Goblin planets are surprisingly clean.

It wasn’t that Goblins were dirty. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Goblins are obsessed with cleanliness and order. Black suits were worn by both sexes of their species for almost any occasion. Clean, well-kept black hair was also a certainty. No, the reason that clean Goblin planets were a surprise was the clientele that Goblins attracted.

Goblins were the smaller, magically gifted cousins of the Ogres. Since the Camadt War almost fifteen hundred years ago, Ogres had been seen as the stupid foot soldiers on the wrong side of every war. Destruction and pain followed wherever the six-foot-tall tusked humanoids traveled. Because of that, Goblins had worked hard to distance themselves from their war-driven cousins. The effort hadn’t worked though, and Goblins had been forced into Dark Legion territory, where they had set up planets devoted to gaming. All of which were run with the precision that would have made any 1900s mobster proud.

Gaming wasn’t the only thing that happened in those buildings. As the cesspool for the Universe’s less desirables, it was also the perfect place to have a meeting that needed to stay off the books.

The back room of Paradise Lost was poorly lit to allow for such meetings. The Casino was on the corner of Goblin, Vampire, and Ogre space. The planet was run by the Dark Master Gagir, so it was a particularly popular place for Dark Legion agents to meet.

Lounging in the shadows of the back corner booth were two Elves. The one facing the bar had black eyes, white skin, and jet-black hair. He had a black robe draped around his shoulders that melted into the shadows. The hood was flipped back allowing him to look around the room better. Faint scars on his chin danced down his neck and whispered stories about past battles. The black oak staff across his lap promised everyone in the bar that they wanted to stay far away from the Dark Mage.

The Dark Mage’s companion was wearing the same robe, but his hood was still up. All that could be seen from under the hood was the white tip of an Elf’s chin.

“You did what?” Stilas demanded his hooded friend

“Keep your voice down.” The calm, yet forceful voice of the Dark Master ordered, “No one else needs to know.”

Stilas sank back in his seat. He wanted to be anywhere other than here, but when his “friend” called he had to obey.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked

“Come now,” The Dark Master laid his staff on the table, “You say that like I only call you when I want something.”

Even though it couldn’t be seen under the hood, Stilas knew that his ‘friend’ was grinning.

“That’s because you do.” Stilas forced himself not to show the shiver that ran down his spine, “Ever since you tricked me into using Demon Magic anyway.”

“I showed you power!” The Dark Master banged his fist on the table, “Power you wanted!”

The patrons in the pub glanced at them. When it became clear that someone wasn’t going to die, they went back to whatever they had been doing before.

Stilas swallowed. This wasn’t a new argument, and it wasn’t one that he could win. It had been sixty-one years since he had been promised that Demonic Magic had been the way to increase a being’s power and could help him understand how to give powers to another. It had been a lie, a ruse so that his “friend” could use the connection to Demonic magic without becoming tainted by it.

It wasn’t something that he could hide either. Using Demonic magic had turned his gold eyes black. Any casual observer could tell that he had used forbidden magic.

“Back to business.” The Dark Master snapped his fingers in Stilas’ face.

“I’m listening,” Stilas grunted

“Our fleet made it through the warpgate and destroyed their defense fleet, but that pretender of an Elder sealed it in a time bubble.” The Dark Master began

Stilas nodded. A time bubble would be harder to deflect than a direct attack, plus it would give the Congress time to send reinforcements. That should have been the end of the invasion, but since they were talking, something else had to have happened.

“Your fleet didn’t get destroyed.”

The dark Master’s hood bobbed, “Our agents within the Congress convinced them that this would be the perfect excuse to have the Elders allow the humans access to the Conduit.”

“How did you do that?” He asked

“Lots of politics that you wouldn’t understand.”

Stilas stroked his chin, “You destroyed the warp gate.”

“That may have helped.” The Dark Master admitted.

Their conversation was interrupted as a Minotaur and an Ogre began to argue near the bar. The fight attracted the attention of most of the patrons, but none stepped in as it was only verbal.

The hooded Elf pulled his cowl tighter around his face.

Stilas took a sip from the mug in front of him. The liquid was spicy and sweet, with a hint of alcohol. He set his mug down near the edge of the table, “What did you need from me that was worth risking your exposure?”

The hooded figure leaned forward, “I need you on Earth.”

“You-“ Stilas let his voice trail off as the five feet tall, green-skinned barmaid walked past their table and grabbed his mug. The hooded figure leaned back in his seat and turned to the wall until she was back at the bar.

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“You want me to go to Earth?” Stilas echoed

The hooded figure smoothed his robe, “My agents in the Congress have convinced them to let Earth defend themselves against our Fleet. The humans won’t be able to stop us, but-“

They both glanced over to where the Minotaur and Ogre were still arguing. The Ogre had shoved the Minotaur, who promptly flipped a table over on top of the Ogre. The patrons in the bar were gathering around the pair to watch the fight. In usual Goblin fashion, the Barmaid was taking bets on the winner from behind the bar.

“Why do you want me on Earth?” Stilas asked, “I need to stay far away from the Elders.”

“The destruction of the University wiped out most of them.” The Dark Master said, “The ones that are left will be too busy preparing for war to notice you.”

Stilas fought another shiver, “Okay, but why do you want me on Earth? There have to be lots of other agents you could send.”

“We need to handle the humans first.”

