Kerric the Mercenary: Episode 1, The Jungle South of DarkGate

Join the immortal Kerric and his men on one last mission before they cross the deadly Black Sand and head home.

Mar 24, 2025

Kerric picked up the commotion coming from the town while it was still beyond the hearing of the rest of his band, including the Warcats’, and shifted his weight back further in his saddle.

His massive Warcat, Akrus, stopped, ears twitching, looking for the danger.

It took less than three paces for the four Warcats ahead of him to halt, and the eleven behind him stopped in a single step after him. Neither the Warcats nor their riders broke silence. Not that remaining silent did them much good. Every treetop dweller in the vicinity smelled the large predators his men rode, and was reacting with angry screeches and squawks to that intrusion. It would take hours before they got used to the presence of the big cats, enough to calm down.

Leaning forward, Kerric stretched out his hand far over the saddle to scratch the big Warcat’s dark twitching ear tuffs, letting him know it wasn’t trouble Kerric heard. Then he spoke. “Dismount. Take a break and stretch. We’ll season the town for a change.”

“We’re that close?” said the man four back from him.

Every single eye turned to Tantos in disapproval. But like all his men, Tantos could contain his embarrassment when he said something dumb. He tilted his head in acknowledgement of his mistake in asking the obvious. Then, sliding from his saddle, he asked, “Should I make everyone a spiced tea?”

Setting up a fire, heating that much water then seeping all the herbs needed for a proper spiced tea would be just the right amount of time for the winds here to carry the scent of Warcats and fill the town ahead of them, seasoning it, so there wasn’t a riot of livestock when they show up, as there usually was.

“Yes,” Kerric told him, dismounting and slapping Akrus’s shoulder, reassuring the Warcat it could relax too. All but the two taking guard did the same.

This close to town, and near the road, people constantly gleaned the perpetually wet forest. But his men were good. They had enough dry wood to build a fire that would heat that much water in less than a mark.

No other man alive could hear the sound of a town still an hour’s ride away, much less pick those sound out of the racket the local wildlife made, at the presence of the Warcats, so they had to take his word for how close. Had Kerric been willing to put in the effort, he could have separated out what the different people were saying from that background noise. He could think of no reason to put in that much effort this close to going home.

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He made his way to the rear of the group and began checking over Locklear’s Warcat Toolon, to the disgust of his Akrus. The larger cat still hadn’t learned not to try to bully the smallest cat in the group and had suffered for it when Akrus thoroughly beat him in their last fight. The dark brown fur with black stripes made watching their wounds heal more difficult, requiring checking close, often.

“He should stop picking fights once I get him back home,” Locklear said, breaking silence as Kerric approached.

Kerric hid his growing disappointment. Not only a pointless statement, but one that the man knew was false. Once Warcats lost as much caution as his Toolon had, they rarely got it back. The man that had come south with him would have never uttered either a pointless statement or one he new to be false.