Goliath

In the swamp by the Nightmare’s spawner, hidden away from prying eyes, lies a clandestine laboratory that defies the conventional boundaries of science and technology. Here, in a fusion of retro-futuristic aesthetics and the eerie allure of steampunk, Goliath toils tirelessly on his experiments, seeking to save the life of the wolf he did battle with.

Approaching the laboratory, one is struck by its imposing presence amidst the quaint surroundings of the wild swamp land. The exterior is a juxtaposition of 1950s architecture and steampunk embellishments, with rusted pipes winding their way around brick walls and gears protruding from Victorian-style windows.

Upon entering the laboratory, visitors are greeted by an atmosphere of eerie grandeur. The entrance hall is adorned with vintage scientific equipment, from brass-framed mirrors to elaborate glass contraptions filled with bubbling liquids. A large clockwork contraption dominates the centre of the room, its gears whirring and clicking ominously.

Stepping into the main laboratory, one is immediately struck by the cacophony of sights and sounds. Brass machinery hums and whirs in the background, while steam hisses from pipes overhead. The walls are lined with shelves filled with jars containing preserved specimens, their contents obscured by murky liquids.

At the heart of the laboratory stands Golaith's workstation, a marvel of retro-futuristic design. A massive contraption resembling a cross between an old-fashioned operating table and a steampunk generator dominates the centre of the room, surrounded by banks of blinking gauges and control panels adorned with analogue dials.

In one corner of the laboratory, a collection of electrical apparatus hums with barely contained energy. Tesla coils crackle with blue lightning, casting eerie shadows on the walls, while Jacob's ladders sizzle and spark with electricity. The air is thick with the scent of ozone, adding to the sense of tension and anticipation.

Amidst the machinery and scientific apparatus, Golaith's creations—monstrous amalgamations of flesh and metal—were brought to life through a combination of 1950s ingenuity and steampunk technology, with a little help from Nightmare’s skills and magic. Okay, a lot of help comes from her skills. Hunter has a stitched-together body and glowing eyes.

“Almost there,” Goliath whispered. Little did he know, at that moment Nightmare had just rushed past with a little girl in her arms, taking her to her family, before rushing off to the core room.

Violet

Hey Journal. It is me again, Vi.

So much has happened. I had a wild discussion with my dad. With my dad, of all people? But I am going to jump ahead for a second because we have just been summoned to city hall.

We (Azrael, Jack, Goibniu, Hades, Grace, Oliver, and I) are currently walking in the heart of a bustling city. The streets are paved with red cobblestones. I have to say we are currently standing out compared to everyone else. The people's attire here is more of a blend of fantasy and steampunk elements. I have to say, it is eye-catching. I thought we were dressed in steampunk or a fairytale style, but these people blew us out of the water. Still, each member of my group exudes an aura of adventure and intrigue as we make our way through the throngs of people. I am excited to see what these people have created. Our destination was looming before us: the grandiose facade of City Hall.

As we traversed the city streets, I marvelled at the sights and sounds of the bustling metropolis. Jack told me that she loved the market and couldn’t wait to show it to me. She also explained that our produce was considered top-notch, and we should be able to trade it with the city. That sure made Azrael smile because she is in charge of the mushroom farms.

Steampowered carriages rumble past, belching clouds of steam and exhaust, while floating lanterns glide gracefully overhead, their brass-plated hulls gleaming in the sunlight. Street vendors peddle their wares from wooden carts adorned with colourful banners, offering everything from enchanted trinkets to mechanized contraptions.

As we draw nearer to our destination, the group's conversation turns to the looming edifice of City Hall, with its towering spires and ornate clock tower dominating the skyline. It reminded me as if the parliament building in Ottawa and the clock tower, Big Ben, in London had a baby. The building is a marvel of architectural splendour, with its stone facade adorned with intricate carvings and stained glass windows depicting scenes of heroism and adventure.

