Morgan stood before the door, clutching his sword tightly in his hand, debating with himself what to do next. Should he knock, or kick the door down and run-in swinging? The building itself offered no clues as to its contents. He decided on a different approach, leaving the door and creeping up to a window, peering in; the incessant sound of the rain masking his movements. Through the muck, he could vaguely see a flickering storm lantern hanging from the ceiling, and a humanoid shape sitting in what looked to be a rocking chair. Now he knew the shack was occupied, he became even less decisive; moving back to the door and standing there for a moment. He had a job to do, and this wasn't it, this was a needless distraction.
He’d just decided that it wasn’t worth the risk, and was about to turn away, when a male voice came from within, obviously directed at him, “You can stop loitering out there and come in, if you like.”
Morgan froze. He slowly reached for the door handle with his off hand, the sword still gripped tightly in his other. Nothing terrible happened to him as he touched the door’s knob, and emboldened by the lack of reaction, he turned the handle, opening the door.
An old man with a head of wispy white hair and a beard to match sat in a rocking chair in the corner of the cluttered room. He smiled warmly at Morgan, framed in the doorway, “Hello, my friend. Do come in. You can put the sword away, I don’t bite.”
Morgan hesitantly took a step into the shack, peering about before putting his weapon away. As he took in the chaos of the room, he noted a workbench full of what looked to be alchemy equipment and shelves full of jars and pots, presumably containing ingredients. A table was piled with scrolls and parchment, and a comfortable looking bed lay along one wall. He looked at the old man, who was dressed in an old and tattered blue robe.
The old man gestured affably to a rickety chair nearby, “Take the weight off your feet for a moment. Not the most pleasant day out there, it seems.
Morgan looked down to see small pools of water forming below him on the wooden floor and looked sheepishly at the man before taking the offered seat.
The man caught his look, “Don’t worry, it’ll dry off. So, young man, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Morgan stared at the man for a long moment, working out how to reply. “Er, Hi. I’m Morgan. Pleased to meet you. I’ve been looking for plants to harvest in the nearby area, and I just kind of stumbled across this building.”
Nodding sagely, the man replied, “Ah yes, a gatherer. A noble profession. The forest nearby is replete with herbs, so I guess it’s no great surprise you found me.”
The player looked at the man quizzically, “So why are you here, alone, in a shack in the forest?”
The man was quiet for a moment, looking into the flicking flame of the lamp before replying, “I used to reside in Caslon, before I had a bit of a falling out with the damnable baron. He exiled me. I decided to set up here for a while and enjoy the peace of the forest. I initially planned to move on fairly soon, a man of my skills is in high demand, but I’ve since found the undemanding life rather to my liking.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow at the old man. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened, and what skills?”
“I’ll tell you all,” the man replied, “If you can help me with a small problem I have here.” he gestured to a small trapdoor in the floor as he spoke.
Morgan nodded slowly, “I can try my best. What’s the issue?”
The man spoke one clipped word, “Rats.”
A prompt entered Morgan’s vision.
[Quest – The Basement : 500XP]
[Clear the basement of rats]
With a grin, Morgan accepted the quest. Rats. A common early enemy in many games that he knew of. And he happened to have the perfect counter to a rat problem. He turned to the trapdoor as he replied. “OK, I think I can give it a go.”
The trapdoor opened with a creak and revealed a set of wooden steps that descended into the darkness. He turned back to the man, “It’s pretty dark down there, do you have anything I can use as a light?” The character rose from his chair with a snort of amusement, rummaging around in a cupboard before finding a candle. He took the storm lantern off its hook, using it to light the candle. With the candle placed on a small dish on the table, he handed the lantern to Morgan. “Please take care, there are some boxes down there that may be a little... volatile. I’d appreciate it if my humble abode remains in once piece.”
Morgan descended the steps, sword and lantern in hand. The basement was far larger than the shack above, a rough square a dozen meters wide. The stairs put him in one corner of the room, and at the bottom a hasty barricade of barrels had been erected. The rest of the area was littered with crates and barrels of various sizes, with shelves of miscellaneous equipment and junk lining the walls. Some herbs hung from hooks along a support beam by the door, and Morgan shifted one of the barrels, peering about for movement before hanging the lantern up on one of the unladen hooks.
