Chapter 9 - Kitty Says Deeper Mister
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When: 03.14.993 A.C. - 1101 hours F.C.T.
Where: On the back patio of Lady Walpole's home in Midtown district of Morinrayne Village.
Who: Our lovable protagonist, Lady Walpole, and Gerrald the Butler, a Dilophoman.
Joshua sat on his porch looking out at his puppies playing in the yard. He had a strange sense he was forgetting something, but couldn't quite name it. He blinked and the puppies disappeared. He leapt up to look around the yard for them, and heard them barking at something in the house. He rushed through the front door, and they were nowhere to be found. He moved through the house quickly, worried, checking inside rooms until he got to the end of the hall and turned around to see a dinosaur man standing before him. It cocked it's head to the side and then spoke, "_Are you okay?_"
magejosh felt someone holding his arm, felt them shaking it and saying something, "_Are you okay?_" And he groggily opened his eyes, to see the little dinoman in the suit at his side, leaned over him looking at him. Panic flooded his system, but he also noticed Lady Walpole still sitting in her chair, looking mildly concerned as she gazed his direction on the ground. She spoke up after seeing him start to move, "_Oh good, I'd hate to need to report to the guild an adventurer had died on my quest._"
He almost let that pass him by as he was scrambling all alarms in his body and brain to seek ways to escape the dinosaur's sharp teeth and clawed hands. Gerrald clicked his teeth and stood up out of his face at about the time magejosh's brain registered the meaning of Lady Walpole's statement and he couldn't help but open his mouth, "Hey, I am a person you know. And I'm right here. How was I supposed to know there was a dinosaur man here?"
Lady Walpole cut her gaze at him when she heard that last bit, "Excuse me? He is a Dilophoman and I will not tolerate such racism in my home."
magejosh looked confused, "Wait, what? What racism?"
"Slur names for people in my employ will never be acceptable in my presence. That is what I mean, apologize this instant."
"Absolutely, I would. If I'd intended any such thing. In my world, dinosaurs died out some 63 million years ago and none were humanoid in shape. I was simply grasping for the only words I knew to classify what I was seeing, and if that happens to be a derogatory term in this world that either of you takes offense to I can promise to not use it again," said magejosh before standing back to his feet and continuing, "But I cannot apologize for violating a custom I was not aware existed, intent is what matters in a social setting. Anyone who claims ignorance of a custom or law is no excuse is being ethically irrational at best, dangerously immoral at worst. I can only hope you can accept me at my word and judge me going forward on my ability to keep it."
Gerrald remained motionless, completely unreadable to magejosh as he looked between the two. Lady Walpole on the other hand looked at him and frowned slightly, "Gerrald, I leave it to you to show him to the door to the manor or the basements. Either way, you are clouding up my lunch hour and I'd rather enjoy the rays of day. Run along now." The tone of dismissal was so clearly ringing from her changed tone and demeanor that it carried an almost physical force to it that ushered magejosh away from her gaze almost subconsciously.
And with that Gerrald the Dilophoman in a victorian looking tweed suit lead him back into the manor and turned a new direction than the one magejosh had been lead in through. They went through a kitchen and past it to a doorway with doors that don't quite go all the way to the ground. About a 6-8 inch gap if he were guessing. 'No wonder the cat keeps getting into the basement.' He couldn't help himself, "You know Gerrald, I hope it's okay to call you that, if you had a door that fit the doorway a little better the cat wouldn't be able to get into the basement."
"Yes, why didn't we think of that," he replied dryly as he pointed inside after opening the door, "He should be down there somewhere. Orange and white fur, around a stone and a half in weight."
magejosh's eyebrows rose, doing his best to keep from making things worse by making a joke, "Never misses a meal does he? I had a cat like that once, really great cuddles and purrs."
