noacat - Tumblr blog

noacat · 1 year

Text

Maya could now see why the Mystic army had lasted so long against the humans. Their camps were well hidden on the small continent east of his homeland. It had taken him a few days of searching but luck was on Maya’s side as he spied a Kotengu scout on patrol. He followed the Kotengu in his bat form through the forest to a secret passage in a cliffside. He followed them through the passage until they arrived at an old stone fortress hidden deep in a forest.

The fortress looked like it had once belonged to humans long ago but had been taken over and repurposed by the Demon King’s army.

Once inside the fortress’s courtyard, Maya found a secluded spot behind a tent to shift into a form of a Kotengu not unlike the one he followed to the fortress. From there, he was able to slip into the camp’s commons with ease.

Maya was no fighter but he wanted to do something against humans like the Butcher. His only skill was his shapeshifting and more recently, levitation and teleporting. He supposed he could learn some other magic but for now, all he had was those three skills. He hoped it would be enough.

He walked around the edge of the camp, looking for someone important-looking. He soon spotted a tall purple-skinned Daemon with a shaved head. The Daemon was dressed in rather elaborate padded armor and had a saber sheathed at his side. His arms were crossed and he had the look of someone who thought highly of himself.

Maya suspected this was one of those Generals he had vaguely heard of. He could probably just walk up to him but instead Maya decided to let one of the General’s underlings introduce him. Still disguised, he strolled out from behind the tents and past one of the Ogan who was taking a swig from a wooden flagon.

The Ogan coughed up his drink in surprise and barked out, “Hey! Who the hell are you?”

Before Maya could respond, another Ogan came up from behind and grabbed him. The Ogan leaned in and growled, “You don’t look like one of our scouts. Where’d ya come from?”

“My mother,” Maya replied dryly. “Mind easing up on my arm? I’m no threat.”

The Ogan scoffed. “You’re in no position to be requesting anything.”

Maya knew he could escape at any time but he wanted to make a show of this. Worst case he’d have to teleport away and figure something else out. He let the Ogan push him along towards the Daemon in charge.

“General Slash, we found this Kotengu snooping around the edge of the camp. He definitely ain’t one of our scouts,” barked the Ogan. He shoved Maya at the tall Daemon, causing Maya to stumble to his knees.

“Your name is ‘Slash’?” Maya asked, trying not to sound incredulous. He had to be careful if he was going to get recruited.

“Names hold power. My true name is a secret,” Slash replied. “All who knew it besides myself have died due to the cruel humans that plague the world or in the service of the Demon King. Who are you and why are you here?”

“I want to join your army.” Maya declared. “I can scout for your troops without a single human catching me.”

“We have plenty of scouts. How’s a little flea like you going to help?” Slash scoffed.

Maya grinned. Slash had just said that names hold power. He stared the General down and shifted his form to mirror him.

“This ‘flea’ can be the best scout you’ve ever had,” Maya sneered, matching Slash’s voice perfectly. “After all, your current scouts failed to notice my approach because of my talents.”

Shifting once more, Maya took on the form of a voluptuous Daemon woman with cherry-red hair plaited in a long braid, wearing crimson boots and a scarlet bodice over a white dress.

“As for what to call me, why not Flea?” He smiled. “Small, unassuming and ready to irritate those humans.”

“Flea. Really?” Slash deadpanned.

Maya, or rather Flea, smirked. He prodded Slash’s scabbard and said, “You’re one to talk about names, ‘Slash’.”

“A fair point,” Slash conceded. “Still, you’re in no position to be making requests, girl.”

“… I’m not a girl,” Flea replied, biting his lip ever so slightly. Why did he have to keep assuming these feminine forms when being called a girl pissed him off so much?

Slash rolled his eyes. He wasn’t about to even begin to fathom why the Daemon woman in front of him was insisting she was anything but what she presented. It was not worth his time. He sighed and said, “Fine… boy. My point remains. Whether or not you get to join the Demon King’s Army is not up to me. It is up to the Demon King, Ozzie.”

“Very well,” Flea shrugged. “Take me to him.”

Before Slash could say another word, a gravely yet shrill voice boomed from the tent behind him.