“They are only human,” Stilas scoffed, “What can they do with their technology?”

The hooded figure crossed his fingers in front of him, “The Congress has decided that the Humans should have access to the Conduit again.”

“They are betting on the prophecy?” Stilas snorted, “Letting the Humans unlock their magic and Elemental powers won’t help them. They’ll tear each other apart and anyone who is on Earth while they’re doing it.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“What do you mean?” Stilas asked

“The Congress has kept the Humans from technologically advancing, while the Elders have kept them from their full potential. We don’t have to go in as the conquerors. We will be Earth’s liberators.”

“Whoever controls Earth controls the Universe.” Stilas quoted the old Elf children’s proverb. “What do you want me to do?”

“Use the extra time to -.”The hooded figure scooted to the right end of his seat as the Minotaur crashed into their table and flipped it over.

Stilas spun away from the fight. He started to build magic in the tattoo on his right hand, but his ‘friend’ beat him to it. As a Dark Master, his ‘friend’ had learned how to cast spells faster.

There wasn’t a flash of light or any other marker to show that a spell had been cast. Not physically anyway. The mental spell thickened the air as it wove its way into the Minotaur’s mind. A being with a stronger will might have been able to resist the mental spell, but the beast was very drunk. Blood began trickling out of its nose before its eyes rolled back and it fell to the ground.

“That MY KILL!” The Ogre yelled

The Dark Master reached into his robe and pulled out a silver wand.

“Die!” He spat

A black death bolt shot out of the end of the wand and splashed into the Ogre’s chest.

The Ogre fell backward and smashed another table.

Stilas watched as the patrons began scrambling for the doors. He was frozen in place as his ‘friend’ waved at the exits. The doors slammed shut, locking the patrons inside. He watched as the Dark Master began pointing the wand at each patron, dropping them one by one.

When the last patron died, his ‘friend’ brushed his hands, “I needed that.”

Stilas looked over the room. It wasn’t the death that bothered him. He had killed far more people than this. It was the senselessness involved that he didn’t like. A case could be made for why the Minotaur had to die and the Ogre was clearly self-defense, but there was no reason to kill the rest of the patrons except for sick pleasure.

“Did you have to kill all of them?”

Elation oozed out of the Dark Master’s voice, “This plan has to stay a secret.”

Stilas sat down on the bench. He had lived in war his entire life. He tried not to think about how a room full of fresh bodies didn’t bother him.

The hooded figure dropped the wooden plank to lock the front door before he took his seat across from Stilas. He picked up a half spilled mug and took a long drink. “Where were we?”

“Earth.” It was all Stilas could say.

“Ah, yes.” The Dark Master set down the mug, “Time will help us.” The hooded figure said, “If the Triftion does appear, then we will need more than just a Dark Legion army.”

“What do we need?” Stilas asked

“A backup plan.” The hooded figure tossed a black marble through the air.

Stilas caught the marble in his hand, but it melted as soon as it touched his skin. The black ink seeped into Stilas’ skin and vanished into his blood.

Stilas shivered as the cold magic coursed through his body. “What do you want me to do with a pocket dimension key?”

“Do you remember Tenahill?” The hooded figure asked

Stilas frowned. It had been one of his greatest failures. And where everyone thought he had died. “You want me to make Elementals.”

“Yes.” The hooded figure cooed, “I have arranged for you to be able to board one of the surviving Earth Defense Fleet ships. Once you are on the ship, you will be able to fly through the anti-projection field around Earth.”

“You need me to kill the remaining Elves?”

“No.” The hooded figure spat, “The humans will panic. Powerless humans will imprison those who develop powers.”

Stilas flexed his right hand, displaying black tattoos running down the top of each finger and the thumb of that hand. “You want my Forbidden spell.”

“Yes.” The hooded figure stated, “If the human Triftion is found, then we will need something that can kill him.”

“A Triftion can control all four elements. What good will throwing Elementals at him do?”

“A distraction.”

Pounding on the other side of the door caused both Elves to look up.

“I will contact you as soon as I can with the next step of our plan once there is a development.” The hooded figure drew a ring on the floor with the end of his staff. The ring closed with a snap and the floor inside the ring melted into shiny silver fluid.

“Take care of that.” The hooded figure pointed at the door with his staff, then jumped into the ring. He blinked out of sight and the ring vanished along with the fluid inside it.

“Sure, you get to use a portal to run away before things get dirty.” Stilas muttered as he swung his staff at the keg the barmaid had been pouring drinks from.

The alcohol splashed onto the floor and soaked into the bottom of Stilas’ robe. Stilas broke every container behind the bar with long swings from his staff. He walked over to the front door and drew over the frame with his finger.

The door began to buckle as Stilas marked a seal on the door. He gave the room one last glance as he flipped his hood on and sloshed through the mixture of alcohols on the floor. None of the patrons deserved a funeral like this, but it was the best he could do. In Goblin territory, if the bodies weren’t cremated, then they would be sold to a necromancer for parts. That was something he wouldn’t allow to happen.

Stilas paused at the back door long enough to watch the front door be forced open. The seal erupted into sparks, igniting the alcohol. The entire bar went up like tinder. Hungry flames licked the shield around him, but only warmth from the fire and the smell of burning flesh made it through. He whipped his robes around him as he walked out of the bar and melted into the shadows. His shoulders drooped as he drew a portal on the back wall of the bar. Something told him that there was going to be more messes to come.