Gerrald's mouth almost cracks the most hairline of a grin before he responds dryly, "I will be working when you are done," he pulls a silver bell from his pocket and ties it to the door handle, "Ring this bell when you are done and I will return to see you out and make sure you receive the guilds completion token so you can get paid for the job. Please don't delay, or damage any of the Lady's things stored down there. He's been missing at least three days now, so he's likely quite hungry. There are some fish in salt storage on the first basement floor, find some of that to lure him with."
"You have my word, and my word is my bond. I shall git'it done," He said in his best southern gentlemanly drawl. And with that he stepped down the stairs heading down to the landing and turning to follow the steps further down. He heard the door shut behind him as he descended. Slipped out his phone in one hand and pulled up one of his downloaded playlists.
The gentle strumming of "Planet Caravan" began to play, its ethereal, wandering melody filling the air as magejosh carefully made his way down the stairs. The faint light from his phone cast long, flickering shadows on the stone walls, giving the descent an almost dreamlike quality.
As he reached the first landing, the atmosphere shifted. The air was cooler here, and he could smell the faint aroma of lavender and soap. The first basement level was surprisingly orderly, with shelves lining the walls, neatly stacked with various household items. He noticed a collection of jars filled with preserves, their contents long since settled and crystallized. A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Just like my grandma's cellar," he murmured, recalling summer days spent helping her can fruits and vegetables. Those were simpler times, filled with the comfort of routine and the warmth of family. Looking around for the salted fish storage container, he wandered into another room in the basement, and then another searching barrels and crates and chests and jars before coming to a few barrels with strange large yellow and purple fish packed in salt.
The room he entered was expansive, the ceiling higher than he had expected, supported by thick wooden beams set into expert granite masonry bracing. Lanterns hung at intervals along the walls, their soft glow barely illuminating the vast space. The basement seemed to stretch on, revealing the manor's true scale.
magejosh's eyes scanned the area, noting the meticulous organization. Rows of shelves filled with dry goods lined one side of the room. There were sacks of flour, beans, and rice, stacked neatly alongside barrels of pickled vegetables and dried meats. Each item was labeled in a precise, flowing script.
He walked slowly down one of the aisles, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. The attention to detail was impressive; it spoke of a household that valued order and preparedness. magejosh imagined the bustling activity that must occur here during the days this noble family is in favor, the servants moving with practiced efficiency to keep the manor supplied and running smoothly.
Near the center of the room, he found a long wooden table, its surface worn from years of use. On it were various tools and containers: scales, measuring cups, and wooden spoons. This was clearly a workstation where goods were sorted and prepared for storage. He ran his fingers over the table's surface, feeling the grooves and notches that told the story of countless tasks performed here.
To one side, there was a large cabinet with glass-fronted doors, showcasing an array of preserved fruits and vegetables. The vibrant colors of the contents stood out against the dimly lit room, a testament to the skill and care of the household staff. Each jar was carefully labeled, some with dates going back several years. magejosh admired the craftsmanship involved in preserving the bounty of the manor's gardens.
He continued his exploration, moving toward a section of the basement that appeared to serve as the servants' quarters. The rooms here were small but functional, each furnished with a simple bed, a chest for personal belongings, and a small table. Curtains hung over the doorways, offering a semblance of privacy.
magejosh peeked into one of the rooms, noting the personal touches that made each space unique. One had a small collection of books neatly stacked on the table, another had a sewing kit and partially finished garments. He imagined the lives of the servants, their routines and moments of respite in these modest quarters.
"Hard work, but a place to call their own," he thought, appreciating the balance of practicality and comfort.
As he moved further along, he found a communal area where the servants likely gathered during their breaks. A large table dominated the space, surrounded by sturdy wooden chairs. The walls were adorned with hand-drawn sketches and notes, evidence of a close-knit community. A well-worn deck of cards sat on the table, hinting at evenings spent in friendly competition.
magejosh paused here, soaking in the atmosphere. The basement, though utilitarian, had a warmth to it, a sense of life and camaraderie. It was easy to see how the servants had made this space their own, despite the often grueling work that came with maintaining a manor of this size.
