On the Origin of Kitties

Over a thousand years ago when Karnallian Mages first discovered the power to create Void Ships by binding their souls to special vessels, sailing over the edge of the world no longer meant you would fall off the world and into the empty black.

We found out that if you sailed long enough in any direction, you’d find other realms. All of them were flat, just like Karnalle, but other than that they couldn’t be any more different.

Although the actual number of realms is anyone’s guess, to our understanding we seem to believe that Karnalle is the center of all of them and the rest of them lie in a circular pattern extending out from Karnalle. We call the six realms that form a ring around Karnalle the ‘inner realms’, while the twelve realms that loop around the inner realm are called the ‘outer realms’. Goddess knows how many more lie beyond the outer realms but if the trend keeps going one would assume the universe as we know it just keeps expanding outwards in multiples.

Karnalle spread the secret of void ships everywhere they sailed and in the great age of realm exploration we made friends, enemies, marked off places to avoid (Grekka and Gothicca come to mind), and most importantly of all- we established a great many trading partners.

One such trading partner was a certain outer realm by the name of Besthal, a dense jungle populated solely by the magnificent Beastfolk race. Although it depends on their specific subspecies, for the most part Beastfolk look completely human aside from having the ears, tail and nose of a beast as well as furred hands and feet with claws.

Humans were incredibly taken by the exotic beauty of the Beastfolk, and Beastfolk were blown away that they could choose not to live in a dangerous jungle where every day is a fight for your life.

Many Beastfolk came back with us to settle in Karnalle, and they ended up becoming jealous of our relationship with pets. Seeing that their less evolved cousins were allowed to just lay around and be fed for the rest of their life in exchange for being occasionally cute and occasionally helpful, the Beastfolk decided to domesticate us and allow us to invite them into our homes.

Many tribes formed in Karnalle where Beastfolk of different subspecies, most commonly Dog and Catfolk, would be bred and trained in certain skills such as hunting, cleaning, cooking and other useful abilities and after becoming of age the tribe would help the young adult find a loving home, where he or she would only have minor obligations and otherwise be allowed to just lay around the house chewing bones or playing with yarn.

The money from the transaction goes entirely back to the Breeding Tribes to help raise the next generation and provide for the mating pairs. For the most part Beastfolk don’t care about money, they’re a lot more simple minded than humans. But not in a... racist way? I apologize, that sounded terrible.

What I mean to say is they know what they want. Money and numbers don’t interest them. They just want to live hassle free as far, far away from Besthal as they possibly can.

As you can imagine there are a lot of systems in place to make sure that an arrangement like this didn’t end tragically. 

For one, Beastfolk in general have a much sharper sense of danger than most of the other races mainly due to their animal instincts being honed for thousands of years in a primitive, dangerous jungle. It’s said they can tell whether you’re worth selling to or not just by sniffing you. Furthermore, you have to be incredibly upfront about whether or not you’re intending there to be any sexual contact between yourself and the Beastfolk you have your heart set on.

It’s generally alright if you do intend it so long as you don’t lie about it or plan on hurting them. Obviously the Beastfolk you adopt also has to decide if they even like you that way to begin with.

Beastfolk are always in demand as far as sex workers go, but that choice needs to be made by them.

Some are ecstatic when offered a home at a brothel, others politely decline. They tend to be a very sexually open race, though you mainly only see Catfolk at brothels and other such establishments. Dogfolk are much too loyal to be passed around from master to master...

Not that I would know, I- well. There are a great many erotic tomes I’ve chanced upon with brothels as part of their scenario. Not my favorite, but hot from time to time. I’m getting off track, though...

All in all... it’s a weird system, but it’s a system I’m going to exploit as heavily as I can in order to get some cheap labor- provided they even let me look at the Beastfolk ready for adoption.

Sam, Zutiria and Meri are all ready to get going and pick out some kitties, and I checked in on Nikita before we left. She came home late in the night and she’s currently passed out drunk and naked in her guest bedroom. After looking for a bit longer than I probably should have, I head into my office and fill up two small sacks with five hundred 100G pieces each, so that we have the money on hand if things go as planned.

I would kill for one of those magical wallets they sell in Imperalis. I’ve heard they keep all your Gold safe in a small pocket dimension and you can just reach in and take out however much you want... but they’re in very high demand after some lucky mage thought of the idea a few years back. Not to mention absurdly expensive.

