The Gates of Eldoria

Chapter 1

Fantasy Undead Demon Zombie Apocalypse

————— —————

A beat-up Chevy pickup flew down the highway, windows rolled down, the crisp spring air swirling around the cab. ElectroSwing blared from the speakers as the driver fantasised about dancing with his new girlfriend.

The day was early, traffic was light, and Daniel had the two weeks off before he had to go back offshore for a month. Tapping his fingers in time to the music, he smiled as he made plans for the next fortnight. Dancing with Mindy, Baseball with the boys, check in on his mum, and…

…A blinding flash filled the sky with golden energy, pushing the clouds aside. Moments later, the earth began shaking, bouncing the truck all over the road while he fought for control. Cracks opened in the pavement, forcing him to swerve even as he struggled to stay on the road. Screeching to a stop on the shoulder, he watched as the traffic around him careened into the median or slammed into each other. His truck shook violently for an entire minute as streamers of light blazed across a sunlit sky as black as the depths of space. Lightning pummelled the ground like artillery fire from Olympus, blowing chunks of earth into the air and where they impacted vehicles, causing explosions of glass and flames.

The earthquake subsided, then returned even stronger than before. His truck skittered across the ground, jouncing like an elephant was dancing in its bed, causing his head to impact the roof several times before it stopped. His once clear windscreen was now a maze of cracks, fractured by the unnatural forces that razed the area. Beyond the broken glass, the terrain had changed dramatically. A forest of enormous trees, tall as skyscrapers, had appeared to the west. The highway behind him had vanished, replaced by that same unnatural forest. Ahead, the highway continued towards New Orleans, but it was buckled and broken, slabs of asphalt tilted at crazy angles. To the east, half a mountain was visible, huge boulders tumbling down its jagged side.

His truck sputtered heavily, coughing three times before backfiring explosively. The motor burst into flames just as he was reaching for the ignition, flames shooting from under the hood. Jerking the door open, Daniel slid out of the blazing vehicle and jumped into the truck bed. Fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the toolbox bolted against the backside of the cab and began digging through it for the fire extinguisher inside. Yanking the pin, he jumped from the truck and ran around to the front, shooting yellow chemical powder under the hood. The fire resisted his efforts, burning furiously until it snuffed out all at once. Greasy black smoke curled from under the hood, threatening to erupt back into flames.

Daniel emptied the extinguisher into the space between the grill and hood, filling it with the last of the retardant. Deciding that was all he could do, he dropped the extinguisher, finally noticing all the screams that filled the air. Around him, at least two dozen vehicles were burning furiously, some struck by the lightning that appeared from a midnight black sky, others that had spontaneously combusted. People milled about in shock, uncertain what to do, what was going on, how to react. Then silence filled the air, broken only by the snapping of flames and the low moans and cries of the injured.

A terrified scream broke the silence, followed by another. Daniel looked south, towards the source of the screams and blinked in disbelief. Shambling figures were emerging from the unnatural forest, walking herky-jerky across the uneven ground. “Either this is the best ‘Punked’ episode ever written,” he mumbled, “Or those are fecking zombies.”

Returning to the truck, he grabbed his Glock 26 from between the seats and thumbed the safety. The zombies, or whatever they were, had shuffled a few yards towards the survivors while he was preparing. Still too far for him to reliably hit one, he cautiously approached until he was about 50’ away from the walking horrors. His fellow survivors had taken flight while he was walking forward, now he could feel their eyes on him as he patiently waited for a good shot. Resolved that these weren’t actors in make-up, he lined up a shot and fired.

A bullet exploded from the gun with the sound of a sick firecracker, travelling a few feet before falling to the ground. Daniel gaped at it in disbelief.

“Whatchu waiting for cher?” Someone with a thick cajun accent behind him shouted. “Shoot dem things!”

Daniel pulled the trigger again, and the same thing happened. He kept squeezing off rounds until it was empty and the zombies just a dozen yards away. The wind carried the fetid smell of decay to his nose, removing any doubt that whatever was happening was some kind of horrible joke.

“What kinda pop-gun is that?” His Cajun critic complained.

“One that’s not working,” Danial spat, scurrying back to his truck to reload. He carried a spare box of ammo in the toolbox in case he was ever taken by the urge to drive down a lonesome road and unload a few in the woods. Thumbing bullets into the magazine, he slammed it home and whirled around. His Cajun companion was on the other side of his truck waiting to see the results. The results were the same. Something was wrong with the gunpowder.