Finally, we come to a stop before the grand entrance of City Hall, with its massive double doors standing open to welcome visitors. The air was electric with anticipation as we gathered before the imposing structure, exchanging knowing glances and nods of determination. With a shared sense of purpose.

“One small step,” I whispered to myself.

Grace asked, “Isn’t that small of a step? We can all stand on it just fine.”

Azrael said in her slow whale voice, “I don’t like steps. I like my farm. No steps like this there.”

“Back in the elk tribe, we had even bigger steps,” Oliver chimed in.

“You guys are missing the point.” I eye-rolled them so hard at that point. “This famous guy back from where I am from said it. It was what I was feeling.”

“Your home sounds very odd if they think a step is a big deal,” Jack said.

“Come on, they aren’t going to wait for us; at least I don’t think they will,” Hades added.

We step forward as one.

Alpha Wolf

“The Old One calls. Time for a new battle,” Cailleach said.

The Alpha's ears perked up at the mention of the Old One. He knew that dealing with such ancient beings was never an easy task, but it was a duty he couldn't shirk. "What is the nature of this new battle, Cailleach?" he asked, his tone respectful but tinged with a hint of wariness.

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Cailleach's response echoed within the chamber, carrying authority and a sense of solemnity. "The Old One is unhappy, and its influence spreads once more. It threatens the delicate balance we have sought to maintain. You must commune with him before his rage turns on us. Helping him will allow our power to grow unchecked."

There was a soft blue glow of light filling the spherical chamber. If Violet had been there, she might have thought it looked like the special chamber the bald professor used in those X-men movies.

The Alpha nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I am ready to enter his realm again. Last time wasn’t easy, and I do not have to sacrifice this time.”

“He is not in that world anymore. He has found his way into the space between, or as some might call it, the void.”

The wolf nodded. He said, “I am ready when you are, my core.”

Cailleach's response was direct. "Seek out the source of its power, deep within your heart. You will find the key to strengthening our hold on the realm there."

The Alpha rose to his feet with a determined gleam in his eyes. "I will not fail you, Cailleach. Our pack will stand strong against this threat."

A small archway opened before the core. All the lights and mana in the air created the archway. From the Alpha’s perspective, it was made from black crystal glass, and eldritch symbols were carved into the edges of the archway. The otherworldly runes began to pulse purple. Alpha walked forward and channelled a thimble full of his man into the archway, and he was pulled into the swirling void containing the portal.

As he passed through the portal, a pair of swing doors moved behind him. It took him a second to process the passive change he experienced. One second, he was in the core’s room, and the next, he was in a new reality. He looked around, and he was in a strange place.

The doors behind him closed, and strange words were spelled over the two doors: Frank’s Bowling Alley. The wolf was greeted by the sound of pins crashing and the murmur of conversation. The scent of cigarette smoke lingers in the air, mixed with the aroma of freshly waxed lanes. On the wall right of the entrance were neon lights spelling out "Bowling" in bold, vibrant colours, beckoning anyone to step into a world of fun and competition.

Anyone from Earth would have felt that the interior is a throwback to the 1950s, with glossy linoleum floors in checkerboard patterns leading the way to the rows of polished wooden lanes. The walls are adorned with vintage posters advertising soda pop, hot dogs, and the latest Hollywood movies. The seating area is furnished with chrome-legged tables and vinyl-covered chairs, arranged around a jukebox that plays tunes from the likes of Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry.

The wolf began to walk deeper into this strange world for him. His bare feet, with their sharp claws, dug into the soft linoleum. The beast-man was not looking forward to his meeting with the Old One. After the last one, where the scout's blood was drained and turned to dust, he would love nothing more than to be a reality away from that monster. But he pushed forward for his people.

The wolf began to look around for the Old Man. This world, this place, was so different from the last meeting. He surveyed the ally. The heart of the alley was the bowling lanes themselves, bathed in the warm glow of overhead pendant lights. The lanes are made of richly polished maple wood, gleaming under the fluorescent glow. Each lane is separated by wooden partitions, offering a sense of privacy while maintaining the communal spirit of the alley. The pin-setting machines clatter and whir as they reset for the next frame, adding to the rhythmic ambiance of the space.

