Random Short Stories

Guild Troubles [🪽]

In the heart of the wooded expanse, within the sun dappled shadows of overhanging vines, lay the camp of the Guild Of Freedom. It was a sanctuary marked by its sturdy dens, bubbling brooks, and an unbreakable spirit.

Yet, all was not well in the life of the clan, for one of its own had risen to an unearned pedestal—Kiwano, the self-proclaimed master of the warriors.

The rank #1 of the Deltas drifted through the camp like a storm, his fur bristling with arrogance. His gleaming green eyes held a glint of contempt for anyone who did not match his ideal of strength and competence.

Climbing the ranks had been easy for him; all it took was a relentless pursuit of power and the willingness to trample any cat who dared to cross him. No one questioned how he became deputy; it was as if the title had been stitched onto his very skin.

To the Geo, it was not merely a position but a birthright.

From the moment he was appointed deputy, Kiwano wore both his medallion and his position like a crown, strutting around camp and wielding his authority like a territory-marking spray.

He prided himself on being the most diligent, setting unreasonable expectations for the warriors under his command. "A true warrior never shirks from their duty!" he would roar, lashing his tail as if the very action would intimidate any signs of dissent.

His days were a whirlwind of demands. Whether it was organizing patrols with absurd timing or ordering young apprentices to haul stones for a new training course, Kiwano found a way to insist that no job was too great for a tribe dedicated to its survival.

"This is all done for the good of the Guild!" he would bellow in his baritone snarl, glaring down at any cryptid, young or old, that dared to complain.

From dawn to dusk, he barked orders at the weary warriors without pause, demanding they gather food, patrol the borders, and train tirelessly without a moment's rest.

When his orders were met with hesitation, he would stand tall, puffing up his chest as if he could inflate his importance by sheer will. "We are Guild cryptids! You will complete the tasks assigned!" he would thunder, eyes ablaze.

The majority of the Guild obeyed him out of fear rather than respect, their spirits flickering like unstable lighting systems under the sheer weight of Kiwano's oppressive leadership.

The annoyances started small, but gradually had snowballed into what felt like a thousand rocks all mashed together into a colossal boulder.

Each morning, Kiwano would summon the warriors to haul more stones from the riverbed to reinforce the camp walls. "Do it now!" he would screech, pacing furiously while flicking his tail as if directing an invisible army.

The Guild cats would drag their paws and comply, albeit very, very reluctantly. They wanted to protest, they truly did, but at the same time they also feared what the temperamental Guild Beta would do if they dared challenge him.

After all; he'd once scarred a thoroughly misbehaving and rebellious apprentice once into a terrified silence. If that was how he dealt with rebellious apprentices, surely his treatment toward rebelling warriors would be far, far worse.

Murky skies hovered over the camp one day when Kiwano's orders reached a new level of ridiculousness. The clouds threatened rain, and the air was thick with humidity, but Kiwano was unfazed.

He called an emergency meeting, summoning warriors who already looked weary from their previous duties. They dragged their paws over, eyes full with exhaustion yet not daring to complain.

"I want you all to head to the Elder's den and gather herbs for their new bedding," he commanded, leaving no room for dissent. "And do it quickly! We need to stay ahead of this storm!"