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theboondogglepub · 5 years

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A Land of Gardens Black. Part 2.

Part 2: The Catte Army that Baps, Far and Away we Travel Still...

What ho, what is this?

You’ve returned to our play? I cannot say I’m surprised I took your breath away. Very well, I can see you thirst for more of this bard! I am not wont to deny audience hunger this hard. Let me restring my lute, and twine my guitar, figure simple words out I can rhythm very far. Yes of course! It is time, and I must not disappoint. I believe our next chapter begins where roads joint. Where was I? Oh yes! It is time we took notice of Cattes. Of stalwart brave fighters who oddly take naps. It is time, I do think, to appraise the Catte army of Baps.

Stare out if you will, and do not miss a thing. Complexities abound when I get ready to sing. You and I see a town, quite the normal seen sight! Though do you share my wonder why they lack any light? Streets awash with people in clutters and slums, nary a working street lamp just rows upon rows of bums? We see here two roads in the middle of town, and two groups on said roads, all sharing in frowns. A blockade on both ends, and two blockaders at that, one group for the Botanist queen, the other sworn to Catte. Let’s look in now, stay quiet! You don’t want them to hear! Perhaps a bit of eavesdropping with make things more clear.

“I demand passage!” He cried out in the direction of a conifer tree, tapping his cane on the cobbled path as he walked into town. “I have a message for her Lady of Cattes! It is quite important!” The blindfold he wore made seeing the blockade of Her Lady of Botanist Divinity hard to see, not that it mattered as he still was aways from the road yet. “I am Aster of Chants! A monk sent by our Lady of Divine Pure White! The Botanist Queen Herself!” He bumped into a light pole, and demanded audience with it. “It is imperative she hear this right away!” While Aster chats with a light pole, let us see what else is happening.

“What do you mean I cannot cross? I have friends over there! This is absurd!” At the borderline stood stalwart a woman of impressive strength and azure hair. On her person she hefted her shield, her sword, her backpack, her friends backpacks, a water heater, a steer, a baby carriage, half of a tree (the best half, if you were wondering), exactly three uneaten pies, and a loaf of pumpernickel bread, all tied together into a fashioned backpack of sorts made of rope. Her eyes glared at the men and women that guarded the border, their pristine white uniforms opposite the enemy border watch in black uniforms that guarded the other side of the street. An enemy watch that was… exactly 10 fulms away from them, facing the other direction.

“We are sorry Lady Braum the Azure Knight, but there is nothing we can do.”The pristine white uniformed man said. “It is the Botanist Queen’s orders that no one travel beyond this street. There are rumors and more than rumors that a war is about to break out, and we must be ready. It is for your own good that no one be allowed to cross.” The white uniformed person told the azure knight of absurd encumbrance.

“Hah! You would say that you white uniformed dog! I spit on your mother’s grave and speak to your father about your crass language! HMPH! It is the Queen of Botanists that sways and grows ever dangerous!” Exactly 10 fulms away from them, a black uniformed soldier turned ever so slightly to throw his insult. It wasn’t a very good one.

“How DARE you!” The white uniformed soldier replied. “I will see you to fisticuffs on the battlefield, you Catte soldier confederate! You, you, you… MEWLING!” That last insult drew an audible gasp from everyone present. Ashe, Azure Knight of impressible mettle and bizarre encumbrance, remained at her side and waited. She would be waiting a while.

Meanwhile on the other side of the blockade, exactly 10 fulms away a small group of travelers sought passage. Most of these travelers were heavily cloaked, however one… “HURRR you cannot do this to me! Do you know who I am?” A beefy shirtless man stood staring down his side of the blockade, blond beard bristling. “I am the second greatest Dragoneer, second greatest lover, second greatest puncher, wine-taster, dead-lifter of weights, and skipper of stones and coins. Why, were I not a peaceful and negotiable man just trying to sell people on the fine art of shirtlessness! I would show you the strength that has been passed down my family line for gene-” Just then he was interrupted.