The light cast long shadows through the room, each barrel and box hiding a potential foe. He stood for a moment, straining his eyes as he tried to see any sign of the rats. His eyes landed on a crate that had a corner gnawed away, and a small cask that had leaked a dull blue liquid onto the floor. Not seeing any movement, he took the Bag of Cats, and poured the beasts out onto the floor. The cats, still damp from their earlier trip into the world, first sat and tried to clean themselves, but quickly perked up and set to sniffing at the floor around him.
With the cats in tow, he headed towards the far corner, taking a winding route through the clutter. As the gang reached the centre of the basement, the cats all turned to look at one wall; seeming to focus on a gap between two large crates set against the wall. As Morgan stared with them, a set of yellow eyes appeared in the gap, followed soon after by another. The cats arched their backs, and Tom and Luna started to hiss at the appearing eyes.
All of a sudden, the rats poured out of the gap, scrambling over each other as they tumbled into the basement. They were big, each twice or three times as large as a regular earth rat, and there were at least fifteen of the huge rodents. Their yellow eyes gleamed in the flickering lamplight. Morgan quickly identified one at the head of the pack.
[Identify – Rat - Level 5]
[Race - Monster/Rodent]
[HP - 170/170]
[SP - 150/150]
The cats fanned out in front of him, each beast quivering with tension, ready to pounce. As the rats grew closer, he saw that they were around the same size as the cats or bigger, each rippling with muscle under their black glossy fur, and with a feral ferocity energising their movements. They were terrifying, and he took an involuntary step back, clutching his sword tighter. The cats had no such qualms, their eyes locked on their quarry hungrily, seemingly unaware of their outnumbered state.
Then, the lead rats came in range of the line of cats, and the chaos began. Tom let out an almighty growl, drawing the attention of the approaching attackers, before leaping on the closest rat, leading with his vicious claws. Trip and Scrap flanked the large ginger feline, taking their cue from him and pouncing into the wave of rats.
The tabby and the white cat were a little hesitant, seeming to realise that attacking the oncoming wave would be a suicide trip, and scrambled up onto crates, as if removing themselves from the path of the tide of rats. Little Luna, on the other hand, scrambled up the side of a barrel, only to launch herself into the battle next to Scrap.
The beasts were brawling now, Tom lashing out and clawing at the rats, even as he shook off the scratches and bites of half a dozen of the foe. Trip, Scrap and Luna were also beleaguered, taking five hits for every one they gave out. Morgan tried to wade into the brawl too but couldn’t swing his sword for fear of hitting a cat.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
The basement was now a chaotic scene of hissing and growling and chittering, the swarm of rats surging over the small frontline of the cats, quickly surrounding them. The white and tabby finally decided to help their fellows, pouncing from their high perches onto rats behind the frontline, the ivy cat sinking her claws in deep to her target, and the white cat missing completely, ploughing headfirst into a rat that was about to take a bite out of Toms tail.
Morgan couldn’t keep up with the carnage, but it was clear that his cats were outnumbered and outgunned. He saw the cat's health bars had appeared in his peripheral vision, and he focused on it. The fight could have only been raging for a handful of seconds, and already he could see their hit points dwindling.
Tom was taking the brunt of the attacks, his large ginger form in the centre of the fight, surrounded on all sides, his health already dipping under half. The others weren’t faring too much better, Trip and Scrap already bleeding from a half dozen places, and Luna almost feral with rage after a chunk had been ripped from her ear.
It was clear they were losing. Morgan shouted at the writhing pile of fur and claw, “We need to retreat! Cats, disengage and up the stairs!” As he shouted, he pointed at Tom, the most injured of his pack, and shouted, “Heal animal!”. Responding to his command, a warm tingling sensation ran down his outstretched arm, and to his relief, a snaking line of red light connected him and the large cat, and he saw his mana pool start to deplete as some of Tom’s wounds started to close.
