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**Tales from the Cat House

Idol Playthings**

Angie awoke once more, this time to familiar surroundings. She gaped her stone beak into a yawn, although her complete lack of lungs meant that it was pantomime at best, and she stretched her non-existent muscles. It was equal parts force of habit and desire for normalcy that drove her to feign biological functions.

Angie, or 'Angel Sparkles' as she had properly named herself, was an entirely artificial being, but she didn't like to think of herself that way. Forged centuries ago for a mysterious purpose - mysterious even to her - she was just one piece in a puzzle crafted by the ancients. Honestly, she sometimes wished that she could remember what it was that she was made to do, but her tiny stone brain had only been designed to hold a century worth of memories at a time.

She could remember the past one hundred years of her pseudo-life with perfect clarity, but there was no trace of anything before that. It was a bit disconcerting at times, waking up and suddenly realizing that another month of memories had been added to her memory banks, but that another month had been trimmed off the tail end to compensate.

Not, of course, that she actually slept.

To an organic being, her shut-off function might seem to be a good analogy for sleep, but it wasn't truly slumber. Rather, it was more of a voluntary comatose state that she - that all the idols, really - used to better collate and analyze data that she had collected. It was rather relaxing, though, so she did it often. Plus, it was a little difficult to keep all those thoughts in her head, so 'sleeping' helped her to better cement information in place.

The animate statue hopped down from her perch atop a shelf - it was as close to anything as she had to a home. Initially she had been cooped up in a special warded carrying case, to prevent potential theft, but she had long since convinced her current owner that she needed more space. He had been reluctant at first, but now she had much of the shelf to herself. Not that she actually owned anything, of course. But she had access to quill, ink, and parchment, as well as some small knick-knacks that she liked to play with sometimes.

Her finely sculpted wings stretched, with the sound of stone-on-stone, and she flitted through the air to the mirror. It was a physical impossibility. She was made of solid, albeit magical, stone. As such, flight should be an impossibility, and yet she managed it anyway. It was shocking to most, but to her it was a given. The air was her domain, and with that elemental focus came the gift of flight.

Angie paused before the reflective surface, striking up a pose as she looked herself over. She smiled - just as cute as ever! Not that there was anything new to see, given her complete lack of change from day to day. Still, it was still nice to reaffirm it from time to time.

She was a mere six inches tall - or a hand-and-a-half, as the panther who owned her kept saying. As far as artistic value went, she was a beautifully well-crafted piece rock, her unyielding flesh a light shade - it was something akin to marble - and carved into the representation of a thousand feathers. Delicate strips of ivory and gleaming gold accents turned her from a plain statue, into something that almost seemed truly alive. From head to toe, she was the spitting image of an avian beastkin, albeit in much reduced scale, with a distinctly feminine appearance.

Not that there were any avian beastkin. Not anymore. Scholars estimated that the last of them had died out over a century ago, wiped out in some long forgotten war. The closest that remained now were the gryphons, who were magical hybrids at best and abominations at worst. Some stories insisted the Tengu had survived, but that they remained in hiding to avoid sharing the fate of their avian brethren. Not that anyone could prove it.

Besides, she was neither a hybrid nor a crow. She admired herself in the mirror a moment longer, one stone finger tracing along her gilded beak. It was a regal thing, like that of an eagle, and her hands and feet were both capped with taloned appendages that furthered the resemblance. She smiled, bouncing a little as she thought on that. Perhaps she WAS somewhat like a gryphon? Over half of the creatures were part eagle, including the one she had recently befriended.

She took another quick moment to adjust her garb. It was a somewhat silly gesture, because like the rest of her the garments were both stone, and physically part of her body. They emulated a somewhat immodest one-piece silken wrap that covered her at chest and waist, as well as a gleaming gold halo. Well, the halo at least could be taken off, but she rarely did that. No, she liked it just where it was, snugly fit into place just above her head.

Angie nodded smartly, and peered about the chamber. It appeared that her current owner, the wizard Rhaelyn, was gone. Oh yes, there, the memory was quite recent. He had left on an important mission, and the idols were charged with protecting his domicile during his absence.

The diminutive bird-statue pouted a little. Now that she thought about it, she kind of missed the wizard. Rhaelyn was hardly her first owner, but he was certainly one of her favorite - after all, he actually treated her like a person. He had set aside space for her, regularly gave her tasks to complete, and conversed with her at length about the oddest things. Plus, he had even let her choose her own name! He had let ALL of them choose their own names!

She tapped her beak with a stone finger. Not that her old name had been a bad one. Technically, her true name varied depending on who you asked. Sometimes she was The Idol of Pure Good, sometimes the Angel Marionette, and sometimes the Golem of Elemental Air. None of those names rolled off of the tongue, though, stone or otherwise. Yes, she liked Angel better.

"Angel Sparkles!" she squealed, her hands thrown up excitedly. Yes, she liked that name.

"Oh, good morning sister," came a voice. "Or should I say, good evening."

Angie peered about, but she could detect her fellow idols well before she could see them. They were always there, somewhere, at the back of her artificial mind. They were intrinsically linked for some greater purpose, but they weren't supposed to talk about that. It was a secret. It was something they weren't allowed to discuss with anyone - not even their owner, no matter who he or she might be.

"Lega!" she laughed, her wings flicking to lift her to a tables edge. There were many tables in Rhaelyn's personal chambers, each one cluttered with dusty old tomes or arcane equipment. This particular one had been set aside for less mysterious purposes, instead being dedicated to crafting projects. And art. So, technically, it was an arts and crafts station. The panther refused to call it that, though. For some reason he didn't think that it sounded professional enough.

Her fellow idol smiled in return, half-bowing as Angie joined her near the paints. "Angel. Welcome back to the world of conscious thought."

"Hi sis!" Chaos shrieked, far too loud for something so small. Ah, so both of her sisters were here! From the looks of it, Lega was in the process of repainting Chaos - likely for the tenth time this month.

