Khadustra "Dusty" Zoahiin
Exerpt from: “Homo Felis Catus: A comprehensive study of Catfolk and their Kin”
Authored by: Brother Ordimus Vintallius of the Divine and Scholarly Order of Illustudium
Age: Approx. 19 years old*
Height: Approx. 5 ft. 11 in.*
Weight: Approx. 100 lbs.*
Coloration: Predominantly black, speckled with white and gray. Stark white muzzle encompassing his nose and mouth. (Possibly ‘Moon-born’ coloration. Refer to Ch. 47:3 for more on ‘Moon-born’ myth.)
Notable characteristics: Large scar running diagonally between the eyes. Multiple gold ring piercings line both ears.
*Approximations due to inability to accurately weigh and measure the subject. Also, due to the subject’s unwillingness to answer question in a straightforward manner. As such, all measurements are estimations.
In all my travels, in all my studies I have yet to meet another quite like young Khadustra; or “Dusty” as he would be quick to correct. Always indicating that his friends refer to him as such. Though, based on my observations, the young feline considers all to be his friends. I did not expect to find one of his kind within the small backwater that I was passing through as typically, even in towns, their kind prefer to live within small packs or clans. Based on the data I have collected concerning his kind’s travel patterns, young Khadustra was a long distance away from the nearest group of his kindred.
Dusty, for reasons still yet undisclosed to me, is alone. The Catfolk have been known the exile their own for serious infractions; that is the only reason I can think of the explain his isolation. When asked after his predicament he is quick to change the subject. His reaction, I have observed, is similar when asked after the scar that mars his visage. I can only assume the subjects are related in some way and that his isolation is not by choice.
Whatever tragedy may have befallen our young friend, it does not appear to have dampened the gregarious and inquisitive nature typical of his race. Quite the contrary, he is easily the most friendly and talkative of the Catfolk that I have had the privilege to meet. Though, through all of his talking, he manages to actually say very little. Due to vagaries in description and elusiveness in response to questioning, I have learned next to nothing about the him through direct contact. As such, the remainder of my observations will be derived second hand from anecdotes.
According to locals, young Zoahiin came to this town copperless and homeless. Though, he has been here for some months, that does not appear to have changed. He sleeps in back allies and occasionally, if coin permits, in a run down inn or tavern for a night or two. His friendliness has afforded him some kindness from the locals and his work ethic has earned him a little coin. His skills seem to be in the realm on hunting and scouting. Unsurprising considering his race, but the locals suggest that he is particularly good in the art of the hunt. Described as, “Quiet as the grave and absolutely ferocious.” The locals claim he is completely different beast when hidden beneath the boughs of the trees. His smiling face and kind eyes are replaced by the cold gaze of a hungry predator and the steely demeanor of a seasoned killer. I have yet to see this sort of duplicity in his people. Typically, their kind have a simple caste system seemingly defined by temperament: warriors and tribesman, as I have come to call them. The warriors lean toward the solemn and silent, while the tribesman behave similarly to what I have come to expect from Zoahiin. More importantly, it is never both. I am unsure if this is a culturally enforced dichotomy or if their kind are simply polarized by nature. Perhaps, Zoahiin’s inability to fit neatly within one category led to his presumed exile.
Young Dusty seemed to be finding his place within the town’s society. He was well-liked and a seemingly positive contributor the overall well-being of the town’s citizenship. The people seemed to delight in his presence and he was good with the children; always willing to lend a hand. Most the coin he earned was at the insistence of those he helped, though typically, he asked for nothing in compensation for his services.
Suddenly, and much to my chagrin, he vanished. One morning, he simply was not in town. Many townsfolk searched for him, fearing the worst; that some xenophobic fool put a tragic end to our young friend while he slept. But no body was found. No trace of his departure. It was a great mystery for a few passing days, until a small band of Catfolk arrived in town. His sudden departure, to me, is evidence for my assessment concerning his isolation. Whatever the cause for his sudden flight, I hope to find this young feline in my journeys as I fear much of nuances concerning Catfolk and their customs lie quietly locked away behind that sadly smiling face.