The music would settle into a kind of hypnotic river of sound which would leave me free to make up anything that came into my head at the time. – Jim Morrison
When I act, I hear it like music. In my head, I hear the dialogue like music. – Nic Cage
Ch 1: Double Ought Buck and Unknown Magick
Thrash Metal
It was night, bordering on early morning, somewhere in Texas.
The pale saucer of a full moon lit up the granite boulders and short scrub trees that littered the area. Deposits of chalky white rocks stood out against the clumps of half-dead grass. A bank of fog marked the location of a creek.
A figure dressed in dark clothing appeared on a ridge. Paranoid eyes surveyed the terrain below through the lenses of a militarized gasmask. Trained hands held a battle-ready rifle, an index finger hovering near the trigger. A simple pump action shotgun was slung across her back. Quick breaths strained against an armored vest, which was covered in magazine pouches. A pistol sat on her right hip, and a combat knife on her left.
Hidden under the mask and bulky combat gear there was the face and body of a woman, but this could only be told by the way that she moved, which was with a belligerent sway and swagger. Behind her, the horizon glowed orange, lit up by a cluster of far off cities. The foul light blocked out the wonders of the cosmos, reducing the night sky to a handful of stars.
Another explosion, a burst of strangely colored light. Now that she was in a better position, she could tell that it was coming from the other side of the creek. Acting quickly, the armored woman found a fast way off of the ridge. After sliding down one of the less treacherous places she brought the iron sights up to her eye and started heading toward the wall of fog.
Now shouting could be heard behind the mist. A silhouette appeared; she took aim. The image of straggly a coyote took shape as the animal fled whatever was going on. The woman leveled her rifle, pushing forward with the barrel pointed at chest height. Another bout of furious shouting came, it echoed off of distant hills. Moonlight reflected off of her mask’s lens, a breeze moved her long brown hair.
The fog parted, making way for some pulse of red colored energy. The blast of raw power shot past her, impacting a boulder. Smoldering chunks of rock exploded off of the surface, whizzing into the brush with lethal force.
The attack didn’t seem to have been directed at her. It felt more like a stray shot, but from what weapon, she had no clue. Was it some kind of high-tech directed energy gun? She would find out soon, as she had reached the misty creek.
The stream was shallow, the woman didn’t worry about looking for a high spot or any rocks. Her combat boots had been waterproofed, and she wanted to be ready when she cleared the fog. After wading across she came out of the mist barrel first, finally seeing what all of the commotion was about.
A man stood in the middle of a clearing. Flowing red and black robes hung from a thin frame, a hood was pulled up over his head. A pair of near skeletal hands were held out in front of the figure, but they were not raised up defensively. Long fingers were pointed outward at seemingly random angles. Crimson lightning shot out of the tips, the arcs danced through the short trees, flaming strips of wood bursting off of their trunks. He swept the forest, probing for unseen foes.
The wizard, as it was clear that against all logic and sanity he was a wizard, stopped his attack. He kept his hands up, breathing heavily as he scanned the wood line. Then the sorcerer turned suddenly, pointing his hands at a shimmering distortion, a transparent blob that the woman had not spotted until then. The wizard fired off a blast from his hand, which was identical to the one that had nearly hit her earlier. The attack struck the strange anomaly. The distortion ended, as if a switch had been flipped, revealing a figure clad in black leather. The blast had opened up his chest, splaying his ribcage, he unceremoniously fell to the ground.
Another distortion, this one behind the robed figure, rapidly closing in. It was clear to the woman that she was meant to help him. This was why she had ended up here. Her gun sight moved onto the target, her finger squeezed the trigger steady and slow. The round left the barrel, followed by a jet of flame, it cut through the night air, stopping inside of the assailant’s guts. Just like before, the distortion stopped and a black clad person fell, this one holding a dagger at the ready.
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The wizard turned to face her, saw the dead body, and nodded. From out of the forest a cacophony of howls and shrieks caused the woman to jump and hastily sweep the trees, seeing a menagerie of strange beasts make their way into the clearing.
They came in all shapes and sizes and their skins were often brightly colored. She saw horrific faces, many sported powerful pincers and multiple sets of eyes. They seemed animalistic, having no guns or blades, only claws and other natural weapons; the beasts wore no clothing or armor, except for thick, leathery hides or spiny exoskeletons.