"Ssh," Lega scolded, pushing the Idol of Pure Chaos and Headaches back onto the small swatch of paint-spattered tarp. Their master would be so terribly cross of she went racing about the mansion while covered in wet paint again. The tiny foot and handprints had taken weeks to remove, last time.

Lega, better known as Legalia Technicalum or The Idol of Pure Law and Technicalities, was vaguely similar to Angie in form. She was bipedal and carved from some type of rock that was both hard and dense, but polished to a sheen. There, however, the resemblance ended. Where Angie was carved as an avian, Lega resembled a canine - the pinnacle of obedience, loyalty, and resolute steadfastness.

The exact intended breed was uncertain due to the artistic license taken in carving her, but she bore the angular lines of something akin to a doberman. Her body was distinctly female like that of Good and Chaos, but she bore plates of inset metal that simulated the appearance of curved and form-fitting plate mail sans helmet.

Chaos, on the other hand, was a lizard. Well, a dragon technically, or something between that and an eel, but she was so diminutive that it was hard to really see her as such a fearsome beast. She had been carved from a thousand intricate pieces of jade, turquoise, and moss stone, but that had long since been covered in layer after layer of paint to fit her nebulous and often shifting moods.

She was a handful, perpetually enthusiastic and energetic about whatever had caught her interests, which constantly made her a source of exasperation for both her sisters and her supposed master. Unlike both Good and Law, she had been carved in the nude with naught but artfully placed scales to protect her entirely imagined modesty - but that was fine. That gave her an excuse to wear clothes. Oh, she so loved clothes. They came in so many colors and styles!

Chaos slumped back into place, grumbling as she tried to hold still. She perked back up, though, as Lega touched paintbrush to stone flesh. The dragon statue was half-painted in a brilliant shade of purple, with distinctive gold highlights, while the unpainted portion of her body remained a soothing shade of forest green.

"Really, Chaos?" Angie smiled, moving over to join her fellow Idols. "Weren't you just blue last week? And orange a few days before that?"

Chaos stuck her own forked tongue out at the faux-avian, the delicately carved appendage flicking at the air as a snake's might. "It's Dischordia now! Duchess Dischordia von Chaos!"

Good and Law exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. Chaos changed her appearance on average twice per week, but she changed her name almost daily. It was difficult to keep up with, but Rhaelyn had been reluctant to revoke his decision on the matter - so as a compromise, everyone but Chaos had kind of just agreed to address her by her proper name. It kept confusion to a minimum.

"Besides," the dragon beamed as she rocked back and forth in place. Lega scowled, trying to stop the stone serpent from wobbling long enough to finish painting the gold highlights along her spine just right. "You should try it sometime, Angie! You'd look good all colored in plaid!"

"Plaid isn't a color," Legalia murmured. She was distracted, though. Art required precision and focus, and above all it required stability. That was her realm of influence. Her tiny stone wrist worked carefully, and the last of the carved scales at the base of the dragon's spine were neatly burnished in gold ink. "It's a pattern."

The faux-canine turned back to her palette, meticulously rinsing and then placing the ink brush onto a custom-made rack before retrieving a wider brush designed for applying bases. It was time to work on the Idol of Pure Chaos and Headaches' lower body.

"So how do I look!?" Dischordia von Chaos shouted, her arms held wide and her body spinning in an awkward pirouette.

Angie arched her brows, tapping her beak thoughtfully. Finally, she smiled. "Good! The green and purple actually go together pretty well, and I like all the little gold bits."

"Really?" Chaos peeked downward at her legs, stretching one out to study the paint job. The green paint that coated the limb was almost a week old now, but perhaps she could live with it for a few more days.

Legalia scowled, "Absolutely not. You can't have me begin a job and not finish it."

"No no no!" The tiny dragon shrieked, suddenly taking off across the table. True to form, she scampered directly across the Idol of Pure Law's neatly arranged paints, and soon tiny clawed footprints were traced across the table in blue and muddy brown. "I want it this way now!"

"You come back here this instant!" Lega growled, stomping after her. If statues could get headaches, the faux-canine would have one right now.

Angie smiled, perching on the edge of a book as she watched. She loved her sisters! Or, well, she had a programmed response that vaguely approximated love, at least. It came with being pure and good - or, uh, good at least. Purity had gone out the window decades ago. Maybe longer, to times before she could remember. Some of her owners had been rather perverted after all, and despite her stone form her skin was polished to perpetual smoothness and unnatural warmth.

"Ah," she paused. Her head twitched a bit to the side, akin to an alarmed bird. "What was that? Did you hear that?"

Lega ceased her pursuit, her jaw set grimly and her ears perked in alarm. "What?"

Chaos, however, did not. She laughed and scampered about the table in wild, unpredictable patterns, but was abruptly silenced as the faux-canine clothes-lined her in passing.

"Hush," Lega scowled. She knew it couldn't hurt her fellow idol, and sometimes it was the only way to get her to shut up.

"Oog," Chaos mumbled, her emerald eyes literally spinning in the sockets as she tried to regain her bearings. "Okay."

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Kavah grunted, swiftly recovering his balance. He was light and agile, but even he occasionally made a mis-step when climbing, especially given his seemingly perpetual bruised state as of late.

He was halfway up one of the many trellises that ringed the Clanhouse fa Soren, and not far from his ultimate goal. He could see the window now - almost reach out and touch it - but he needed to be a little higher to force it open. He was sure that was the right one, because he had fished the information out of a drunken House Guard just a few hours earlier.

Honestly, as far as he was concerned anyone who put ladders all over their house deserved to be robbed. It was like leaving out easy access for anyone who wanted to find their way in, even if your room WAS on the third story.

The fox froze for a second, then hunched close to the wall as two guards passed beneath him. His fingers ached a little and the crawling ivy tickled his nose, but after a long moment the patrol had passed without seeing him. He breathed a soft sigh of relief, and then continued.

