A cosmic cat is seated or curled upon a small (2' diam.) meteorite half-buried in cloudstuff. Peaceful visitors will be favored with a look that suggests the cat’s opinions regarding the drollness of terrestrial existence. The cat will converse telepathically (it’s mind-voice has a reverse echo; its laugh has a touch of flange) and answer questions, though it’s responses will tend towardthe vauge if not the enigmatic.
Here are some random statement the Cosmic Cat may make, when appropriate (or even when not appropriate (d8):
- Oh. it’s you. I thought perhaps I had dreamed you, but you seem material enough. Unless that’s part of the dream, or my dreams are more powerful than I imagined?
- They once came here for amusement, you know. I suppose it’s all still very amusing, really, just in a different direction. By the time I arrived they had mostly abandoned this place, except the crazy ones. For a while at night, if I looked out over the cloud’s edge, I could see the blue glow of their ruins. That all faded away in a few centuries.
- I had an upset stomach, so I needed a place to rest and this rock seemed comfortable enough. I had eaten one of the those inky spiders from the dark side of the moon I caught crawling down a moonbeam, and it did not agree with me. It was foul. It tastes like curdled nightmares and acrid regret.
- How do you suppose all this stays up here on wisps of water vapor, anyway? Doesn’t seem safe. And it’s an affront dignity of other clouds. Don’t think they haven’t noticed.
- Have you ever tasted phlox? The color, I mean. It reminds one of the evanesce of comets and ephemeralness of thought.
- The Sun is just a dwarf, you know, made of countless little dwarfs. I met one, once. It made my eyes hurt to look at it. It was incandescent with tedious purpose, but it’s voice was warm on my skin and gave me the urge to nap.
- There’s a giant under that castle. He’s vaster than this world, perhaps--just folded up and stuffed into something tiny. I wonder how long that mellow cage of light and colored wax will hold him? Lamps flicker, after all.
- I wouldn’t go that way [island anterior]. You will likely either die by a fall from a great height or suffer a tiresome tea service with a chatty dragon.
The meteorite it lounges upon is of iron as cold as the void. Its cosmic inertness is such that it is profoundly anti-magical.. In a ten foot radius all spells and magical effects dissipate. Magic items kept within a five radius of it for an extended period will be drained to mundanity at the rate of a +1 or spell level every six hours.