The wizard took aim, fired off another blast. It detonated on impact, blasting one creature apart in a shower of scaly skin and bones. The woman emptied her magazine, popped it out, letting it fall to the ground. She reached into one of the pockets on her vest, fully aware that this was her last mag. She slammed it home, slapping the bottom to make sure that it was properly seated, then she hit the bolt release, chambering a round.
One by one she burned through her last mag. Each shot was carefully aimed, each of the 2.23 rounds found its mark. Foul ichor sprayed out of exit wounds, hideous monsters fell to the ground, clawing into the dirt in the throes of death spasms. The final bullet was discharged, the bolt locked to the rear. The woman slung the rifle, switching to the pump-action.
It had a body that could be compared to a praying mantis, complete with a set of scythe-like hands. Its body was bright purple, with a few jagged red stripes running horizontally across the creature’s revolting carapace. The head was covered in strange sense organs that she could not hope to identify.
She leveled her shotgun, the first blast took an arm clean off, the second punched a hole into the exoskeleton. She put a third blast of buckshot through that same hole, green juice and horrid guts sprayed out, splattering against her pant legs and combat boots. The thing fell down, its legs and remaining claw twitching in its death spasms. The rest of the horde pressed on, ignoring the creature’s grim fate.
She aimed and fired, dropping another one, this time a beast that was covered in a thick mat of brown fur. Then she took aim at a lumbering mass of orange flesh, its fingers tipped with razor talons. She was rewarded with a burst of purple slime, a good amount of which struck her armor; she had to wipe a few drops off of her mask before killing another freak.
A shotgun blast, followed by the iconic sound of another shell being chambered. Another blast and another shotshell racked into place. One managed to get close, slashing at her with its claws. She dove to the side, the razor-sharp talons barely missing. A pulse of magickal death from the robed man slayed the beast. The woman hopped back up, put a shell into another beast.
Another wave inbound, the woman moved closer to the wizard, loading up more shotshells as she moved. The man in the red and black robes and the woman in the gasmask stood beside each other as the monstrosities made their final push.
They laid down a hellfire of buckshot and directed energy. Granite stones were painted with boiling blood, which was the color of detergent. Orange slime spurted out of fist sized holes. Muscular limbs were blasted off. Bones, blacken hunks of meat still clinging to them, tumbled through the night air. One by one they all fell to the firepower of the two faceless warriors.
The woman surveyed the carnage before inspecting her blood splattered gear. Moans of pain alerted her to the fact that one of them was still alive. The fallen foe lay flat on the dirt, it was one of the human ones. Or so she thought.
The wounded man removed his mask, blood ran out of his mouth, he stopped breathing after a few seconds. She stooped over him, inspecting the face, fascinated by its angular features and his pointed ears.
The robed figure stepped up to her. “He isn’t human,” she stated, then she gestured toward the bizarre corpses, “But I guess that it hardly matters after all of that.”
He spoke, his voice hypnotic and as clear as a thunder crack, “You are correct. He is an elf, but he has undergone so many magickal changes it could be argued that he is no longer one of that breed. The beasts that we killed are Yukikar, lured into service by the promise of meat that is spiced and drugged in ways that are exotic to them,” he pointed to the body of a thing with dozens of different sets of eyes, “And that vile thing over there is a Skargug, tamed for use as a seeker.”
He pulled his hood back. The woman was surprised to see that he was still fairly young, looking like he had not yet seen his thirtieth birthday. A black beard stood out against his pale face, his hair was long; gleeful, grey eyes sat in sunken sockets. These eyes radiated maniacal intensity and unchained joy. As she stared into them, she noticed fine lines of glowing red mixed in with the white.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Mal Gehen,” he looked around, making sure that no surviving enemies attacked them while they spoke, “Thank you for helping me, I owe this armored shieldmaiden a debt. Your name is?”
“Amber, Amber Deathrage. I am from a little town that isn’t that far away.”
“You have seen me in visions?” it felt as much like a statement as a question.
“No, in dreams.”
“They are often the same thing.”
She took a second to consider this, before saying, “You, and a woman in a white mask, kind of like those ones from the theater.”
A satisfied smile crossed the wizard’s face, “I have also seen you. Your enemies will be here soon. I can help you; I can take you to safety.”
“Yes, please.”
“I will follow, I still need to take care of something first. I must visit an important place,” he stepped up close to her, put his hand on her shoulder, “My friend will take care of you,” multicolored flames filled her vision.