Nekomasune, how I became a neko hero!

Inside of a human city, your business may be your own. Yet here you were, a smattering of the different species. A bearded dwarf fancy braided beard.. female you think? Driving a wagon, a crack of a whip to make the tall folk move faster out of the way. Driving a cart of metals and furs as the market closed for the evening. The sun began to set behind a proud castle, banners of the human kingdom waved proudly in the breeze.

Tall street lamps began to glow, magical flames began to burn. Here Magic and technology married at for common convenience.. It was a normal day, far from peaceful with the crowds blend of voices, shouts, animal sounds from some stable out of sight.

CRACK! And then the work shook, the earth jumped beneath you. Threatening to rip your feet out from beneath you. The orange and pink sunset started to turn blood read. A roar, followed by more echoed, following more rising cries from beneath your feet. As the earth shook again! This frightful sound was somehow like metal screeching, but also a monstrous throat. Screams of panic began, guard whistles, alarm bells ringing.

Large stone claws broke the earth, a draconic hornless head pushed through as cracks formed. Climbing from earth, tearing it apart. As the muscular form rose. A strange creature unseen like anything before. Unknown markings like Dwarven glyphs, but much more alien etched onto its body, and the one next to it. Another loud roar tore at your hearing, leaving a painful ringing as it finished. More crawled behind them. The nearest guards prepared weapons to fight these opponents, shouting. "To the Fort! To me men!" A plated man shouted, his poleaxe head glowed with blue sparks of magic as he chanted. Rushing with guards, blades bounced, chipped, the axehead broke through and stuck in the shoulder. Before the lizard whipped around and bent him with a sickening crack as it whirled it's tail around. Cursing in some deep growling language.

Men and Women around you broke, the rare spell washed and cracked their bodies. As you planned and made your first moves your eyes were drawn skyward. A dark shape high the sky high above, glowing lights and flames burst from the vessels wings. Somehow silent, golden cat paws glow in the sinking sunlight.. but what pulled was the whirling blue streak, like a burning meteor. Yet it moved not like any star, as it curved in your direction.

It crashed at your exit, Surian's before you, the blue burning object between you and escape. It hit the ground with a heavy hard THUD! A strange long blade, carving a line in the stone with ease. A Cats eye opened and glows golden. Meeting your gaze, as you felt a presence in your mind.

"You! Yes you! I am the Nekomasune, Forged on Mau'at by Bast. The greatest, most beautiful goddess you will ever lay eyes on. Forged by the softest, yet strongest of paws in the fires of a sun and forged of the sky metals!" It speaks, a males soothing voice in your mind, as you feel it connect to you. Interrupted by the roar and stomp of an approaching stone Saurian. "Wait, you're in danger right now! Focus!" It's voice demands in your mind. "Pick me up, I can grant you the power to save this world. as the Champion of Bast and warrior of justice!"

You had heard whispers of a temple lost to time, a relic of a culture so ancient it blurred into myth. A dungeon carved into the mountainside, built by hands that no longer had names, housing a treasure forged by gods. Yet the tale persisted—old, untouched, waiting. How could such a legend remain unclaimed? Was it a danger? Traps? Someone must have found it to tell tales, yet NONE claimed the treasure, other than false prophets, and heroes.

The ground betrayed you. One moment, you were trekking through overgrown roots and moss-slicked stone; the next, the earth split with CRACK, swallowing you whole. You tumbled through darkness, dirt and rock pelting your body, until you slammed into the floor with a breath-stealing thud! Dust choked the air, swirling in golden shafts of sunlight piercing the hole far above. Bruised but intact, you pushed yourself up, coughing.

The chamber was a graveyard of a forgotten battle. Shattered reptilian statues lay half-buried in soil, their gemstone eyes staring blindly. Around them, the bones of towering, feminine figures sprawled in death’s embrace. Tall, lean, and unmistakably feline. Their armor had crumbled to rust and dust, the forest’s damp breath erasing their glory. Vines coiled around skeletal fingers, reclaiming what was once sacred.

As you crept forward, the walls told a story. Carvings in faded gold depicted voluptuous cat-women warrior? priestess? and others. They kneel before a colossal feline deity. Their tails curled in reverence, their claws raised in worship. The art was crude yet deliberate, their breasts and hips exaggerated, their postures bordering on the erotic.. some fertility goddess? The floor and walls bore the scars of battle: deep gouges, scorch marks, and the shattered remnants of weapons. A fight had happened here. The temple’s defenders had fallen, but so had their enemies.

One way a stone door lay shattered, no exit seemed possible there. At the far end, a great round metal door, surprisingly intact. Unlike the crumbling stone, this was Dwarven. (or something like it.) Its surface was dented as if struck by titanic fists, scorched by magic or magitech, yet it held firm. The moment your fingers brushed the golden surface, a cat’s profile etched into the metal flickered to life, its eyes glowing faintly. Gears groaned, ancient mechanisms shifting with a hesitant click-click- CLANG! The door rolled halfway, then seized, leaving just enough space to slip through.

Beyond lay a great throne room, vast and empty. The seat itself was a giant golden throne. Not mortal, far too large, too imposing. Dust and shadows clung to every surface, save for one thing: at the foot of the throne, a skeleton remained. Seven feet tall, feline in structure, bones still unnaturally whole. Its clothing had long decayed, but its gauntleted hand still gripped a blade.

Perfect. Untouched. Waiting.

The sword’s hilt was a jagged cross-guard, a single dark gemstone set where hilt met blade. The blade itself shone with a strange, cool blue light, untouched by rust or age. Even in the dim light, its edge looked sharp enough to cut anything.