Once parallel to the window, he curled his toes against the trellis to secure his hold and leaned out precariously. Catching one hand against the ledge beneath it, he peered through the glass cautiously - yes, this was definitely the right room.

He had excellent night vision, but in this case it turned out that he didn't need it, for the room was lit with a perpetual blue glow. A dozen candles were evenly spaced out onto shelves and tables, and each burned with a soft illusory flame that never needed to be tended. In the pale light, he could make out old books, mysterious bottles, and all manner of other arcane trinkets and curio.

Kavah grinned to himself. He was finally going to be rich. And hey, he'd be getting back at that snobby noble at the same time, so that was just a bonus.

He scanned along the edges of the window carefully - wizards loved to put up wards and magical traps, but he was a fair hand at spotting such things. He blinked, though, quickly noting that there was already a hole carved into the glass. Had someone gotten here before him?

The fox hesitated, redoubling his scrutiny. Yes, it looked as if there had been runes carved into the glass, but someone had neatly cut through them with some rather deft claw-work. He shrugged a little, or as much as his precarious position would allow, and he reached through the window to undo the latch.

It clicked out of place, and the thief briefly held his breath. No piercing magical alarms, no sudden drop of a hidden guillotine to sever his hand, nothing. It was almost as if the panther WANTED to be robbed.

For some reason, that thought made him a little nervous.

He eased the window open, finding that it swiveled outward on hinges, and then planted both hands against the ledge. Bracing himself against the wall, he pulled himself up and over, and then clambered nimbly into the chamber beyond.

His feet touched to ground lightly, and he drew in a slow breath. It smelled musty and vaguely exotic, as if he had set foot in a long-abandoned spice shop, but there were no signs of life. He imagined that, despite there being at least forty or fifty beastkin living on the manor grounds, no one would risk being roomed near a wizard's chambers. He probably had the whole wing to himself.

Padding lightly through the large living area, Kavah began to take stock of his surroundings. He had specific instructions to steal one thing in particular, but he hadn't been told not to steal other things while he was at it. Unfortunately he could only carry so much on his way back down, so he was going to have to choose what to take with the utmost care. He was certain that almost anything he took would have value, but he was greedy. He was comfortable enough with himself to admit that. He wanted to maximize his profits.

The fox paused, peering at a large shelf filled with dozens of decorative bottles, each of them filled to some capacity with some dubious substance or another. Could the panther have a healing potion amidst this mess? If so, that would certainly be something he would want to take - or even drink on the spot. Damn it, why didn't wizards ever label anything?

He groaned, faintly, a twinge of pain running through his loins at the thought. The odds were purportedly slim, but he still held out hope that a suitably potent brew might undo his recent injuries. Or perhaps at least mitigate them. He would gladly take one-and-a-half functional balls over just the one he was currently stuck with.

And another groan, this one a little louder as the pain repeated. Ugh, clearly just thinking about that was enough to rekindle the pain, so he tried to force it from his mind. It was hard, though, especially since he was apparently cursed to constantly run into femmes who seemed insistent on finishing the job that the cheetah had started. Perhaps there had been something to that shrieking gypsy's curse, after all. He had laughed it off at the time, content on pocketing her coins, but now...

The twins were bad enough - this had been, what, the third time they had confronted him over the same betrayal? Honestly, why couldn't they just grow up and get over it already? And that cheetah had been even worse. At least the twins had seemingly known when to stop, leaving him bruised but relatively unbroken. Not so with that bitch of a beastkin, though. The cheetah had very firmly taken away part of his manhood, and the swift knee she had given him just two days ago had crushed any hopes that he might undo the damage she had wrought.

He snorted softly, his fingers clenching into impotent fists. Running into the twins again after that had just been adding insult to injury, and then Milly. Honestly, what were the odds that of all the girls he might hit on in Ma'Karach, it would be one he had cheated on during a past visit?

Well, to be honest, the odds were probably better than most. He had slept with, what, fifty different gals in this town alone? A hundred? It was hard to keep track, to be honest. Maybe he needed to start keeping a list.

"Ngh," he moaned. Okay, no, he needed to stop thinking about that. He still had one perfectly good ball, and if things worked out well enough on this caper, he might even have two again. If he pulled together enough coin he could find a necromancer to perform some manner of arcane surgery or something - maybe a transplant? He wasn't entirely certain how such things worked, but there was a healer in Forgetown who had a particularly good reputation for such procedures. But it was apparently an expensive and painful process.

"Rmf," he grunted now. Alright, if there were a healing potion here, it would be what? White? That seemed to be the way they were all colored, although he honestly couldn't imagine why. Perhaps it had something to do with the mysterious ingredients that no one ever seemed to want to talk about...?

"You are trespassing on the private property of the Clan fa Soren," a voice growled. It sounded like two rocks grinding to smoothness against each other, and the sinister tone sent a sudden chill along the vulpine's spine.

"W-... what?" he squeaked. "Who's there?"

"Remove yourself immediately," Lega growled again. She stepped forward, her armored form silhouetted in the light of an Eternal Candle. "Or I will have to detain you by force, and deliver you to the proper authorities."

Kavah snorted, finally spying the source of the voice. His eyes affixed to the diminutive statue at the table's edge - he had seen one of those before. It wasn't the same one that the wizard had put on display at the interviews, but it was similar. It was small and harmless looking, and - he smirked a little - almost absurdly female.

The fox took another step closer, one ear twitching. Yes, he could see it now. Even though the canine-shaped piece of curio had the illusion of carved armor, on closer examination it looked like it was simply part of her construction. Metal plates - what was that, silver? Steel? Mithril? - were seamlessly sunk into her frame to give the impression that she was armored, but they were still smooth and ornamental enough to simultaneously give the illusion of nudity. The carefully shaped faux-breastplate gave the impression of cleavage and, yes, there were even tiny nipples.