Crawling back into the bed of the truck, he shoved aside his catcher’s mitt and pulled out his favourite metal baseball bat. The zombies were just a few yards away now. “Either crawl up and grab a tire-iron or run away, Frenchie,” Daniel growled. “Things are about to get real.”

“How you know my name?” Frenchie asked, crawling into the back of the truck.

Daniel grinned and looked at the older man. Maybe twice his age, late 40’s with leathery skin, a beer belly, and baseball cap. Watery blue eyes met his before Frenchie turned to spit tobacco juice at the approaching undead. “Every Cajun I ever met was called Frenchie,” he said. “My name’s Daniel. Daniel Carter.”

Frenchie chuffed at that. “I ain’t never met no other Frenchie in my life.” He dug through the toolbox and came up with two 18” long industrial combination wrenches. Giving them a couple experimental swings, he waited with Daniel until the first zombie reached the back of the truck and laid a hand on the tailgate. With a speed that belied his heavy stature, Frenchie took two steps forward and buried both wrenches in its head. It fell backwards, tripping the next zombie.

Daniel cracked the skull of one that made it to the driver’s side, then misjudged his aim on a second one, shattering its collarbone. Another swing cracked its skull like a melon, scattering brains and rotten blood. He noticed that the zombies were dressed strangely, like some sort of cosplay characters wearing medieval clothing. Home spun dresses, coarse woven shirts and pants. Strange cowls and caps tied to their heads.

An Elf appeared, with long flowing hair and knife ears, half her face chewed off. She was still devastatingly beautiful, and a swing of his baseball bat sent her back to Hell with a metallic Crack-Ting.

“What the hell are these things?” Frenchie demanded, attempting to bludgeon something to death.

Daniel spared a glance to see his companion waling on what could only be a goblin, complete with long hooked nose and knife ears longer than the Elf’s. “Looks like a Goblin,” Daniel said, wacking at a stubborn Dwarf. His bat kept bouncing off the thick skull, each blow causing his fingers to sting and go numb. He gave up and kicked it in the face, sending it tumbling to the ground where it was quickly replaced by another zombie.

From behind them, to the north, screams arose. Looking back, Daniel could see the other survivors that had fled were now being hunted down by a hoard of shamblers that had emerged from the forest to the west. The survivors tried to navigate the treacherous terrain caused by the earthquake, but only a few were in any kind of shape to retreat. Before he turned his attention back to the hoard at his feet, he saw an elderly couple get pulled down by the leaders of the pack.

The hoard had seemed endless when Daniel first spotted them emerging from the forest, but a quick count gave him hope - there were less than two dozen around his truck. His only real concern was the Dwarfs with their thick skulls. One of the dead managed to snag his trousers, jerking him off balance so he fell backwards into the bed of the truck. Freeing himself with a vicious kick, he rolled to dodge Frenchie’s heavy footwork and rose to his feet. Three wild swings later, the offending undead was dead once again.

A Dwarf pulled itself over the lip of the truck bed. Seized by sudden inspiration, Daniel juked to the side and raised the bat overhead, then brought it down with both hands on the back of the Dwarf’s neck. He felt vertebrae shatter under his blow and the Dwarf slid back to the ground, twitching. “Break the Dwarfs necks,” he grunted at Frenchie. “Their skulls are too tough to crack.”

Frenchie grunted in acknowledgment, his wrenches impacting skulls with a staccato beat. Daniel could hear his breath coming in heavy gasps as age and a sedentary lifestyle began to drain his stamina. The undead died at a steady pace as Daniel and Frenchie danced around the back of his truck, often bumping into one another, cursing as ragged claws tore at their exposed skin or snapping jaws got just a bit too close for comfort.

A howl came from the forest when there were only a few zombies left around the truck. The undead paused, then backed away from the vehicle as a large wolf bounded across the remains of the highway. “What the hell is going on now,” Frenchie cursed, heaving like a bellows as he sucked air. Daniel watched in horror as the wolf sped towards them like a bullet, bursting into flames just before it leapt into the back of the truck.

