The Rogue of Turtle Lake 

By Connor | InTheAtticDev

The moon was a traitor in the night. It hung fat and white in the sky, shining light through the wilting fall leaves of giant oak trees. For a creature of shadow with fur the color of moss, the environment felt like a death sentence.

Marla dodged between the trees as she ran. Her large ears moved independently, one tracking distant bird calls while the other listened for the clomping of incoming horses. 

The air carried the smell of a salty tang from the nearby saline lake. Turtle Lake was the destination. Her only hope.

Marla stopped for a moment by a large oak tree to catch her breath. She’d been running for what felt like days. While the chaos of her escape from Eldoria Castle had faded, the terror was still fresh... 

Ahead, Mreska Road cut through the dark woods. It was a cart track, mostly worn down by the wheels of merchant wagons and divine pilgrims heading to the shores of Turtle Lake. 

It was dangerously open. A patrol of the Blue Knights could spot her from a hundred yards away. But it was the fastest way to Douro Port.

She scanned the road left and right. She only saw the wind stirring the crunchy decaying leaves. Holding her breath Marla broke from cover, a green streak moving across the night. Her striped legs pranced, covering vast distances in powerful bounds. She was across in seconds, plunging back into the darkness of the forest on the other side.

For another hour she shadowed the road, the desolate woods her only sanctuary. 

Her mind replayed the image of the dying Knight Commander's face. The spray of his blood, the shock in his remaining eye. Had she killed him? In the frenzy of the moment she hadn’t stayed to check, but it didn’t matter. Attempting to kill the Knight Commander of Eldoria was the same as succeeding. The sentence was death.

Soon the trees began to thin as Marla grew closer to civilization. The scent of salt grew stronger. Ahead, a warm golden glow shone into the night. Douro Port. 

Marla crept to the edge of the woods and looked through a patch of ferns. The port harbor was small. It was a simple collection of stone and wood buildings clustered around a wide wooden dock. Fishing nets were draped over barrels and several boats of varying size sat rocking in the water. The heart of the harbor and the source of the golden glow was a large building with a heavy wooden sign out front: The Douro Port Tavern. 

Going in was a risky decision. But she needed a moment to breathe. A moment to gather her wits and get some food before venturing out onto the lake. But walking into that tavern was like walking into a den of snakes. 

She pulled the top of her cloak further over her head though it did little to hide her ears. She stepped out of the woods and left the safety of the forest behind. 

All she had to do now was walk in…  Marla pushed the heavy oak door inward. 

The quiet chill of the forest was replaced by a loud heat. The air was hot with the smells of lamp oil, savory spiced meats, and sweet dessert wine. 

For a single moment Marla started to relax. A crowd was a kind of cover; another forest where a cat could go unnoticed.

The moment quickly passed and her relaxation was interrupted. A pause in a nearby conversation turned heads in her direction. People noticed the green fur and were trying to examine her feline features. 

The voices shifted in tone and went back to normal. Marla was glad at least that she was faster than the spread of the news. If she were here any later the talk of the tavern would no doubt be the attack on the Knight Commander… about the green feline fugitive on the run. There would be more than suspicious looks then.

Ignoring the stares she looked around the room. Her gaze landed on a small booth in the far corner, the shape providing a sort of wall. A perfect defensive position with a clear view of the entrance. She moved over and sat on the worn wooden bench.

For several minutes no one approached. It was as if the tavern's patrons decided she was best left alone. Marla allowed herself to breathe, her whiskers moving to sense the situation. Fishermen with salt hardened faces recounted tales of their catches. A few cloaked figures spoke about old scripture in one booth, seemingly here to see the holy lake. A merchant far too dressed up for a tavern like this was in the opposite corner losing a game of cards. 

A shadow fell over her table as a figure approached. Marla’s hand moved toward her dagger but she stopped as she saw who he was. He was tall and he wore a simple leather apron over a wool shirt. Just the tavern keeper.

