Lex Madorma
On Tibbits:
Tibbits first occurred when mages’ longtime feline familiars became so suffused with magic that their biology shifted. The new race of auto-polymorphic creatures have been able to move freely, provided they are freed from contract and gain free will. Those who operate without the supervision of a mage or never had it to begin with are able to shift between their feline form and that of small scruffy humanoid at their leisure.
A mage almost never knows if they’ve got a Tibbit rather than a common house cat, Tibbits are extraordinarily rare, you see, being created from diffused magic of only the most powerful mages. However, only two known Tibbits have revealed themselves to their wizards in recent history, and sadly both frightened their masters to death. The small ones tend not to do that anymore, lest they want to receive less catnip.
First Came Trouble:
But of course, what happens when a Tibbit watches her wizard slave hours and hours on end, watching daylight burn to candlelight, stamping inked paw prints on spell scrolls until their wizard collapses into still-drying ink as their heart seizes and fails?
You get a Troubletail. Well, an Anya Troubletail to be specific.
She blinked up at the cooling body of her wizard and called for them, rubbing up on their ankles and robes.
Her wizard was old, and their days of adventure together had come to an end. Humans have such short lifespans, it did not strike her as a possibility that her silver-haired wizard could die untouched by a blade or poison. Her wizard simply… stopped.
Anya reached up to pounce upon the shoulders of her wizard when her paws became hands and she grew to twice her length, wobbling on two hairless feet. She had learned about this before. A lesson, a story, said to an apprentice or passing scholar. Her wizard would then reach down and stroke her face and ears, joking about how she would one day be able to go on her own adventures if she chose to. This must be what they had meant.
“Ack!” Anya fell against her wizard and their body slid and thumped hard against the wood and stone floor. Her tail puffed up and she howled at the sudden movement and sound.
What was she supposed to do now? Her wizard needed ceremony, but she was cursed with these peachy fur-less limbs and spidery paws.
She jumped backwards onto her new paws again, growling at how unpredictable and unknown this magic was. Anya couldn’t possibly drag her wizard out for ceremony in this state. She thought and then scrambled down the hall to her wizard’s storage rooms on two small feet. How did her wizard ever manage this?
Used to far sharper tools, she poorly used her teeth and fingernails to shred old robes into a smock for her humanoid body, and pulled long strips to wrap her wizard’s body for easier movement.
Wrapping a human nearly twice your size was terribly difficult when you just discovered you were cursed.
It took her until dawn to pull her wizard out into the forest and under a hollow half log. They had said that they would want to be a tree when they enter their next life, so this would have to do. Anya covered them in flowers and picked thorns and briars out of her new paws and smock. She brought snails and chased creatures towards the body, encouraging them to feast.
Death was something she always was told about, so it didn’t hurt until she climbed back up her wizard’s tower and bundled herself in their old robes and blankets and let the silence settle.
No quill scratching, no bottles clinking, and no sniffling or sighing. The fire went out and nobody sparked it back to life. She felt cold, hungry… sad.
For many years Anya studied her wizard. Watched what humans did, how they communicated, and what was important to them. When her wizard went out on commissions she watched the other humanoids and unique races, what they bought from the wizard and why. She snuck through windows and halls her wizard could not and shared her vision, hiding in shadow with silent paw steps.
Traveling alone was not something she could study. Giving her last goodbyes to her wizard in the woods, she rummaged for leftover robes and shoes, deciding to wrap her feet in cloth and take coins with her into town. Anya could figure out how to buy things for herself, she’d seen it often enough.
Or she could sneak some laces and trashed boots from a boutique. A pair of boots with loose seams and open soles, holes, and gouges. They would work just fine for now. She snatched an apron left behind from a cook behind a tavern and slashed it to size.
She weaseled through crowds and stood on tiptoes asking the kindest looking wait staff and innkeepers for help. They gave her dried meats and a small room, taking pity on her for her big sad eyes and tattered appearance. Anya allowed them to give her a pat on the head and she scurried off to her room with a bowl of meat and gravy. When she returned the bowl the next morning it was licked clean.
She told the story of her wizard, who she called her family, and how she is looking for a new purpose. Her blend of apathy and positivity had listeners intrigued. What kind of creature is so sweetly naive these days?
After a few days in town, Anya had gotten herself a fair stock of canned meats and some new foods recommended for her. Vegetables and herbs she could recognize from what her wizard would make over the fire in winter, but she could only nibble on boiled fowl and rabbit. These new foods had very little intrigue.
