Cloud in Flame

Clouds parents were famous among his tribe for their ability to seek out the finest trees from the jungle and harvesting them to craft scratching posts equalled by none. He showed great promise in the craft and was being groomed to be the 5th generation of his bloodline to carry forth the tradition.
But to the despair of his parents, wonderlust struck the Tabaxi in his early twenties, as it often dose for his furry kind. So with little knowledge of the outside world he set off to find what his heart sought.
For many years he traveled from village to village, aiding residents with their woes. Some days he would run off a pest for a farmer or help star crossed lovers convince their parents to let them wed. In one of his proudest moments he managed to save a young human stuck in a tree.
During these travels he met a tall human by the name of Darril. Darril had just got done rescuing his own brother Darryl when they had met. So struck was Cloud by the huge mans bravery and command of the sword that begged to be trained. Day and night he would pester the armor clad brute.
After what seemed to be an eternity of badgering, Darril finally caved. A furry squire was born. Cloud had the necessary physicality and a youthfull exuberance that quickly grew on Darril. He was soon introduced to god that Darril drew his devine power from. Tempus would strengthen every swing of his sword from that day forth.
All seemed right in the world to the eager squire until, one foggy night, during a river crossing, his future seemed to dashed to pieces by cruel fate. Mid way across a large river some beast attacked the ferry they had hired, knocking all riders into the water. Wearing a simple breast plate, a crude shield and a sword, Cloud was barely able to swim to safety. Darril however was clad in full plate mail armor and sank into the murky deep despite Clouds efforts to save him.
After a quick prayer to Tempest on behalf of his former teacher, Cloud looked around the rocky shore, utterly at a loss for what to do next.
As he set there trying to lick all moister from his fur, a memory of a conversation with Sir Darril struck him as if were a fist of an ogre. Darril once mentioned that in some larger cities, there were often priest that can bring fallen heroes back to life, for a hefty some of corse.
So of went Cloud with a new purpose. He would find a way to bring Darril back from that watery grave. It was the least he could do.