He turned his attention to the far end of the room, where a large wooden door stood slightly ajar. Beyond it, he could see the entrance to another set of stairs, leading further down into the depths of the manor. The thought of what lay below intrigued him, but for now, he was content to take his time, absorbing the details of the first floor and making sure the cat wasn't hiding somewhere on this floor.
"Alright, Kitty, let's see what else we can find up here," he said softly, continuing his exploration after closing that door to make sure this floor was clear.
With each step, magejosh felt a deeper connection to the history and daily life of the manor. The first basement floor was not just a storage area and servants quarters; it was a testament to the unseen efforts that kept the household running smoothly. It was also completely empty of a certain tubby orange cat he was supposed to be looking for.
As magejosh moved further along the first basement floor, he thought to himself, 'I guess it's time to go deeper in search of Kitty' and turned back for the door he'd closed until he found himself standing before the large wooden door at the far end of the room, still closed as he'd left it.
Beyond it lay the entrance to another set of stairs, leading down into the depths of the manor. He felt a twinge of anticipation as he approached, the promise of new discoveries urging him onward. 'I am on an adventure after all, even it it is a milk run basically. If this were any of the LitRPG stories I love I'd be impatiently speedreading through this setup story bit of questing. No way Dolo would put up with this from the Delvers.' He thought to himself.
He pushed the door open and began his descent to the second basement floor. The air grew noticeably colder with each step, carrying with it a rich, earthy scent that spoke of aged wood and stone. The atmosphere shifted, becoming more solemn and ancient feeling as the stonework changed in quality the deeper that he descended the stairs. The lanterns along the walls flickered as he passed, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to whisper secrets from the past.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the scent of aged wood and wine filled his senses. Rows of wooden racks stretched out before him, some holding dusty bottles of vintage wines, while others stood empty, their wooden frames creaking softly in the stillness. The cellar was vast, its high ceiling supported by thick wooden beams that bore the weight of history. The ceiling itself carved stone murals with what look like beautifully vibrant colored tiles inset as well to accent the murals and help reflect more of the light from the nearby sconces that are lighting as he enters the floor. 'That's pretty cool, motion activated magic candles,' He thought.
magejosh walked slowly between the racks of wine lining the walls floor to ceiling, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. He ran his fingers over the cool glass of a nearby bottle, feeling the years of history it represented. The label was faded and peeling, but he could make out the faint traces of an elaborate design, hinting at the wine's age and origin. He picked up the bottle, turning it over in his hands, the weight of it grounding him in the moment.
A soft smile crossed his lips as he remembered his grandfather's stories of secret wine cellars and hidden treasures. "Hope I find more than just old bottles," he muttered to himself, the sound of his voice strangely comforting in the silent expanse as he cast his glance around to search the area.
The cellar was a labyrinthine space, with rows of wine racks forming intricate patterns. He marveled at the sheer number of bottles, each one a testament to the manor's long history and the meticulous care of its inhabitants. The air was thick with the scent of oak and grape, mingling with the faint aroma of damp earth.
magejosh paused to inspect another bottle, this one bearing a slightly more legible label. The date read 852, and he couldn't help but wonder about the people who had crafted and stored these wines. "Older than some of the castles I've seen back home," he thought, a sense of awe filling him.
He continued to wander through the cellar, the soft glow of his phone casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. The further he went, the more he felt the weight of the years pressing in around him. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden racks and the distant dripping of water.
Lost in his thoughts, magejosh imagined the lives of those who had come here before him. He pictured grand feasts in the manor above, with servants bustling down here to retrieve the finest wines for their lords and ladies. The cellar held the echoes of those long-past celebrations, the clinking of glasses and the laughter of guests faintly resonating in the air.