There were all manner of odd humanoid creatures—no humans, but a mix. There were five species, all on different teams. There were Triceratops, Stegosaurus, Pterodactyl, Velociraptor Rex, and Diplodocus. They were all wearing bowling shirts adorned with geometric patterns in shades of blue and green, reflecting the colours of their natural habitat.

The sound of bowling balls rolling down the lanes mingles with the laughter and cheers of players, creating a lively symphony of activity. The crackling sound of pins being struck resonates through the alley, punctuated by the occasional groan of disappointment or triumphant shout of victory. Over it all, the jukebox plays a soundtrack of rock and roll classics, providing the perfect backdrop for an afternoon or evening of bowling fun.

Nearby, a Triceratops was running a snack bar. He was offering a tempting array of treats, from greasy burgers and fries to sweet milkshakes and ice-cold sodas. The scent of popcorn wafts through the air, enticing bowlers to take a break and refuel between frames.

That was when he saw the Old Man. He was sitting by himself, watching the bowlers at their games, while drinking a strawberry milkshake.

The Alpha walked towards the Old God and went to one knee and made a deep bow. “I have come, as you instructed. What may I do for you?”

The Blind One dismissed the question, “Have you ever just stopped and watched people having fun? Like, look at them. Such a simple game. Roll a ball down and knock something over. So simple. But look at how happy they are.”

“I haven’t watched my people having… fun in a while, sir.”

The Old One patted the chair next to him and said, “Sit, sit.”

“Thank you, Sir.” The Alpha rose from the ground, taking the seat on the right-hand side of the god, and watched the people below.

“That is a shame. It is such a rush to watch people at their highest, right before the crash.”

Putting the pink-coloured milkshake down, he raised his fingers. Then he started to slowly snap. The wolf looked on in horror at the power of the old god.

He watched in terror at the whimsical scene of deadly mischief. Imagine a colourful balloon filled not with water but with fluffy, white shaving cream. As it hurtles through the air toward its unsuspecting target, the anticipation hangs thick in the summer breeze. Let's capture the moment of its explosive release.

The shaving cream-filled balloon sails through the air, its surface glistening in the phosphorescent light, an innocent facade disguising the true reality of what the Alpha was witnessing. With each passing moment, the tension mounts as it draws closer to its unwitting victim, who remains blissfully unaware of the impending surprise.

With a soft thud, the balloon makes contact with its target—a friend, a sibling, or perhaps a passerby—creating a momentary pause in the bowling game. The surface of the balloon, now stretched taut with pressure, quivers with anticipation, ready to unleash its frothy payload.

In an instant, the rubber membrane gives way under the pressure, unable to contain the creamy mass within. With a dramatic flourish, the balloon erupts into a spectacular explosion of shaving cream, sending frothy tendrils cascading through the air in all directions.

A torrent of fluffy white foam engulfs the unsuspecting victim, coating them from head to toe in a blanket of soft, sudsy goodness. The shaving cream clings to their hair and clothes, creating a comical tableau of playful chaos and surprise.

But the actual reality was that the Old God had turned half the players into living versions of these balloons. He caused them to expand; if Violet was there, she could make the comparison to the blueberry girl from the Roald Dahl book. Once expanded, he slammed the victims into their friends, causing them to explode.

Instead of shaving cream, replace it with blood, organs, and bone. That was what started to happen all around the alley.

The Old Man continued to snap his fingers until everyone, except the vendor selling snacks, was dead. Then the eldritch horror summoned a straw to his lips and began to suck. Blood formed together, creating a river that raced towards the god. He drank and drank until the alley was spotless again. Then, in silence, a song started to play on the jukebox by the Ink Spots.

The wolfman just froze in the chair beside the god.

“It is time to take away the humans's fun, don’t you think, Alpha?”