The Ending

The adventurers deny Veladoon’s request and make their way to the back of the Heroes’ Guild. There, they see the Elder sitting atop of her perch. They step forward and place the Shards of Veladoon into the Elder’s waiting paws. As they do so, they feel a sense of promised salvation. Her spectral paws surround the shards, pulling them tighter. The shards absorb into her, and the fragile spirit swells with a radiant, terrible power.​

​A laugh, half-purr, half-growl, shakes the ground beneath their feet. "Fools! Did you truly think I would destroy such a prize?"

​Her spirit takes form into the flesh of a cat, somehow terrifying and adorable all at once. She prowls forward, tail swishing with unnatural confidence, her fur sparking with arcane might. 

​Nearby tables and tankards transform into scratching posts and dangling toys. A proud warrior of the Hero’s Guild squeals in terror as he is transformed into a mouse, only to be snatched by the Elder's paw and swallowed whole in one horrific bite.

​She knocks a lone cup off a counter. Ale splashes out, but quickly turns into catnip as it sprinkles into a pile of on the floor. She purrs contentedly, rubbing her nose in the shreds of green. She looks up to the adventurers who brought her this power and says, “The age of man will end. The age of cats begins… and you will all bow.”

The heroes sought to save Sonoma Con City, but unintentionally created a new villain, one more dangerous than the one they defeated. They take an opportunity to escape as the Elder focuses her attention on warping the city as her new playground.

The Elder, now having grown in size to that of a tiger, trots through the city streets with a sense of tyrannical glee. The cobblestone streets writhe and shift, smoothing into great winding paths of soft carpet and woven mats. The grand avenues rise and dip like climbing towers and scratching posts. Once-proud statues of heroes now sway lazily from enchanted threads, dangling like toys on invisible strings.

One by one, stray cats hop from their perches and step out of alleyways to walk by the Elder’s side. She is growing an army.

Market stalls collapse and reform into curious play structures - spirals of twine and silk, towering stacks of boxes that scrape the clouds, every corner a perfect hiding place for a soldier in her new legion of feline followers.

She stretches languidly atop the clock tower - now a colossal scratching post wound in golden rope - and gazes down at her new realm. Her purr vibrates through every wall and window. She says aloud to the strays by her side, “They will resist us. And I know more of these adventurers will come to their aid. Let them try. After all… curiosity has always killed the hero.”

The land they sought to save has fallen to fur and fang. Sonoma Con City lies under an iron paw, its fate uncertain. Perhaps the people will fight back. Perhaps new heroes will lead the charge. But until that day, the cats will rule.