Somewhere, West Virginia, USA.

A faded yellow truck blaring trashy thrash garage metal pulled up to the Duval manor. On top of it was a comet stylized pizza that read CHEESEY COMET along the comet trail. A man with long dirty dishwater blond hair that looked to be in college hopped out and dragged a big yellow pizza bag from the back of the worn truck.

He hobbled over to the front door where two Red Caps stood guard and spoke.

"So, uh, like? Did you guys, like, order twenty pizzas? This isn't, like, a joke or anything right? Cuz the last time I like, delivered this many pizzas out in like, the middle of nowhere there were, like, these bright lights and stuff in the sky-"

Before the dude could continue his story the door was opened to reveal Morty.

"It's about time! Do you know how long I've been waiting?!"

"Uh? Like, thirty minutes?"

"An hour! Did you drive from fucking Charleston?!"

"Uh... yeah?" The man said as he scratched at his stubbly chin.

"Whatever, pizza." Morty ordered as he took the greasy pizza bag and handed it over to the head butler, where he took them out and passed them off to the serving staff.

"Cool, so that'll be like, $287.34."

"Jesus! For fucking pizza?!"

"Well that and like, six boxes of cheesy sticks, eight boxes of cheesy pasta, three baskets of wings-"

"Not cheesy wings?" Morty asked with a crooked brow.

"Nah bro, just wings! But buffalo wings in cheese sounds BOMB, bro!"

"Yeah, sure. What else?"

"Oh yeah!? And like, twelve extra sauce packages and like, six liters of soda. And a large bucket of cheesy comets! Plus tip, dude."

"All that can't be in the bag can it?"

"Nah! It's in the back of the truck dude." The man who's nametag said DUDLEY but had an E sharpied and taped on so it read DUDELEY, replied and stood in the doorway.

Morty waited impatiently as DUDEley just stood there and bobbed his head to an unheard beat or rhythm.

"Well?"

"Huh? OH!? Right bro!" DudEley finally realized and left to get the rest from the truck.

He returned with a couple armfuls of greasy bags that were handed off to the head butler while the yellow pizza bag was returned. Dudley put his hand out like he was waiting for something. Morty looked at the appendage before looking up at Dudeley with an irritated scowl.

"You're over 30 minutes."

"Come on bro! My GPS couldn't even like, find this place! I had to pull out like, an actual physical map and like, actually read it bro!"

"Oh you poor thing." Morty intone in a deadpan voice.

"I know right?!"

Just then, as Morty was paying him, the flying head of the previous gardener fell behind the pizzaboy, hitting the gravel and causing him to turn around.

"Dude? Is that like, a real head?!"

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"Yeah. Sure is 'bro'."

Dudeley walked over and picked up the still twitching goblin head.

"Nah bro! This is like, some badass Halloween thing right?"

"Nope, that's a genuine severed head."

Dudeley looked at the head more intensely as it continued to bleed and twitch. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders with a laidback chuckle.

"Huh, gnarly."

"Hey!? How about you keep THAT for a tip!?" Morty joked.

"Bro! You serious?!"

"Uhm... sure?"

"Dude! RIGHTEOUS!!!" Dudeley cried as he through up some devil horns and went back to his truck with his macabre tip.

Morty watched as the thin end of the genepool peeled out and off his property to the tune of mediocre garage band music. He rolled his eyes with a sigh as he returned inside to deliver the "feast" for the lords.

-----

The next morning.

Duchess Helena ascended the steps of town hall once more, she was growing tired and frustrated of the situation her and her people found themselves in. Her only relief, and concern, was that the nobility were no longer accompanying the delegation.

After yesterdays display of power by, who the mayor and sheriff described as various impolite words and phrases, one Mortimer Duval, they decided that their best bet was with someone who had ACTUAL power. The mayor and sheriff went on to say that he was nothing but a troublemaker with a chip on his shoulder and far too much pride.

However, of late he has gotten a personal army that now answered to him and he has been working on getting the whole of the town in his grip. Something that he had some success with as the mayor and sheriff has had little resources to answer the various troubles of the town as of late.

She has already been informed by several of her people that the goblin army has already begun clearing old buildings for shelter for them. As well as providing safety from a strange breed of goblin that seems to have taken residence within the town itself.

That was some of the good news, the rest was less than ideal. While some of her people had found shelter at the "rail yard" as the sheriff described it. Others have had to resort to simple shelter and heat as they made haphazard camps around town and were forced to burn scraps to keep warm.