“What in the hell is going on out there?”

Flea looked past Slash to see a stout, heavy-set Mystic come out of the tent. He was reptilian in appearance, hovering just above the ground as his tail barely dragged on the dirt. He looked to be some sort of mage judging by his dark robes and definitely not the fighting type like Slash was.

Slash turned to the Mystic and said, “This wench of a Daemon wishes to join the army, Ozzie.”

Ozzie eyed Flea and floated over. Flea inwardly cringed as he watched Ozzie ogle him. He didn’t really like the idea that this bloated lizard of a Mystic was the leader of the infamous Mystic Army nor did Flea relish the realization that Ozzie was probably having lustful thoughts about the form he had chosen. Still, Flea hoped he could use this situation to his advantage.

“Is that so?” Ozzie sneered, having walked around Flea and looked him over. “Exactly what skills do you bring to my army, my dear?”

Flea smiled sweetly as he shifted his form to a more masculine one with a shorter braid. Appearing as a young Daemon man, still dressed in fine reds and whites, he bowed to Ozzie and said, “I can be anything you need.”

He quickly shifted to look like a human soldier and back to the feminine form he used in front of Slash. “And I mean anything.”

Ozzie looked towards Slash and grinned wickedly. “Come with me General… You, stay out here.”

Flea waited patiently outside the tent, eyeing the various Mystics who were looking at him. There was definitely a mixture of curiosity and distrust amongst the growing crowd. Ignoring the crowd, Flea tried to listen in on Slash and Ozzie. He could hear the muffled discussion of Slash and Ozzie although he couldn’t make out the words.

Meanwhile in the tent, Ozzie looked to Slash, “What do you think of our visitor?”

“A genuine shapeshifter would be useful,” Slash replied. “All we have are illusionists…and those require components to perform their skills. However, I’m suspicious. Where has she been all this time if she wishes to join your cause?”

Ozzie nodded. All Mystics of fighting age had already joined his army and the fight to rid the world of the magickless humans. He had heard reports from scouts of Mystic towns hidden from the war but all that remained in those towns were elderly and children.

“We will test her,” Ozzie declared. “If she’s as skilled as she claims, then a scouting mission should be a breeze.”

Slash glanced back at the tent flap and asked, “How can we ensure she’s truly loyal to the cause?”

“Leave that to me,” Ozzie grinned as he led the way out of the tent and walked over to Flea.

“So… Flea is it?”

Flea nodded. Clichéd as the name was, he could get used to it. As far as he was concerned, ‘Maya’ died in Versati with the rest of the village.

“I was just telling my esteemed General that maybe we can give you a chance…. Use your little trick to infiltrate a nearby human battalion and find out what their next move will be,” Ozzie explained. “If you’re as good as you say, you’ll be able to grab a copy of their plans and return by sundown in three days.”

“Of course, where is this battalion?” Flea asked.

“To the west,” Slash replied. “I’m sure a Mystic of your skills can locate them and return in time.”

“One more thing, Flea…” Ozzie said. He gestured for Flea to follow him into the tent. Flea followed, noting that Slash stayed at the tent’s opening.

Ozzie picked up a small scrap of cloth off a nearby table and said, “I’m sure you’ll understand if I am a bit curious as to why you want to join my army. Most Mystics do not try to trick me to enlist.”

“I wanted to show off my skills,” Flea replied. “Easier to show than tell.”

Ozzie nodded. “A thing we can both agree on.”

He gestured, shadowy motes swirling around his clawed hand. The cloth in his hand vanished into smoke. The smoke floated over to Flea and curled around his neck before vanishing. Flea reached up and could feel something brushing against his neck, yet nothing was there.

“A bit of insurance, you understand?” Ozzie asked coyly. “As long as you return within three days, I can dismiss the spell. However, if you fail me or take too long… you’ll find it rather hard to breathe.”

Flea nodded. His hand still hovered around his throat, feeling the invisible ribbon.

“I expect complete loyalty,” Ozzie asserted. “I cannot risk everything I’ve built these last three decades over the whims of a Mystic that would choose to use deceit to introduce themselves to me.”