"Cold night to be on the Mreska Road. What can I get for you?" he said.

"Tawny porto," Marla said. Her voice initially sounded like a stifled meow, as if she had a hairball stuck in her throat, then she spoke again. "Tawny porto."

"A fine choice. I'm Alistair, the winemaker here. The tawny porto is a classic offering at this tavern. I promise you’ll enjoy it." He moved off toward the bar.

He quickly returned with a small cup filled with a liquid the color of deep crimson. He set it down before her. "On the house. As a welcome to the tavern."

Marla said nothing. She lifted the cup and took a sip. The tawny porto was rich and a sweet warmth spread from down to her empty stomach.

"Everyone in Douro Port is here because of the lake. Either here making a living, honoring the old divines. Or running to it for sanctuary… from something they think it can save them from. Though, I haven’t seen that in a while. Not much out there to run to, I guess."

She looked up at Alistair. 

"What makes you think I'm fleeing to the lake?" Marla asked.

The look he gave in return seemed to suggest he had seen others in Marla's situation before.

The incoming bounty posters would no doubt paint Marla as a murderous monster, a crazed animal who attacked a noble lord without reason. But a story… a story first told in the right place could become a crutch. It could be a shield against the lies that were surely coming. 

"Fine, I'll tell you." Marla said.

She took another drink as Alistair sat down. 

Marla started to tell her story.

The tavern's warmth seemed to fade away. The faces of the patrons blurred as Marla’s mind sank back into the memory. The warmth of the sweet wine was replaced by the chill of the cobblestones in Castle Eldoria. 

It wasn't a dungeon technically, but it was the most finely crafted cage she had ever known. 

Being the runt of nine had taught her what it meant to be invisible, to snatch food scraps without being seen. Those skills had served her well on the streets after her litter had cast her out… a small, green furred nuisance too weak to drag along. 

Her instincts had served her right up until the moment they didn't, and a stolen loaf of bread earned her a trip to the Eldoria jail. The choice she was given wasn't a choice at all: rot in a cell or serve the Knight Commander as one of his dozen servants.

The Commander was a monument to cruelty. An old man now, he was responsible for many brutal military campaigns that saw the Kingdom of Eldoria win critical land gains which established them as a kingdom. 

Yet he saw Marla, and the handful of other Lizardfolk and Catpeople servants, as little more than tools with legs. He specifically requested people from those races to be his servants. In his mind, their races were instruments for the betterment of the kingdom, and it was their duty to be used. Especially those who stole from the Kingdom.

Marla remembered the meaningless cruelties. He would often track mud across a freshly mopped floor in amusement as he ordered her to clean it again. 

His favorite torment was to demand his vast collection of ceremonial capes be delinted by hand. Or worse, he would command them to scrub the floors of his private wing not with a mop, but with a thin brush meant for polishing silver.

Marla’s dreams throughout those years were filled of small things: a full stomach, a warm bed that wasn't a straw pallet, and the freedom to simply walk away.

Her breaking point finally came with a discovery. 

Days prior to her appearance at the tavern she was in the Knight Commander’s personal chamber. Maps of the realm were framed on the walls and historic tapestries hung next to his bed. 

Marla's task for the afternoon was to dust his desk, which was already a pristine piece of oak woodworking that was already spotless. 

As she ran a cloth over the surface, she saw a sheet of parchment. It was a letter written by the Knight Commander, still unfinished. The fatal feline instinct of curiosity took hold, and with a quick glance toward the chamber door, Marla leaned closer to read the note.

…the famine in the outer settlements is a rot we must excise. The king’s sentimentality will be his undoing. Action is required. My plan proceeds thus: Due to the divine sanction protecting Turtle Lake from the laws of man, it remains a blind spot in Eldoria’s control over the outer settlements. The king foolishly believes no warfare shall be conducted on the lake—  seemingly caught in a delusion that Mreska still has the power to judge the actions which take place upon it. We will first seize the north eastern island of Turtle Lake, establishing a staging ground beyond the reach of the King's direct command…

Marla felt the hairs on her tail start to bush out in dread. She read on as her tail started moving in a low sweeping motion behind her. 

