Its the trick or treat bag, and it seems to be moving...
Oh, its a cute little kitten. Wait, does it have red devil horns??
The fully grown devil cat is a formidable looking feline with dark fur, a firey temperament and little shiny red horns. But as in the story below they are not all bad...
This is the breeding stage, the creatures can now breed with others in thier breed group. Otherwise nothing has changed.
|Breed group:||Domestic cat|
|Does it battle?||No|
The story of the pious devil cat
My Mother always said not to leave our stove door open for fear of the demonic felines inside. You see our stove was very old, no it was older than old, it was ancient. It was a rectangular coal fired stove made from some dark metal and had ornate cats chasing each other around its chunky body. I was enthralled by these cats when I was younger, I would stare at them for hours, I could sometimes swear I saw them running about in the flickering light of the fire. Once on a freezing winters day I opened the stove door and sat in front of it enjoying the warmth on my cold skin. There again out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw the cats move, but before I could inspect them further my Mother rushed in and firmly scolded me after quickly slamming the square metal door shut. She then and there told me to my wide eyed face of the ovens past. She said that it had been used in dark wicked practises which were meant to summon demons to our world by roasting live cats and using their bodies to create demonic replacements. Then in a low voice she told me that if I were to leave the door open the demon cats would spring out and cause some merry havoc in our home. Of course I left the stove well alone after that, what god fearing child would go near a demon summoning stove after all?
For several years the stove stayed quietly squatting there in the corner of the room, we couldn’t remove it you see, it was permanently attached to the solid stone wall clinging around a supporting beam. To remove it we would have to destroy the wall, which was far too much work and expense for my poor family. However it was a few winters after the one where I had first left the stove door open when my Mother fell unexpectedly ill. She needed heat for her illness, and our little house was as drafty as an old barn. So I had to heat up a brick on the stove and wrap in it an old towel to assist her and keep her warm that bitter winter. But one day I was late coming back home from church, the sermon had stretched on far too long. So when I arrived home I found my Mother in a fit of sorts, her bed colder than ice as the last brick had grown stone cold. In a flustered panic I simply threw the brick into the belly of the stove among the coals, by then I didn’t believe in demonic cats and just wanted to heat up the brick as fast as possible you see. I left the old stoves door open while I hastily gathered all the bedding in the house to wrap my Mother in.
It was a good while later that I left my Mother swaddled in a cocoon of cloth to retrieve the brick, but I had a shock waiting for me. When I looked at the stove I saw with surprise a little coal black kitten sitting in front of the open door gazing into the flames and embers in the stove. At first having forgotten the tale I thought it was just a stray having wandered in from the cold to bask in the warmth. I had to move the little thing to retrieve the brick, so I carefully scooped it up, though I nearly dropped it as its fur was nearly hot enough to be on fire. It mewed pitifully as I nestled the creature into the fabric of my dress to stop my skin burning on its fur. Oddly enough I thought it had just been sitting in front of the fire too long, I was more concerned with my Mother. So skilfully with my free hand I wrestled the brick free of the stove and shut the door, lightly burning my fingers in my haste to wrap the brick up and take it to my ailing Mother. However as I put the charred brick into the pile of cloth the kitten wrestled free of my arm and jumped into the bed, nuzzling against my Mother and the brick. My Mother smiled at the kittens soft heat and the little scrap of life curled up and started purring under the bedding. Loathe to split them up since they seemed happy with each other I left them alone and busied myself with my faintly charred hand and chores.
The next day when I awoke I heard a mewling, remembering the little guest I hurriedly got up to see what was wrong. I found the small cat weakly pawing at the stove door, but still thinking it was an ordinary cat and just needed some warmth I cuddled it into my arms and stroked it for a good while. This seemed to calm it down enough for it to curl back up with my Mother to keep her warm while I went about my business. However for the next few days it seemed determined to be in the stoves belly, but I stubbornly kept it away puzzling why such a warm cat would want to be so close to fire. Eventually it gave up and stayed with my Mother, its body heat was so great I didn’t need to heat up the brick any longer. It was a few weeks later that I noticed something unmissably unusual about the cat. One day while stroking its head with it purring on my lap I felt two hard lumps on its forehead. Parting the fur I gasped as I discovered two bright red stubs of horns pushing their way through the creature skin. It was then that I remembered my Mothers tale of demon cats, but at the same time I couldn’t believe the cute innocent pet that had helped her keep warm was something so evil. However as the small horns continued to grow out of its jet black fur I became worried.
Eventually I took him to church to get some help, I had heard demons hated holy ground and avoided it as they could be sent back to hell there. However the small male cat simply lay still in my arms as I carried him in, there was a sermon that day so I sat in the back hoping he would stay on my lap. However as I became lost in the priests words he slipped off my lap and padded away down the aisle to sit directly in the centre of the church, right in front of the priest. There he sat, his little red horns gleaming in the candle light as he attentively seemed to listen to the priest. Thankfully the old man did not take his gaze off his words to see the little devil cat watching him. But other people noticed, fearful whispers of a demon in the church began to circulate around the room. I wanted to go and pick him up, but then I might have been banned from the church for possessing a demon. Finally the sermon ended with a hymn devoted to the angel Gabriel, and there something amazing happened. As the peoples voices rose into the rafters an unusual sound rose with them in harmony. There in the middle of the church was the little devil cat, singing his heart out in mewing notes as if he was singing to God himself. The priest finally noticed the oddity in front of him, the old man at first looked shocked, but as he heard the sweet tones of the cats singing his face creased into a pleased smile. When the song ended the little cat proud as a peacock stood and walked out with everyone else. Catching up with him I now knew what I should name him, I chose the name Gabriel since that was who the song was dedicated to. Smiling happily as I carried the content cat back home I now felt honoured instead of worried, maybe this little devil cat had found redemption somehow after being locked out of the stove for so long. Maybe he had settled into our way of life. Or maybe there was no such thing as evil and good, it simply depends on how you treat others.
After that he came with me to church every time I went, his sweet voice raising along with everyone elses. I was now proud to have such a creature, and it wasn’t just because of his pious nature. As a mouser there was nigh better than him. In the morning when I woke up there would sometimes be a neat row of dead mice lined up on the doorstep, a gift from him I suppose. It kept us and our neighbours free of vermin, though one night he brought home more than just dead mice. It was a summery night, hot and humid, my Mother who had survived thanks to Gabriel was quietly reading when she heard a loud mewling at our front door. She was having trouble waking still, so I rushed to see what was the matter. My face was a perfect picture of shock as I saw Gabriel sitting on the doorstep with three little coal black kittens. As I stood there frozen in surprise he calmly picked one up by the scuff of the neck and carried it inside dropping it off next to the stove. He did this for the other two before curling up around the little balls of fur in front of the stove, licking them to stop their tiny mewling and send them to sleep. I didn’t have a clue where these kittens came from, though he had been a bit more absent than usual that month. So I took care of the new arrivals, laying out milk and keeping them warm. They didn’t seem to have their fathers fiery fur, though they all shared a deep red lustre to their coats. Eventually the two little boys and girl started to show their heritage as tiny red horns poked through the black fur. Incredibly they also seemed to share their fathers love of the church. Once they were old enough all four of them would trot down to the church, listen intently to the priest and meow along with every song. It was easy to find homes for such wonderful little cats, and I believe Gabriel is now a great great grandfather. Sadly he is getting too old to visit church any long, he simply lies next to the stove and dozes most of the day now. He is very old for a cat, but all his grandchildren make up for his absence as they all sit at the front of the church, their tiny red horns gleaming while they mew along to each hymn.