"Fear me, for I am descended from tigers!"
"That would be much more impressive if you weren't only as tall as my boots and as heavy as this bag." -- Anon Guest
People assume. It's in their nature. They also fail rather spectacularly at connecting certain dots. Dots like - there's a small, medium, and large version of every type of creature. It's just that many of them avoid the more common thoroughfares, or interaction with the greater realms.
However, there are statistical outliers who will make blips on every bell curve. Such as Rumtum Taigr, a member of the Tabaxi species, but not the one more commonly known. He has currently been caught rummaging through the wrong Wizard's travel chest.
He is also currently unable to fight because being held at arms' length by any Medium creature is an effective tactic against small ones. That, as well as failing an intimidation check.
"Fear me! I am descended from mighty hunters! My claws could rend the flesh from your bones!"
Wraithvine, who had him by the scruff of the neck, said, "That would be much more impressive if you weren't as tall as my boots or lighter than my spell ingredients pouch."
Dangling with his arms and legs in the kitten curl, Rumtum glared at the Elf. "Your arm will get tired sooner or later."
"You weigh less than thirty pounds and I have Mage Hand."
Check and mate. Damnit. Tumtum growled. "Fine. I was curious. It's in my nature. You have a shiny thing in there and I want to check it out."
"You're an atrocious Rogue," said Lady Anthe, who should know.
"...'m a bard," mumbled Rumtum.
Wraithvine looked to Lady Anthe, who had a contemplative look. "We're not adopting him."
"We could always use some inspiration on the road ahead," said Lady Anthe. "Let him sate his curiosity and we can hire him until this particular quest is complete. By then, we'll know if he fits in the family."
Wraithvine tutted as they put the small Tabaxi down. "Fine. Look, but don't take."
Rumtum used his lute to cast Identify and revelled in the joy of knowing everything there was to know about the shiny thing of his current interest. Then, just as quickly, lost all interest in it and tossed it back into the chest. "Okay, bored now."
Lady Anthe bowed as if she had done an impressive trick. "A Ring of Pointing, a bowl of warm milk, and a warm place by the fire, and he will be pleased."
Wraithvine still had their doubts. "Just as long as he doesn't spray."
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / kingvald]
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