"That mouse was not even alive! Those wizards were playing with their black magic and made an undead mouse!"
Coral hopped down to his level and swiped her tail toward him as she crossed his path. "Not every man with a long beard is a wizard and that mouse just ran through some smashed berries or something! I think this tavern life has made you soft! I caught three crabs today and what have you caught? A cobweb?"
Wynder licked his paw and rubbed it over his ear. "No, the master got me a fresh crab. No need to hunt during the day—I spend my nights hunting."
"Hmm, yes, for all those roblins you see?"
"GOB-lins, what is a roblin? That just sounds fake."
Coral turned and sat, staring at him. "I just don't get why hunting goblins is so important to you. These bubble breaths that frequent this place are the smelliest of humans anyway, no matter the fact you have a good master. We are our own masters in the harbor! There are endless fish and you can lay out beneath the stars and moon! Why would you want to be in here?"
She didn't understand. I didn't blame her.
"To protect them. To do something beyond just being a cat. The Protectors aren't here and there have been more and more goblins! I’ve even thought of going to the church to pray and get the Protectors to come to our town!"
Coral bit at her leg, likely a flea, or maybe she had been hit by a goblin spell and didn't know it. They did have some nasty magic, after all.
She gnawed at herself a few more times and then scratched her head. "Well, Wynder," she whipped her tail and stood up, stretching before walking back past me, "I was going to ask you to come down to The Round Pipe, there are storm clouds coming and when it rains, the pipe fills with water and even a few random rats get trapped in the flow."
"But I need—"
"I know, I know, goblins."
Ragfeet appeared in the window above.
I hate Ragfeet.
“Wynder, you dumb orange ball, in here licking the casks?” Ragfeet meowed. “Or are you biting your own tail? Either way, Coral here knows a true tomcat. She’s with me now. Didn’t she tell you?”
Wynder hissed. “Get out! You’re not welcome here with us.”
Coral leapt to the upper rafter and then again to the window. "You're going to have to stop chasing dream things eventually! Just be a cat, be a harbor cat with me... It's better than being stuck in this tavern. Um, and Ragfeet is telling the truth. We can still be friends but beyond that, I need someone that isn’t living in their head." She hopped out of the window and was gone.
Wynder quivered. His body tensed and he dug his claws into the wood.
“I’ll show you both. Ragfeet can’t just talk to me like that. I’m not just an orange ball!”
He heard The Master down below. The Tavern would soon start filling up as the local miners finished their day’s work and the fishers came in from the Eastern Seas.
He made his way down into the tavern and nuzzled The Master who was tending to a new keg of ale. "Oh, Wynder, where have you been? Chasing those rats that were getting into the grain? They made quite the mess last night."
If only it were so simple. That wasn't rats, that was goblins.
Meow.
Wynder rubbed up against The Master.
"We have a clan coming from Mandurlaku, quite the scary ones. If they spend much time here, I suggest you hide. I haven't heard the greatest things about them."
"Those Ascenders want to get money for that new emperor." A bar patron gulped as he finished his mug. "I won't have it."
The Master chuckled. "Well you may have been a warrior at one time, but you aren't as young as you were."
"No matter, I hear they are spreading something strange, The Blood, making our shrines to the Shadow Gods run bloody red like when you split open a neck of a-"
The Master's people were always quite boisterous, and they really got going if there was some good music playing and a few new barrels of dwarven ale. Though Wynder wasn't sure what the difference was of this elvish wine or this dwarven ale…it all tasted bad to him. Though, there was a farmer that would come in from outside of town that occasionally brought him fresh milk. It had been a while since that had happened.
Now, with nightfall upon them, Wynder prepared to keep his careful watch.
Wynder began his typical rounds. His master was busy serving the many patrons around the tavern and more were stacking into the seating area than he had seen in some time. There were quite a few more arguments than Wynder was used to and though he attempted to nuzzle his head on many of the unhappy patrons, he soon realized that there was nothing he could do to quell their anger.
"I'll be dead before I swear any fealty to Blood Gods!" one said.
Several dwarves abruptly stood and pointed at the man who had just spoken, "You won't see much of us here if they come."
Wynder's master came from behind the bar and put his finger to his lips, beckoning the others to be quiet. "You can't talk like this! They'll come here and shut me down!"
"And better they do, Master of the Ales," a burly dwarf said. "Better that than what I've heard they can do. I think I will head back home for a time. The mine here isn't worth the risk."
"Now, now," my master began, "don't go making rash decisions. You dwarves, who cleared out the trolls, made many of the very patrons here quite happy when you did so. Many of them wouldn't venture down into the mines with those angry monsters. They were bad for business all across this town!”
Monstrous? Monsters? Wynder thought. Are they talking about goblins?
"I know. But there will be more to come. Perhaps a few sellswords who can offer their protection, but me and my kin have already risked much here, and I won't stand to see us 'converted,' as I understand those Ascenders call it."
The dwarves left. Much to the dismay of The Master. As he went back behind the bar, Wynder jumped up to check on him. He would always smile when Wynder gave him attention, but he seemed quite a bit sadder than usual to the tavern cat.