On our way to the bazaar we have to pass through the town square, and it seems that there’s a public funeral being held for the deceased village chief, Abner. I didn’t doubt Fleetfoot’s words or anything but it’s still nice to have confirmation.

It's an incredibly shitty funeral but it still manages to be more packed than my own grandpa’s. Was Abner really more liked than him?

Most of the crowd I recognize, a large portion of them being Abner’s numerous estranged ex wives who look elated beyond relief to see the old bastard finally gone from their lives once and for all.

The man with the large RAEP tattoo on his forehead, known locally as RAEPface, seems genuinely heartbroken, and he by the looks of it he’s the only person in attendance who is actually upset in any way even if I have no idea as to why he’d possibly care. 

Maybe he was one of Abner’s bastard sons who left home to make his father proud by becoming a serial rapist? You never really know the reason for anything that happens in this town. What I do know is that local catboy Milly is by his side, loyally comforting the grieving criminal.

There’s a few people I don’t recognize among the attendees, namely a very sickly looking bald Elf wearing loose robes. His twitching blue eyes and his glowing blue veins paint him as an obvious mana crystal consumer but I’ve never seen a user quite as rundown as him. This Elf doesn’t look like he’s the product of the mana crystal addiction crisis of Dewhurst so much as he looks like he’s the God of addiction himself.

There’s also a legitimate, honest to goodness pimp wearing a giant feathered hat with a crown on the rim, exorbitant jewelry and expensive clothing. In one hand he carries a traditional pimp cane beset with an absurd number of jewels and in the other he leads two scantily clad women by a pair of golden chains collared to their necks as if they were his dogs. Haven’t seen him before, either.

The most obviously suspicious attendee of the entire affair is a certain Butcher Bludman. 

This is the least subtle intimidation tactic I’ve ever seen. He’s... catering the funeral. The steak he’s serving is stretched absurdly thin, pale from age and practically diseased.

The girls and I exchange a look of disbelief.

Is the Duke really just blatantly having Bludman serve Abner’s corpse to the attendees of his own funeral? Like... really? That doesn’t intimidate me so much as make me shake my head and ask ‘why?’. I mean... it’s clearly a sign meant for me since I’m one of the only ones who know who really killed Abner... but... REALLY?

I guess that certainly explains the closed casket.

Sigh...

This town is fucking stupid.

...

Shit.

Speaking of stupid...

A man calls out to me from among the attendees and sneaks out of the funeral clutching a bottle of cheap, foul smelling booze. “No fuckin’ way! That really you, Kiddo?!”

His name is Niall Hawkins, and he’s a long since retired adventurer who I used to be close with in my youth. The keyword phrase is ‘used to’. Even when he WAS working he was a lazy piece of shit who only ever did Bronze ranked quests despite his Gold level license.

Nowadays the only job he has is panhandling to fund the eventual shut-down of his liver. When Grandpa died Niall was one of the very first adventurers to go and I’ve never forgiven him. I thought he’d always have my back and he even spent a lot of time looking out for me as my eyes got worse but... the only person who always had my back was Opalina.

I’m not an overly sentimental person. I don’t want to wax about how close we were, or how he was the older brother I never had but always wanted. But Niall was the next best thing, I suppose... before he abandoned me.

He’s always been unkempt and rough looking, but twenty two years of living on the streets has turned him into a real sight. Scraggly, untrimmed stubble and a seedy mustache... unwashed black hair, downtrodden, tired eyes and an untrustworthy grin permanently lifting up the corners of his mouth... and that’s to say nothing about his attire.

Niall wears a big, bulky green trench coat so old and weathered that it’s been patched up at least six different times with just as many different replacement fabrics. Rather than a proper trench coat it looks more like he’s wearing a quilt sewn together by the most unskilled of Dewhurstian alcoholics. Underneath it he wears a white, stained tank top and scraggly looking black pants that are riddled with holes and stitches. The cut off is too high making them fail to efficiently cover the bottom of his hairy legs.

The left arm of Niall’s coat is sewn up below his elbow so that it doesn’t flop around in the wind, hiding the stump of his missing arm that he lost in a dungeon long before I ever met him.

(Incredibly unpolished rough sketch, not even a draft really so much as just the bare basic idea of what he'll look like. I'll replace it when I draw something more concrete.)