“Heeeeeey,” A singular voice clamored accusatory, surly, feminine and quite direct. It was a voice that echoed high in the streets, demanding attention and notice. It was Z’ylarix of Fire, and she strode upon a steed/chocobo/chair/bear/owl combination. For you see, Z’ylarix of fire used everything, and rode everything, all at once. “I see you there. Don’t deny it! You will come with me this instance! There is no escape, not any more for deserters like you!” Striding forward atop a, for the sake of convenience we’ll call it a ‘mount’, from the direction leading into town, Z’ylarix of Fire pointed her sword/dagger/staff/knife/other dagger weapon (To be fair, it is quite impressive despite its odd name) down on the well-cloaked crowd. She called someone in particular out, but whom it was not yet quite known. “It is time you came with me!” One of the cloaked figures broke out from the crowd, and began making a mad dash away, only to be caught in Z’ylarix’ patented net/ropes/trap/box/assortment of trinkets that was thrown by the dark rider herself. “There is no escape! The Admiral demands it!” From there, the netted body and Z’ylarix rode away.

After a travel, large and imposing black gates open and creak, and the room beyond requires much of me to speak. It is wide in its scope, and tall in its lift, and in threw Z’ylarix the man known as the agent of Grift. Still in a bag, and the bag in a net, you’d be wise to consider his death a safe bet. The Grifter did shuffle, did sway and crawl out, only to look on at his peers with a definitive pout. He wore an eyepatch, and another on top. Another and another which all shuffled with a hop. Let us hear in and see what this meeting does bring, perhaps more revelations upon which I will sing.

“SO,” She scowled, and we shall get into who she is quite quickly, for now her face is covered in a black mask. “The MAD PATCHER! Made any eyepatches lately?! Or perhaps… CONSPIRED WITH THE ENEMY?!” She, the Admiral of Cattes and Lord of the Gardens Black, stood up and slammed her rifle onto the table, letting it lay there as an object of imposing fear. Under her black mask, the Lady of Cattes twitched her cat ears, and flicked her cat tongue, and scratched her cat nails along the table. She wore red sewn with red stitching, red fangs on her black mask, and red draped on her cloak. She wasn’t grand, but imposing, commanding the room.

The Mad Patcher replied. “Oi don't nu waaat yer are blatherin' aboyt.” He spoke an eclectic… accent? Speech pattern? He.. did he even speak? Or was it some form of grunting? “Al' oi want is for peace among de people. dat is al', perhaps we can reach a resolushun? wud yer care for an mince pie patch?” The Mad Patcher was called so for his abundance of eyepatches. He wore an eyepatch on an eyepatch, and another on top. He wore patches on his shirts, on his pants and on his boots. He wore patches on his fluffy Catte ears, and it was rumored he was once a time ago a sailing Corsair of some type. Now he was just the Mad Patcher. If there was a thing that required a patch, the Mad Patcher was there, ready to patch.

The Black masked Queen of Cattes was having none of it. The Admiral of Cattes took out another gun (this one more a derringer), and shot the Mad Patcher in the shoulder, causing him to wince and bend. She laid that gun out on the table next to her first. “WHAT SAY YOU my COUNCIL? He has chosen his side. Shall we show what happens to those who do not choose correctly?!” The Admiral of Cattes looked on her council, and waited to hear their wisdom.

To the Admiral’s left was Kai Aries, the astoundingly cute. She wore pink sweaters and frills, and pink ribbons on the frills. Pink bows on her ribbons and pink tassels on her bows. She was small, but not tall, and had big eyes but no tail. She had cat ears, and wore a pair of cat ears behind her cat ears. Kai Aries was known for her resounding style, and also her battle precision. Kicker of groins, there was not a foe downed by her that didn’t wheeze for days after. Men feared her kicks, women feared how her kicks could hurt so bad, and her allies feared naught but being dressed up in pink on a whim. To deny Kai’s proclivities of dressing people outside of the Admiral in garb meant... well, you can guess it. Yup. A kick to the groin. She gave a thumbs down. “The Patcher did not let me patch his pants pink. I say punish him.”