Flea nodded again. Despite his calm exterior, he was pissed at himself for making the impulsive choice of sneaking in, causing the Demon King before him to distrust him right away. He forced a smile and an apology, asking Ozzie how other Mystics go about enlisting.

“We’ve gone from village to village, recruiting those who are able to fight or contribute in some way,” Ozzie shrugged. “Seems we missed you somehow, eh?”

Flea thought to demand why his forces hadn’t been there to recruit or protect his village but he was already in too deep to be angering a mage who just put a spell on him.

“I suppose so… but I’m here now,” Flea replied.

Ozzie nodded and made an idle gesture towards the tent flap. “And now you can go… unless you want to find out what will happen if the spell runs its course.”

Flea bowed slightly before leaving the tent. Slash was right outside, arms crossed and looking smug.

“You best hurry… The Demon King has little room for failure.”

Flea bit his lip to avoid making a snide remark. Shifting his form to a bat, he took off to the sky’s and westward. Unlike the Demon King’s army, the humans didn’t hide their camps. It took a better part of a day and a half to find a camp. To both his relief and perhaps to his disappointment, this was not a force led by the Butcher.

But he was the talk of the camp. As Maya took the form of a crow and landed on a nearby branch, he could hear a group of knights talking about how their Knight-Captain had sent out messengers notifying everyone of Glenn’s escape. So far no one had seen the runaway traitor.

Maya felt a bit of worry for Glenn but also a sense of smug pride that his efforts had caused the Butcher some stress. Acting quickly, he shifted his form to that of a cat and slinked between the tents, peering in here and there. He found where they kept their food and made note of the tents of various knights.

Of course the most important things and people were at the center of the camp, just as it was in Ozzie’s camp. Flea figured the innermost tent must have the reports he was tasked in finding and stealing. In and out, easy stuff.

Slipping under the canvas of the tent in the middle of the camp, Flea found it had a table and a bed, as well as the armor and belongings of some knight, presumably the one leading this division. Seeing the tent was empty, Flea sauntered up to the table and hopped up.

A map of the region lay on top and he saw that whoever had made it, or maybe whoever had marked notes on it, was beginning to piece together where the Mystics were sneaking into Zenan from. This wouldn’t do. If they found Ozzie, as much as he seemed like an ass, then Flea wouldn’t be able to help fight people like the Butcher.

Flea also noticed several scrolls next to the map. Still alone, he hopped off the table and shifted his form to mimic one of the soldiers he had seen. He quickly went through the scrolls and skimmed their words. That’s when he remembered he couldn’t read, let alone read Guardian. He had no need to read back in Vesarti. He decided to take everything he could and prayed he had the right papers.

Looking around and seeing he was still alone, Flea walked over to one area of the tent and found a small cloth sack. He quickly returned to the table and shoved the scrolls and the map into the sack.. Now all he had to do was slip out of the camp and get back to Ozzie.

Just as he put another scroll into the sack, Flea saw a light behind him as the tent flap opened and heard footsteps behind him, heavy and fast. A gruff voice demanded to know what he was doing in the tent. Flea froze in panic and tried to think of a lie. He was looking for the outhouse…no, he had been looking for-

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn around. A knight glared at him suspiciously. He frowned and noted through a voice that almost growled that he didn’t recognize Flea as one of his men. Then he pulled a scroll sticking out of the sack.

“What’re you doing with these scouting reports, thief?”

Flea would have felt relief that he had the right papers if he wasn’t busy still frantically trying to come up with a lie to get away. He hadn’t considered what to do if he got caught.

Panic filled Flea as he couldn’t think of a plausible reason to be in the tent. Without thinking, he grabbed the report out of the knight’s hand and teleported away, forgetting that the knight still had a hand on him.

To Flea’s surprise, the knight was teleported with him to the clearing just outside of camp. There was a brief moment of shared surprise before the knight shouted out that he had found a Mystic infiltrator. He barely got a word out before Flea lunged at him, knocking them both to the ground. Flea quickly shapeshifted again to copy the knight’s physical appearance.

Flea had never been in a fight. Not a physical one at least. He was grateful that his shapeshifting granted him the size and weight of the knight he was copying but it was clear who was the stronger one. Flea frantically grappled the knight, pinning him to the ground. He couldn’t let this human alert the others. Word would no doubt get back to Ozzie that he had messed up his first mission. Why the hell did he have to boast that he couldn’t be caught?