He snorted, shaking his head a little. The wizard was clearly a pervert, but the fox hardly surprised. He had heard all the stories of the company that the youngest scion of the Clan fa Soren kept, and the rumors of how he summoned and consorted with all manner of creatures. Hell, he had met some of those creatures himself, if the gryphon was any indication of the panther's tastes. Still, if that really WAS mithril...

"Very well then," Lega frowned. She took the intruder's odd look and suspicious silence to be an act of defiance, so she hopped down from the table to confront him properly. She landed heavily, her weight and mass deceptive despite her size, and-

"GET HIM!" Chaos shrieked, leaping off the table after the Idol of Pure Law.

The tiny faux-canine blinked and a second later the dragon statuette crashed down atop her, sending the two Idols into a heap of tiny, tangled limbs.

Kavah smirked wider, repressing the urge to laugh. The Idols were harmless, so he turned his attention elsewhere. Ah- there was the one he knew, watching him from her perch atop one of the raised shelves. She was a tiny, shapely slip of a thing, and clearly crafted from gold and ivory. She would fetch a tidy sum in any other town, where she was unlikely to be recognized as the wizard's property.

The fox plucked up the squirming statuette before it could retreat, and his thoughts turned darker. Even if the thing didn't cooperate, he could just smash it to pieces and still fetch a few coins for the gold and ivory. Or perhaps his buyer would be interested in it...?

"H-... hey!" Angel squeaked, struggling against the vulpine's grip. Oh, wait, she knew this one! He was the one of the twenty-eight interviews that the Idol of Pure Good had helped Rhaelyn conduct. "You're Kavah the Swift!" she squealed, using both hands as she tried to pry the thief's thumb from her chest. "The fox with one ball!"

Kavah growled a little at that. In fact now that he thought about it, it would be easier to just smash the idol and get it over with. The other two as well. The armored one was studded with some magical alloy or another, and the lizard-thing... well, it didn't look particularly valuable, but who knew what might be hidden inside of it?

"Spell of Tripping!" Chaos screamed aloud, at the top of her non-existent lungs. She leaped onto the fox's ankle, her jade claws sinking into his bare flesh. There were no spells or magic involved, despite the shrieked name. Only tiny, razor-sharp shards of stone.

"Agh, get the hell off!" Kavah kicked his leg violently, stumbling into one of the many bookshelves. It shook violently at the impact but held steady, with only a few books thumping to the ground around him. He kicked again, and this time the thing attacking his leg was thrown loose.

"Aiee!" Chaos squealed as she tumbled across the ground, "Spell of Fly-oof!"

"Ah," the fox hissed now. He threw the Idol of Pure Good aside as well, pitching it into a bare patch of wall. The damn thing had bit him! He sucked his thumb as if he were nothing more than a two year old pup, trying to take the sting out of it. He could taste blood.

Angie uttered a startled squawk, bounced off of the wall, and crashed through a carefully painted vase on one of the shelves. Ooooh, Rhaelyn was going to be so mad about that. She was not, however, harmed. Honestly, it would take far more than a single puny foxkin to so much as chip her stone form. She had been built to last, through far more than mundane means.

Chaos had just as swiftly bounced back, and she oriented herself to literally bounce into Lega's arms. She pointed dramatically at the staggered thief, a tiny wizard's hat now perched atop her draconic head. Not that wizards actually wore triangular hats with moons and stars all over them, but Chaos absolutely insisted that they once had. It was an ancient and long forgotten tradition, as far as she was concerned.

"Lega!" She cried, "Spell of Incapacitation!"

The faux-canine arched a stone brow, "Which one is that? I throw you at his head?"

"No no no!" Chaos squealed, "Throw me at his crotch! Spell of Incapacitation, now now now!"

Legalia shrugged, shifted her grip on the Idol of Pure Chaos, and then spun in place like an athlete performing a hammer toss. She really shouldn't be doing this - detaining someone was nice and legal, but to actively maim them? That was a little different, especially since the blame would fall squarely on their Master's shoulders.

But, well, he had attacked them first, right? So technically this was metamagical self defense, and technically it wasn't really her that was going to be maiming the fox - that would be Chaos. And breaking the law was kind of the little dragon's thing, so in a way Lega would be obeying the laws of nature by helping Cha- a snort as she corrected herself - by helping Dischordia von Chaos serve her purpose.

Yes, that was justification enough.

The Idol of Pure Law spun once, twice, thrice, and then released the dragon with unerring accuracy. Chaos cut through the air like a stone hurled from a sling, her fists outstretched gracefully, and then her entire body curling swiftly into a tumbling position. Her arms and legs tucked in, her lashing tail curled tightly about her body, and her head ducked down as she braced for impact.

Kavah straightened up, catching himself against the shelf as he regained his balance. He scowled, his gaze casting about as he tried to-

"Nf-" he grunted as twenty pounds of ornamental stone struck him squarely in the crotch. That was... that was different. Not as bad as being kneed so hard that he puked, perhaps, but it was still extremely unpleasant.

"Oh gods," he hissed, dropping to his knees as he clutched his poor genitals. His tail curled behind him, his ears skewed, and his eyes shut tight as pained tears were already beginning to well up. The impact was always rough, but the sensation afterwards was somehow worse. He planted one hand against the ground as he tried to brace himself for the impending wave of nausea that had become so horrifyingly familiar.

"Huh," Lega grunted. That was more effective than she had expected it to be. Well, it bought her more than ample time to change into something better suited for combat.

"Ha ha," Chaos laughed! She clambered atop the felled fox, thrusting one fist into the air victoriously. "Critical hit! Right in the nuts!"

Angie alighted next to her, balancing precariously on the shuddering vulpine's other shoulder blade. "Chaos!" she scolded, "That's not appropriate! The poor thing only has one 'nut' left, and now you may have ruined it!"