Heat boiled off the animal, forcing Daniel to flench away. The beast whirled and sank its fangs into Frenchie’s leg, savaging it, causing his clothing to catch fire. Frenchie screamed in agony, beating at the animal with his wrenches before he fell from the back of the truck. The zombies surged forward then and his screams grew frantic as their snapping jaws latched onto his flesh. Daniel brought the bat down on the back of the wolf, driving it to its belly. The fierce fire surrounding the wolf licked at his hands, burning his fingers. He raised the bat again, this time smashing it into the head of the wolf. The animal struggled to its feet, flames swirling around it viciously, hungry and seeking fuel.

Gripped by fear so strong it made his knees weak, Daniel swung again and again, adrenaline burning away his pain even as the flames surrounding the wolf burned him. Some lucky blow connected, shattering the wolf’s skull with a hollow thunk. The flames died instantly as the wolf collapsed. The carcass dissolved into hundreds of black corpse-flies that buzzed around Daniel hatefully before flying away to the north. A glowing black stone the size of a baseball was all that was left of the wolf, radiating shadows like oil on wet pavement.

The remaining zombies milled about, seemingly confused and without purpose. As they noticed Daniel’s freshly cooked living flesh in the back of the truck, they approached the sides and he made quick work of them in just a few minutes. Looking over to where Frenchie had fallen from the truck, he gagged and then retched, emptying the contents of his stomach on the bed of the truck. The man’s insides were mostly on the outside, blue-grey intestines and bloody organs scattered around his corpse.

Spitting to clear the chunks of breakfast from his mouth, Daniel eyed the glittering stone the wolf left behind. It was the colour of midnight, pulsing angrily, beating like the heart of an undead star. Looking around to make certain everything was clear, he poked at it with the baseball bat, which had no effect. Bringing his hand near it, he could feel a fierce power emanating from the gem, whispering to him, tempting him. His fist closed around it before he realised what happened.

The whispering in his head was louder, the temptation of power more enticing than before. All he had to do was accept it and …

Daniel howled as the stone turned into scalding liquid and forced its way through his burned skin. Acid rushed through his veins until it filled his heart, then it burned away his guts in waves of overwhelming agony. He fought to stay conscious, even as his body shifted and changed, muscles bulging, bones growing, joints crackling as the unnatural power flowed through him. Wrath consumed his thoughts, blocking out everything else.

He raged inside his skull as his body convulsed and burned, furious at everything. Angry at his stupidity, resentful at his situation, he beat his fists against the metal of the truck until his knuckles were bloody. His muscles spasmed and shook as a primal energy filled him with unnatural power. A minute later it was over and he lie in a pool of sweat, his mind filled with angry thoughts even as new strength filled his freshly healed body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of five things:

1. He could detect demons and judge their strength and type by the Demon Stone inside them,

2. He could point to the nearest Gate that was opened between Earth and wherever,

3. His body and powers would be enhanced every time he consumed a demon stone,

4. He could summon flames to consume his enemies,

5. And there was a thread drawn from his mind to someone that was fighting desperately to help him manage his anger, a pool of serenity that he needed more than anything else in this world.

A name formed on his lips. “Seraphina,” he whispered, teeth clenched with barely contained rage.

Lifting his arm, he pointed unerringly towards that soothing beacon named Seraphina and leapt to his feet. There was a compulsion to find her, a need to be near the person whispering barely heard words in his mind, keeping the insanity at bay. His anger subsided as he focused on the beacon, keeping his rage in check as long as he kept his attention on finding it.

“This must be what Dr. Banner feels like,” Daniel said, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to smash everything in sight. “Irrationally angry all the damn time.”

————— —————

Daniel changed his bloody, torn clothing and dumped all the dirty laundry from his backpack. Packing only clean gear, he rearranged it to include as much of his emergency dry food and water as he could. He planned for a breakdown, not a zombie demon apocalypse, so it was bottled water and granola. Strapping an old tarp to the top of the backpack, along with his raingear, he switched into his work boots and prepared to head north, towards New Orleans and the soothing presence of Seraphina. It was probably closer to Bootie, just a few miles behind him, but there was a forest of trees in the way and zombies had already come out of it once…

He smashed in Frenchie’s skull before he left, just in case.

It was only about 30 miles to New Orleans, and while the terrain was treacherous, he was certain he could make it home by tomorrow noon. He wasn’t looking forward to spending the night outdoors but maybe there would be shelter of some sort he could use to keep the elements at bay. He passed by the spot where the old man and woman were dragged down and popped their skulls too.

He wasn’t about to leave possible trouble behind him.

