Master's words, the promise of leaving this noisy, shifting settlement sending a thrill of dark excitement racing through me. “Yes, Master,” I purr as we rise from the table. The local spirit is left half finished, the political chatter outside means nothing to us.
The marketplace is still buzzing with the working class man’s declarations of republic and anti corruption but I pay it no mind, blue eyes fixed only on Master while my steel spear stays ready in my other hand. The guards at the gate let us pass without challenge, recognising us once more, and soon the tropical forest swallows us whole, the sounds of Forest Point fading behind.
We travel north for nearly an hour, the humid heat pressing down as my tail swishes through the undergrowth, ears constantly twitching at every rustle.
Then the tower rises ahead through the trees, tall, sturdy, and seemingly unoccupied. Vanguard banners hang limp from the upper levels, faded but unmistakable. We approach cautiously, my claws flexing on my spear as I scan the surroundings. It feels abandoned, as if the previous occupants simply vanished one day, leaving everything behind.
We climb the outside stairs to the first raised floor and I push ahead slightly, shield raised, only to find the space eerily intact. Chairs and tables are still arranged as if for a meeting, supplies stacked neatly in crates, dried rations, tools, spare weapons, even a few sealed barrels of what smells like ale. Vanguard banners drape the walls, their symbols staring down in silent witness. The tower has three floors connected by ladders and trap doors, one below, this main level, and one above. I prowl the room with restless energy, tail lashing as I check corners and peer through arrow slits.
We descend the ladder to the basement level first. The space is dim and musty, filled with nothing more exciting than stacked barrels and wooden crates of old supplies, dried goods, spare bolts for crossbows, a few mouldering blankets. Arrow slits line the walls but offer only glimpses of the dense forest outside. No threats, no treasures, just the ghost of the Vanguard’s abandoned logistics. I prowl the perimeter quickly. “Nothing here but dust and forgotten things, Master. Let us move upward where the real spaces wait.”
We climb back up and then continue to the first floor, the living quarters with its simple beds, tables, and scattered personal effects. I go first up the ladder, spear strapped securely, heater shield ready, my tail balancing me as I push the trap door open with a firm shove.
The moment the wood swings upward, the stench of unwashed bodies and salt crusted leather hits me, and my blue eyes widen in feral surprise. More people than I can easily count fill the room, hostile figures in the colours and finery of the Valenti Guild, that powerful merchant league from the Saltspire League. They are clearly pirates beneath the merchant guise, well dressed in embroidered tunics with silk sashes and gold threaded cloaks, rapier blades and ornate daggers at their hips, a few carrying finely crafted crossbows and weighted coin purses that jingle with every aggressive movement. Their faces are hardened by sea and trade wars, eyes sharp with the cunning of guild enforcers who blend commerce with cut throat piracy.
Combat erupts instantly. I do not drop back down. Instead I surge upward through the trap door with a savage yowl, pressing aggressively into the room, steel spear thrusting forward in a deadly arc. The first strike catches a silk sashed pirate in the side, driving deep enough to draw a pained shout and send him staggering into a table, blood staining his fine merchant vestments. My second attack follows in a fluid spin, the spear tip slicing across another’s arm and opening a long gash that ruins his embroidered sleeve and forces him to drop his rapier with a curse. My tail lashes wildly for balance, ears pinned flat against my skull as I roar in possessive fury, body a blur of steel plate and claw between Master and the sudden swarm.
The Valenti Guild pirates react with startled hostility, rapier blades flashing and crossbows clicking, but their counterattacks are clumsy in the confined space. A few bolts whistle past, one grazing my shoulder plate harmlessly while another thuds into the wood near Master. Their blades clash against my heater shield as I bash one aside and rake claws across another’s face, leaving bloody furrows that make him scream. Master fights beside me with that calm precision I adore, his own strikes landing solidly and keeping the pressure on.
The room descends into chaos, tables overturned, beds kicked aside, the pirates’ fine guild attire tearing and staining with blood as my spear and shield work in relentless tandem. I yowl again, the sound echoing off the tower walls, my bonded soul screaming mine, mine, mine through the link as I guard Master with every fibre of my being.
More of them fall under our coordinated assault, their numbers thinning as my aggressive presses force them back toward the far wall and the ladder to the upper floor.
The remaining Valenti Guild pirates rally for their counterattack. The first pirate lunges with surprising speed, his rapier point driving toward Master’s side. I intercept with a savage shield bash that rings loudly through the room, the impact jarring up my arm but turning the strike harmlessly aside. My ears twitch at the satisfying crunch as the rim catches his wrist, forcing a pained grunt from him.
Another pirate carrying a loaded crossbow, fires from the hip, the bolt whistles past my ear and thuds into the wall behind us, a minor graze across my shoulder plate the only cost. Two more rush in with daggers and short blades, their attacks clumsy in the crowded living quarters.. One blade scrapes across my thigh armour with a metallic screech, another misses entirely as I twist with feline grace.
I do not give them breathing room. Even as I defend, my spear darts forward in aggressive retaliation, the point sinking deep into one pirate’s thigh and dropping him to one knee with a scream, blood soaking his embroidered merchant trousers.
I stand panting but unyielding “They dare raise blades against you… I will end every last one of them if that is what you wish, Master.” My body trembles with leftover adrenaline and the overwhelming need to control the situation. The surviving pirates are regrouping. They are not finished but their counter has been blunted and the momentum is ours once more.
I do not wait for them to recover. With a savage yowl that echoes through the tower’s living quarters, I surge forward once more, tail lashing violently behind me as I press the attack with Master at my back. My first spear thrust is too eager, the point glancing off a pirate’s buckler and embedding harmlessly in a wooden table instead, a frustrating miss that only fuels my unstable fury. I rip the spear free with a snarl, blonde hair whipping as I spin into the second strike. This one lands true, the steel tip driving deep into a guild enforcer’s shoulder with a wet crunch, the force of it sending him crashing backward over an overturned bed in a spray of blood that ruins his embroidered tunic. He screams, clutching the wound as his rapier clatters to the floor.
Master moves, his steel redstone noble sword flashing in a solid arc that catches another pirate across the arm, opening a shallow but painful gash that makes the man stagger and curse. The remaining Valenti Guild fighters are faltering now, their numbers thinned and their confidence cracking under our relentless pressure.
Turn after turn the fight wears them down. I land another solid strike. Their responses weaken, bolts fly wide, blades scrape harmlessly off my armour or are batted aside by my shield. One desperate lunge nearly reaches Master but I intercept with a shield bash that sends the attacker sprawling. The last few try to flee toward the ladder to the upper floor but I pursue with unrelenting fury, spear thrusting one final time to drop the rearmost man in a heap. Master’s sword delivers the finishing blows where needed, his calm efficiency perfectly complementing my chaotic aggression.
