Mr. Boots

Mr. Boots wasn't always the adorably terrifying and sinister overlord of undeath he is today. Once upon a time, he was just a cat like any other: a familiar to a small town mage who squandered his talents selfessly tending to the needs of the other residents and advising the town's leadership in matters where his scholarly study and arcane practice would be put to good use. A mage by the name of Sirus. Mr. Boots was a constant devil on his master's shoulder, urging him to pursue his own desires, rather than constantly serving others, and otherwise w

as the humble wizard's faithful and loyal companion despite his master failing to rise to his full potential. As time went on, Mr. Boots' master became more and more tied down to the town, and even Sirus began to express doubts as to his choices in life. However, Mr. Boots' master persisted in pursuing what he thought was the greater good, much to the cat's chagrin, up until the day that precious village fell under the veil of what is now the Ghost lands.

Mr. Boots clearly recalls being served a bowl of warm milk, a pat on the head, a smile, and a few lazy hours in the sun, and then it all goes hazy. Screaming, blood, and the howling of undead beasts cutting down the townsfolk down to the last. There was a sense of tumultuous energies roiling inside the tiny feline's body, threatening to burst outward. The fey magics he was infused with as a familiar, the fell influence of the Ghost-lands, the magical bond he shared with his master, and stranger things besides.

Not knowing which won out, Mr. Boots came to his senses in the midst of town square, perched atop the corpse of his slain master. A small troop of undead stood round awaiting their dread-lord's command, seemingly haven defended the spot tooth and nail. And mutely standing over him was Sirus' conjured specter, ironically now bound to his former familiar, and but a hollow shell of his living self. Though there was little time to dwell in the undead infested wastes, despite the cat's newfound magical mastery and limited sway over the unfortunates that roamed there.

Mr. Boots led his merry troop out of the ghostlands to avoid being snacked on by something too large and powerful for him to control. He quickly found himself quite pleased to have a horde of thralls at his command, a moderate improvement over his existing persuasive charms with regard to humankind. Though it did leave something to be desired, puppeteering dull lifeless dolls, as compared to true companionship.

Adapting quite quickly to disguise his servants in illusion, and protect himself against detection both magical and mundane, he ventured out across the countryside gaining a grasp of the wider world, and eventually coming to linger for a time in the city now known as Babel. At least for as long as it takes for him to retake his old home, that is.

## Going back Home - The Tower of Death

With the confirmed appearance of the Tower of Death inside the Ghostlands (1st of Rova, Year 44 IA), and droves of adventurers moving to claim its treasures and conquer the threat it posed. Hopefully before the ravening hordes spilled into the surrounding countryside. Mr. Boots, for his own part, wasn't overly bothered one way or another with the fate of a few nameless humanoids that he hadn't even claimed, let alone met. However, the rallying of forces in the area would finally offer him an opportunity to begin the work of reclaiming his home. As he was in that moment, it would be far more dangerous than he might like, not yet fully in control of his powers, and only a modest troop of soldiers at his beck and call. However, he hadn't the luxury of waiting any longer, and his innate curiousity tugged at him to investigate this tower and what possibilities might lay inside for one such as himself. Combining his own cleverness with the collective abilities at his disposal, the cat was able to cook up a scheme that should work just perfectly~

The first step would be to use his servants' limited spellcasting to protect his party with the "Greater Hide from Undead" spell, to minimize interference from all but the most powerful of untamed wraiths and ghouls, combined with an oh so devious application of the "Tactical Totem" War magics, to let his troop coordinate their movements and avoid attention from any undead less likely to be duped by mere parlor tricks. Put together with his knowledge of undead in general, his ability to freely disguise himself and others, and to provide multiple layers of counter measure against magical divinations, it made for a fairly fool proof means of exploring as deep into enemy territory as he so chose, baring any surprises, of course.

And, of course, even if some hunger-crazed wight or allip caught wind of something amiss, Mr. Boots and Sirus would be travelling safely tucked away inside the hollowed out chest cavity of Mr. Boots' treasured Dreadfang (v3), not only guarding them against outside attack, but also hiding their warm blooded presence behind a wall of undead bear flesh. True, the mindless undead of the Ghostlands were hostile toward the hordes pouring from the Tower of Death, but there should be no reason that one of their own, unmarked by the tower's corruption, should draw any such ire.

With a handful of peep holes drilled into the bear's carcass, and sharing Dreadfang's eyes when necessary, Mr. Boots and Sirus would be able to see in great detail the lay of the land from inside their four legged tank. Starting with a thorough survey of the area surrounding the Tower, he would record the movements and numbers of the undead masses onto a map of the pre-Ghostlands geography, updating it with new landmarks and details as he comes across them, not only invaluable to the organizers of the Tower siege, but for Mr. Boots' own machinations that would come later on.

To most observers, the Ghostlands would appear to be a barren waste filled only with monsters and the barest hints of life. However, to one as talented as this particular cat, every zombie, skeleton, carrion bird, rat, and wolf that might linger there was as harmless and talkative as the most amiable of neighbors, with a little help from such magical effects as "Gravetongue," "Command Undead," and "Speak with Wildlife," of course. The "locals" would be able to describe to him first hand the events surrounding the tower's appearance, and details of the monsters pouring out of it to wage war with the poor residents of the Ghostlands, merely minding their own business. Know thine enemy, and all that. Mr. Boots was fairly sure someone wrote that in a book once, and if not, he would take credit for the phrase.

Outside the ghostlands itself, Mr. Boots was called in on a favor by one of his more... discrete contacts, asking him to provide information for an undead bestiary of sorts. While his overall knowledge was limited, being more akin to a sorcerer than a wizard, he still had very detailed knowledge about the behavior, abilities, and creation methods for most undead, and was happy to absolve himself of the debt so simply. He was later informed that the book would be distributed amongst other adventurers throughout Babel. While he took no pleasure in better arming the populace to combat the likes of his own creations, Mr. Boots took solace in the precautions he took to prevent others from discovering the truth, and taking issue with his choice of companions. Furthermore, he knew that when adventurers were sent to the Tower, it would do well to ensure that they had some idea of what they were getting into, or at least enough so that they might make a suitably lengthy distraction while Mr. Boots goes about his own business

In his own time, the cat and company took pains to collect all the information they were able to gather, and discretely made it available to the clerics and other leaders that were orchestrating the raid on the Tower of Death. The maps, the undead numbers and movements on both sides of the Tower, and any information gathered from the "locals", all of it would be delivered by Sirus, serving as Mr. Boots' mouth piece, as always, while the cat would merely groom himself in the background. Sirus would use this information as leverage, and sell himself to the organizers as a former resident of the area, with a vested interest in acting against the undead there, and specialized to travel safely in the area. Furthermore, Sirus would even volunteer to assist with the placement of these supposed "Ghost Wards," to ingratiate himself into their organization as successfully as possible, even going so far as to donate a large portion of his limited personal funds to the cause. Also, it would give him the chance to satisfy his curiousity and have a look at these counter measures himself, so as to learn how potentially to stop such devices from being used against him in the future, or even use them for his own schemes in the Ghostlands later on.

The best way to investigate the Tower's mysteries would be to have himself and Sirus included in the raid team, and he had to take every possible measure to make Sirus, and by extension, himself, indespensible to their mission. While it would be sub optimal, even if Sirus wasn't chosen, Mr. Boots plotted to use his various methods to sneak into the tower anyway, though it would be significantly more dangerous and raise further questions if he did so against the wishes of the leadership. With everything said and done, and all preparations made, all that was left was to wait for a decision and make the best of it one way or another.