Raging against his weak stomach, he fought down his gorge and carried on, passing by others who were dragged down and disembowelled, bashing in their skulls. Just before the broken highway made a gentle turn around a section of Louisiana swamp, he came across the remains of a young boy and his mother.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Washing the vomit from his mouth after performing what he thought of as his new duty to Humanity, which was ensuring that the dead stayed dead even if they were dead kids, he adjusted his backpack and soldiered around the gentle curve in the road. Just a few minutes later he discovered that the highway ended in what appeared to be a stretch of untended farmland. A low, sprawling live oak was growing to the side of the highway. He could see the remainder of the survivors in its branches, eyeballing the numerous zombies that had gathered under it. A cackling girl of perhaps 10 years danced around the tree, darting between the zombies, grabbing their hands and swinging in circles with them.

Ten little humans,

climbed up a tree,

But I am W.A.I.T.I.N.G.

First comes thirst,

Then comes despair,

Then I’ll drink your blood and return to my lair!

The hair on Daniel’s arms rose in horror as the child continued to dance with her undead partners and sing other nonsense rhymes. The survivors shifted in the tree, swaying like human fruit ready to be plucked. His rage ignited even as the distant presence of Seraphina whispered calming thoughts. This was an abomination, an unnatural freak that must be erased from the face of the planet, and no amount of calming thoughts would quell his anger.

He dropped his backpack and gripped the bat in his left hand. He could feel the power of the Demon stone inside him, the barely contained Wrath coursing through his veins. The flames that burned him earlier were now his to command, embers smouldering in the depths of his soul. Willing the flames to appear, they wreathed his hand, caressing it like a lover. He could sense that this was just a display, some type of free action that didn’t involve paying the cost of using the powers. The powers, it seemed, enjoyed taunting and frightening others. As long as he didn’t use them directly, they were quite happy to impress or intimidate.

It was as if someone had crossed a kitten with a snake and stuffed it full of bees, then distilled that poisonous anger full of sharp claws and fluffiness into a superpower. It was willing to play, but it demanded payment for work.

Shaking his head to dispel the notion that he had some sort of semi-sentient alien power inside him, he bellowed at the abomination. “Hey short stack! Wanna come play with me?”

The zombies turned their heads as a single mind, each tracking him across the highway. The demon child laughed, the sound high-pitched and insane. “You’ll not kill this host body, human. I’m ready for you this time!”

It dawned on Daniel that the girl was possessed by whatever it was that had emerged from the wolf. Those hundreds of bloated flies were some sort of entity, or hive mind, or… who cared. It needed to die.

He shoved his rage away, drawing on the thin mental link to Seraphina and forcing himself to think rationally. Was this child even human anymore? He watched as the zombies staggered towards him over the uneven ground. A handful were left behind guarding the tree full of survivors.

“You’re controlling the zombies, aren’t you?” He shouted across the distance.

“Nya Nya Nya, I’ll never tell!” She taunted.

His thoughts whirled in a red haze, eager to smash the approaching undead, but he held back. He needed a trick, something that would keep them from dog-piling on top of him. He was pretty certain that the demon-child was controlling the zombies and they were much stupider when it wasn’t around.

Taking a deep breath, he yelled. “I’m going to kick your ass out of that girl and stomp it into the mud. Come fight me, you coward!”

She cackled madly, whirling in place with arms outstretched while her blood-soaked dress flared around knobby knees. “Hollow! Hollow! Hollow! I’ve eaten this child and you’ll be next! I’ll take back my power, you stinky man!”

Maybe it was lying. If it wasn’t, he’d deal with the guilt later. Ignoring the cries for help from his fellow humans in the tree, he circled around, putting his plan into action. The pack of undead followed in a ragged line as he trotted in a wide circle towards the tree. As he moved, they began to bunch up as the nearest zombies were forced to take a longer route to get to him. Once he had them in position, he put his plan into action.

Running towards the cluster of undead, he waited until the last moment before dodging to the side and skirting them. The Demon child had put herself in a position where the zombies tracking him and those at the tree were too far away to support her. She ran for the tree, hoping the few she had commanded to remain would be enough to stop him. He was betting they weren’t

Skinny legs flashed in the morning sun, pumping frantically as he drew close. The stone had increased his strength and stamina dramatically, swelling his arms and filling him with what seemed like a boundless energy. Daniel closed on the skinny girl just as she reached the safety of the first zombie. Triggering his new ability, [Infernal Rage] gripped him, promising power now in exchange for a future payment. He accepted the debt. Flames of his Wrath erupted from his hand, covering the metal bat, licking at the air with hungry tongues.