…From the island, my stronghold of Blue Knights will deploy to the surrounding farmlands. The families inhabiting them will be given one opportunity to cede control. Resistance will be met with overwhelming force. The farms will be commandeered, the crops secured for the capital. It is regrettable, but the elimination of resisting homesteaders is a necessary price to ensure the kingdom's core survives. This is a matter of statecraft, not morality…

This was a statement of intent. 

Marla knew those lands well. These were the very farming families she had once stolen from— hardworking people whose only crime was now living on land the Commander wanted. 

The door of the chamber opened and startled Marla. The Knight Commander walked in pulling off his steel gauntlets. He tossed them onto a side table which shook it with a loud clang, and didn't seem to notice Marla at first, his mind clearly elsewhere.  Then... his gaze swept across the room and landed on her. 

Marla froze. 

"What do you think you are doing?" he asked. 

"Just dusting, sir. As you commanded." 

He moved toward the desk, eyes moving from her face to the letter and back again. Contempt blew up across his wrinkly face. 

"You have been reading my private correspondence," he said.

It wasn't a question.

Marla couldn't deny it. She could only stare at the map on the wall behind him, at the unsuspecting farmlands around Oakhaven marked in tiny circles. Innocent families. People who would be ground to dust.

The Commander followed her look.

"So, the little stray has grown a conscience towards these people after it." He leaned against his desk. "Tell me, what does a common thief think of statecraft?"

"This isn't statecraft," Marla said. "It's… it's a massacre. For what? For farmland?"

He let out a sharp laugh. 

"For survival!" he yelled, finally snapping. "There is no choice! While sentimental fools pray to forgotten gods, my people starve." 

He pointed towards the window which faced out upon the farmlands in the distance.

"The divine power that Mreska wielded died centuries ago, and with it, this foolish law. There will be no magic hope to bring back the gifts our ancestors had. No divine wish will make the clay and rocks in the soil turn to nutrients. That power has long since faded. Turtle Lake will be my staging ground, and I will be the duke who feeds this realm whatever it costs."

His lust for power was laid out clear. He saw himself as a savior, and the families in his way were merely part of the cost. Marla felt sick.

"These are the very people you stole from. Why do you care?" he asked her.

His words struck a nerve just as he intended. 

"I am at least ethical enough to draw the line at senseless authoritarianism," she replied.

The Commander’s face went stiff.  Marla, the green furred alley cat, had presumed to stand on moral high ground. He moved faster than a man his age should. His hand moved out and clamped down on her upper arm. His grip was still like iron even without the gauntlets, bruising her muscle.

"That's enough," he said, his face just mere inches from hers. "You're going back to that dungeon for good now."

The words, the pain in her arm, the idea of the cage slamming shut forever— it all broke something inside her. 

The quiet servant vanished. The scared street cat returned. 

A horrific dull groan started from her low in her chest. A deep hiss filled the chamber as her ears flattened and her lips peeled back to show her fangs. 

Before he could react to the animal he had let loose, the claws Marla kept so carefully sheathed broke through the leather of her glove and tore across his face.

There was a wet tearing sound. The Commander screamed an agonizing cry and stumbled back, his hand flying to cover his eye. Blood poured between his fingers. His remaining eye was wide with pain as he clutched at shredded tissue.

Marla pounced. She was like a predator as she launched herself onto his collapsing form. Her weight and momentum drove him to the floor with a heavy crash that shook the floor. 

The guards outside heard screams of agony through the door. They exchanged uneasy glances. 

The senior guard nodded as they prepared to enter the room. They stumbled into the chamber with their weapons drawn and froze once they saw the ghastly sight. The fine tapestries and maps were ruined with blood and the Knight Commander lay still by his desk.

