City of Cats
Well inside the southern corner of the Westwood stands a large clearing full of Foerdewaith-style homes in a cozy little cluster. It is enough of a settlement to house perhaps a dozen or so families. The local elves find the place eerie and speak of it only in hushed tones. They don’t like to visit there, and they seem to be afraid of what will happen if they discuss it openly.
Upon entry, the tiny village appears clean and cheerful, but utterly deserted save for a few housecats. The deeper one steps between the dwellings and the longer one stays, the more cats that arrive. Some of the cats beg for food or attention, while others are more standoffish, but all of the cats follow anyone who enters the village, and more of them arrive all the time.
Inside the houses, everything is tidy and in good repair. All goods and items are simple and humble, inexpensive but reasonably well-made. There is no food or drink anywhere. There are no humanoids of any kind. Everything smells newish and looks comfy. There is no sign of any disturbance. There is no sign of any life, even vermin … nothing except for the cats. The cats continue to follow visitors everywhere they go, and always there are more of them, every time one looks. Eventually, hundreds of cats are crowded around the visitors, just watching visitors, following them, and otherwise acting mostly like ordinary cats.
When visitors leave the village, the crowd of cats following them decreases at the same rate it grew, until only one or two are left, and then none.
As yet, no one has penetrated any more deeply than that into the secrets of the mysterious City of Cats. If the elves know more about its origins or enchantments, or the strange behavior of its feline denizens, they have not yet shared this information with outsiders. No tales have yet been told of anyone staying the night in the village, or sleeping in its beds, or really anything else at all about it, and definitely not of what might happen to someone who harms or kills one of the cats.
If the cats could shed light on the situation, they have thus far remained silent, save for the occasional meow.
Upon entry, the tiny village appears clean and cheerful, but utterly deserted save for a few housecats. The deeper one steps between the dwellings and the longer one stays, the more cats that arrive. Some of the cats beg for food or attention, while others are more standoffish, but all of the cats follow anyone who enters the village, and more of them arrive all the time.
Inside the houses, everything is tidy and in good repair. All goods and items are simple and humble, inexpensive but reasonably well-made. There is no food or drink anywhere. There are no humanoids of any kind. Everything smells newish and looks comfy. There is no sign of any disturbance. There is no sign of any life, even vermin … nothing except for the cats. The cats continue to follow visitors everywhere they go, and always there are more of them, every time one looks. Eventually, hundreds of cats are crowded around the visitors, just watching visitors, following them, and otherwise acting mostly like ordinary cats.
When visitors leave the village, the crowd of cats following them decreases at the same rate it grew, until only one or two are left, and then none.
As yet, no one has penetrated any more deeply than that into the secrets of the mysterious City of Cats. If the elves know more about its origins or enchantments, or the strange behavior of its feline denizens, they have not yet shared this information with outsiders. No tales have yet been told of anyone staying the night in the village, or sleeping in its beds, or really anything else at all about it, and definitely not of what might happen to someone who harms or kills one of the cats.
If the cats could shed light on the situation, they have thus far remained silent, save for the occasional meow.
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