In light of some of the recent occurrences I feel the need to give a reminder to everyone as one of Travance's Rangers. It's short, and simple, but rather important. Here it is; just because something is a natural creature or phenomenon does not mean that it is good, and that it is not highly dangerous to the community and should be dealt with as such. For those that this message was meant for, I respect that you hold the sanctity of life in such high regard, but you must aim to protect yourselves and your neighbors before that which seeks to harm it. Sort out your priorities for the sake of your loved ones.
- Amhrán
The way I first met the cat was through a young man and an elderly village seer. Her joints were likely tired-- aching from countless winters of serving her town in the humble but steady way her minor gifts would allow her to. It wasn't thankless- the town cared for her as she had cared for them. The young man took time out of his summer chores and reveries to help her walk across town at night. She was old and he wanted her to feel safe. When I found them they had been drained down to contracted husks. From the position of the bodies they likely didn't hear it coming, and were offered no quarter or relief from the onslaught as it tore the metaphysics from their tissue. They were 2 of 17 subjects this thing glutted itself upon. Subjects with privileges to life secured by the kingdom of Kormyre that some of us have vows to preserve. I tracked and battered this beast without quarter for 2 consecutive hunts. Pulled many Travancians- maybe even some of you- out of its teeth. Travancians, who more-then-not, quickly fled to warm, well lit hiding holes while the hunt continued for the rest of us. The final hunt ended when we shattered its leg and it narrowly limped off. It seemed ready to be done when vital duties pulled me away for what I hoped to be the final hunt of a crippled monster. These conservationist truisms will all be cold comfort to the first Quinarian your monster gluts itself upon, cold comfort to their families, and cold comfort to the creature itself, that simply eats and does not care for the petty moral posturing's of man. Dictated and Not Written, Magistrate Robert Tzaareth