Origins by Graymalkin

The four young heroes rode through the damp welsh forest. The harsh winter wind howled above the treetops sending a shower of ice-cold raindrops down the backs of the companions.
“Damn weather!” exclaimed the youngest of the quartet. He was an aquiline man with pale skin and dark almost-black brown hair. Despite the cold his arms were bared, beginning to turn blue with the cold.
“Just remain silent or you will land us in hot water,” hissed the younger of the two women in the group. She had a strange amulet clasped tightly around her throat. Her golden-brown hair hung lank about her shoulders.
The leader of the party motioned for silence. After a few moments he gave the signal to dismount. They gathered around their leader to hear his whispered commands.
“Morgan’s up ahead. In the clearing beside the castle. It has become blatantly obvious that she and her forces attacked the castle tonight. King Arthur and his fighters will be making their way up the road to the clearing about now. I am sure they will pass through the village first, in the hope of gleaning any information possible about our current situation,” the broad-shouldered, muscular man was the veteran of many battles. He knew how to organise his teammates and best make use of their talents. He himself was a skilled fighter with a unique power. His arms would turn into almost indestructible metal at a moments thought. The strength that this power had supplied over the years had earned him the name Blacksmith. The other male member of the group was named Solaris. His particular power was dependent on the sun’s life-giving rays. When these rays were absorbed by his arms, he was able to fire the energy back out from his hands. Although there was no sun for him to draw energy from, he would have a store of energy left over from the last time he absorbed the rays.
The elder of the females was known as Naturelle. A stunning French beauty, she had forsaken the courts of the French King to fight against Morgan. Naturelle had a long thorn-like appendage that could be extended from each wrist. She could use them simultaneously or individually, both made excellent weapons. She was probably his closest friend from the group. The younger female was not much older than Solaris, but had the wisdom of decades. This knowledge came from the strange creature who shared her body and, at times, her personality. She had bonded with the alien when she was but seven years old. Ha’art, as the alien was called, would creep over parts of SweetHa’art’s body when they entered into battle. Ha’art generated energy that she could shoot from her hands and was able to grow wings capable of flight. Ha’art was also capable of forming many weapons effective in combat. Sarah had taken the name SweetHa’art as a symbol of their union. Ha’art was also feminine and the two were firm friends. Together the four warriors served under one of the most prominent of King Arthur’s advisors; a man named Clearthought. He was a telepath and telekinetic of immense power and had ruled Wales for many years, as a faithful knight of the Pendragon. He had remained in the castle, in which they all dwelt, to oversee the evacuation of their guests and servants, as the rest of the team had gone to join the main forces of King Arthur. Morgan had struck at the end of a campaign by the Saxon invaders in the south. Arthur’s forces were weary and weakened in numbers by the long summer of fighting. Her army, on the other hand, were freshly trained and ready for battle. They had marched down from Caledonia, burning villages as they went. The enemy had been expected to strike at the city of Eburacum (modern-day York). Instead it had become obvious that magic had been employed to magically transport the entire force into Northern Wales. Reports filtered in that they were marching on the castle where Clearthought was. The four friends had arrived by secret routes unsuitable for an army, and so Arthur led his followers by the main roads to the field of battle. The companions carried on by foot, their plans laid.

When they reached the clearing they had used for training they could hear the first sounds of slaughter. As they gazed through the thick foliage they saw the peasant folk of the nearby village making a pitiful stand at the entrance to the castle. No more than a handful had survived so far, and it was clear that the rest would fall quickly.
In the middle of the clearing Morgan stood, surrounded by a haze of magical power. A handful of bodyguards formed a ring around her.
“Solaris, Naturelle, you two try to save the village people. There aren’t too many of her followers here. The rest must be looting in the village, but the best of the warriors are here so be careful. SweetHa’art, you come with me. We’re going to try and take out Morgan.”
“But what about Clearthought?” asked Solaris.
“If he’s not out here fighting then he’s inside warding off whatever mystical assault Morgan is engrossed in,” replied Blacksmith.
“Oui, we must trust in our mentor,” agreed Naturelle.
The four moved through the undergrowth to get closer to their enemy. After a few seconds had passed the heroes burst out of the forest. Blacksmith ran straight into the bodyguards, striking down two before they had a chance to retaliate. SweetHa’art flew above the crowd firing energy down amongst them to provide cover for her teammate.
Solaris and Naturelle fought their way through the attackers at the gate quickly and moved in tandem to join the others.

Graymalkin muttered a spell of channelling under his breath. His job was to use his warlock training to aid Morgan in the massive outpouring of power. He glanced up as another pair of warriors entered the fray.
“Damn!” he thought, “They figured out our location sooner than we anticipated!”
“Fool! That just means we must work all the harder then!” came Morgan’s voice in his head.
He bent his head over his book and continued to channel his power into his mistress.

Blacksmith smashed through another group of enemies to find himself face to face with Graymalkin. The man-cat lashed out and sent Blacksmith reeling back. A blast of energy from above notified him of SweetHa’art flying overhead. Another of Morgan’s followers, a half raven named Harpier, hit into the young woman, sending her crashing to the ground.
“Get her!” he squawked. “Rip her throat out!”
Graymalkin paused, not wanting to end such a young life. The next thing he felt was a blow to the back of the head. Then everything went black.