As he turned a corner, he found a small alcove with a table and a few chairs. It seemed to be a place where the servants working the wine cellar might take a break during their work, the worn wood of the table speaking of countless moments of respite. A half-empty bottle of wine sat on the table, a glass beside it, as if someone had just stepped away for a moment.
magejosh sat down for a moment, feeling the cool stone beneath him. He let his mind wander, imagining the conversations that might have taken place here. "Hard work, but probably some good times too," he mused, the thought bringing a small smile to his face. As he felt the smile on his face, sitting in this space, he felt a sense of a stirring of emotions swirl through him for a moment in a flash. Like laughter and fatigue, with willpower and a bit of sarcasm. And then just as quick it passed, noticeably. A slight chill ran down his spine.
He rose and continued his exploration, moving deeper into the cellar. The air grew colder still, the shadows longer and more foreboding. He found another section of the cellar, this one less orderly. The racks here were older, their wood splintering and the bottles covered in a thicker layer of dust. It felt as though he were stepping further back in time, each step taking him deeper into the manor's secrets.
Ahead, and through an archway into another section he spotted a small cat sized shadow moving away from him deeper through the floor, further than he'd been so far.
"Alright, Kitty, let's see where you lead me next," he whispered, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead and moved a little faster while trying not to alert the cat to his presence.
The second basement floor was as barren of feline presence as the first though, at least so far by the time he cleared that section ahead where he'd thought he saw a cat moving through the shadows. Not a single section held a hiding or sleeping orange cat. Not under any racks or inside any cabinets he could find at least. And so he moved on to search deeper still into the basement floors.
magejosh paused at the top of the next staircase thinking, 'Why isn't there a door here? Are Doors really this expensive in this world for custom fit wooden doors for stairwells? Like really, this might be a good trade I could take up that wouldn't have me wondering around people's basements chasing cats. Gotta be better money than this.' And he stood looking down the stairs, the air growing colder and more still. He could feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if the very walls were holding their breath. The scent of aged wood and wine from the floor behind him still lingered, but now it mingled with the musty aroma of dust and forgotten things wafting up from below.
With a deep breath, he began his descent, each step echoing softly in the silence. As he reached the bottom, his phone's light cut through the thick darkness, revealing a scene that stood in stark contrast to the neatness above. Dust hung heavy in the air, disturbed by his passage and illuminated in the beam of his phone. The floor was coated in a fine layer of grime, each footfall leaving a distinct impression. And in that tableau was a set of cat paw prints heading deeper in beyond his sight.
Old furniture, covered in white sheets like spectral guardians, stood vigil over forgotten heirlooms and relics of the past. The sheets, once crisp and white, had yellowed with age, their surfaces marred by dust and cobwebs. magejosh moved slowly, carefully lifting a corner of one sheet to reveal an intricately carved wooden chair. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the wood dark and rich, though now dulled by time.
"Must be decades since anyone's been down here," he thought, a sense of wonder mixed with unease.
He continued his exploration, weaving between the shrouded furniture and stacked crates. Cobwebs adorned the corners, their delicate strands glistening in the faint light. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards, as if the very house were warning him away.
magejosh's mind drifted to tales of haunted houses and ghostly apparitions. He remembered a story his grandmother used to tell him, about a house that whispered secrets to those brave enough to listen. "Maybe there's some truth to those old tales," he mused, his voice barely a whisper.
He stopped to examine an old trunk, its brass fittings tarnished and the leather straps brittle with age. Carefully, he unlatched it, the hinges protesting with a rusty groan. Inside, he found a collection of old linens, yellowed and frayed. Beneath them, wrapped in cloth, was a delicate porcelain doll. Its painted face was cracked, but the craftsmanship was undeniable. magejosh gently placed it back, closing the trunk with a soft thud. He took a step away, and just couldn't. Something came over him, his need to set things right, to clean up or fix something he could compelling him to open the trunk and call on his mana, activating the cantrip he'd learned to mend the broken porcelain face on the doll. "Much better." He smiled as he said that in a relieved tone and politely packed the doll back away.
