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Valhallan Conclave Worldbuilding Training

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Battalyst Tollak stalked through the undergrowth, searching for his prey. Conclave forces had been sent into the jungle to hopefully thin the packs of featherwolves that had been attempting to prey on the forward base on this godforsaken island, and he was one of the ones who'd drawn a short straw. While he liked fighting - all Battalysts did, it was how they got the job - hunting down featherwolves was one of the most boring duties imaginable. Instead of fighting some massive megafauna, like the lucky bastards who'd gotten to investigate rumors of a Ruby Drake in a nearby cave system, he was instead stuck here, in the middle of a vine-filled jungle, breathing through an uncomfortable mask, attempting to find some featherwolves. They weren't even fun to fight, they just leapt at you and got shot. The only reason they were bothering is because there were children in that base, and featherwolves had an unfortunate tendency to actively pursue children.

Tollak was snapped out of his thoughts by a soft rustling in the tree behind him, followed by a soft *pop* of air. He whirled around, pulling up his rifle to fire upon the offending predator, only to blink as the sensors in his bionic eyes revealed absolutely nothing. No, wait, that wasn't true. Upon closer inspection, there were small claw marks on the branch he'd heard the rustling in, containing some kind of yet unidentified poison. Great, he thought.  Just what we need.  Another deadly poison on this hellhole of a planet.  Still, he looked closer with different scanners, hoping to get a full readout on the poison's chemical structure for when whatever animal had left those inevitably bit or scratched someone who didn't have prosthetics.  However, instead of a chemical formula and a description of its predicted effects, he noticed something different.

A dark energy signature, signifying that a teleportation had occurred recently.

He immediately went on high alert.  There were only a few creatures he knew of that could teleport, and all of them had developed a taste for human over the last few decades.  Considering that this was a forest, not a deep ocean, he felt safe in assuming that it wasn't a Kraken, and he wasn't anywhere near high up enough to find a Shadowmaw bird.  That left Lurkers, and those were the last ones he wanted to deal with.  Sensor-immune bastards had almost killed his brother Johan last cycle.  He checked his ammunition counter to make sure that he wouldn't be caught out unprepared, then continued on his hunt, considerably less bored.


Five minutes later, he was still on edge.  He'd heard that distinctive pop several more times, but never caught the Lurker that was almost certainly on his tail.  He'd found and killed another featherwolf, though, so he only needed one more to fill his quota and get back to base.  Hopefully he'd be able to do it quickly and not encounter the Lurker in the process.  However, just as he thought that, he heard another pop, and a small rush of displaced air behind him.  It'd decided to attack, apparently, so he whirled around, finger on the trigger, ready to shoot the moronic carnivore that thought it could take him, a Battalyst of the Valhallan Concalve--


It wasn't a Lurker.

It was a cat.

Well, at least it looked like one.  It had bigger ears, a thinner body, a longer tail, and narrower eyes, but it still had the same basic body structure.  And it was cute, the way it blinked uncomprehendingly at the surprised Battalyst and took a curious sniff at the massive hunting rifle he was holding.  Tollak held out his hand to it, curious to see if it would respond like a cat.  And it did!  It sniffed at him, then purred and rubbed its head against his nanoceramic hand.  He was picking up traces of the same venom from earlier on its teeth and claws, though, so he made sure that it didn't bite any of his fleshy bits as he carefully petted it.  A second later, it lost interest in his hand and, with a familiar pop, suddenly appeared above him, landing on his shoulder and taking a seat.

He laughed and sat down.  The... Schrödinger cat, he decided to call it, teleported onto his lap and settled down.  As he rubbed his hand over the feline's blue fur, he decided that his quota could wait.

In his situation, after all, moving was a felony.