Gary Gygax: City of Hawks

“Of a vendetta. That settling of old scores was tied to your past, your family, I think. There was something stranger still. So unsettling that I hesitate to mention it”

Gord was again tense and filled with the unease of foreboding. “I do not mean to press you, lord, but I request with all respect that you convey the remainder of your knowledge on this subject to me.”

“Of course,” Rexfelis said. “Having gone this far, I could not very well do otherwise. The matter of vengeance seemed to go beyond Greyhawk, well beyond. It came here, back to me somehow, but I am not sure how. I am not concerned, but I am. It is puzzling, disconcerting to me, I admit!”

“Then that is it?”

“No, Gord, not quite. Your quest, for want of a better word, might go beyond that. There were breaks, other paths, but it seemed there was one line which was stronger than all but one other. It led to the lowest depths, to the realms of darkest Evil, to Nerull and beyond.”

That made the young man pale. “What of the other, stronger line, lord?” he inquired uncertainly.

“That led to indecision, inactivity, and a horrible death.”

“Then I am doomed no matter what, it seems… I have no hope!”

“Wrong, most misguided and wrong! There is always hope, young fool! Didn’t I just tell you that I am not perfect? What I saw was only a series of possibilities. Granted, the most probable courses were very plain, but there might be other branches. Again, my seeing is possibly faulty. That we both understand. You alone will be able to decide the exact course you follow. Although some destinies you cannot shun, there are places where you have total freedom of decision. Perhaps, in the end, you are foredoomed, but of that neither you nor I have certain knowledge. Yet there is one certainty. If you deem yourself as good as finished, then you are!”

It was heartening, that last statement, and Gord managed to throw off his depression because of the encouragement. “Thank you, Lord Rexfelis. Although what you have related to me is troublesome-nay, worse than that, even-I appreciate your frankness. Now I will set about things with a different view. Prepare myself mentally and physically too. Whatever comes to me will find me as ready as I can be, and I shall remain alert, watchful. The best course might be very difficult to seek, to follow.”

“You are growing wiser already, my human friend. The words you speak are true always, even when life itself does not hang in the balance. Enough of this now! Here,” the Catlord said with an air of congenial sort, “allow me to serve you more of this excellent kumis. We will drink together as peers, you and I, until both of us are in a merry mood and ready for frisking and frolic!”

“As long as I don’t have to sing much… or listen to very much of the noise which passes for music hereabouts!”

“My feelings are hurt! Welladay,” Rexfelis went on with a mock sigh and forlorn expression, “I shall take no offense and make sure that whatever entertainment eventually follows is to your taste, for I am your host, and a guest must be humored,” he concluded, pouring liquor into Gord’s flagon until the milky stuff overflowed. Without another word, the Catlord quaffed his own beaker of kumis, and Gord needed no encouragement other than that, tossing his own down with equal relish.

Some time later, much later in fact, and after a soulful duet in which Gord actually took the lead in singing, Rexfelis ended the wassail with a grin and a wink.

“Off you go now, Gord. I have things to do, and you need more exciting company too. See that little kitten, Tirrip!” Gord was more than content with that, and so the evening ended.

Tirrip was a lovely girl. No, she was a beautiful tiger who could take the form of a gorgeous woman. Well, perhaps she was something else, an intelligent being from another plane whose actual form was unknown, but which could be either that of tigress or woman when she was on the plane of the Catlord.

At any rate, Tirrip and Gord were intimate friends, and that had been the cause of some difficulty for the young adventurer. Her cousin, Raug, and several others of his group resented the relationship and disliked him. With effort, Gord had put the matter aside in his mind after several confrontations and contests with Raug and his friends. After all, Tirrip liked them well enough, so Gord set aside his mislike and ignored them studiously.

He was doing just this the day after his audience and drinking bout with Rexfelis, during a stroll with Tirrip. He and the pretty tiger-were walked slowly, hardly noticing or caring where they were, as she listened to the young man recount the matters he and the Catlord had spoken of, until they were suddenly interrupted.

“Hoy! It’s Tirrip! Come with us, cousin! We’re going on a hunt!”

Gord saw Raug and a half-dozen or so others at a little distance. The big fellow had pointedly ignored Gord’s presence, so as Tirrip called and waved a return greeting, the young thief looked away from the group as if they didn’t exist.

“Come on, Gord!” Tirrip said excitedly. “You can take leopard form and come along! Let’s join them!”

“I think not,” Gord replied slowly. “I wouldn’t find the company even slightly amusing. I’m surprised you would…”

“Oh, don’t be a silly dog,” she said, her voice still filled with enthusiasm. “Raug and the others are all right-honestly! I haven’t been out in the wilds hunting in ever so long, Gord. Please, let’s go. It would mean a lot to me, dearest.”

“You run along and join them,” Gord said with a detached tone. “They’re your kith and kin, after all, not mine,” he added with ice in his tone and a disdainful expression. “I’ll manage to amuse myself while you’re gone… Lady Cheeba has asked me to call upon her several times.”

At that Tirrip spun to face him, her face angry. She brought her hand around and slapped him on the face so quickly that Gord could not avoid the attack. “You are an insufferable cur!” Tirrip spat. “You’re jealous of my friends and sensitive about your size just because they jape because they’re all much bigger than you!”

Gord stepped back and looked at Tirrip in stony silence. He thought of several retorts, but something made him hold his tongue and remain silent still.

“Very well, Master Nobody!” Tirrip went on. “I shall join them and have fun as I like. I’m sick and tired of having to mope around with you all the time and bored with your talk of quests and heritage and destiny-bored to tears! Who cares about that anyway? The lineage and future of an orphan human lucky enough to have curried a little favor with Lord Rexfelis is fitting for a brief entertainment at a dull party, but It grows wearisome at other times. You are a boor… a churl… a… a nobody!”

“Now, dear lady Tirrip, that was well and nobly said!”

Gord jerked his head around to see who had spoken. While he and Tirrip had been exchanging heated words-while she was berating him, rather, and he had been giving it back to her through chilling stares-Raug and his comrades had approached. Certainly the group had been drawn by the slap and the loudly spoken rebukes she had delivered. The male who had congratulated Tirrip was called Lurajal.

“Abuse is never laudable,” Gord said in an even tone, looking squarely at the fellow.

Although Lurajal was smaller than Raug and the others, he was still taller than Gord and somewhat stockier. His brown skin was smooth and rippled with muscles when he moved, and he prided himself on his speed and power. Lurajal scowled at Cord’s words, staring at the young adventurer with hatred in his yellow-brown eyes, “Dogs, even wolfish ones, are but mutts and curs fit only for abuse. To strike or scorn them is a laudable act, dog!”