As he moved further into the basement, he heard a faint sound, almost imperceptible at first. He paused, straining to listen. It was a soft, plaintive meow, echoing through the stillness. A smile tugged at his lips. "There you are, Kitty," he muttered, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as he picked up his pace.
Following the sound, magejosh navigated the labyrinth of forgotten furniture and dusty relics. The meowing grew slightly louder, guiding him through the maze. He imagined the cat, with its orange and white fur, finding solace among the hidden treasures of the past.
He passed a large mirror, its surface clouded with dust. For a moment, he caught his reflection, ghostly and indistinct. The sight made him pause, a shiver running down his spine. "Just my imagination," he reassured himself, turning away from the eerie image where he'd sworn at first had no features on his face or color to his skin at first glance in the mirror. Yet when he blinked and looked again it was only him in the dusty mirror.
As he approached the far end of the basement, the sense of foreboding grew stronger. The shadows seemed deeper here, the air colder. He reached a cluster of old, ornate furniture, their shapes barely discernible under the heavy sheets. The meowing was clearer now, coming from somewhere just beyond.
magejosh moved carefully, lifting the edge of a large sheet to reveal an antique writing desk. The wood was beautifully carved, though the years had taken their toll. He glanced around, searching for the source of the sound. The meowing was still distant, echoing through the maze of forgotten furniture and dusty relics. 'I was sure it was here just a moment ago, oh well.'
"Don't worry, Kitty, I'm coming," he murmured, navigating through the narrow pathways. Each step seemed to take him deeper into the heart of the basement, the air growing colder and the shadows longer. He felt a creeping sense of disorientation, as if the basement were shifting around him, pausing to take a breath and watch for movement but seeing none but the shadow from the dancing candleflames in the sconces around each room he passes through.
He paused again, trying to get his bearings. The meowing had stopped, and the silence pressed in around him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. '_Focus, Josh. Just keep moving forward_,' he thought, pushing through the unease.
As he moved further into the basement, he noticed the state of disrepair growing more pronounced. The sheets covering the furniture were more tattered, the cobwebs thicker. It felt as though he were stepping back in time, each step taking him further from the present.
--
In another step he found himself in a cleaner view of this room, with torches lighting the walls and the sound of some people talking around a corner.
--
Suddenly, the meowing resumed, louder and more insistent. magejosh's heart quickened as he followed the sound, winding through the maze of relics. He came upon a large, covered object and hesitated. The sound seemed to be coming from behind it. He carefully lifted the sheet, revealing an old armoire, its doors slightly ajar.
He peered inside, but the armoire was empty. The meowing echoed from somewhere further ahead. Frustration mingled with determination as he pressed on, determined to find the elusive cat.
The path twisted and turned, each corner revealing more forgotten treasures. magejosh felt the weight of history pressing in around him, the air thick with the presence of those who had come before. He paused again, listening intently. The meowing was close, but it echoed strangely, making it hard to pinpoint.
"Almost there," he muttered, weaving through a cluster of old chairs and tables. He could feel the cat's presence just ahead, a beacon in the labyrinth.
As he rounded another corner, he saw a flash of movement—a flick of a tail disappearing into the shadows. "Gotcha," he whispered, quickening his pace. But when he reached the spot, the cat was gone, the meowing echoing from further ahead once more.
magejosh sighed, rubbing his temples. "You win this round, Kitty," he said, a wry smile on his lips. The chase had taken him deep into the heart of the third floor, and he felt a strange mix of frustration and excitement.
He took a moment to gather his bearings, glancing around at the myriad of covered furniture and forgotten relics. Each piece told a story, a fragment of the manor's long history. And somewhere in the midst of it all, the cat waited, leading him deeper into the mystery.
