In the Cosmos full of more stars and galaxies than one could ever hope to count, many looked for fame, fortune, and riches, but a few, a very few, sought to make their wishes a reality. Magic. The ability to influence the world around them was rarer, and so, these few, would listen to the secrets of the Universe. And gleaned from their ramblings, the ability to influence the very reality that surrounded them. The lucky experienced stories out of a book and the sleeping found only nightmares. Shadows twisted upon a plain fraught with perils, gusts of wind stirred the sands of Destiny into unreadable patterns and the sky darkened and Magick shall be the scapegoat, released back into the world of danger and desire.
Prologue
As most of our brave protagonists all partied late into the night, stupidly ignoring all media and instinctual warnings of peril, news reporters broadcasted about strange solar flares and extrasolar radiation that riddled the emergency stations, only moments before all the satellites shut down for good.
Chapter 1
Dalton Dankworth awoke to find himself, surprisingly, back in his room in the two-bedroom townhouse downtown he had recently bought. With an arid, dry mouth and the particular aftertaste of a heavy night of drinking and smoking, Dalton guzzled the tepid water that was still full beside his bed.
Thanks for the water, drunk Dalton.
You’re welcome, hungover Dalton!
He lazily pulled the blinds open and inspected the view of the historic street. Strange hues of orange and purple played across the sky like the Northern Lights. The striating colors had a surreal effect, like a sunset painting with water splashed onto the canvas before the paint could dry, the colors ran and bled into each other. The streets were nearly empty with the only occupant apparently being a middle-aged businessman running down the sidewalk, guessing he was probably late to some important meeting Dalton wished him all the speed in the world.
Gah! My mouth tastes like something died in it.
The spacious room on the third-floor brownstone overlooked the downtown streets of a mid-sized little city in the southeast of Georgia named Savannah. Old cobblestones adorned the street that ran alongside the river. The view was awesome with the gold capitol dome in the distance.
His city was a renowned colonial port from the origins of the United States. Its rich history had garnered a reputation of ghosts, haunted buildings, and cemeteries and its progressive underground and acceptance of art and free thinking had encouraged Dalton to move here from his neighboring state of South Carolina.
Still groggy from sleep, he rubbed his eyes and wondered what day it was and what his plans had been, if any, and would consequently most likely blow off.
He walked into the bathroom and in the mirror stared at his rather disheveled form. Twenty-six years hadn’t been unkind to him, having grown into his large jaw and intimidating height, at six foot three, he usually towered over most of his fellow compatriots, but his height was one of his favorite attributes. His thick mop of light brown hair attempted to point in every direction at once and appeared to be succeeding.
Running his hands under the faucet, he collected some water into his cupped hands and attempted to tame the beast that was his coif into some semblance of order. A quick brush was necessary.
His dedication to the gym was evidenced in his broad shoulders and lean muscle covered his entire frame. At 200 pounds, Dalton was by no means a small man, but years of being gangly and sudden growth spurts had taught him body control and how to move nimbly so as to avoid running into door frames and various pieces of furniture whilst growing up.
Dalton prided himself on his ability to be quiet and light-footed, and in particular, sneaking up on his frat brothers, roommates, or friends and scaring them could be considered a hobby or pastime of his.
Quickly dressed in some athletic gear, he decided a quick jog might clear his head and allow him to feel more like a human being again, and would hopefully combat this wicked hangover.
He threw on a pair of running shorts, a tight fitting, black pullover, and a pair of tennis shoes, he crept downstairs so as not to wake his roommate, Katie, who had been out as late as he had. Pumping himself up, he vigorously splashed more water in his face. Cranking some 80’s music into his earphones, he stretched quickly and loosened up his taut muscles. The residual smell of gin was not pleasant, so he decided to depart.
It was time to hit the asphalt.
Chapter 2
Opening the front door, Dalton was presented with a very peculiar scene. The sky continued its eerie display of shifting lights, like some equatorial version of the Northern Lights. Dalton reached in his pocket to look at his cell phone. The phone was completely off, and he couldn't even get a light to turn on or his saved music to play. This was strange because Dalton had been charging his phone all night, trusting his muscle memory and firmly encrusted habits to put his phone on charge no matter how drunk he had been the night before.
Looking around the nearly deserted street, everything was odd. No matter what time of day, there were usually some people walking around, whether they be tourists shopping, locals heading into or out from work, or even a random vagrant or homeless person meandering down the street asking for change. This time, the streets were ghostly with the flickering lights in the sky. The roads and buildings had a fantastical appearance, the shifting shadows and heavy breeze blowing bits of paper and trash around the air, added to the effect.