"Ruined it?" the jade-scaled dragon arched a brow, one claw tapping her fanged muzzle. "Or made it better?"

"You can sort it out later," Lega frowned. "Once I've turned him over to the guards."

The Idol of Pure Law leaned down to grasp the cringing vulpine's scruff, giving her sisters a second to scramble off of him before she hauled him effortlessly to his feet. She was, well... now the animate statue was closer to six feet in height, rather than six inches. It was part of her gift, as the artifact sometimes known as the Golem of Elemental Earth.

Technically, Legalia could achieve almost any size, mass, or density - but that took a lot of guesswork and science, so she had settled into her second most comfortable form. She was the size and weight of an equivalent beastkin, albeit one clad in armor, with the added benefit that her strength stemmed from tireless stone muscles.

"Let's go," she growled.

Kavah coughed, one hand curled against the unyielding stone arm that was suddenly holding him upright. The sting in his nethers - his nether? - had abated somewhat, and the thought of being imprisoned in Ma'Karach brought him new clarity. With his luck, he'd end up sharing a cell with some sadistic she-bear or Amazonian war criminal - someone who would gleefully grind his remaining gonad into a pulp.

He slumped a bit, but then spied potential salvation. He had a knife, but he doubted it would do him any good against this animated thing. Those opened pots of paint on the other hand...

"Off me!" he growled in turn, decidedly less intimidating than the golem. Still, that hardly slowed him as he snagged one of the pots, splattering the rust-red paint across the statue's eyes. Did it have eyes? Well, it had glossy black stones where eyes would go, and stone eyelids that reflexively tried to close before the paint could get into them.

Lega frowned - she was a magical statue, so did the thief really think that she could be blinded so easily? Still, it technically counted as resisting detainment with force, so she would be justified in responding in kind, right? In the blink of an eye she had cycled through the legal texts of approximately six-thousand-two-hundred-and-seven separate societies, past and present. Yes, there was a seventy-two percent consensus on the matter, so-

"Wooohf!" Kavah's breath exploded from his body all at once. The golem's free hand had curled into a stone fist, and she had planted it firmly into the fox's gut. She was careful to temper her force - at this size she could have easily torn him in half - but the precisely planted blow was just enough to bruise and wind. Not to kill or maim.

"Hit him in the NUTS!" Chaos shrieked, having scaled a nearby chair to cheer her big sister on. She hopped onto Legala's shoulder, one hand grabbing hold of the faux-canine's ear to keep her balanced. "Harder!"

"The nut," Angel corrected. She flitted over to alight upon Legala's other shoulder, holding that ear in turn. "And don't. The poor thing has had enough already. Plus, he's cute."

"Aw," Chaos slumped a little, her curved and sinewy neck suddenly limp. "He IS cute."

There was a brief pause, and then the dragon's head lifted again. "So hit him in the nuts!"

Legala frowned, glancing sidelong at Chaos as the Idol suddenly devolved into a fit of indecipherable giggles. The hysterics threatened to pitch her off of her sister's shoulder more than once, but her grip on the faux-canine's ear remained firm.

"Hm..." The Idol of Pure Law considered her options. On the one hand, Angel was correct. There was little that the fox could do to threaten her at this point, so it would be a simple matter to drag him down to the House Guard for punishment. But on the other hand, it was going to take her at least an hour to clean the paint off of her face...

She processed legal texts once more, frowning a little - only a forty-eight percent consensus on being permitted to dole out additional punishment given the circumstances. But what if she added the scrawlings of the more primitive tribes? Ah, yes, that brought it up to sixty percent consensus now. Not nearly as wide a margin of approval as she liked, but-

Oh, yes, she was a knight wasn't she? Of an order long forgotten, yes, but once a knight always a knight. She only had vague memories of the Court of Justice, but she distinctly recalled that they had granted her full membership, and that meant that she had greater authority when-

She nodded, smiling a little. Yes, by reconfiguring the parameters of her search, she came back with an impressive eighty-six percent consensus. She certainly had every right to further subdue the thief, until she was satisfied that he lacked the capacity to cause further harm to person or property. Flinging paint certainly counted as harming property.

The fox was clawing at her now, but she barely seemed to notice it. Still, his scrabbling fingers had found their way to one of the seams in her construction, where stone met metal, and that felt mildly unpleasant. It wasn't really painful, since she had been designed for easy disassembly and reconstruction - although the reason for that boggled the mind - but it was still irritating.

"Stop that," she muttered. She cocked one finger, flicking the beastkin's muzzle. His head rocked back so violently that for a second she was worried she had killed him, but he bounced back swiftly.

"Agh," he spit blood. It felt like he had been punched right in the face, and he was fairly certain that the thing had just knocked one of his teeth loose. "Bitch!"

Lega grumbled, glancing down at the blood-flecked spit running down her breastplate with her paint spattered eyes. Okay, now she was more than a little irritated. Maybe she really should just-

"Kick him in the nuuuuuuuts," a voice whispered.

Yes, that. Maybe that's what she should-

"Kick hiiiiiim!" it hissed again, "You know you want to!"

She scowled, glancing sidelong at the lizard-thing hanging off of her ear. Okay, so that wasn't her subconscious, it was Chaos. Well, still, she made a compelling argument. She didn't even bother checking the legal texts, this time.

Her grip shifted, the fox yelping as stone fingers threatened to pop his arm right out of the socket. He twisted with it, chasing his errant limb before it could be removed, and abruptly came to a stop as Lega's other hand caught him by the shoulder. One metal-plated foot kicked at the vulpine's ankle, knocking his legs wide and leaving him open for the perfect 'spell of incapacitation'.

Hey, just because she didn't LIKE to fight dirty didn't mean she couldn't. Besides being the Idol of Pure Law and the Golem of Earth, she was also the Totem of Warriors. Thousands of years worth of combat tactics and fighting techniques were neatly archived in her meta-magical consciousness, ready to be unleashed the second she needed them.