With a deep breath, magejosh continued his search, the meowing guiding him like a beacon through the shadows. The third basement floor was a maze of secrets and forgotten memories, and as he moved through it, he felt a growing sense of connection to the past, and a burning curiosity for what lay ahead.
magejosh hesitated at the top of the next staircase, feeling the air grow colder and more still. The scent of aged wood and mustiness intensified as he descended, each step echoing softly in the silence. His phone's light cut through the thick darkness, revealing a scene of neglected opulence.
The fourth basement floor was a vast, cluttered expanse filled with relics of a bygone era. Dust hung thick in the air, disturbed by his passage and illuminated in the beam of his phone. Old furniture, shrouded in yellowed sheets, stood like ghostly sentinels, their forms barely discernible beneath the layers of dust and cobwebs.
He moved cautiously, his footsteps muffled by the thick layer of grime on the floor. A grand piano stood silently in one corner, its keys hidden beneath a heavy sheet. Nearby, a large wardrobe loomed, its doors slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of ornate carvings. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards.
magejosh lifted the sheet from a nearby table, uncovering a collection of dusty tomes and faded parchments. "So many stories lost to time," he thought, feeling a pang of melancholy for the forgotten histories. His fingers traced the intricate designs on the book covers, each one telling a tale of its own.
As he navigated the maze of relics, a faint, plaintive meow echoed through the stillness. He paused, straining to listen. "There you are, Kitty," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. The sound guided him forward, threading through the labyrinth of forgotten furniture.
He turned a corner and found a large, toppled bookshelf blocking his path. Its contents spilled across the floor, a cascade of ancient books and scrolls. Carefully, he climbed over the debris, mindful not to disturb the delicate artifacts. The meowing grew louder, more insistent, urging him onward.
The air grew colder still, the shadows deeper and more foreboding. He felt a creeping sense of disorientation, as if the basement were shifting around him. The eerie light from his phone barely penetrated the gloom, casting long, sinister shadows on the walls.
Suddenly, the meowing stopped. The silence pressed in, heavy and oppressive. magejosh stood still, holding his breath. Then, a soft shuffling sound reached his ears. He followed it, moving carefully through the cluttered space.
Rounding another corner, he saw it—a large bookshelf, toppled over, revealing a narrow crack in the stone wall behind it. The cat sat perched atop the fallen bookshelf, its orange and white fur catching the light.
"Well, Kitty, looks like you’ve led me to quite the adventure, now maybe you want to wait there" he whispered, feeling a mixture of excitement and unease. As he approached, the cat darted into the crack in the wall. magejosh hesitated for a moment cursing under his breath before squeezing through the narrow opening.
The passage beyond was dark and cramped, the air growing colder with each step. He could feel the ancient stone under his fingers, worn smooth by countless years. The eerie light from within seemed to beckon him forward to find another section at the other end where the wall looks to have been patched shut at some point in the past, but is now crumbled into another opened crack in the wall.
Slipping through the crack, magejosh found himself in a narrow passage that led to an ancient set of stone stairs spiraling downwards. These steps were much older than the manor above, their surface slick and worn smooth, covered in layers of caked on dust that had gathered in the time since someone last walked these stone steps. Well, except the little cat paw prints leading him deeper. The air grew colder still, carrying a sense of foreboding that settled in his bones.
He descended cautiously, each step echoing in the silence. The stairs seemed to go on forever, a seemingly endless spiral into the depths. He couldn’t help but think of old tales and legends of hidden dungeons and secret passages, stories that had filled his youth with wonder and curiosity.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached a point where there were windows in the walls revealing he was nearing the bottom. Before him lay a vast, underground city, shrouded in darkness and mystery, with strange glows radiating in odd patterns throughout it, reflecting off of the smooth stone ceiling. The architecture was alien and unsettling, with twisted structures rising from the ground, their forms both fascinating and horrifying. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and ancient secrets.
magejosh took a deep breath, feeling a chill run down his spine as he exited the stairwell onto the stone street. He looked around for the cat's trail, waving the flashlight from his phone about to find the direction it went off in, when he spotted it at a cross street to his left. The cat darted ahead, its form barely visible in the dim light. "Oh Come On! Kitty, you gotta cut this crap out, this place is CREEPY AF, All Caps." He followed without another word, the eerie silence broken only by the sound of his footsteps and the distant dripping of water.