I stand there for a moment, just staring at him and hoping he would somehow magically disappear. I’d rather be looking at anyone in all of Dewhurst right about now, even the damned Duke. Hell, give me Fleetfoot over this asshole any day of the week.

But he’s not going to go away just because of how much I don’t want to see him.

“It’s good to see you, Niall. Maybe we can do it again sometime. Goodbye.” I sigh and immediately try to start walking but obviously my girls aren’t just going to let this go.

“Who the fuck’s this guy?” Sam asks. “I didn’t know you had any friends, Boss.”

“We’re not-”

“Oh, we’re not just friends.” Niall laughs and attempts to drink his bottle of swill, only for him to miss his mark by an entire foot and accidentally pour it all over his coat. “Whoops- shit. Uh, yeah. Haha! Me and your Boss here go waaaaay back. But more importantly, hey look at you three! I heard he’s been leaving the Guild with some cuties in tow but damn!”

Niall drunkenly moves forward to try and casually hug the girls, but Zutiria keeps him away with her staff. ‘Begone, vial Dewhurstian. Back to the depressing dive bar from whence you came.’

“Whoa, was that text thingy you?” He looks at Zutiria with a friendly smile. “That’s cool shit. Let’s see here... You got a Great Blader... a Black Mage and... whoa. You’re a Shield Maiden, aren’t you?”

“M-Me? Yes. I MEAN NO- I... huwaaa...!” Meri hides behind me, clearly not very enthused about the overeager alcoholic.

Sam steps forward and pushes Niall to the ground before striking a threatening pose in her new armor. “Is this guy trouble, Boss?”

“Yes. But-”

“Not the BAD kind of trouble, right?” Niall laughs and picks himself up off the stony street.

“He’s a harmless sort of trouble.” I sigh and admit to them, telling Sam to ease off by clasping her pauldron and pulling her back to my side.

“Are you busy, Kiddo...?” The former adventurer frowns, and it dawns on me that he’s genuinely upset that I don’t want anything to do with him. He loses all his enthusiasm and his eyes grow dead, distant. “I just thought we could catch up some time... but. I get it. I mean, LOOK at me. I hate that fucker, too.” He laughs, and Sam lets out a snort as well. “See? She gets it.”

‘I don’t think Sir is comfortable with you around.’ Zutiria bluntly says as she steps forward to take my hand in hers. ‘I suggest that you leave.’

“Zutiria, don’t. I can do this myself.” I sigh and take my hand from her. I look straight on at Niall and find myself overcome with a melancholy. Seeing him reminds me of the good old days of my childhood in the Guild, at least before my eyes ruined a large chunk of it and a certain Goddess ended it prematurely.

No matter how much I say I hate him, it’s impossible for me to look at Niall and not feel a nostalgic warmth that compels me to ignore my common sense and forgive him just so I can have a small part of that old life back.

But while Opalina stayed by my side and raised me as her own more or less, Niall did the proverbial ‘going out one day for cigarettes and never coming back’ routine.

I’ve run into him many, many times over the years and each time he tries to invite himself back into my good graces as if he never made the decision to leave me in my hour of need, and each time it always plays out like this.

I don’t want to be mad at him, but I have to be. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much whenever I have to steel my resolve and tell him to go fuck himself.

“...We really need to be on our way, Niall.” I turn around and start walking away from Abner’s comical, farce of a funeral and down the road leading straight to the bazaar. 

Sam, Zutiria and Meri all follow close behind me and I hurry down the path, expecting the same thing that always happens whenever Niall shows up and pulls this exact same stunt. For him to shut up, turn around and go back to his bottle.

He doesn’t.

He actually calls out to me a second time as I leave and he tells me with a solemn look in his eyes. “...I know it doesn't mean much, but I was really happy to hear you’re back in action.” Niall raises his booze to salute me and he then joins back up with the funeral, chucking away his bottle so he can take a plate of steak from Bludman with his right arm.

“Master... who WAS that...?” Meri frowns and looks up at me.

“...Someone who I wish that I could hate.”

And with that, I enter the bustling Dewhurst Bazaar at long, long last to adopt some new pets for the Guild all while trying to ignore how it hasn’t even been a half hour since I said I’d give it three hours before I became stressed once more...