A green figure that was hunched over the Commander jolted upright.

It was Marla, but not the meek servant they knew. Her face and the fur around her neck were slick and matted with blood. Her tail, twice its normal size, was bushed out in aggression. Her eyes were wide, the pupils blown into black circles. As the guards processed the horror she bolted. 

Running on all fours into the hall at full force she slammed into a tall bookshelf, sending scrolls crashing to the floor. She turned around and hissed at the guards who were following before she fled through an open doorway, vanishing down the hallway.

"Murderer!" one guard yelled. "SOUND THE ALARM!"

As word quickly spread a horn soon blared from the battlements signaling an emergency. 

Marla didn't dare to look back. 

She burst into the great hall causing chaos amongst the nobles and servants there. A knight tried to grab her but she slid across the floor between his legs, then she used a royal prince's shoulders to launch herself onto a high tapestry. 

Below, the chase started to become more organized. Archers appeared on the higher balconies. "To the gates! Cut her off!" a captain yelled.

Marla reached the top of the tapestry, leaped across a small gap to a ledge, then pranced down an empty hallway which eventually lead to an exit. She could now see the drawbridge which was thankfully still down.

An arrow shot past her and stuck into the wall beside her. Another followed as she dodged to the side. 

She hit the wooden drawbridge as it was starting to be pulled up. She was almost across when she leaped anyways, tucking into a roll and landing on the city street just as six more arrows slammed near her.

Marla ran into the alleys of Eldoria, vanishing into the crowd of people who gathered to see the commotion. For a time she could still hear the shouts of the guards but they eventually grew faint as she gained distance from the castle. 

Hours later the area was still buzzing with action. 

Marla had finally come to a stop at the edge of town. Occasionally she had to dip off the road to hide from Blue Knight patrols, but they were easy enough to avoid once she was able to camouflage in the tall grass.

She found a place to hide for the night by a small river that eventually connected to Turtle Lake...

She crouched by the water's edge taking cool licks of the water as she rested. The water that ran off her fur was tinged pink. She started to clean her face, washing away the Knight Commander's blood, attempting to wash away the feeling of her claws tearing into flesh.

When she was clean she stared down at her reflection. 

Had she attacked the Knight Commander to stop a massacre, or had it been the anger of her situation in life boiling over into an act of revenge? 

The truth was complicated. She had hated him. She had wanted to hurt him. But the thought of those families, wiped from the land like the dust she was supposed to clean… that had been the spark. 

He had made her a killer, and in doing so, had perhaps made her into something more.

As she stood, the letter seemingly echoed in her memory. Turtle Lake… divine sanction… protected from the rule of man. A place the Kingdom of Eldoria had no official power over… it could be her shot.

She knew she had to get there. The fastest route she could remember was a path through the woods, just outside of Oakhaven. A path called the Mreska Road… 

Marla’s voice trailed off, the ghost of her tale fading from her mind. She blinked, and the warm reality of the Douro Port Tavern formed around her once more. 

Her story was finished. 

She lifted the small cup and drank the last of the tawny porto, the sweet liquid in contrast to the bitter memories she had just shared.

The tavern was now silent. It was no longer the boisterous place she had walked into. The card game had stopped. The fishermen’s stories had died off long ago. Chairs were turned to face their booth.

Alistair was still sitting at Marla's table. 

"Why tell me this story? Why tell all of us?"

Marla placed the empty cup back on the table. 

"Because the Blue Knights will be here soon," she said. "And while I think I'm a survivor of a horrible circumstance, they will tell you their story. They'll tell you I'm a crazed beast who murdered their noble commander for no reason. They'll call me a traitor. And well, I guess I don't know which story to believe yet... You figure it out for me."

With that Marla went to leave. None of the people there tried to stop her or ask her any further questions. She opened the oak door and stepped back out into the cold salty night air. 