As he navigated through the twisted streets of the undercity, he felt a growing sense of dread. He took pictures with his phone at each turn after the thought crossed his mind, 'I really hope I don't get too lost down here, that will not look good on my first job for the adventurer's guild or to Lia. How long have I been down here anyways?' He checked the time on his phone to see he'd only been about 25 minutes since he was on the street outside the manor. 'Weird, feels like a lot longer.'
The buildings loomed above him, their grotesque shapes casting long, sinister shadows. He could feel the weight of the ancient city pressing in around him, the air thick with the presence of long-forgotten entities. More than once, he was sure there was someone moving in his periphery, only to turn and see none about, save for a tubby cat keeping pace ahead of him.
The cat led him to a massive stone archway, partially ajar. Beyond it lay a vast dungeon visible from a landing just beyond the door, its dark corridors stretching into the unknown. Strange symbols and runes adorned the walls from the archway through the door, their meaning lost to time but hinting at an arcane purpose. He raised his voice at an alarmed rate as his mind raced to recall the cat's name, "Mr. Fuzzbutt, Do Not Go In THERE."
The cat stopped on the edge of the archway and turned it's head back to him, "meow." And with that it stepped into the archway and continued keeping space between itself and him.
magejosh took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. "Alright, let's see what secrets you hold," he murmured, stepping forward into the unknown.
The cat darted into the first room of the dungeon, and magejosh followed, his heart pounding with anticipation and fear. As he stepped into the room, the hairs on the back of his neck and along his arms all stood on end, tingling with icy anxiety and an electric sense of anticipation.
He looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The cat sat calmly in the center of the room, its eyes glowing in the dim light. magejosh approached cautiously, feeling a mixture of excitement and unease.
"Alright, Kitty, we've come this far," he said softly, reaching out to the cat. As he tried picking it up, the door behind him suddenly slammed shut with a resounding thud, sealing them in the darkness. The only light came from his phone, casting an eerie glow on the stone walls.
Mr. Fuzzbutt however was quite startled by the noise, and decided to run up magejosh's outstretched arms, fully extended claws for maximum traction and grip, and clung to his shoulder.
"OW SHIT, SHIT! That hurts buddy," he said, his tone dropping as he realized he was scaring the cat more. He softly pet the head, scratching him behind the ears to cool him down. Just as he gets him to calm down, the cat spooks again, leaping from his shoulder and scratching at the sealed door.
magejosh's heart pounded as he glanced around the room, his senses heightened by the unexpected turn of events. The air grew colder, and he could hear the faint sound of something moving in the shadows. His grip tightened on the phone in his hand, its light somewhat comforting against the darkness around him.
A low growl echoed through the chamber, and magejosh's eyes darted to the source. Emerging from the darkness were three small, twisted creatures with scaly skin glistening in the pale light, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent. Each held a crude weapon that looked to be made of bronze with bone and leather handles, and their gaze was fixed on magejosh and the cat.
Instinctively, magejosh reached for his 9mm pistol, his mind racing. "Protect the cat, stay calm," he thought, steadying his breath. He knew that his magical abilities, combined with his firearm, would give him a fighting chance. But the real challenge would be keeping the cat safe amid the chaos.