In this particular case, she didn't need anything terribly fancy. She knew over a hundred ways to painfully and efficiently unman an opponent, but she didn't actually want to break the beastkin. Especially not if, as Angel had stated, he only had one testicle left. Really, Lega just wanted him to stop spitting and throwing things like a spoiled kit.

Her leg cocked, bent at the knee, and she swung one smooth, stone leg up between the foxkin's thighs with carefully measured force. Just enough to knock him onto his toes, but no further. She hoped he could appreciate the massive amount of restraint she was showing.

Kavah uttered a soft sound as her stone thigh struck home, his body rocked violently as the smooth but entirely unyielding bludgeon rammed his one good testicle right up into his equally unyielding pelvis. Or, er, almost as unyielding. His head pitched forward, his muzzle almost mindlessly diving right into the statue's faux-cleavage - but there was no respite there. Sculpted as a female or not, they were still metal, so he banged his head smartly on the smooth curves.

Lega kept her leg raised, her balance perfectly shifted to one foot and the fox perched atop her uplifted limb. His legs were twitching to either side of hers, crossing weakly at the ankle as if he were trying to somehow protect his poor, crushed egg. He coughed twice, uttered a wavering whine, and then weakly clutched at the Idol's leg as if to somehow push it away with his one free hand.

The faux-dogkin watched him carefully for a moment longer, as his eyes glazed over and crossed embarrassingly, and his breathing turned to short and breathless gasps. Yes, that was exactly what the technique said would happen. She smiled to herself, absently making a mental note. Incapacitation Technique #027 was now verified as being both accurately transcribed, and terribly effective.

Her stone tongue clicked against her teeth. There were still dozens of other techniques to try out, so maybe she could try a few of those, too, if the thief would just fight back a little more...?

"Guys," a voice groaned. "I know Rhae's not here, but do you think you could try keeping it down?"

Everyone stopped and looked to the door, idols and fox both - although the male's eyes were watering and his brain was only half-paying attention. Still, if someone had come to save him, then he was damn well going to pay attention.

"I mean seriously, I'm trying to take a..." the newcomer paused, taking two steps into the room to get a better look. "...bath?"

Cyrena, the newly arrived pantheress and sibling to Rhaelyn fa Soren, cocked her jaw thoughtfully. She glanced over the idols - they were familiar to her, of course. She was the only member of the family to share this wing with her youngest brother, and she often liked to visit the silly little things. Sure, Lega was a bit dry and humorless, but Angel was adorable and Chaos was lots of fun. A little too loud, but still fun.

What she hadn't expected to find, however, was an intruder. And a familiar intruder, at that. The pantheress smiled, her tail swaying with barely restrained amusement as she let her damp towel fall away. There was no need for modesty, not around animate statues and a fox who had already seen her nude on more than one occasion.

"Oh, hello Kavah."

"Ah," the fox gasped. He planted a hand against Lega's chest, again trying to pull his way free. It was hopeless, though, and he still had that stone leg crushing up between his thighs. "Ngh... 'R-... 'Rena, thank the Gods..."

The noble strode into the room, her damp fur chilling in the cool air. She glanced about, spying the open window, and then the uncharacteristically large Idol of Pure Law's leg wedged up against the obviously pained male's groin. Her amused smile turned into a smirk, and she swiftly put two and two together.

After all, despite what Kavah may have thought of her, she wasn't particularly dumb. She just acted that way, to get men to do what she wanted them to do.

She circled around, to better inspect the scene. As she did, the Idol of Pure Law suddenly seemed to realize that her position might be seen as somewhat compromising. Lega swiftly lowered her leg, but kept her grip on the fox firm to prevent him from collapsing to the floor. His legs clearly weren't capable of keeping him upright at the moment.

"No," the pantheress purred. "Legalia, I didn't tell you to move. Put your leg back up immediately."

The faux-dogkin glanced at the nude panther with her paint-spattered eyes. She wasn't going to question the order - Cyrena was kin to their master, after all, and a noble to boot. She had every right to order the Idols to do almost anything. Well, as long as those orders didn't conflict with Rhaelyn's. Still, that seemed like an odd request.

Lega slowly raised her leg beneath the vulpine's limp body, trying to resume the same position she had just been holding. Again, Cyrena protested.

"Not fast enough," she smirked. Her tail whipped behind her, one arm absently folding to cover her bare chest. She could see the fox staring - apparently his libido was still very much alive, despite whatever trauma he might have already suffered while wrestling with the golem. "Raise it faster. Show me how it got there in the first place."

"Oh, Lega," Angie whispered. "Don't do that!"

"Faster!" Chaos squealed, bouncing against her bigger sister's shoulder. It was like having the proverbial angel and devil on each shoulder. Well, perhaps it would have been more accurate with The Idol of Pure Evil, but Chaos was a close substitute.

Lega snorted, her stone ear twitching hard enough to almost throw Chaos clear off of her. Well, Cyrena had made her wishes clear, and the idol could guess at her intentions. She gave the faintest hint of an apologetic smile to the fox - but he wasn't looking. No, now he was staring at the noble's bared hips, and at other things that were bared even lower.

Well, that wouldn't do. The thief clearly needed to learn his place.

She growled a little, uttering that sound of grinding rocks, and lowered her leg again. A split second later, she raised it much harder. Still not hard enough to actually maim the beastkin held tightly in her grip, but just exactly as hard as she had done it before. In fact, the move was almost identical to the move she had previously performed, albeit with a little less struggling on the male's part.

"Oof," the fox gasped. It was a rather understated sound, but then again the beastkin clearly hadn't been expecting it. He had been far too distracted. A second later, though, the pain registered properly and his face twisted into an agonized grimace. His ears slicked back, his eyes squeezed shut, and his muzzle closed so quickly that he almost bit the tongue that had been hanging lustfully from one side of his mouth.