The local population did help somewhat. The handful of apartments and motels had offered them rooms at least, and the blankets and food provided raised their spirits.

But it was of mild relief as she knew it would not, could not, last. They needed something more permanent quickly. So her and the delegation returned to, hopefully, iron out something, ANYTHING, to help her people.

From what the mayor, the sheriff, and Mr. Duval had said. It seems that soldiers were on their way to provide food, temporary housing, and protection. She could only hope it was true.

Her and the delegation entered the town hall and proceeded past the stuttering man and into the council chambers where they found the mayor, the council, and the sheriff and his deputies already waiting. She dipped her head slightly in greeting before taking a seat with the rest.

The meeting... went about as much as it had last time. Little was said and little would, or could, be done until the National Guard arrived. From what the Duchess and the others could gather from the locals was that the National Guard was a sort of provincial militia, meant to act as a quick reaction in case of war or natural disasters.

The meeting really was just everyone trying to get up to date and on the same page for now. What confused the Duchess and the other representatives was how the locals all seemed to treat them strangely. Like they were thespians or actors on a stage.

The Great Sage was particularly asked a great many questions about her "suit". How warm it was, what was it made of, how did she relieve herself in it! The Duchess found it all quite rude but the Great Sage found the whole incident quite amusing.

The only real point of contention, now that the nobles and their insignificances were no longer here, was when the questions of religion came up. It was quite... interesting to say the least.

The people of Daele were followers of the Blessed Holy Mother Goddess. Sure the teachings were a little different in Daele. She and the Sea Goddess were jointly revered in Daele, given its proximity and reliance on the sea.

But from the sounds of the locals, they all worshiped a male god! Christ Jesus. Save for the sheriff who followed a different god named Yahweh. Though from what the sheriff and some members of the council have said they follow the same teachings of someone named Abraham. But then that they follow different prophets. As well as different teachings and interpretations of those prophets.

It was quite confusing to the Duchess and the delegation. Most of all to the Bishop! The worst part was that there were even MORE religions! The poor man didn't even want to think of the labyrinthian web of sects and teachings that those others surely had as well!

Though one thing confused the Duchess. When it was mentioned that they followed the Mother, the room grew tense for a moment before the clarification was stated. It seems that there was some dark history in and around town that involved a local superstition. It seemed those in the hills east of the town worshiped this "Crone on the Hill" as she was called. Though she couldn't get a clear answer as to if she was a physical being or a deity. None seemed sure either. They've never actually SEEN her, only mentions and whispers through the years.

When talk of the hill folk came up it just shed more light on just how bloody the history of this town was. The disappearance of the miners and the culling from the National Guard was the most recent in a long history of missing people and other supposed dark things that have been reported to have happened.

Though this was also mixed and contentious as well. Some called it nothing more than superstitious nonsense while others would make regular holy signs at the mention of such things. The only thing they all agreed on was that tensions were sure to heat a fever pitch when the National Guard shows up soon.

All in all, the meeting wasn't very productive except to serve as something to get acquainted with the local customs that they would have to be dealing with for the foreseeable future. As the sheriff had pointed out a few times now, the town simply didn't have the resources to handle such a large number of people.

Eventually their talking ran in circles as they had little to actually discuss that the locals didn't either already know by now or dismissed as them "acting". Her and the rest of the delegation called it a day before long as they soon grew weary of dealing with the local political apparatus of the town.

She returned to the "motel" as it was called where she had been able to secure a couple rooms for herself and her guards to stay in. As she began to enter her room she noticed a man in black clothes standing off to the side as he watched her people come and go about the place. She had seen him a couple of times before but never interacted with him. She thought for a moment to introduce herself, but thought better of it. She was tired and in need of rest. Not like it will be satisfying, she thought as she entered her room and looked at the worn and not at all soft bed that she had been sleeping on.

She walked towards the bed and took a seat on it. She was exhausted. There wasn't much else to it. Mentally, physically, and emotionally she was just drained. She was a stranger in a strange land, she nor her people knew or understood the local customs or culture. Their only saving grace in that regard was that they could understand each other, which was surprising, even if the accents were strange to each other's ears.

She fell back onto her bed that creaked from rusty springs and simply closed her eyes. She hoped and prayed to the Holy Mother Goddess that help would arrive soon so that she and her people could begin anew.