She tended to the land around the tower during her walk back, grumbling to herself about how she would have a much easier time walking back if she didn’t have these awful legs. But carrying her spoils as a feline was… embarrassingly impossible. She made it about three fox-lengths into the woods before choking on her collar and sling bag as the bag anchored her down. She made an awful sound and had to rest and lay her fur flat herself before she could keep moving.
To her surprise, a small package was placed just inside the tower to protect it from the elements. It was wooden and bore a metal placard on top, addressed to a name she hadn’t heard in a season. Her wizard’s apprentice, Maize Taylee, an aspiring wizard who was diligent in her studies but called back home often.
“No use in letting it collect dust now is there?” She thought as she hauled it up the stairs and got to work.
The jars clatter together on the floor and Anya shoved her shoddy boots off. Using a letter opener she popped the nails holding the box shut and shoved the top off in excitement. Her wizard had plenty of fun things delivered, this must be just like that!
Under a thin layer of cloth and straw is a letter with an ornate wax seal and extravagant calligraphy with the apprentice’s name on it. Anya tore it open and read it searching:
Dear Miss Taylee,
It is our great pleasure that we welcome you to-
“Bah, boring!” She thought, skipping to the end.
-all expenses paid by anonymous donor. Please respond by the end of the month to confirm your acceptance.
Signed,
Headmistress Lilia Esina
Anya tossed the letter overhead and rifled through the hay, finding robes. High-quality, pressed, and warm. With a satisfied purr she leapt into the box and tucked her paws under herself, pulling her tail close.
She could make use of this until that letter interested her more.
Market Encounters:
Anya slept in the box for three nights before she decided that she would do something about her boredom. Life without her Wizard was quiet; that is not what she wanted. Anya needed excitement!
So she donned her humanoid clothes and stuffed the gaps in her boots with cloth, tying them tight. She borrowed a pack from her wizard and stuffed it with the box’s contents and placed the letter on top of it all. The people in town were kind enough before, perhaps they would know more about where this letter came from. If not, she would have at least gotten out of the tower for a few days.
Anya approached the most extravagant looking elf in the town, someone she instantly noted as a visitor considering his clothing.
“Hey you!” She called out, wiggling between the elf and the stall he was inspecting. “Do you know where this is from?” She raised the letter, now bent out of shape from being shoved into her pack. “I want to know if it’s worth going where this came from.”
The elven man cocked an immaculate eyebrow and kneeled down to the loud—but short creature. His starspun robes resting an inch above the grown with its own will.
“If you’ll let me take a look at this…” he trailed off looking at the letter. Golden eyes followed the words and letters before a smile of joy settled across his face.
“Well then Miss Taylee, congratulations!” The elf looked downright cheery as he continued, “The Academe is an extremely studious place. They only offer acceptance to maybe ten scores of people a year. You should be very proud. I think you’d have a great time there. The young miss would be able to learn all matters of magic and magecraft.” With a smile he handed the letter back. It was perfectly pristine as if it had never even been touched.
“Academe? I guess that makes sense.” She mumbled, ears swiveling to listen to the man. She took the envelope back, blinking in surprise at its restored appearance.
“So… how do I get there?” She asked. “You look like you know a lot about this Academe.”
The intrigue of learning magic after watching her wizard use it for so long was strong. Being a familiar, Anya not only could use magic—but was made of magic. She would be a natural. Maybe she could even be as powerful as her wizard one day. Now that sounded fun.
“I only know as I’ve graduated from there myself. Many many years ago.” The elven man, still crouched at eye level, took the paper back and pointed to the name at the bottom. “The headmistress will know if you accept if you push some of your magic into the paper. It’s likely that they’ll send an emissary to help you with your preparations post haste as soon as you do. I’d recommend the young miss have a tidy area to do that, as if I’m right they’ll send The Fox to check in immediately.”
“Now my dear, I must be on my way. But if you do end up going to the Academe I’d love to hear from you. I am Revrin Harpstone.” And with that the elven man walks along the market street, out of sight.
Anya stood watching him disappear long enough to remember that she still didn’t know where to go!
“Hey! Wait!” She stumbled getting her feet under her and rushed into the crowd, shoving and weaving between people. “Wait up!”Despite her calls and scrambling, the well-educated elven man and his beautiful cloaks were gone.
Anya gave up her chase at the end of the street and turned into an inn, dejected and hungry.
