The Tiger's Warlock

Once there was a grouchy, twisted, gnarly, hairy old warlock who kept a tiger cub locked up high in his tower.

All that is known about how he acquired the cub was that an old beggar woman swapped him the cub for a bottle of fire. But the warlock had little use for the cub however and so he left it chained up in the bowels of the tower with only scraps and straw. The warlock primarily stayed at the top of his tower within his study learning the most forbidden arts. Using the darkest spells and potions and instruments of torture to commit most evil deeds such as killing a king or summoning a salamander to torment a village.

Occasionally he’d use the tiger for errands, he’d have him dispose of vermin and terrify a few uncooperative prisoners. The tiger’s life remained a misery until one day the warlock came to see the tiger. He had a wicked glint in his eye

My boy I have a job for you. I am studying my most powerful spell yet and it requires the tooth and claw of a tiger cub such as yourself. At last, I have found a use for you!

First, he took the tooth, the sharpest from the cub’s jaw ignoring the agony the tiger was in. Crushing it and using the powder in the potion he was conjuring conjured bright orange flames that did not snuffle out even with a bucket of water poured over.

When he took the claw, The cub meowed and curled into a ball in agony but a sharp whip caused his cowering to turn into a burst of rage quickly tamed by the eager warlock examining his prize, he didn’t even bother to clean the claw, just crushed it and added it to his brew. The result was darkness spewing from the cauldron, a smell somehow oily and sweaty that caused the eyes to water something fierce.

Each day the warlock would take a scalpel and make his way to the tiger cub’s cell to remove another part of the little animal all for the sake of this complex curse, an ear, a clump of fur, a second tooth, each addition strengthened the potion, soon he would have the power

to obtain the strength of a monstrous beast, something that would make him even more powerful and potentially - if he offered his services to the right people

By the end of the week, the potion was nearly ready, and the last requirement - the tail needed to be added instantly so the warlock carried the cub up to his study, ignoring the pained, dehydrated cries, and set him down ready while he cleaned the knife for the amputation.

The steaming pot caught the attention of the weak cub and while the warlock’s back was turned, the cub sucked desperately at the liquid. Ignoring the heat and unpleasant taste to just quench the thirst, then a cold feeling spread all over..then nothing

When the warlock turned back he gave out a shriek of rage and confusion when he saw that his potion had evaporated. Only a scarlet puddle curdled at the bottom of the cauldron and the tiger cub was nowhere to be found.

A few days later the frustrated and tired warlock stamped up the stairs of his tower. Without the tiger for the potion, he would have to forgo the promises he had already given the kings and warlords interested and start all over again. Moving to his quarters for rest and rumination he caught a sight that made him leap back in fright.

Resting on his bed was a full-size magnificent and sharp-toothed tiger striped with orange and black and decorated with full sets of teeth and claws. his eyes cold and focused yet everything that made him monstrous also made him a work of beauty.

Sinking to his knees until he was facing upwards to that fierce whiskery face, the warlock had a dawning dread that the potion had been a success after all. While the tiger folded his paws and tapped his tail. And waited.

The warlock submitted to him now.