He smashed the first zombie they passed, the flames sticking to its face where the bat impacted. It fell to the ground with a low moan, clawing at its face. Some part of Daniel’s mind wondered how much soul remained in these dead bodies, if they had enough presence to fear fire. He dodged around another two of the shamblers, which were quite fast in retrospect. They walked like drunkards, but they were pretty fast drunkards. The demon child dodged around the trunk of the live oak, so Daniel ran around the other side.

He had a split second to bring the bat around and club it in the head before it ran into him. Flames wreathed the child’s head, consuming her tangled blonde hair even as she fell to the ground with a cracked skull. Daniel raised the bat overhead, preparing to deliver a metallic coup de gras. Black eyes met his, crawling with flies trying to escape.

“Oh no, not again.” The demon slurred, raising thin arms in defence.

He brought the bat down with a meaty thunk, embedding it between her eyes. As her head caved in, her body dissolved into a cloud of bloated flies that swarmed around him, leaving behind another glowing stone. Daniel swatted at the flies with his fiery bat, the flames eagerly devouring the horrid black things until only a few remained, which retreated out of his reach and flew to the southwest.

“Behind you!” One of the people in the tree shouted.

Daniel ducked and whirled. A zombie was just a few paces away, eager to give him a hug. He stepped up and smashed its skull into oblivion. The flames surrounding his bat sputtered out, the initial burst of wrath feeding them expended. He knew could summon the flames once more, but there would be another debt to pay. Ignoring the temptation to resummon the power, he set about kiting the remaining stupefied zombies and bashing their skulls.

Or in the case of the two dwarves, breaking their necks and dragging their twitching carcasses back to the tree for later disposal.

He dropped on his knees by the stone. It was the same as the other one, radiating shadows, promising power, tempting him. He grabbed it willingly this time, biting his tongue as the gem turned to liquid and forced itself under his skin. Blood ran down his lips as acid ran through his veins once again, filling his heart and burning away his guts.

‘It’s not so bad this time,’ he thought, pissed at the muscle and joint aches that were nothing more than torture in its most distilled form. ‘I think I’m getting used to it.’

Another wrathful power filled his mind, this time it was the ability to summon lightning and thunder to shock and knock back his enemies. He could also feel the presence of Seraphina more strongly, confused and worried, relieved and hopeful. Raising his arm once more, he pointed unerringly in her direction. New Orleans. Home.

Rolling over in the dirt, he pushed himself to his knees. The damage to his clothing wasn’t so bad this time, just a few errant spatters from the final zombies and some dirt that was easily brushed away. “You can come down now,” he said to the human fruit perched in the tree. “Unless you see some more hiding in the grass.” Grunts and scraping were the only response to his words. He walked back to fetch his backpack and by the time he returned everyone was on the ground.

“What’s going on?” Some guy in a suit asked. “Why aren’t our phones working?”

“No clue,” Daniel snapped. “Why is there half a mountain over there,” he pointed at the sliced peak in the east, “and thousand foot trees over there?” He finished, pointing to the west.

“I don’t know,” The suit answered.

“Welcome to the club,” Daniel spit, his anger leashed but still seething just under the surface of his thoughts. “Now shut up, I have to do something.”

A compulsion to organise paper had filled his brain, the price for using his ability, his penance for calling on the power of Wrath. He didn’t have any paper, just credit cards and business cards in his wallet. The compulsion scratched at the inside of his skull, an irritating itch demanding satisfaction now that he was out of combat. He needed to organise sheets of things. To sort them, to place them in order.

He walked over to a nearby bush and began plucking leaves, sorting them by size and colour. He’d pause occasionally and rearrange the stack, spreading it on the ground and restacking it until he was satisfied, then pluck more from the bush.

“What the hell are you doing?” Someone asked, breaking his concentration. Daniel growled at them like an animal. “Shut. Up. I have to do this.”

When he had a hundred leaves arranged in perfect order, the compulsion vanished. He couldn’t tell exactly what was different about each of the stacks, but they were arranged in a meticulous manner, each one sorted perfectly by some arbitrary method to which he wasn’t privy. Sighing, he rose from his knees and dusted them off. His seething rage had subsided while he was focused on paying his penance. The process had taken several minutes to complete and the survivors had gathered around him while he was focused on the leaves.