“Hey Darlin, good to see you back. What brings you in today?” The sweet voice of the innkeeper greeted Anya from the desk, organizing a board of keys behind it. The client book had still-drying ink of the most recent resident.
“I’m trying to find out what this means but it’s not working.” Anya growls, sliding the letter on the desk for the keeper to inspect. “This one fancy-lookin’ elf said it was important but he left before he told me where to go!”
Now, this was not a total lie. Anya, as clever as she is, wanted a clear answer and a map. Put her magic in the envelope? That didn’t make any sense!
“He said something about magic and a fox. Why would a fox come get me? It’s a fox.” She said with tired cockiness or was it exasperation.
The innkeeper nodded, seemingly in some understanding. “Darlin, this letter is written with enchanted ink. If you push in some of your own magic you can respond to the letter.” The innkeeper spun her client book around as Anya hopped onto the stool to get a better look.
“We do the same thing for those who want to run up a bar tab. That way we can contact them when they’ve maxed it out. Most documents in the country use magic ink. But that’s because more or less than 80% of the population can cast. I know this is a bit new for you, but I thought you might have picked up on it from Horace before.”
Anya’s face gets close to the letter, her ears turning back in embarrassment that she did not know such a thing. She knew about the learning magic part, and the using it to fight things part, but her wizard stopped socializing decades ago when he started taking on apprentices.
When he used to adventure, he would strike a deal with a member of his party and never paid a bill. Anya liked when that happened as she always had gotten to eat her fill. Everyone in the party liked having the cat around.
“So I just? Do magic at it?” Anya poked the envelope with her finger, moving it slightly back and forth. Nothing happened and she shrugged.
“This sounds made up. Horace never did that. Magic like… explodes things. Is this going to explode at me?” Anya pushed herself away from the counter, making the stool’s feet lift on one half and rock forward again as she approached the paper with suspicion.
“If it’s going to, I don’t want it to explode in my inn little lady. You should probably take it to Master Horace’s tower young miss. The late Master likely still has some wards to protect people from unruly magic.” With that the innkeeper packed another small sack of groceries for the still learning tibbit and talked with the girl for another long while about the last week and the changes it brought.
After a while Anya took the package, took the envelope, and hopped down to the floor. She called out a thank-you and stomped out in her too-big boots.
This had become a very long trip to town.
The Fox:
Standing in the tower’s largest room with a fire smoldering in the fireplace and all furniture pushed against the wall, Anya had the letter open on the stone floor and she knelt down in front of it. Her tail swiped left and right behind her and she smacked the letter with her hand again with no reaction.
A growl rumbled in her throat and her pupils narrowed to slits. This is worthless! she thought.
Her legs tensed up and she leapt up and landed paws-first into the letter, her frustration turning into a burst of wispy, jewel-toned magic.
The paper crumpled slightly from the weight, and flickered with the newfound power. A dull hum started, slow, and building as the symbol of the Academe began to glow a vibrant shade of purple.
Anya jumped off the page and skittered back behind one of the many bookshelves Horace filled over his nearly three centuries—most of which Anya was there for.
The hum turned to buzzing as the symbol flickered with tinges of magical energy, purple, geometric, rising into the area as the magic circle inlaid in the paper responded to Anya’s power. Anya in turn began to hiss at the oncoming magic. As she began to start closer to investigate a flash of brilliant light illuminated the room, blinding the cat. She jumped back even further, hiding herself under Horace’s favorite armchair.
Though Anya couldn’t see for a moment or two, she sensed the new presence in the room. Inhuman, Ancient, and Primordial in nature yet somehow even odder. The smell of this magic was intoxicating. The voice however pulled the cat from their musing as it was that of a regular man.
“Ah, maybe that was a bit too much… Miss Maize Taylee are you around?” The voice called out.
The human stood in the center of the room where the magic circle once expanded. His luminous purple eyes scanned over every inch of the room as if attempting to read the books still on their shelves. The dark well kept hair fell at his shoulders and barely touched his scholar’s robes, which seemed to be over armor of some sort. A saber was at his side and a staff was in a sling on his back.
He looked like a wizard, but far different than Horace did. Horace kept himself to his studies and hadn’t left the tower for more than a week in the past decade.
The man turned about a few times, going out into the hall to look for his charge. He came back into the room in which he was called and knelt down to look at the paper. His eyes followed against the ground until they fell upon Anya, still cowering under the chair.
He smiled… or was that a smirk “Hi little one. Could you help me find Master Horace’s Apprentice? Or would that be you?”