[You have gained the Channelling ability]
[This ability marks your proficiency at maintaining a flow of mana]
He didn’t have time to pay the notification more than a glance. The cats had started to try to run, but the rats wouldn’t let them disengage cleanly. The white cat managed to extricate itself and started to bound towards the stairs, but Scrap was locked down wrestling with a foe on the ground. Trip disappeared from the fight in small puff of shadow, reappearing to the side Morgan, who stared at the cat in disbelief for a long moment. He didn’t have time to dwell on it as he watched a rat pounce on the tabby as she turned to run, latching on to her back and sinking its teeth in deep.
Tom hadn’t had a chance to turn and run, surrounded as he was, his health sinking slowly even with Morgan pouring his mana into the healing. Luna looked like she had ignored the command completely, wading through the rats towards Tom, the small grey beast lashing out so fiercely that the rats were trying to give her a wide berth.
Already the cats were battered, and he couldn't afford to lose them. He fumbled at the Bag of Cats, opening it wide and watching as the frantic beasts were torn from the fight and pulled in. Tom flew up towards the bag, causing the surrounding rats to be thrown into the air, and Luna kept hissing and clawing at the air even as she started to shrink down to fit. In a moment, all the cats were safe in the bag, and Morgan stood in the middle of the suddenly calm room, fifteen sets of beady yellow eyes fixed on him.
He broke the tense peace, taking a step towards the stairs, and the rats surged forward in response. He broke into a sprint, dashing the short distance with the pack of rats close on his heels. A sharp pain radiated from his calf as he hit the first step, looking down to see one of the rats hanging onto his leg with its teeth. He dived up the stairs, leaping through the trapdoors opening and managing to slam it shut.
The old man watched calmly from his chair as Morgan grabbed the rat on his leg and pulled, the creatures' claws and teeth taking bloody chunks with them. He slammed the rat into the floor again and again, until the creature was still.
[You have killed Rat : Level 5 : +230XP]
He lay there for a moment, the pain from his leg throbbing as he caught his breath. The whole scene had lasted only a minute, but it had been so frantic he was still trying to work out what had happened.
The voice of the old man drifted to him from the corner. “Yes, they’re more than a little savage, those rats. Big, too. I fear that you alone may not be enough.”
Morgan sat up, facing the old man, indecision etched on his face. “I know. But... Look, if I show you something, will you promise me to keep it between us?”
The old man raised an eyebrow, “Oh? My lips shall be sealed. You’re, what, the third person I’ve seen in about a year anyway, so I don’t really get the opportunity to gossip.”
Reassured by the old man’s response, he took hold of the Bag of Cats, releasing the cats onto the floor beside him. They were all looking a little worse for wear, cuts and scratches all over them. Almost as one, the beasts gathered around him, settling down against his body and starting to purr.
The character’s eyes widened at the sight. “Oh. Oh! So, these are cats, correct?”
Morgan nodded to the man, before responding dejectedly, “Yeah, I kind of picked them up by accident. I’ve never really fought with them before. I thought they’d be natural counters to the rats down there, but there are too many of the rats, and they’re tough. Apart from that one there,” He gestured to the body of the rat beside him, “I don’t think we killed any. Perhaps we injured a few, but we were instantly overwhelmed.”
The man stroked his beard in thought. “I can see that these beasts each have a unique set of skills. Are you using them correctly?”
Morgan stared at the man, “Using them correctly? What do you mean?”
The old man spared an exasperated look at the player, “When was the last time you took a proper look at these creatures?”
Morgan thought back. He’d identified one of the kittens when he’d acquired them, but he hadn’t really thought of them as combatants and had assumed they were all the same. He cast his eyes over the fluffy bundles surrounding him, each purring contentedly. He could see scratches and bite marks closing, and Luna’s ear was starting to regrow the chunk that was missing. He sighed in relief to see that the damage wasn’t permanent.
He turned back to the man admitting sheepishly, “Well, actually, not since I got them as kittens.”
The old man shook his head, “Well we’re going to have to change that. These don’t seem to be normal cats. Around you, you have a warrior, a rogue, a paladin, a shadowmancer, a sorcerer and a berserker. I never thought I’d live to see a shadowmancer, let alone one as cute as that.”