Wynder meowed, rubbing his head against his master's hand. "I know you can't really speak my language, but I will take care of those monsters. I've been trying but I will keep at it."
A few more patrons entered from behind him and The Master put him down on the floor. Wynder hurried to get to a better spot, jumping up on to the casks and pulling himself into the rafters. From here, he could patrol above those in the tavern, keeping watch, and hopefully finally catch a few of the goblins. Tonight, after the dwarves left, upsetting The Master, he knew he had to. He would do it this time. He would make a difference.
As the night dragged on and a cool wind began to blow through the rafters, the tavern became quiet. The Master kept a fire going in the corner of the tavern and several hooded figures came in, refused drinks, and huddled by the flickering hearth.
Wynder jumped down to the bar again to find many of the familiar faces of this hour missing.
The Master polished a mug as Wynder jumped down to the wooden floor, running over to the newcomers. One of them was a wood elf, evident from his pointed ears and the longbow he had sitting on his lap.
"They will be coming from the mountains, with three hundred more expected by midnight."
300?
The man talking reached down, scratching Wynder's head.
"I've told the city guard to stay in," the other man said. "They're not built for this kind of magic usage and they'll get in the way of the guild’s advance. The vampires are fast, faster than what we're used to out in the wilds."
"We have seen the same. Their command of magic is quite unexpected."
Vampires? Goblin vampires?!
Wynder jumped into the elf's lap. The elf stroked him from head to tail, making a point to scratch just behind his ear.
Right there, good!
"We must all be ready." The elf continued, "Once we start this, we have to keep it up. Any survivors can open a rift and draw more in. We can't have that."
More goblins?
; "Eliadel fell a fortnight ago, there are whispers of an old soul who has returned, a force against the Great Seer."
"Keep not faith in whispers," the elf warned.
The door of the tavern opened and Wynder smelleda stench, a putrid smell. Not of fish or of goblin or even of some stinky dwarf that hadn’t bathed in many moons, worse.
A dog. A dog and another stranger. But this stranger wasn’t like the ones before. There was a strange smell that Wynder didn’t like.
Wynder hissed as the elf holding him reached at his side, grasping the hilt of his sword.
“Long since we’ve seen a pale elf here,” the elf said to the new stranger in the tavern. The other figures standing around shuffled their hands. It seemed that none of them expected this other person to appear and there was an uncomfortable presence in the air.
Wynder looked for the dog but instead of some random bone-gnawing dimwit, he saw what looked like a wolf with seemingly glowing red fur.
“Not all whispers require faith,” this new stranger said. “We are set up across the city.”
Wynder locked eyes with the dog but it seemed uninterested in him. Wynder tried to get the elf’s attention, batting at his hand. But they were all too concentrated with one another to play with a mere tavern cat.
“Then it seems there isn’t much more to do,” the elf said, patting Wynder on the head.
The stranger with the dog summarily departed, though Wynder didn’t understand how or why his business could be complete with so little said between the two. He meowed but no one responded.
The elf set him back on the floor and the small party of strangers embraced one another. The elf flipped a coin to The Master and headed out the door, a cold wind blowing in as the door slammed shut.
They said to be ready. I am ready for whatever happens.
Wynder meowed as The Master swept the floor.
"Be sure to stay in tonight," The Master said. "You don't want to be out there."
Wynder jumped up to one of the tables, moving to attract his master's hand but he just continued sweeping.
Wynder could sense the distance, the sadness and perhaps even hopelessness in his master. He was worried about those goblins and that would not do.
The Master continued cleaning and Wynder watched from the bar. There were two or three patrons who’d passed out. But only two or three. Tonight would be a light night. Three nights ago, there were over a dozen.
As was typical, The Master covered each of them with cow skin and capped all the candles save a single one he left on the bar top, to bring fortune and good luck for the day ahead. Wynder curled up beside the flickering flame as The Master went on to his own room to lay down for the night. As soon as the door shut across the tavern, Wynder popped up, looking around.
The men on the floor were snoring loudly. It was that which would mask the sounds of the goblins’ approach. Wynder sniffed at the air. The wind outside had died down. He could normally smell the fish and crab brought in at sunset by the fishers, or a few random pieces awaiting finding by Coral and other cats, but he didn't smell that at all.
It was different. This night would be one unlike any before and while Wynder was ready, his greatest test was ahead.
He jumped up toward the rafters, making a careful approach to a place where one of the support beams for the tavern went up through the roof. It was here he would keep watch. The goblins liked to come from the window back behind him but there were breaks in the sides of the roof where they could sneak in if they wanted. Goblins were excellent climbers and their dark color made them difficult to see.
Wynder knew they'd move down to the floor. It was there they could snatch the gold from the patrons or even a piece of jewelry or two if they had it.
Wynder had tried to explain to them what happened the next morning, but they always assumed a random thief had robbed them or that they had spent too much on ale.
They would never believe the truth.