It looked like the set of a dystopian movie.
At a brisk jog, he began to head towards the center of downtown. After only a few steps, he began to hear a high-pitched noise, wails and voices, overlapping and crescendoing at random intervals. Shouts reverberated from the center of downtown, no, not shouts, screams, echoing through the valley-like buildings.
A cacophony began to arise of different volumes, frequencies, and intensities. The ulations emanated from the downtown center. Some even began to not sound human, as Supra-auditory echoes reached him from the megaphone-like downtown district.
Dalton was no coward, but had seen enough movies and read enough books to know that something bad was happening. Those screams contained pure terror and fear in its most unadulterated form. He threw himself against the side of a building. The numerous openings and alleyways provided cover and places to duck behind every few feet.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Using the quiet steps Dalton so prided himself on, he ran through various scenarios in his head, whilst slowly inching himself towards the noises, which grew increasingly louder. Could this possibly be a terrorist attack?
Another 9/11 but located in the heart of his quaint, mid-sized city in Georgia? Maybe another shooting from some gun-toting psycho? Or possibly some form of a natural disaster, like a sinkhole under the street, or a small earthquake had disrupted the calm of the tourist hub?
He continued to creep closer, and in the distance could see figures moving, darting about at what were clearly high speeds. The figures sprinted and ran about in every different direction. Dalton neared a side street, a couple in their fifties exploded from a side alley, nearly barrelling into Dalton.
“RUN!! MONSTERS ARE COMING. RUN!!!”
The slightly overweight woman was shouting nearly incomprehensibly, her voice wavered, and she was already gasping for air.
The man continued to pull her along by her hand, not even halting to look at him. They continued at a slow run, the woman continually looking back over her shoulder, fear causing her eyes to bug out and look unnaturally white.
Thoroughly confused, Dalton advanced with even more trepidation and caution. He began to see more people running, screaming incoherently, others just sprinting full out away from the cluster of high rises and office buildings and the capitol building. An explosion and concussive boom rang out somewhere in the distance. Dalton was wondering if it was an elaborate prank or if they were possibly filming a movie or show and he just didn’t know where the cameras were located.
Savannah was becoming a hub for the entertainment industry and filmmakers enjoyed Georgia and its relaxed tax laws compared to places like California and New York. Now you know why so many shows finished with, “Made in Georgia”.
It was then Dalton began to see people covered in blood. A woman ran screaming with a child clinging to her torso, wrapped tightly in her arms. The woman had a massive gash over her eyes that was relentlessly streaming blood. The baby didn't appear to be moving or crying which was even more concerning to Dalton, as the gory imagery of the woman's bright red blood dripped onto the white bassinet covering the baby’s head.
“Ma’am, do you need help, what's happening?” Dalton cried out uselessly, the woman ran past with nary a thought about stopping for help.
He looked forward then, and on cue, turning a corner, was one of the “monsters”. The creature wasn’t large. The creature was about three feet tall, completely nude save for a small loincloth, leathery forest-green skin, overly large ears that flopped to either side like a dog or rabbit, huge bug eyes that had cat-like pupils, red-tinted irises, and a shark-like maw containing rows and rows of little razor teeth and claws with hooked, black nails shining like jet in the odd spectrum of light. Dark, reddish brown liquid dribbled down his jaw, and splashed onto the dark gray concrete of the street.
Dalton froze, his heart felt like a literal drum had been placed inside his chest, each frantic beat felt as if his whole body was thrumming with each tympanum of sound and motion, his breathing resonated in his ear like a train roaring by at close range. A slight trickle of sweat ran down his back, gathering speed as it was absorbed into the sporty fabric of his black under armor pullover.
In the distance, Dalton could see people screaming and running haphazardly every which way. They were being chased by the odd looking creatures, some wielding little clubs and daggers, others just using claws and teeth. Tearing apart women, men and children with equal abandon. The juxtaposition of the serene fountains still going off jetting water into the air, provided a surreal counterpart to the mayhem.
It was hard to tell, but there were various other shapes and creatures stalking about, some appeared tall, very tall. Some he couldn’t see at all, they looked like shadows flitting about the ground, utilizing the shifting lights from the confused twilit sky. The screams got louder as the visual imagery sunk into place, the devastation, the impossible massacre of everyday people by fiends and monsters.
The absurdity of the situation hit Dalton like a truck. This…..simply couldn't be real. A much too lucid dream or possibly, maybe he had been drugged and this was some auxiliary hallucinatory effect, were the only reasonable explanations to come to mind. The creature turned and looked directly at Dalton. His huge frog eyes scoped him up and down, and even from thirty feet away, Dalton could feel the animal-like appraisal. He suddenly felt that this visceral situation was a little too real, and warranted a quick response.