Morgan eyed the wizard like he’d grown an extra head. He turned his gaze upon the cats. Looking at Tom and Luna he could guess which could be the warrior and the berserker. Apart from that, he had no idea what the old man was hinting at. He identified the large ginger cat.
[Identify – Tom : Level 7 : Pet]
[Race – Cat/Feline/Monster]
[Affiliation – Morgan : Cat Herder : Level 7]
[HP – 174/285]
[SP – 127/185]
[Skill – Threatening Growl]
[Taunts nearby enemies and attracts their attention onto skill user]
[Skill – Pounce]
[A leap attack, more effective when charged]
[Ability – Purr]
[Regenerate health, mana and stamina faster out of combat]
So, Tom had a taunt skill. That was what he must have heard at the start of the battle, the growl causing a majority of the rats to charge straight at him, ignoring the rest of the cats. Definitely the type of skill of a warrior would have.
He picked another cat, looking at Luna and identifying her next. The small grey had almost half the health of Tom, sitting at 160 health points. Interestingly, there was another stat below the cats’ hefty stamina, titled ‘Rage’, and instead of the Threatening Growl, there was a different skill,
[Skill (Passive) – Berserk]
[For each hit point lost, generate two points of rage. Strength, Agility and Willpower increase and Intelligence and Wisdom decrease with each point of rage. Stats will cap at 50% deviation from current levels]
He recalled the cat flying through the air into the bag, hissing and spitting and clawing as it was pulled away from the fight. A tiny berserker certainly matched up with the image. He moved on to another, identifying the white cat. The creature was labelled as ‘Cat’, awaiting a name. He noted this one had mana points alongside its reduced stamina and health. It had a unique skill too,
[Skill – Frost Claw]
[Create and project a claw of frozen water mana, dealing damage and slowing enemies on hit. 5% chance to freeze target]
So, this cat was magic. A cat mage, of sorts. With a water magic spell. That was pretty neat. He looked into the creatures blue and orange eyes, sensing a name, “You’re a wizard, Harriet.” The purring white cat rubbed its head on his hand after this pronouncement, before looking up at him with her mismatched blue and orange eyes. He didn’t dwell on it, moving on, excited now to see what the other cats offered. Scrap was next, and he saw he had 220 health and stamina alike.
[Skill – Backstab]
[A heavy claw strike that deals 300% damage to targets that are taken by surprise]
He would be the rogue that the old man had indicated. He moved on to check Trip, seeing that this beast also had a mana bar, though his health was larger and mana smaller than that of the white cat.
[Skill – Shadowstep]
[Can teleport into shadows in line of sight within 10 meters of current location]
Well, that explained the cats’ mysterious disappearance from the brawl, it had teleported into his shadow. His mind was already whirling with the possibilities that these skills offered, even as he turned to the last cat, the tabby. This beast was labelled as ‘Ivycat’ and had a smaller health pool than most of the cats, but relatively large stamina and mana pools.
[Skill – Mana shield]
[Cast a shield of hardened mana on a targeted ally. The shield will absorb 2 points of physical damage for every point of mana spent on casting. Defence against magical attacks may vary]
Ivycat. He didn’t remember calling her that. She was another magic cat, his paladin, he presumed. This looked to be a very useful skill, as his cats were all light on total health points. He took in the cats that surrounded him, realising that he was the missing link, the healer of his very own fluffy raid group. He looked up at the old man, who was gazing back at him expectantly.
“Oh, ok, I see,” Morgan started giddily, “I’ve got a pretty well-balanced group of fighters here. I never knew. I guess that’s on me for assuming they were just pets, rather than... Uh... Battle cats.”
The old man smiled at the players turn of phrase, “Yes, I suppose they are battle cats. Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Trevor. As you may have noticed,” Trevor gestured to the workbench, “I am somewhat of a dabbler in the art of alchemy. I’ve had to slow down a little as of late, due to the infestation of the basement. I’m also a highly proficient air mage, but this hasn’t helped me against the rats. They’ve managed to chew into a crate containing air magic potions, and they’ve become immune to my spells. I’m a little too old and rickety to start swinging a staff down there, so I’m very glad you showed up.”