Shouts came from outside nearly just as soon as she left. Torches shone in the darkness, casting shadows across the tavern windows.

"Knights!" one of the divine pilgrims yelled, visibly uneasy.

The tavern folk flocked toward the door and windows. Some spilled out into the harbor square to see the source of the commotion as others hung back inside. Five Eldoria Knights were running toward the docks, their captain in the lead, yelling that he just saw "that cat."

He was the first to reach the wooden dock of Turtle Lake. He placed his boot on the first plank and the moment it landed the torch in his hand died. The flame seemed to be strangled, turning blue before it hissed and vanished into smoke.

At the exact same moment the calm water beside the pier boiled up. With a plop a huge glassy eyed pike flopped to the surface of the pier, its dead eyes staring at the guard captain.

The knights froze. 

It was then they all saw her. A small row boat was pulling away from the far end of the pier. Marla was at the oars rowing. 

She was still close enough for them to see her turn back and look at them. They made eye contact as Marla shrugged and kept rowing.

"Don't! In the name of the Knight Commander turn that boat around, traitor!" the captain yelled. But his voice lacked the conviction it held before, as if he were afraid the lake may take offense to his tone.

Marla replied with a tired yet triumphant laugh. Marla gave a small wave as she dissolved in sight into a thick fog rolling in off the lake.

The captain turned to face the crowd that was gathered.

"Was that murderer here? Did you see the treasonous feline?"

The crowd— fishermen who prayed to the lake for a good catch, pilgrims who believed in its sanctity— looked around at each other. They remembered Marla’s story and the Knight Commander's brutal plan. 

As one, the crowd turned their backs on the soldiers and walked back into the tavern. The knights stood hopelessly and watched as they were ignored.

"Sir, we should question them…" one of the younger knights said, moving forward with his hand on his sword.

The captain reached out to grab his arm. His eyes were fixed on the dead fish. 

"No use. Starting a commotion here could cost us our trade deal of sweet wine… plus, I won't risk the lake's bite for one cat." 

The younger soldier stared out into the fog rolling in.

"Why do we still honor it, Captain? This divine rule, that is. Mreska and her magic are just stories for children. All the supposed divine influence is nowhere to be seen. Why does this barrier of water matter anymore?"

The captain didn't answer for a moment. He stared out to the lake. 

"In matters of the divine you can never be too sure what truly has died... Come on, we'll make camp. She can't stay on that lake forever…"

With that, they went to leave. Their authority had crumbled at the water’s edge, broken by an ancient belief– and a dead fish.

As the soldiers left, nearby on the far side of Turtle Lake, an elf stood cloaked in shadow watching the scene unfold.

From this vantage point the being had seen everything— the frantic arrival of the knights, their confrontation with the omens of the lake, and the small boat disappearing into the fog. 

The figure was tall and wrapped in dark blue robes. They held a staff of pale white wood and on top was a single purple crystal which pulsed with a soft light.

The figure watched from a distance as Marla rowed onto the lake with a smile.

It was lovely when a trick played flawlessly. 

The sanctuary of Mreska, the lake forged by her hand. A site created out of her purest memories, from echoes of a divine family now gone– was still alive. Still welcoming those who sought unbiased judgement in the light of Mreska.

The robed figure knelt down as their knees cracked. Putting up the charade of magic's existence had taken it's toll across the many years. Oh, but how worth it all of it had been.  

They reached out a slender hand and gently touched the shore. The moment their fingers made contact with the water, the purple crystal on the staff started to cast light on the elf’s old and wrinkled face.

"Soon, sister. Soon, shall you return to give sanctuary to us all," the elf said in an ancient forgotten tongue.

Just as the words were uttered into the world the figure was gone. The purple light vanished with them and the only things that remained on the shore were deep shadows... 

And the gentle sound of Marla rowing through the divine sanctuary of Turtle Lake.  

Marla's story continues in The Crystal Caverns, a text-based fantasy RPG playable for FREE right here on itch.io: