FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

If you're watching a corner or doorway for a tabaxi who's trying to be discreet, the first thing you'll see are the ears. Pricked forward if they're alert, maybe trembling slightly with repressed curiosity, or pinned back in shame, or sheepishness, or caution. Katherine Fortuna peered around the edge of the hatch into the forward cargo bay of the ancient spelljammer, and her ears were splayed out sideways, at war with themselves.

It had been several days since the great dragon Shadrix Silverquill had hitched a ride aboard their vessel, and they were due at some kind of inter-sphere crossroads the next day, by the ship's own reckoning of time, at which point he was due to depart. Kat, she had to admit to herself, had been avoiding coming down here while he was still taking up half the bay.

Not because he was hostile, or unfriendly. Quite the opposite—Shadrix was one of the greatest living bards in Realmspace*, and was as gregarious as you might expect from that. All he'd asked from the ship's company was stories. New stories. He'd stared pointedly at each of the six of them in turn as he'd said it. And in response, Kat had... basically disappeared from his sight as politely as possible, as if it had been a regular sort of hungry dragon stare instead of a bardic sort of hungry dragon stare.

The first day, when asked by one of the crew, Kat had casually demurred, insisting that as a child of Waterdeep, she didn't know any stories with which he wouldn't have been intimately familiar. The second day, she heard from Adrian that he'd told Shadrix all about how they'd met the shack—and a little bit about their encounter with a black dragoness and Kat's attempt to bring her to heel.

The third day, Kat found herself apologizing to the Bookubus again, as apparently she and Carric had related the tale of how she'd fallen in with the party. A brief mention had also apparently been made about Kat being smote by Lolth, reincarnated, pinning the Ice Demon's foot to the floor, and getting her new tail.

The fourth day, an amused Tav'Estal told Kat that Shadrix had managed to lure Irvas out by providing a willing ear for the younger dragon's boasting hints about the great treasures he'd found in the necromancer's tower he'd been gifted.

Tav gave Kat a faintly sly smile, “He seemed almost proud of you when he told Shadrix how the necromancer died. Oh yes, the whole tale—the chamberpot, the whole," she waved a hand vaguely, “popping an empowered Wall of Force with sheer anger, and the laying him out in one fell pounce."

Kat's ears splayed out and she looked away, “Ah, well... he had an unlucky fall," and changed the subject.

—-

*Being a dragon might be cheating at that, Kat thought, but being a dragon was cheating for most things.

On the fifth day, Sae Rin buzzed up and leveled a finger at Kat. “You!"

“Me?"

“You! I was just telling Shad about how you got blown up at my wedding!"

“I... w—yes, I suppose that was my major contribution."

“Do you know what he said?"

“That I should try getting blown up less?"

“That he was looking forward to meeting you! What the hell, man? You haven't been down there once? Shad's great! Or..." their face transformed into a grotesquely sad pout, “...do you just not like bards?"

Kat recoiled slightly, “Ygh! Please don't make that face at me. I'll..." she trailed off, and her shoulders sagged. “...ech... blast. I can't credibly threaten you with sobriety anymore. Just please, then?"

Sae was unmoved.

“I'm sure I don't know why—I don't have any stories for him, anyway. Certainly you all have covered our adventures together admirably."

If anything, Sae's pouty face only deepened.

“Eugh. Fine. Fine! I'll go down tomorrow, alright?"

Sae's countenance flipped in an instant, and they favored Kat with a broad smile. “Great! I'm sure he'll be excited."

***

So Kat found herself peering around a bulkhead at the back of a dragon, then padding silently across the hold until she stood at what she judged to be a polite distance* before clearing her throat. She had the satisfaction of seeing a startled twitch ripple down Shadrix's spine before his great, blunted white axe of a head snaked out and around to regard her pointedly, with raised eyebrows.

“Well, well. You look a bit like this 'Katherine Fortuna' that I've heard about, but she's supposed to be a great, brash crusader, not the local... thief."

—-

*Very similar to 'just out of tail range', coincidentally.

Kat frowned slightly, “I have not knowingly stolen from a living sapient in over ten years." Her frown deepened, and her voice took on a trace of bitterness, “Nor have I been accepted into any holy order."

The ghost of a smirk turned up the corners of Shadrix' mouth, “Such careful equivocation. I have known many great crusaders who never had any truck with holy orders. It's hardly a prerequisite."

“Well... I must admit that I do seem to be touched by the same sorts of magic as the Tormtar, and I have been repeatedly assured that this makes me... god-touched, but I don't know. I think of myself as a..." there was a significant pause as she chose a word, “...partisan of Waterdeep, and an errand-girl for my Lady Blight. Hers is the only voice I hear dispatching me on tasks. In a perfectly normal way, I mean. Like, 'Sending'."

The dragon's smirk grew slightly. On a face that size, the effect was not subtle. “And how did you find yourself taking orders from the inimitable Lady Blight?"

Kat frowned again. She supposed that no one else would have told him that story, since it happened before she'd met any of her current companions, even Adrian. That and... she hadn't told it to anyone, had she? Not even Adrian. She lifted her gaze and looked back at Shadrix, as if searching his eyes for something. Finally, she spoke.

***

'Fortuna', I'm sure you're aware, is just 'Fortunate' in the old tongue of Waterdeep. It's the traditional surname for foundlings and orphans who are taken in by the city, like me.

I was found on the beach north of Waterdeep after a squall, packed into an empty water butt that had somehow stayed sealed and unbroken. Found by... clam diggers, I'm told. The watch had to look me up in a book to even know not to hand me over to the pound or the sausagemakers. But. But! They figured it out, and handed me over to the creche, and I was treated like any other poor whelp of the city.

In due course, I was diverted to Miss Susan's Young Ladies' Academy. It's what the city does with orphans who show some promise—educate them to be of use. Most of my peers were angling to be hired on in some noble Lady's house and then dreaming that they'd be able to marry well off of that. I was a bit less grounded. Or perhaps more grounded? I certainly had a clear idea of my prospects for a 'good' marriage.

Anyway, I talked my way into fencing lessons, and found that I could fulfill my requirements for work experience at the temple of Tyr instead of some noble house. The knights of the order treated me, I recognize now, as an amusing pet, but I convinced myself that I would join their order as a squire when I came of age. I could barely lift the Hammer in both hands, let alone use it, and they bade me run along home. Essentially.

I was embarrassed and heartbroken, and that very quickly became a blinding anger. But I was also determined to give something back to the city—out of spite, if nothing else. This was not long after everything with the Fog and the other city came to a head, and I followed the call for able bodies and steady nerves out to Yartar.

We were shortly put on a supply caravan out to Calling Horns. That's two days by wagon, and I had the worst night of sleep of my life there on that night we camped out. But everything was quiet, and we made Calling Horns without incident. I slept soundly there, until some time deep in the middle of the night.

It was as if the Fog had rolled into the inn, but only as the stench of rotting flesh, and I was the only one disturbed by it. I stepped outside to investigate, and heard screaming from the baker's house, then more screaming from the tinker's. I ran for the baker's. Snap decision. His children had been outside to greet us when we got into the village. Stupid damned thing to do, but that seems to be the way it is, for me.

Well. I'm sure you know what's next. Undead had come shambling out of the mists, and the door to the house was lying on the ground when I got there. I threw myself inside to draw their attention, yelled at everyone inside to get to the inn. It pre-dated the rest of the village—one of those stone, fortified wildland inns. Safe enough, if everyone got inside and barred the doors.

I— hm.

I didn't—well...

It was stupid. I got told afterward that it was 'heroic', but that's not what I was thinking. I was just in a blind panic to keep their attention off the children, and did whatever came to mind, the moment it came to mind, in order to try to do that. I swung wildly, to grab the attention of every zombie I could see. Backhanded the hand straight off of one with the pommel of my sword. I felt very smug about that for about six seconds, and then that zombie simply stabbed me with the broken ends of bone in its lower arm.

Right... here, below the liver, about. There's no scar, of course. But it was the first time I'd really been hurt like that. I just stood there in shock, tasting blood and smelling bile, and they knocked me over just by sheer mass of rotting meat shambling into me. A few of them kept going, but most of them stopped. Bent over me. They'd been.. human, or half-elven, or something else with soft fingers and no claws. But they started grasping at my armor, digging fingers into it, and their finger bones popped through their fingertips like sharp worms.

They don't have pain to tell them to stop, so they're strong enough to do... what they're driven to do. The ones that could reach dug after the smell of blood from the gut wound. I could tell that they'd gotten past the armor, felt spreading fire, but.. if I could tell any more detail, I don't remember it. The rest, they tore at whatever they could reach. I remember... I remember thinking “well, this will keep them busy long enough to get the others to the inn," and deciding I was satisfied with that. Then there was an incredible burst of light, and when I opened my eyes again, I saw my Lady looking down at me. I managed what I imagined to be a brave, sardonic, unbothered smirk, and that's the last thing I remember.

She has directly and specifically refused to tell me how bad it was. She has also never sent me on another errand to Calling Horns. When I realized it, I resented how grateful I felt for that consideration, but I have continued in her service since then.

***

Kat blinked, and it was as if a trance broke. She looked sharply at the dragon in front of her.

“...that was rather more detail than I meant to go into."

Shadrix, for his part, shifted his bulk to sprawl out like a great cat, as if his sense of smug satisfaction were too great to fit on just his face.

“I tend to have that effect on people."

Kat grimaced, “Yes, I suppose you would. I don't suppose I could convince you to hold on to that story until I'm safely dead? Surely a few years makes no difference to you?"

“I'm not quite so disconnected from my small friends as to confuse five and fifty years, little crusader."

“Fifty?" Kat scoffed, eyeing Shadrix skeptically. “It'll hardly be fifty. By my count, I'm on my fifth life already. You won't be waiting more than a year or two before I find a disintegration spell or something." She waved a hand vaguely, “If we're lucky, it'll happen while I'm doing something to really make people interested in that story before you start telling it, alright?"

It was Shadrix's turn to study the black-on-black tabaxi in front of him. They both watched each other in perfect stillness for a long moment before the dragon finally spoke, as softly as his deep basso rumble could manage.

“Alright, Dame Katherine. I will keep your story for you. As long as you can pay in new tales, I will keep it."