Dalton took off at a sprint back the way he came.
Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man.
To say Dalton was freaking out was a minor understatement. He ran full tilt back towards his house, the same thought, the same word kept bouncing around inside his skull.
Goblin.
That thing looked exactly how he imagined a goblin, an imp, a gremlin, whatever you wanted to call it, it would look like that. Dalton played enough games and watched enough fantasy films to recognize the creature. The description was pretty much spot on from any of his computer games or RPG’s.
Could this be some throw back from another era, a creature re-released back into the world from some underground cavern? Possibly, some government cloning or genetic manipulation project gone awry? These thoughts tumbled through his head as the sound of his frenzied footfalls slapping against the street provided an accompanying soundtrack.
Dalton quickly passed the older couple and likewise did not look back, as the sounds of their gasping punctuated the background roar of screams and melee carnage downtown.
As he neared the entrance to his townhome, a flash of green was his only warning when one of the goblin creatures emerged from a side alley squeezed tightly between two shop buildings. Dalton careened into the goblin without the slightest possibility, or even thought, of slowing down.
As he slammed into the smaller creature his weight and momentum carried the monster into a cartoonish tumble of arms and legs, knocking both of them onto the ground. The long sleeves of his shirt protected his arms from the worst of the damage, but his knees suffered a severe scraping and bruising and the presence of gravel on his face indicated he might have eaten some dirt too.
Sitting up, slightly dazed but still amped with adrenaline that coursed through his system like some druggie on a terrible amphetamine high, Dalton looked at the goblin, who was face down and just rousing. It’s high pitched vocal chords issued forth groggy and whining sounds, similar to an injured animal. Dalton realized this creature, about the size of a large toddler, had taken the hit worse than him. It shook its head and raised itself off the ground on spindly arms and wicked looking claws that clicked on the street as it placed them points down.
Without a second thought, Dalton raised his leg, and brought his foot down on top of the thing’s head as hard as he possibly could.
*Dalton Side Note: Because of my height and history as a swimmer, I had always been self-conscious of my “chicken legs” As a result, the last few years were heavily dedicated to squats, deadlifts, and leg exercises to remedy this corporeal deficiency. Consequence = my legs were strong and packed a wallop, and at 6”4, my long legs created a lot of speed and force when given freedom of movement.
The goblin’s head was smashed into the unforgiving street with his heel directly behind its skull. Its open maw smashed into the concrete, teeth and black blood sprayed forth from its mouth in a sudden jet. This was desirable, but the shocking result was the indentation and crumpling of the thing’s skull. The bones seemed much more frail than humans, and the heel of his shoe went half way into the muck and grisly matter before stopping. The goblin dropped to the ground and immediately stopped moving. Dalton withdrew his foot with a little shaking, bits of brain and skull were twitched off. He couldn’t help making a mieu of revulsion, with the musky and decaying smell of rotting meat assaulting his nostrils immediately. The goblin smelled something awful.
Dalton looked for the couple and caught the tail end of them turning down a side street, clearly wishing to avoid the obvious encounter he had just started, and to his growing elation, finished.
“Thanks for the help and checking on me,” he called out uselessly.
So much for humanity bonding together, huh?
As he stood up and began to brush himself off, he looked around for any other monsters or goblins. The street was still relatively empty, with a few people running in the distance. Dalton must assume that this phenomenon was fairly widespread, and he could only assume that this was what all the commotion was about. Dalton began to walk away, an image popped into his mind, overlaying his current view of the downtown streets and the corpse of the goblin.
LEVEL GAINED.
Huh?
SEARCH GOBLIN?......
Confused, Dalton swiped at the letters. They hovered over the corpse of the goblin like some game prompt. The writing was clearly visible but so was everything behind it, like having a fuzzy squiggle in your line of sight that moved with your vision. Dalton bent over and fumbled around the nearly skeletal body of the creature. Its head was disproportionately large to its fragile skeletal structure. Flipping the body over, the goblin appeared to have a small bone knife tucked into his loincloth. Grabbing it, Dalton turned it over in his hands, examining the details more closely.
Bone Knife- A crude knife made from the bones of some unknown animal. It looks to be in poor condition.
The writing again appeared overlaying his normal vision, akin to a computer screen with multiple windows open at once or a military HUD. Dalton’s confusion and apprehension was only surpassed by his growing fear of being out in the open. Tucking the knife into his waistband, he jogged in the direction of his house.