Foundling

A recent orphan finds a new home

I was found at a young age and adopted by the man that found me. The thing you should know about adoption in Orion is that the contract is blood magic. Giving the child that is adopted some parts of the adoptive parents DNA. Having adopted quite a few children in my later life. I found this to be right. Even though I love my children, biological and adopted the same. There is a sense of pride and or humour that comes from seeing a trait of your own shine through. 

I digress, my father Khaadin found me when I was a mere cub.

The small cub moved cautiously towards the mouth of his den. The dappled light through the trees shining on his black striped silver fur. He heard the rustle of movement in the underbrush and mewed calling to his mother. The figure that stepped out wasn’t his mother. Wasn’t even a tiger. The man looked rough and unclean. An ugly face, more pockmarks then clean skin on a precariously thin neck popping out of stained leather jerkin. His pants even dirtier. His now worn boots crunching in the foliage. 

“Ello lit’le kiddy” he said through cracked lips. A slight whistle to his words from missing teeth. “Wanna come see ya Mum?” The tigers ears pricked at the mention of his mum. But he didn’t move.

“I said comere” growled the man stalking forward and grabbing the kitten roughly by the scruff of the neck. He trudged through the bush once more. Coming upon three men standing around a sturdy wagon. Two of which were dressed much like his captor. The other one both opulent and corpulent. He wore deep maroons with what looked like gold thread laced throughout. His chubby face sported an oiled mustache that looked as if his nose was spitting brown fire. 

“Ah I knew she had at least one cub” said the corpulent man. Looking into the wagon. Within its bed lay the limp form of his mother. An almost insignificant red stain marking how she was taken down.

The cub mewed forlornly at the corpse of his mother as he was placed down beside her. Nudging her still body. 

“Be a good addition to the collection” said one of the  mercenaries. The corpulent man chuckled

“Indeed, a rug for the estate, and a new attraction” his joy was short lived as the third mercenary went pale. Trying to reach behind him. Turning to reveal a sharp bladed axe embedded in his spine. Before falling forward.

“F*****g hell” said the thin necked man. Turning to look at where he thought was the axe originated. He barely saw the man and the flick of his wrist before he felt the bite of the thrown dagger in his throat. Blood spurting from the wound.

The other mercenary had turned at the same time. Seeing the assailant. He was a short and stocky man. Short cropped hair and neatly kept side burns on both of his cheeks. Wearing standard hunter leathers. And standing in a way that spoke volumes of his confidence. That didn’t stop the mercenary from drawing his sword and charging the man. 

Khaadin looked unfazed as the mercenary came at him. Sword held high. He shifted his feet ever so slightly and as the man made a strong slash down at his body. Khaadin stepped to the side of the man pushing the arm lower and striking him in the face with a closed fist. As the swordsman twisted around for another strike. Khaadin once again parried and struck the man in the head. Though this time stepping away from the man as he heard the stretch, lock, click and pow of a crossbow being fired. The bolt thundering into the mercenary shattering his chest in an explosion of blood.

“Good shot m’lord Berrington” said Khaadin, looking at the corpulent man. “Though I believe you missed” The last was said with more disapproval then disdain for the attempt on his life.

“I don’t suppose you took weapons at the academy” queried Khaadin walking closer. Berrington shook his head.

“Didn’t feel I needed it given my family’s position within Orion, we are one of the high families after all” he said smugly. Khaadin chuckled.

“And you feel that position protects you some how” moving forward towards the noble. At a steady menacing pace. The lords faith in his position seemed to evaporate as Khaadin moved closer and in his panic dropped the crossbow. Stumbling back away from the wagon.

Both men were about 10 metres away from one another. Khaadin at the wagon. Looking angrily into the back. He bent down pulling his weapons from the dead mercenary’s bodies. Seeing his chance the noble bolted as fast as possible with his corpulent frame. But it was to no avail. As he turned to look at his pursuer. He saw both axe and dagger flying towards him. His last breath was a scream as the weapons struck him ending his life.

Khaadin turned to the wagon. Placing his hand on the dead Tigress. 

“Know peace, m’lady I shall take the child and raise him as my own” he looked at the sobbing cub “Do you have a name boy?” The cub shook his head moving to the tail gate.

“Well I suppose that’ll be where we start” said the man pondering for a moment “Tygon, that shall be your name” The kitten poked his head over the tail gate and spoke haltingly

“T-ty-Tygon” in a puff of smoke the cub was gone. Revealing a 6 month old baby. The child had upswept ears and purple eyes and  small mane of silver hair. He cooed lightly at the man.

“Come my boy” he said picking up the child and wrapping him in a blanket from the wagon “we’re going home”