"Awww," he groaned in wavering soprano. It felt like someone had just hit him with a tree, although some odd part of his brain couldn't help but notice how unnaturally warm the statue's thigh was. It might have been erotic, if it weren't being used to cave in his pelvis. He hissed, his muzzle pressed more gingerly to the idol's chest this time. "Godssss."

Angie covered her eyes, drooping a bit. Oh, that poor fox.

Chaos, on the other hand, was ecstatic! She laughed and hooted, then finally fell right off of Lega's shoulder. Cyrena grinned, leaning down to quickly scoop the little eel-dragon back up, depositing the Idol of Pure Chaos on her own shoulder.

The pantheress giggled a little, again surveying the scene. She chewed lightly on one of her black claws, her purr slowly increasing in volume as she considered the unfortunate male's predicament. Yes, that looked like it had hurt. In fact, it looked like it had hurt when it had happened the first time, but now that she had actually gotten to see it happen, it looked like it hurt even more.

Well, she hardly felt sorry for him.

"Angie," she purred. "You might want to leave the room."

The Idol of Pure Good and Sparkles peeked from between her feathered fingers, but she knew better than to argue. She threw a sympathetic look toward the cringing fox, then flitted lightly off of Lega's other shoulder. The gilded birdkin made a beeline for Rhaelyn's bedchambers, where she had every intention of staying put until this was all over.

Cyrena gently closed the door behind her, so that the noise wouldn't draw any curious guards. Not that it was likely to, anyway, since they normally avoided both her chambers and Rhaelyn's on general principle. Then she closed the door leading to Rhaelyn's bedroom. No reason to traumatize poor Angie.

With that done, the nude pantheress turned back to her ex-boyfriend. One of many, but the only one that she had ever actually been violent toward. She brushed her bangs from her eyes - and Chaos quickly clambered atop her head, her limbs and tail whipping through the feline's hair to neatly truss it up in a bun. The dragonette really made the most fantastic tiara, as long as you didn't mind wearing something that squirmed and fidgeted against your scalp all the time.

"Turn him around," she purred. She made a little circle with one clawed finger, smiling sweetly at the silently looming Idol of Pure Law.

Lega obeyed immediately, lifting the groaning fox, twisting him about in her grip, and then dropping him back down against her still-raised leg. He coughed again, shuddered, and uttered a rather strained whimper.

Cyrena grinned, trying not to laugh. She had actually just meant for Lega to lower her leg, first, but she sometimes forgot how literally that particular idol took everything. She licked her lips, her eyes drifting downward until they were fixed squarely on that awkward bulge between the vulpine's legs. It was a little flattering that he had still managed to get even remotely close to arousal, given his predicament.

The pantheress licked her lips again, brows arched as she pointed one finger downward. "Lower your leg, Legalia. And hold him steady."

"Yes mistress?"

Lega arched a brow, but she again did as ordered. Her leg dropped, the metal-plated foot set against the ground and her grip shifted to twist both of the male's arms behind his back. He wasn't going anywhere. Not unless he suddenly developed super strength, turned into a dragon, or perhaps spontaneously revealed himself to be a godling.

The pantheress grinned wider this time, her tail swaying a little faster behind her. She had stopped bothering to make even the slightest pretense of modesty. After all, it's not like the fox was really ogling her anymore, given how he was clearly mourning the state of his testicles. Ah yes, she hadn't gotten to kick a male down THERE in years. Not since her brother had been seeing Raffina on the sly.

She pursed her lips, whiskers twitching. Not that she had ever taken much pleasure in hurting her brother, despite the funny sounds or twisted faces he made when she had kicked him just right. But Raffina had asked her to, and the cheetah was easily her best friend in the world.

Fortunately, she had no compunctions about hurting the fox.

"Hold him up a little," she purred. "I want to try doing that."

Lega arched both brows now, but she hefted the fox some. One stone hand set to his ribs, to get a better grip on his body - he was really squirming now. "Mistress?"

"The, ah..." Cyrena grinned broadly, the look of a predator abruptly flickering to life in her eyes. "The thing you did with your leg."

"W-... wait..." the fox whimpered, one tear-blurred eye forced open as he squirmed harder. He stilled, though, as he felt those stone fingers gouging into his side and his arm twisting behind him. The golem certainly wasn't going to let him loose. "'Rena, baby, let's... ng... let's talk about this fer a second!"

The pantheress moved up in front of him, her hands clasped behind her as she continued to purr. Her legs flexed a little, as she first stood on one foot and then the other, her sleek but ample curves bouncing a little with each movement.

"Yes Kavah? Make it quick."

He moaned, his gaze flicking downward - not to her chest, this time, but to her legs. She had already squeezed the life right out of one nut in the past, so he hated to think what she might be able to do with those long, toned legs of hers. And to think that he had once considered those lovely limbs to be one of her best features.

"R-... Rena, wait, fer the Gods sake," he whined. His voice was a little lilted, both with the pain of his injuries and with genuine panic. "I've only got one ball left! Y-... you can't just...!"

Cyrena looked genuinely surprised for a second. Had SHE done that? Well, she had certainly tenderized the fox before, but to think that she might have actually cost him one of his precious testicles? Or, hm, had some other femme done that? Those odd twins she had met in the marketplace? Or perhaps some other woman that the foxkin had wronged?

Well, maybe she'd ask him, afterwards.

She laughed now. It was a beautiful sound, and the sight of her bouncing breasts and shaking, gracefully tapered shoulders was something that most men would have killed for. Kavah didn't find it very comforting, though. No, there was dread rapidly welling at the pit of his tortured stomach.

"Well then," she purred smugly. Her hands settled to his shoulders, and she experimentally lifted one of her lean legs upward to gently nudge her knee lightly against the foxkin's package. "I'd better get this just right on the first try, or you'll be REALLY sorry."