The need to survive took over. Flea shifted his hands to be large and clawed, wrapping the sharp talons around the knight's throat from behind. He moved to put more weight on the knight’s upper back, pressing the knight’s chest against the ground and shifting his form to be not unlike the large cyclopean Mystics he had seen at the warcamp. The knight fought back but his struggles to get free from Flea’s clawed grasp only worsened the wounds on his throat.

Flea felt sick as the knight’s breathing became strangled. His hands hurt, his knuckles white as he tightened his grip more. His mind screamed out for the human to just stop moving already and die. Just let this be over so he wouldn’t get caught.

It took Flea a few minutes to realize the forest had gone silent and the knight had stopped struggling. He cautiously let go of the knight’s neck. The knight was eerily still. The only sounds Flea could hear was his own breathing and the distant chatter of the human’s war camp. Maybe there were calls for the missing knight, but Flea couldn’t make out any clear names or words.

Quickly healing himself, Flea staggered to his feet and picked up the scroll that had been dropped during the struggle. He shoved the scroll into the sack with the rest and shifted his form to that of a large bird to carry the sack and flew away.

The flight back to Ozzie’s camp was a blur as he flew as fast as he could, landing to rest on the other side of the mountains, far from any humans. Overwhelmed by the sick feeling in his gut, Flea retched and heaved. It was terrifying how easy it was to kill a human. How could they do the same to his kind so easily and not feel this way?

As he caught his breathe and tried to ignore the nausea brought on by the stress and lack of a proper meal in days, Flea realized that this probably wouldn’t be the last time he’d have to kill if he was going to be in the Demon King’s army.

Flea wasn’t sure how he got back but it was sundown and that cursed spell was tightening around his throat as he arrived in the camp. Without thinking much about it, he had taken on the feminine form that Ozzie had leered at and trudged towards the central tent where Slash stood guard.

“You look like you’ve been run down by a herd of Roundillos,” Slash snorted. “I trust you succeeded or you’re here to admit defeat.”

Flea said nothing. He handed the sack to Slash who opened the sack and looked over a scroll. He looked at Flea and smiled.

“Nice work. Why don’t you step inside?” he said. “Lord Ozzie has been waiting for you.”

Slash followed Flea into the tent. Ozzie was standing at the large table in the back of the tent. He was reading some parchments when Slash cleared his throat and announced Flea’s return.

Ozzie accepted the scrolls and map from Slash. Slash noted that Flea had gone above and beyond expectations.

“It would seem so… Excellent work,” Ozzie remarked. He snapped his scaled fingers and the tightening feeling on Flea’s throat disappeared. “Seems you are worth keeping around. Go with Slash to get assigned a cot and rations.”

Flea nodded and bowed to Ozzie before following Slash out of the tent. Slash glanced at Flea and told him that he could stay at the Nagas’ tent. After showing Flea where he would sleep, Slash remarked that the quartermaster was on the other side of the camp and that the dining hall in the keep’s ruins had been set up as a mess hall.

“Best hurry there if you plan on eating today. Otherwise you will need to wait until dawn.”

Flea nodded. He was exhausted and followed Slash’s suggestion. He was so hungry, he didn’t care what was in the stew the gargoyle served him, he was just grateful to have something to eat. The rest of the Mystics sat apart from him. Some eyed him curiously while others looked at him with suspicion. There were even a few that didn’t hide the fact they were looking at him with lustful thoughts. Flea was too tired to care how the others were looking at him. Their opinions of him didn’t matter in the long run. He’d show them he deserved to be there just as much as them.

That night, before exhaustion overtook him, Flea made some promises to himself. Firstly, he vowed to learn the roles of humans he could pose as. It wasn’t enough to look human, he’d have to convince them he was human too while he spied for Ozzie. To that point, he vowed to learn to read so he could do a better job for the cause against Guardia and humanity. He also vowed to earn Ozzie’s trust and rise up through the ranks so he would be able to avoid the dirty work he had just endured.

8 notes · View notes