[center][h3][color=a36209]THE BEAST KING[/color][/h3][/center]

The Beastlords' camp was never quiet. At all hours, the flat section of desert inside the city walls of Zar Vogul that had been cleared of slums and given to the mercenaries to set up in was buzzing with shouts, bellowed orders, the roars and hisses of beasts, drinking songs and the clanking of chains. Today, however, was a particularly noisy day.

A monster was squatting in the ruins of a shredded barracks tent. It resembled a massive cat, as tall as two grown men and as long as three, with thin brown hair well-suited to the desert sun and a row of jagged spines all across its back. Its mouth was filled with teeth like daggers, and wicked blades sprouted from its joints and claws. It was an Arthak Cat, one of the great predators of the Red Desert - on the battlefield, they made for brutally effective instruments of war, blindingly fast and vicious with jaws that could crush through even the toughest armor, capable of carrying three warriors on their backs - one to direct it, two to throw javelins or fire bows. The Beastlords had six of them in their possession, and this specimen was by far the largest and the most ornery. It had been kept in an iron cage until the night before, when some drunken idiot had tried to let it out for a joyride.

Twelve Aelg beasthandlers surrounded it, pulling with all their might on four ropes that had been lassoed around it, while another waved a torch in its face, attempting to herd it into the cage that had been brought up behind it. The cat snarled and snapped at him, pulling the others off their feet or causing them to skid on the barren ground.

"Come on now, keep it steady!" Har-dok shouted, pulling a warrior away from the ropes and taking his position. "We've almost got it back in!" Gradually, the cat stepped backwards away from the fire, and the beasthandlers allowed the ropes to slack. That was an important step - not only so that the beast could move, but so it would know that compliance meant that the pain would stop. Two more steps, and it was inside, still hissing and roaring. "Now, shut it now!"

The handler closest to the cage dropped the rope and bolted over to the lever at the side of the cast-iron behemoth, causing the door to slam shut with a heavy thud, tearing the ropes and causing all the other handlers to stagger back from their own force. The cat roared in defiance, once again trapped.

Panting slightly, Har-dok stepped over to the torchbearer, whose dark Aelgish skin was slightly blanched from fear. "Well done," he said, patting the lad on the back, "Very well done. What's your name?"

"Pratu, sir," the youth stammered, remembering to salute a moment later.

"Pratu. Strong name. I've got my eye on you." The Beast King gave his soldier a quick grin. "Everyone, dismissed."

The other handlers nodded and stalked off back to their barracks - about half of them remembered they were supposed to salute, which was better than they usually did. Har-dok sighed and turned to see his second-in-command, a slight Varynese man by the name of Garian approaching. "Sir, damage report ready."

Har-dok brought a palm up to his forehead, his eyes closed. "Let's hear it."

"Six injured, three dead. Among the injured are two of the Aboriginal Auxillaries and a northlander, though they're all expected to recover within two weeks. In addition, three tents were destroyed and the cat got into the pen the Aboriginals use for their wasps. It ate two of them." 

Har-dok sighed again; it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but the loss of any of the 'wasp cavalry' - the flying insects that the Aboriginals he'd integrated into the company two years ago used as mounts - stung rather sorely. "See to it that the dead are buried and the injured are given medical attention. Whoever was supposed to be standing guard duty when that idiot broke the cat out, I want them [i]flogged.[/i]" Fortunately, the drunken fool who'd done the breaking out had gotten himself eaten quite promplty, so that discipline problem at least had been its own example. For his part, Garian saluted smartly and scurried off.

These kinds of discipline problems would only get more frequent as they waited for the attack on Zar Vogul. For all he'd done to try and civilize them, the Beastlords were still a savage and bloodthirsty group, and just like the beasts they kept, they got harder to control the longer they stayed cooped up. The Drathans who had hired them were desperate, that was obvious just from the fact that they let the Beastlords inside their walls. One had to hope there'd still be a city left to protect by the time the kings of monsters were finished.