet it did. He responded with the only words he had, "Mauz.
Komkat, Mauz."

It was a matter of hours before the cat learned to stand up straight.
It was a matter of days before he learned a few simple words.
It was a week before he was sent to Blackclaw Village with a small
bag of silver and a note stamped by the Noldarian Smith.

Role

Chapter 4

They were polite at first, inasmuch as they used a key to enter,
rather than smashing open the doors. They were a motley crew, to
say the least. Giants, both black-skinned and blue, Duergar
swinging axes, Dwarves as well, and other races. Even an elf among
them, bright dagger flashing.

They had come for the magical things and for the joy of Battle.
They fought both armies. They fought each-other. Dragons died that
day and Dread Lords. By the time they reached the box, the boy
had vanished, dragged crying from his seat, but the cat remained.

As the giants ate from the food in the box a filthy Duergar with a
rust-spotted axe approached the cat, hiding beneath a chair. He
suspected it was some sorcery that had marked it so, and hoisted
his blade to end its checkerboard life.

Then a Dwarf was there and then an elf. They argued and mercy won
the day, for the elf seemed to have command of them. When all was
done a cloud giant picked up the cat and they marched away.

Skill List

Role

Chapter 3

He knew at once that the boy must have it. It was so perfect
that he suspected some wizardry, perhaps some plan at his
expense. He figured it was likely to be all white or all black
by the time he returned to the island. But the colors stayed.

By the time he returned home he had forgotten whether he had
acquired the thing from some wretched Fela or some men in
red robes. He had forgotten whether he had left the transaction
with a lighter purse or with blood on his blade. In fact, he
had quite forgotten whether the thing was a cat or a Felar.

He presented it to the boy who was thrilled. He hugged it
and kissed it, then placed it on the floor and promply forgot
about it himself.

As the weeks went by he would remember it each time a mouse
approached, though. The box would ring with his shouts "Come,
cat, a mouse, a mouse!" And the cat would come, naked,
scurrying. The cat would leave with the taste of mouse blood
in his mouth.

This went on for years.

Role

Chapter 2

Men brave enough to risk the terrors of The Strange Island
had been known to come bearing gifts. This was a dangerous
undertaking, but the rewards could be great.

The Chessmaster's moods could be joyous and gleeful. He
might bestow a fortune upon a man for bringing him something
pleasing. Or they could be black and terrifying. Gift bearers
had been a large part of the Dragon's diet.

Nonetheless, this is where the small gifts came from. The
Dragon, The Demon Prince, the assemblage of the armies, the
acquisition of these things fell to one of the trusted
servants.

Some said he was the boy's father. Others said he was just a
thief. No matter who he was he gathered things for the boy.
These things might be paid for with gold or they might be
paid for with iron, but the thief's offers were always met.

The Thief's rangings took him from one end of Thera to the
other, and it was on one of these journeys that he found
the cat.

Role

Chapter 1

The island was a place of oddities even before the tower
was built, but after The Chessmaster came things grew
stranger still. There was some debate as to whether he
was a boy or a man or a man who was a boy, but this is
immaterial. He was what he was and he is what he is.

As a collector his treasures were unmatched. Not even The
High Lord has held a Demon Prince in his menagerie. That's
what it has always been, you see, a menagerie. The
soldiers, the dragon, all just part of his zoo. They are
still part of it, of course, and he's grown more ambitious
as of late.

This story is not about that, though. This story is about
the vermin.

The tower always had mice. After the musty structure was
taken down and the lovely garden being put together their
numbers subsided for a while. But after the armies came
the population exploded. Armies march on their stomachs.

The stores of grain on one side, the stores of Nankorf and
stranger things on the other, neither were safe from the
ravenous little creatures, but none of this bothered The
Chessmaster.

What bothered him was that they got into his observation
box. What bothered him more was his reaction to this.
It was unbecoming for anyone, least of all The Chessmaster
to climb upon his seat shrieking every time a mouse
would run across his foot, yet this is what happened.

Every time.

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