Kavah swallowed hard, whimpered a soft protest, and then closed his eyes. It was hopeless. The best he could hope to do was brace for impact, and pray to the Goddess of Mercy that there would be something left when she was through.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

"Oh, be careful with him!"

The two guards dragging the limp foxkin paused, glancing back toward the pantheress that was two steps behind them. One of the guardsmen shifted his grip, getting a better hold on the barely-conscious beastkin before they finished carrying him to the gate.

They paused there, waiting for the large metal doors to be thrown open by another attendant, but one of the two - a black-furred tiger - looked back to Cyrena uncertainly.

"M'lady," he murmured nervously. "Are you certain that you don't wish to have him brought up on charges? After all, he did sneak into your private chambers and attempt to accost you during your... ah... your bath."

Cyrena giggled a little, making a dismissive gesture with one dainty paw. She was dressed now, if only just barely. She had taken one of her brother's robes, and the loose garment threatened to slip right off of her every time she moved. "Oh, no need for that. He's just some poor wretch I saw in the street once."

She purred, adjusting the robes that hung about her frame. She didn't want to give the guards a peek, after all. No, her body was a sight reserved exclusively for her many boyfriends - and perhaps the occasional ex-. Gods knew that Kavah had paid dearly for the view.

"I gave him some coins, once," she giggled. "And he obviously misconstrued our relationship. I've set him straight now, and..."

Both of her brows arched, her ears twitching a bit as she tapped her muzzle with one finger. "I believe he's learned his lesson. Just throw him back out on the street, and I'm sure he'll know better in the future."

The guards bowed their heads in acknowledgement, and with the gate open they carted the fox out before dumping him by the curb like a sack of garbage. That done, they returned to the manor grounds, and the gate slowly closed behind them.

Kavah groaned softly. It felt like he had been in there for hours, suffering while the pantheress had continuously insisted on one more try to 'get it just right'. In truth, it had been just half an hour, and she had only actually kicked him four times. Still, he felt like he was going to die now. Yes, he was just going to lie here in the gutter and die. That would probably be for the best.

A few long moments passed as the beastkin suffered in silence, but then something black and liquid slipped out of the living shadows. A figure loomed over his broken, whimpering form, and he was jabbed with one end of a runed staff.

"Well," the figure rumbled. "That was not very impressive. Or did you mean to be caught?"

The fox managed a weak cough, but he said nothing. Damn it, not this guy again. Couldn't he have at least waited until morning before coming to pester him?

The figure uttered a ragged sigh, the sound filtering through layers of magical shadow that kept his identity shrouded. "Should I assume that you did not acquire the object?"

Kavah shifted a little this time, one lip curled a little to bare his sharp teeth. Well, the ones that were still there, anyway. He was fairly certain that he had lost one of them when the guards worked him over. Honestly, as if that had even been necessary.

"Nf..." he gasped softly, some life flooding back through him as the robed figure jabbed him with that staff again. It wasn't quite a healing spell - those were purely the province of necromancers, and even those rarely came without a steep price - but at the very least it gave him his breath back. He still wanted to die, though.

"Ungh," he grunted, staying on the ground. "What do YOU think."

The figure sighed again, turning to gaze through the bars of the gate. Even though there was a guard standing not a dozen feet away, on the other side of the wrought-iron barrier, the servant didn't seem to notice the sinister robed beastkin.

"Unfortunate," he mused. "Perhaps he took it with him, then. I will need to form a party of my own." And a pause, before an almost audible sneer took to that resonant voice. "You can come too, I suppose. If you still want your payment."

Kavah just groaned, this time, his head gently thumping against the curb as he tried to distract himself from the mind-numbing agony in his nethers. Well... at the very least, it would get him out of the city.

It wasn't the most appealing offer, but... yes. He would take it.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

"Ohhh," Angie hung halfway out the window, her head poked through the hole in the glass. "I hope that poor fox will be okay!"

Lega grunted, absently wiping at her face with paint thinner. It was taking her longer than she had anticipated to clean herself up. "Why do you care?"

"He was so cute and sad and pathetic," the Idol of Pure Good and Sparkles murmured. She sighed, her wings fluttering a little. "I just wanted to give him a big hug and tell him that everything will be fine."

"He was a thief," the Idol of Pure Law and Technicalities grunted. She didn't really care about the fox. She could feign sympathy, but she couldn't really feel it. Not the way that Angel could. "He got what he-" and a pause, as Lega glanced toward the morose avian.

"Wait, will things be fine?" She arched a brow, absently wondering if the Idol of Pure Good was exercising one of her many talents. It was rare, but the ditzy little thing could sometimes see right through the veils of time.

Angie looked thoughtful, her features scrunched up and her gilded beak clacking. It had all seemed so clear a second ago, but now she wasn't certain. It was as if the future hadn't been fully written out just yet. There were vague impressions, but nothing concrete...

Still, she didn't like the look of that robed figure. There was something off about him, and she hated to see the fox fall in with a bad crowd.

"Maybe," she shrugged. And she sighed again. "I hope he'll be okay."

"I'll go find out!" Chaos shrieked! The lizard-thing had been so quiet that both of her sisters had forgotten she was even there. The Idol of Pure Chaos had wandered off with Cyrena for a time, but she was forbidden to leave this wing of the manor, so she had returned before too long.

"Chaos Magic!" She squealed gleefully, bounding into the air like a thing possessed.

Angel and Legali both arched their brows in alarm, twisting about to stop their magical sibling. They spoke in unison as they did so. "Chaos, No!"

But it was too late. The dragon glowed brightly, then dulled to an impossible black, and abruptly burst into a cloud of random magical elements. Dragon scales, pixie dust - and what were those, leaves from a bloodbark tree?

"Oh no," Angel groaned, flopping onto the table where Chaos had just been lying.

"Damn it..."

Lega groaned, slapping the turpentine-covered rag over her eyes. Gods. Ser Rhaelyn was going to be SO mad...