He looked around at the dirty, frightened faces.

“I’m heading to New Orleans,” he said, pointing in the direction of Seraphina. “If you want to follow me, that’s fine. If you want to wait for help… well, I have no idea if that’ll ever happen. I’ll tell people to come looking for you around this tree.”

“What the hell were you doing?” The suit asked. “Are you crazy or something? You have OCD?”

“We need water and food,” One of the ladies said, this one wearing scrubs. Possibly a RN or LPN or some other medical type. Hell, she could be a vet tech for all he knew. “And medical supplies. Everyone here has injuries of some sort, and …”

“I have a first aid kit,” Daniel said, ignoring the suit and pulling out the small medical kit from his backpack. He tossed it to her. “And water. Here’s a bottle each, save the bottle to refill at the next stream or whatever.”

“What about bugs and disease?” Another person snorted as he handed out the bottles. “I’m not drinking ditch water.”

“Then your bottle doesn’t get refilled, does it?” Daniel snapped, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to slap the man. “You can get medicine to treat bugs and stuff later, or you can die from dehydration now. It’s a simple choice.”

“We can boil the water,” The medical lady said. “That’ll kill anything in it.”

“You got a pot?” Danial asked.

She blushed under his fierce gaze.

“Yeah, so, if anyone has injuries,” He said to the small group of strangers, “let the nice lady patch you up. I’m leaving in 20 minutes.”

————— —————

A man about Daniel’s age snatched up his bat while he was rearranging his backpack, his buddy coming in low from the back to knock him down. Daniel rolled to the side as the sudden change in air pressure against his skin gave preternatural warning, bouncing to his feet. He faced the two, staring them down. The one with the bat was a muscular figure with a deep tan and shaved head, intricate tattoos covering his exposed arms and piercing blue eyes that glared at him. He was dressed in dark cargo pants, combat boots, and a black sleeveless vest, with silver rings on his fingers.

The one that tried to shove him down had a warm olive complexion and hazel eyes, along with a few scars on his left cheek. His chestnut brown hair was matted against his head with sweat. Despite the spring heat of Louisiana, he was wearing a leather jacket along with blue jeans and combat boots. A thick silver chain hung around his neck.

Bat-boy shook the baseball bat at Daniel. “Tell me how it works or I’ll brain you,” He threatened.

“How what works?” Daniel asked, honestly confused.

“The magic. We saw you make fire come out of this thing. Tell me how it works.”

Daniel laughed, a barking sound that shattered the silence which had fallen around them. He backed away, keeping both the men in front of him. “You want to know how the magic works?”

“Yeah, tell me how it works,” Bat-boy threatened, raising the bat and taking a step forward.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Daniel snarled, raising his right hand and covering it with flames. “The magic was inside me all along.”

The men backed away at the display, their eyes wide as long tongues of flame writhed around his arm. Raising his left arm, bolts of electricity crawled over it and crackled around his knuckles, eager to intimidate. Daniel started walking forward. “You want magic? Come get some.”

Bat-boy dropped the bat and ran south, following the broken highway while angling for the forest.

Jacket-boy watched him run, took a step and paused, then raised his hands. “Hey man, I don’t want no trouble. Rex said that if we got the magic bat that we’d have a better chance of getting back to Bootie, so you know…” He trailed off, self conscious and seemingly ashamed.

Daniel dropped the display. “I’m going to New Orleans, not Bootie. You’re welcome to follow your friend, or follow me. Your choice,” he said. One part of him wanted to test his new power, throw lightning at this punk and fry him. Another part, the one that was constantly whispering soothing words to him, counselled patience and understanding. People were fearful and just wanting to get someplace they believed was safe.

Jacket-boy looked back at his friend Jax who had paused a hundred yards away, close to the entrance of the forest. Daniel raised his hand and allowed a gout of flame to shoot from it, thrills running up his spine as he intimidated the thief. Jax fled into the shade of the enormous trees, vanishing from sight.

“What’s your name, Jacket-boy?” Daniel asked, walking over to retrieve his bat.

“Marcus Fontenot,” was the response. “People call me Rex.”

“Why do they call you Rex?” Daniel asked.

“Because my daddy always rides us in the Rex parade. I bring my friends with me, so they call me Rex.”

