Author's Note: This story references information in the Wizards of the Coast RPG Dungeons & Dragons. If you are unfamiliar with Dungeons & Dragons, you might not get some parts of this story. This story may contain harsh language, graphic violence, nudity, and sexual situations. News of new chapters will be posted.

S’Mara

Lady Olethia VonDaltan and her handmaiden, Ilsa, were on their daily ride along the shore of her father’s estate when they came upon what looked like parts of a ship washed ashore.
“What a mess,” Olethia snorted, “When we return, have some of the slaves come out here and clean this up.”
“Milady, look!” Ilsa shouted as she hopped off her horse and ran over behind a rock.
“It’s not a dead body, is it?” Olethia nudged her horse forward hesitantly.
“One’s hurt, but I think they’re both alive,” Ilsa said as Olethia came around the stone to see her kneeling and patting the back of a young male catfolk with soggy bluish fur. On the ground before him, in half of a burnt rowboat, another young catfolk lay unconscious. This one, a girl, was bleeding through a makeshift bandage around her head.
“Careful, Ilsa,” Olethia backed her horse up a bit, “They may be savages.”
“Please, help my sister,” the cat-boy coughed, “We’re not savages; we’re nobles. I’m young Master S’Rama Athanasius from the southern continent of Palgoniran.”
“Oh my,” Olethia dismounted and came over to him, “Ilsa, go fetch Nalin, but first, have the slaves come to start hauling this debris away.”
“Yes, milady,” she quickly curtsied, mounted her horse, and rode back toward the mansion. Olethia recalled that the Athanasius Family were he leaders of the Tealabracht Tribe, makers some of the finest textiles in the world. She had special ordered her entire bedroom ensemble from them.
“Nalin is the family accountant, but he’s also a healer,” she pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to the cat-boy, “Could you please tell me how you got here.”
“Our family was returning home from a vacation to Nexus when pirates attacked,” he took the hanky and began wiping the scummy seawater from his facial fur, “My twin sister, S’Mara, and I managed to hide, but they killed all the men and kidnapped the women. They burned the ship and S’Mara was hurt when we tried to escape. I managed to stabilize her before we were forced to jump off. We were lucky to find this partial boat floating nearby or we both would have drown. We’ve been afloat for nearly two days; I’d almost given up hope.”
“Oh, well this will help you better than that tissue,” Olethia stepped over to her horse and pulled a waterskin out of the saddlebag, her devious mind running past hundreds of ways to benefit from this situation, “Here, you must be parched.”
“Praise you,” he took the water and bowed, then chugged on it greedily. He pulled it away with a deep sigh, then knelt next to his sister, lifted her a little, and tried to give her some, “Wake up, S’Mara. I have some water here for you.” At first, the water just rolled off her parched lips, then they parted slightly and he poured a few drops in until she reflexively swallowed.
“Would you like us to send a messenger to town to send to word to your tribe that you have been found?” she put a hand on his back but could not look him in the eye, so she looked down at the injured cat-girl.
“Yes, please. Uh, wait. No,” He looked up at her, then back down at his sister and started sobbing, “My entire family is dead or gone; sold off as slaves for sure. There’s no one left to rule the tribe beside myself and maybe S’Mara; and we’re too young to rule. Who would obey a child?”
“Oh, S’Rama, you would be a great ruler,” Olethia moved beside him and put an arm around his shoulders, “You sound very mature. You must be at least, what, 15?”
“Thank you, but I’m only 13,” he sniffled and wiped his face with the hanky again and poured the rest of the water in S’Mara’s mouth. He bowed his head and was silent for a few moments, then stood up, “You’re right. I can’t just leave the family legacy behind. I will stay with my sister while she heals and return to the tribe as their Lord and Master.”
When Ilsa and Nalin arrived, she sent S’Rama back to the mansion with Ilsa to wash up and eat while they took care of S’Mara. He wanted to stay, but his starved belly demanded he go for the food & water.
“She’s almost dead,” Nalin whispered to Olethia as the others rode away, “It’ll take all of my heal spells, and still she’s dehydrated and starving.”
“Just do it, Nalin,” Olethia demanded, “The young master will definitely not be so generous with his appreciation if we don’t save his twin sister.” Besides, it will be a while before the slaves get here with a stretcher, so I can gain her trust, as well. Nalin laid his hands on her head and spoke softly, repeating the same chant over again three times. She seemed to be coming around, so he poured a little water in her mouth. She wearily raised an arm and put her hand on the waterskin, drinking more desperately.
“Not so fast, dear,” he let her hold the water as he helped her sit up, “You don’t want to drown after avoiding it for so long.”
She stopped drinking and looked around, “What happened? Where am I?”
Nalin began to answer, but Olethia shushed him and pushed him aside, “Your boat sank and you drifted ashore here. What's your name?”
“Uh, I’m…” the cat-girl put her hand on her head and squinted her eyes, “I can’t remember.”
“Oh you poor thing!” treachery was practically dripping from Olethia’s lips as she stood Nalin up with her, “You have some more water while I talk with the doctor.” Olethia took Nalin around the other side of the rock and spoke in Elven, hoping S’Mara could not understand in case she overheard. “What luck! The girl has lost her memory,” Olethia jumped as she whispered, trying to contain her depraved excitement, “Here’s what we’ll do: give her this potion. It will make her unconscious for an hour. When the slaves get here, we’ll have them wrap her up like a corpse and carry her back. We’ll tell the boy we could not save her. I know that these people don’t believe in resurrection and they burn their dead and scatter their ashes at site where they died. So then we hide her and get another body, wrap it in tiger skin before wrapping it in a cloth and burning it. The boy will scatter the ashes here and return home. Then I get a new slave that can make me all the beautiful tapestries I want.”
“Milady, I can’t go along with this,” Nalin gasped, he knew what a conniving little brat she was, but this was downright amoral.
“So you’re volunteering yourself as the corpse then?” she frowned as she held her dagger close enough to his side that he felt the tip through his shirt.
“Very well,” he hung his head and sighed, “I will cooperate.”

“Oh my sister,” S’Rama cried, as he peeked under the white sheet, then turned away.
“We were too late, young master. I’m so sorry,” Olethia hugged him, putting on a quite believable show of empathy, “She was just too far gone. Her injuries, plus the starvation and exposure…why, we’re lucky you, yourself, survived.”
After sobbing into her bosom for a few minutes, S’Rama lifted his head, “May I ask that we perform her burial rites here? Our people have a certain tradition and I would like to follow it if you will allow me to.”
“Of course, young master,” she nodded solemnly, then pushed his head back down to her chest so he could not see her evil grin, “Whatever you need. It’s the least I could do.”