****

He groaned as he stirred, the blow he had received causing him considerable pain. As Graymalkin stirred he discovered that he bound to a long, wooden table.
“Good you’re awake,” came a harsh, female voice. He recognised it immediately. It belonged to Morgan. But it was different. He had heard it only once before, after a defeat at the hands of King Arthur. Her voice was usually steeped in a permanent enchantment to make it sound sweeter and more pleasant to the listener. The spell had been stripped away and she no longer sounded like the seductive mistress he had first sworn allegiance to.
“Traitor!” croaked Paddock, an ex-frog and loyal servant of Morgan.
“Traitor!” squawked Harpier.
“Traitor indeed,” mused the dark queen. “Such a one as he deserves nought but a traitor’s death.” “Yes,” cried her cronies. They demanded death for his betrayal. He knew he should not have cared about the young girl but she had seemed so helpless. “Yes, death,” he decided, “death was all he deserved.”
Morgan, although weakened, was still able to use her magic on him. He had served her for nearly sixty years and so, the enchantments held fast upon him. Thusly his cruel mistress instantly knew his shameful thought.
“No. I have decided that death is too good for such a miserable creature. What shall I do with you?” she mused.
Her servants looked disappointed but were blindingly loyal. So, to, at one time had Graymalkin been.
“I have devised a method of punishment for you,” declared Morgan, after what seemed like an eternity. The witch immediately began to cast a spell.
“No!” yelled Graymalkin, as inside he felt the spell take hold. He had experienced this particular sensation only once before. When he had been turned into the man-cat he was now.
The bonds came loose as his hands and feet shrank, curling into paw shape. Hair crept rapidly over his body, thickening and covering. His face felt as though it was melting as it shrank into that of a cat.
Within a few minutes it was all over. Graymalkin, proudest, most skilled of all Morgan LeFay’s servants, was once again a lowly cat. Harpier snatched at him with a taloned hand. Evading he ran straight into the clammy clutches of Paddock.
“Throw him out the window,” ordered Morgan callously.
The toad-man shuffled to the window and flung the scrawny creature out.


Graymalkin went back to being a street-cat after his servitude. Curiously Morgan’s enchantments hadn’t left him unchanged. After his time with her, he found he was immortal. Eternally youthful as a cat, he wandered the streets of the great cities of the world, simply moving on after a decade or so. At the time of the Great Fire of London he was an alchemist’s cat in the city itself. He was in Berlin when the Allied forces finally captured the heart of Nazi power. He travelled all over the world. And he learned the languages of over forty cultures.
*************************************


“I HATE YOU!” screamed the young man.
“Emotion is for the weak, Felix. A real man learns how to control emotion and, when necessary, hide emotion,” replied his father calmly. “Your brother Thaddeus here has learnt to do just that. Eh, Thaddeus?”
“Indeed, father.”
Felix Tigrano was the son of former businessman, William Tigrano. His father had once run the largest soft toy industry in the world. He had used slave labour from places like Taiwan and India to maintain high profits, but his company had still collapsed. Shortly before the collapse he had purchased a flagging cat food company named Hachiman-Okimawa Prime Feline Food. Renaming it Chow Down he set about re-establishing a good reputation for himself. Aware that the press were following his every move he ditched the slave labour and opened several factories in the UK instead. Currently it was earning roughly 0.5 million per annum.
“But father his weakness is clearly inherited from the other side of his family,” remarked Thaddeus carelessly.
“SHUT UP ABOUT MY MOTHER!” screamed Felix.
Felix and Thaddeus had different mothers. Felix’s mother had died shortly after he was born. She had been a wonderful woman, according to all those who knew her, with a great sense of humour. Hence the name Felix Tigrano. Thaddeus’ mother had been a gold-digger; that much was obvious. She had to shoot William, but failed. Instead of sending her to prison, William had her quietly eliminated. Thaddeus had since sided absolutely with his father and the two had become as thick as thieves.
“Control, my lad, control,” smirked his father.
Felix looked at himself in the mirror in his bedroom. He was fairly tall about 5’10”, with fair golden hair and green-blue eyes.
“You are a freak,” he whispered quietly. He had discovered recently that he was a mutant. He had the ability to warp matter. He had tried to hide it, but it had become more sporadic and spontaneous. He glanced at his bed where there was a packed bag. Felix had decided the best thing to do was leave. If his father found out, Felix would be killed. There was nothing to hang around for. Even though he was the elder son, he knew his father would write him out of the will. Plus there would be about another twenty years of waiting just to get his hands on a cat food company. No thanks! Grabbing his bag he ran out of his room, leaving his life behind forever.

Wandering the streets was a tough life. Even tougher for a sheltered rich kid. After only a week of living away from home Felix was at the end of his tether. Last night he was attacked by two men in an alley. His powers kicked in and blew them apart. Now he was so scared he just kept walking. A lone cat brushed up against his leg, mewling for affection. Felix sank to his knees; he had always had a peculiar affiliation with cats. He reached out and began to scratch the cat’s head. The comforting sound of purring greeted his ears.
Then Felix felt the familiar panic that came before his powers. He felt the world around him change. Suddenly he felt different. A savage bestiality overcame his normally mature nature. He found himself in a wood. Then he ceased to think like a human and started to think like an animal.


Suddenly everything was back to the present (see The Morgan Conquest Avengers Saga for the reality warping tale of what just happened). Felix’s mind felt like it was on fire. But it wasn’t Felix’s mind, it was Graymalkin’s. But it was Felix’s. No Graymalkin’s.
The tortured man let loose a horrifying scream. Felix was no longer human. His matter warping power combined with the reality warping power let loose by Morgan LeFay had merged the man known as Felix Tigrano and the street cat once known as Graymalkin into one being.
A man stepped from the shadows.
“You my, young friend are in need of assistance.”
The pain-filled, infuriated creature glared at the newcomer.
“I can give you that assistance.”
Graymalkin/Felix leapt at the man, baring his new fangs and swiping with his new claws. With a swat of one mighty hand the man batted Graymalkin/Felix aside like a fly. Graymalkin/Felix hit the ground bashing their head off the pavement. As their consciousness faded they were aware of the man lifting them like a rag doll…
To Be Continued in Assassination…