Daniel shrugged, his curiosity satisfied. Small things like that interested him, how people got their nicknames, the etymology of words, colloquialisms. He loved words and languages, but chose geophysics and petrophysics in college because it promised to pay more. And of course, since he was brought up to pay cash for everything, he was working offshore to pay for that same college, gaining experience while he was getting an education.

Not that any of it mattered anymore. The fact that there was half a mountain sitting in Lake Salavadore, complete with snowcapped peaks, rendered all his knowledge irrelevant. The world had changed in a New York minute. A sequoia was pushing the limits of how large a tree could grow on earth, but the trees to the west and south were at least 600 feet tall, maybe even close to a thousand. They defied reason, thick as a football field, tall as the Empire State Building.

And magic.

Wrath coursed through his brains while Seraphina waited patiently for him to come. His entire being demanded that he meet her and… and something. He didn’t know what. It wasn’t sexual. He hadn’t even met her, but he knew that Seraphina was the other half of his existence, the anchor who controlled his wrath and smothered it with Patience and understanding. Without her presence, he would quickly lose himself and rampage until he was dead.

The whispers grew louder as he thought of her, nearly intelligible. I’m coming. I’ll be there soon. She promised. He shouldered his backpack and looked around the group that had gathered.

Suit was an older man, early 40s but younger looking than Frenchie. Daniel could see that his hands were soft with no callouses. Nurse lady was in her late 20s or early 30s, soft and round, her dirty blonde hair piled atop her head to keep it off her neck. Two teenage girls stood next to one another, sisters or close enough kin that they resembled one another. Half the weave was gone from the head of one, exposing the short natural hair underneath. An older man in his late 50s with a train-conductor cap and scruffy beard was wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt standing protectively next to his companion, a short Latina with a shocked face framed by a frenzy of dark curls.

This was all that remained from the dozens of cars that had stopped running less than an hour ago, seven survivors, not including Jax the thief and himself.

Daniel surveyed the motley crew and pointed his bat towards New Orleans. “You ready?” Everyone nodded. He held up the two wrenches Frenchie had used as a weapon, handing one of them to Suit and the other to the old man. “It’s not much, but it’ll crack a zombie skull. I’ll want them back.”

“What about me?” Rex asked with a hopeful look on his face.

“Find a stick or something. That was all I had.” Daniel replied. Hitching up his backpack, he turned towards the distant city and Seraphina. “Let’s go.”

————— —————

None of this matters to you. Ignore it.

It's just me keeping track of things.

————— —————

Character Sheet: Daniel Carter

Gender: Male

Species: Human (Earth)

Age: 24

[Stats]

Strength: 14 (+2)

Stamina: 8

Agility: 16 (+2)

Intellect: 10

Wisdom: 11

Charisma: 10 (+1)

[Quirks/Personality Traits]

Introverted and introspective.

Avid reader and knowledge seeker.

Sarcastic sense of humour.

[Buffs and debuffs]

Currently unbonded, emotionally unstable.

[Super Powers]

Infernal BlazeStrike

Thundering Discharge

[POWERS] Daniel Carter

Power Name: Infernal Blazestrike

Type: Vice

Source: Wrath

Bonus: +2 to Strength, +1 to Agility

Damage Type: Fire

Duration: Instantaneous

Effect: The user channels their wrath into their melee strikes, imbuing their weapon or fists with searing flames. Every blow delivers fiery damage upon impact, leaving their opponents scorched and engulfed in flames. This power allows for devastating fire-infused melee attacks that can melt through armour and incinerate enemies at close range.

Compulsion Type: Penance

Compulsion: After using this power, the user is compelled to patiently organise sheets of paper, symbolising the control and suppression of their inner wrath and the need to restore balance.

Power Name: Thundering Discharge

Type: Vice

Source: Wrath

Bonus: +1 to Agility, +1 to Charisma

Damage Type: Lightning

Duration: Short-term

Effect: The user taps into their wrath to unleash short-ranged lightning discharges from their hands or weapons. These electric blasts can be targeted at individual opponents or released in quick succession, delivering shock damage and potentially stunning or paralysing their targets. This power allows for swift and aggressive lightning-based attacks at a close to mid-range.

Compulsion Type: Penance

Compulsion: After using this power, the user is compelled to draw fractal Lichtenberg patterns to regain control over their emotions.

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June 24, 2023 at 17:02