Wynder was vigilant, watching, waiting as he always did but with a particular zeal tonight. That elf and man had been talking about more goblins coming and he was ready.
But no one had come yet. Not one single goblin.
The hours went on and Wynder waited, tail batting at the thought of the chase and the bite.
I hate the taste, so disgusting. Unlike a mouse or a fish, goblins are horrid eating. Their flesh is putrid, like a strange mushroom with maggoty bread. Not to mention that you bite them you're tearing the meat from the good parts and trying to avoid their daggers and spears. If only they didn't wear the thick armor on their upper chest and neck. Without that, the kill would be much easier.
There was movement below.
Somehow, something had gotten in while Wynder had been obsessing over the kill rather than sticking to his post and keeping watch.
He jumped down atop the casks and to the bar top, watching over the passed-out patrons.
Something jumped behind him and the candle was knocked over, rolling into a wet spot on the floor as that something ran through the wine bottles, scurrying into a sodden corner.
Wynder hissed, growling into the darkness.
Goblins never did this.
Wynder hugged the ground, his claws out and digging into the wood floor. His tail was set behind him, the perfect set up for an explosive pounce.
"Cat! Stop!" a voice begged from the darkness.
It was a shrill, raspy voice.
"You have invaded The Master's tavern. I will not stop, goblin!"
"If you will not stop then perhaps you will pause a moment to listen to me!"
Wynder kept his stance, staring down this tiny goblin who was quivering at the sight of him.
But goblins were rarely alone, yet this one was. They also didn't run and hide in the small places beneath the bar, yet this one had. The behavior said “not goblin” but everything else, his smell, his clothes, the dagger at his side said “definitely goblin. No doubt. Stand your ground. This is your moment.” And this goblin was up to something. Wynder was sure of it.
"Speak, goblin!"
"There are dark things moving outside. There is something evil."
"You're evil! You're vile! I ought to rip you apart!"
Wynder snapped at him and the goblin drew a small curved dagger.
"Stop, cat! You don't understand! I am but one but there are many others. We're leaving the town! There are vampires from far away, they bring a new magic. They have made blood bubble up from the streets!"
Wynder hissed again, "You lie! You are just making up stories!"
"I have no reason to make up stories! Let me live, please! I just want to get to the waterway. We are leaving but I can tell you something. My kin are taking your kind, they have already raided the upper barrows outside of town!”
"The kittens!"
"They are headed to sea and are taking snacks for their trip. I'm not part of that group but you can keep cornering a lone goblin or warn your friends by the harbor! You pick, cat!"
He couldn't trust this goblin, he just couldn't. There was no reason the goblins would act so rashly in his mind.
Leave the town? That just doesn’t make sense. Why would the goblins leave?
Wynder heard something outside. There was a series of shouts and flashes of fire in the darkness.
Wynder looked down at the goblin and then thought of Coral.
He backed away from the goblin. "Go, flee. If I see you again in this tavern, you're dead."
The goblin sheathed his dagger. "You have a friend in goblin-kind, I will remember this as you will remember me. Goblins are not loyal to one another unless mercy has been shown. You have shown mercy and as such, I can call you friend."
Wynder jumped up to the bar top and then to the casks before making the final leap to the rafters. He moved across and to the window, looking out at the street below. Hooded figures moved through the streets and at this hour there were more than he'd expect.
He leaped down to the awning of t
he building and then again to the ground, moving with haste across the street. As the winds of an approaching storm blew dust from the road, he sprinted to the harbor district.
There was a strange smell in the air. Smoke rose in the city around him as more shouts and screams echoed through the city.
He kept his focus, running toward the Great Pipe near the harbor, the exact spot where Coral said she'd be.
It was beginning to rain, so she'd definitely be there still.
Thankfully, the harbor and the Great Pipe weren’t far away from the Tavern. There were large rocks laid across the shoreline, shelter for the town in the case of one of the howling storms that came off the ocean. It was here the many pipes from the city emptied out and formed a paradise for Wynder's kind.
He jumped down to one of the pools but realized there was no one there, Wynder sniffed the air, looking around in the darkness and not seeing goblins or even another cat.
He jumped across the pool and up the rocks on the other side, feeling something gooey on his paw. Stopping, he sniffed it.
Blood!
He darted up to the road and began calling for other cats. Meowing louder and louder.
They can’t be all gone.
He heard another cat. It was very soft though, weak.
He listened for where it was coming from.
It’s not too far.
Wynder shot toward the cries, running as quick as his paws would move him. He saw another cat ahead but this one didn't smell familiar.
He approached carefully. The cat was on its side and lying in a way cats just didn't normally lie.
Wynder crept, careful to not get too close too fast. This cat was one of the largest he had ever seen.
"Go on, young one. Get out of here. Hide."
The cat moaned.
Wynder hurried to this cat's side. His head had a massive gash and he was missing an eye.
"Stop staring at me! That's old. Lost it to a spider but the leg, that's new."
This cat had multiple large gashes across his hind legs and though his fur was black and white, what white he did have on his body was stained red.
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