Past Kai Aries sat Catherina of the Lynx, and in her shadows peered out from pure darkness the eyes of 1000 cattes. Not a simple thaumaturge, she was a black mage. More than a black mage, her every shadow was pitched in darkness, and in each shadow a pair of catte eyes glowered out from. In the curves of her form fitting gowns, in the crease of her bent knee, under the brim of her hat. Catte eyes. She sat bored, reading a book laid inside another book inside yet a third book. “Oh? Him? I suppose yes. He should be punished. Go ahead.” Each word Catherina spoke was echoed by meows coming from everywhere and nowhere, and as she finished speaking she returned to her book. Disinterested.

Beyond Catherina was the Mookie of Boolie, a large buxom creature of insectoid and feline nature and elusive dangerous beauty. Not quite a wasp, nor butterfly, nor a caterpillar, not a catte, the Mookie of Boolie was at once a little of many differing insects, and sat upon a tufted mushroom of multitude vibrant colors. She smoked a pipe, blowing out idly as she observed the Admiral’s rage. Hailing from the land of Boolie, Mookie was the ruler of the distant realm on the edge of the Garden’s Black. She ruled for she was the greatest of her species, the Queen of Boolie, and all respected her and the hard earned title. Mookie slowly piped out several circles, blowing an arrow through each expertly. “Not lewd enough for my taste. I vote punish him. Humble the egotistical fool.” Her words cut through the smoke rings, an air of dominance through them all.

Lastly to the Admiral of Catte’s right sat, or more so loomed, the shadow of Aifread. I say and emphasize shadow as Aifread did not speak, did not possess shape, did not do more than loom dangerously. Her shadow cast 15 fulms high behind her, but where the shadow originated from, nothing sat. Just a spectre with flickering cat ears. Long did rumors circulate that Aifread was nothing more than a simple Catte once, much like many of the denizens of the Garden’s Black. Other gossip placed her as a pool of liquid shadow that did the dark biddings of her dark Admiral of Cattes. Still others said Aifread was once a normal though affluently wealthy Catte, yet bought herself the right to cease to exist, thus becoming a shadow of ill-intent. Whichever was true was little known, what was known however, was she was easily distracted. Sitting to the Admiral’s right, the shadow of Aifread, again merely a shadow near 15 fulms tall, noticed a mouse and pounced. The Admiral of Catte’s regarded Aifread. “Well? Which way do you sway on the matter?” With the reminder given, Aifread, again a massive cast shadow of a creature, pointed down. Her vote was given.

“VERY WELL,” The Admiral of Catte announced her decision, laying yet a third gun on the table with a slam. This one a drum magazine style tommy-gun. “You, Mad Patcher shall be punished for your impunity! I declare the punishment as… DEATH!” Having said that, the Admiral of Catte’s leveled her fourth gun drawn from her coat, this one a sniper rifle with a solid oak stock, and fired. POOSH went the bullet, and the Mad Patcher fell over in a slump, shot right between the eyes. Dead.

Minutes passed, and a conversation about changing the curtains to a shade to match the new season began. They decided on paisley. Then, “UUUUUUHHHH” The Mad Patcher inhaled sharply. “T- Tanks me queen .” He said, barely understood.

“Now, think about why I killed you next time you go and do something stupid Mad Patcher. To the dungeon with him! I demand he be killed at least 5 times before breakfasts, and 15 more before dinner for the next two sennight!” With the Admiral’s declaration, black uniformed guards stepped up to, picked up, and carried the Mad Patcher away. “And no desert for him! The delinquent!”

Now we have seen a bit more of the cast, and yet the third still waits to be shown at last. We have met Aster of Chants and Ashe the encumbered, but what of the rest who are still as of yet unnumbered? What of Locke of the Tin, or Maeze of the paths, or Kayne the pure or of Lulu of Crafts? What of Naih the quite strange, or Anhashy the bold, what of all of the clans of Blacke who hail from the cold? We’ll meet them all soon, and more I do swear, I just have to muster the desire to care. What is that you say friend, there is story to tell you must hear? Yes, I believe we’ll begin again when the tune once again finds my ear. Just time to rest, that is all I do ask, soon once again in my tale you all will bask.

#ffxiv rp #short story #BlackGarden_Mateus

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