The first kobold lunged forward, its dagger aimed at magejosh's legs. He squeezed his finger on instinct and fired a shot aimed between the glowing red eyes, the gun's report deafening in the enclosed space. The bullet struck true, sending the kobold sprawling to the ground. But there was no time to celebrate; the other two were already closing in, one on him and the other on the cat.
magejosh quickly cast Mage Armor on the cat, feeling the magical barrier envelop Mr. Fuzzbutt just as a kobold swung its club at his head. The blow glanced off the invisible shield, and magejosh retaliated with a Slinging Spark cantrip he'd learned during his training dream, the arcane energy rippling out of his finger like liquid fire glowing green and searing through the air and striking the creature squarely in the chest. He slipped the other kobold's swing and slid to the door, scooping up the cat into his phone holding hand and curling him into his chest protectively.
The cat hissed and squirmed into his arms, clearly agitated by the commotion. magejosh moved to a corner of the room, trying to keep the cat protected while maintaining his line of sight on the remaining kobold. The creature bared its teeth, hesitating as it evaluated its chances against the armed sorcerer.
Before he could react, the final kobold raised a small, cracked whistle to its lips and blew. The high-pitched sound reverberated through the dungeon, and magejosh's stomach dropped. From deeper within the shadows, he could hear the unmistakable sound of reinforcements approaching.
"Great, just what I needed," magejosh muttered, glancing around for any means of escape. But the only way out was the door that had trapped them inside, and it showed no signs of budging.
The sound of more footsteps grew louder, echoing ominously through the stone corridors. magejosh tightened his grip on the cat and prepared himself for the next wave. The cat's eyes were wide, its fur bristling with fear. He knew he had to protect it at all costs.
The chamber's temperature seemed to drop further, and the air felt heavy with an impending threat. The shadows at the far end of the room shifted, and more kobolds emerged in the distance coming out of the different corridors leading deeper into the maze-like dungeon, their numbers growing with each passing second. magejosh could see at least half a dozen now, their eyes glinting with hunger and malice.
He fired another shot from the top of the stairs leading down to the various corridors, the muzzle flash briefly illuminating the room. One more kobold fell, but there were too many. He began to cast another spell, his mind racing through his repertoire. 'Thunderwave might buy me some time,' he thought, the incantation forming on his lips.
But before he could release the spell, the kobolds charged as one, a tide of claws and teeth bearing down on him. magejosh braced himself, the cat's frightened yowl echoing in his ears. The room seemed to close in around them, the walls pressing in with the weight of history and dread and he opened his heart to the feelings, letting them fill his veins with panic and terror. Most would become paralyzed, but he'd been dead before, and many worse things. As the emotions surged through him his blood and brain turned to ice. Completely clear and cool, he focused the ice into diamond as the adrenaline releasing into his system began to slow his perception of time.
And then, just as the first kobold reached him, the room plunged into chaos. magejosh unleashed his spell as he improv'd something onto the spell by mentally visualizing a line of red and blue energy streaming from his heart and plugging into the point at the tip of his finger where the spell was focusing for release, the arcane energy erupting from his hands in a thunderous wave carrying all the fear, panic, and terror he could channel into it to cling to all who felt its force. The force sent the kobolds rushing the stairs for him and Mr. Fuzzbutt flying, their bodies slamming into the walls with sickening thuds. But the spell also sent debris flying, the room filled with dust and the sound of collapsing stone.
In the confusion, magejosh lost his footing, falling to the ground with the cat still clutched tightly in his arms. He struggled to rise, his vision swimming, the sound of more kobolds approaching filling his ears.
The door behind him remained resolutely closed, the dungeon's dark corridors stretching out before him, filled with unknown dangers. magejosh knew this fight was far from over, and the cat's safety was still in jeopardy. He looked around getting his bearings and noticed some of the kobolds he'd thought were dead were starting to wake up instead. He moved away from them, deeper into the lower room.
As he gathered his strength, the kobolds that survived his spell regrouped, their snarls echoing through the chamber. magejosh took a deep breath, his mind racing for a strategy to survive the onslaught. The dungeon's secrets were closing in around him, and the fight for his life had only just begun.
