Junior Associate Editor for the Sneerhome Chronicle, Stell Metus, joined the back of the crowd forming outside Emberwood Village. He pushed his way to the front, passing humans, orcs, and the occasional gnome. Lazily slung around his shoulder with a frayed strap, a leather box containing his lumen recorder rested neatly against his hip. It was a pricey piece of equipment, one his boss would kill him for if it was destroyed.
Luckily for Stell, most people got out of his way—fearfully, even. Such was the way for the demon race, for Stell and his people. The reporter could understand it, he supposed: it was the eyes. His, like many other demons, were solid black with a thin, haunting, red-slitted iris. Every race in this world had unique gifts. The gnomes were practically immune to lightning, the orcs held immense strength, the elves were practically immortal.
Then there were the demons. Their “gift” was more akin to a curse, as far as Stell was concerned. Their eyes induced fear in all who dared stare back.
A terrible gift for getting people to trust me, Stell thought to himself, arriving at the gates to World Walker Park. Why did I choose a profession built on trust, again?
He took a deep breath, slowly looking around. There were a few hundred people around, but not enough to warrant a proper story. Maybe the second page, if he was lucky. Third if not.
I’m going to be living on scraps again this month. Stell sighed and shook himself from his stupor. His boss had sent him here for a reason—to investigate a sighting of Goddess Tippy and a newly born World Walker.
There was one thing Stell had learned working for the Chronical over the years: whenever his boss sent him to do something, it was because his boss didn’t much care for the story.
Why send an Associate Editor when a Junior was so much cheaper? Stell rolled his eyes at that, briefly catching a kid looking at him.
Stell snapped his eyes closed instantly—but it was too late. The kid started screaming, tears pouring down his cheeks like a deluge. His wails drew many more eyes, all of which suddenly landed on Stell. He could feel them, they made him squirm. So many eyes, so many people he could reduce to sweltering, blubbering fools. It would only take a glance, and their judgmental glares would all fade away…
But no. Stell kept his eyes closed. Even when the mother of the crying kid muttered, “monster” under her breath as she dragged the poor kid away.
Stell prayed for this day to end. And yet, the park hadn’t even opened yet.
Nearly an hour later, the grass started making noise. A gentle flute song wafted from the soil, filling the air at the same time a weak fog rolled in. Stell looked around.
Is there a mage around? he wondered.
Stell kept his eyes low as he scanned the area. Eventually he found one of his interview targets—Emberwood Village Mayor Tram. She stood beside a villager who was playing a hand chiseled flute.
Or maybe it’s a recorder? Stell questioned, making a note on his paper pad. Does it really matter?
As the villager played, the crowd turned oddly silent. From talking and laughing among themselves to all facing forward into Emberwood Village, the crowd stood in tandem, watching and listening. Stell glanced around suspiciously, finding a few others like him—those wondering just what was going on.
It was then Stell noticed the shirts. Oddly shaped tunics with words! What a curious idea! He leaned around one of his neighboring crowd members, reading, “I survived the WHEEL,” “World Walker Park,” and “Goddess Certified Park” on three various people.
That last one made Stell pause. He took note of the shirt, writing the words down. If the crowd wasn’t currently enthralled with the flute and fog song, he’d have gone over to the woman and inquired about her shirt. But no—something was happening.
The mayor moved to a small podium, stepping up so she was a few heads taller than even the lankiest elves in the crowd. She smiled to herself, eyeing the crowd as the song came to an end. The villager flutist handed then handed the mayor a… stick? Then trudged off back into the village—or was it the park? Just where did Emberwood Village end and World Walker Park begin?
Stell scribbled down more notes but stopped when the mayor started speaking.
“Ladies and gentlemen, mystics and mages, adventurers and explorers, welcome to our humble slice of the extraordinary—World Walker Park!”
A murmur echoed through the crowd. Apparently, there was some issue with her words. Stell wondered why.
“Now,” the mayor continued, “I know I’m not the one you were expecting to welcome you into the park. Normally, that job goes to the creator of these lands—World Walker Luka.”
Guess that confirms he’s real, Stell noted. Still unknown about the Goddess.
“Why is the World Walker absent on the second day of the park’s life? It’s simple, really. Because he’s sleeping!” Tram paused just long enough for the crowd to begin talking amongst themselves. “But not because he’s lazy or ignorant. No, our World Walker is a bit eccentric, you see. He stayed up all last night until the sun rose this morning, working on a new—amazing—attraction.”
Stell noted her statements got a rise out of the crowd—a bump in outrage and/or admiration. The jury is still out on which, he thought.
“To those of you who were here yesterday: first, I thank you for coming back so soon. As a token for our appreciation, we’ve prepared a small token of our thanks for your continued patronage.” The mayor held up a small wooden coin. “These are commemorative ‘souvenirs’ to celebrate the opening of ‘Rogue Wave,’ our newest flagship attraction.” She flipped the coin off her thumb.
One side held a burnt-wood drawing of a galley, the other a strange symbol Stell had never seen before. He made a note, jotting down the exact engraving “2.”
“The ship is the attraction, the symbol is World Walker Luka’shome world language for the number two—as in, the second day of the park’s opening.” Tram rolled the coin through her knuckles like a seasoned gambler. “For any returning guests, please find any of the park’s employees and offer proof of attendance yesterday. They will give you a coin.”
Stell made a face at that. How are they going to police that? What counts as ‘proof?’ But the longer he thought about it, the more he decided that they didn’t care. They were going to give the coins to anyone who asked, regardless of yesterday’s attendance. Why? Because everyone loved free stuff, and acquiring a rare token was always a good feeling.
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Stell made the note ‘the park seems to be utilizing strange, almost esoteric ways to drum-up interest in their services.’
The mayor continued, “As some of you know, Goddess Tippy blessed the park. She implicitly, as it seems, trusted in what Luka is building here. Last night there was an accident. A young gnomish woman fell from one of our attractions, only for the Goddess to intervene. Divine interference!” She practically yelled the two words, the strange stick resonating with the grass. “Amazing, isn’t it? World Walker Park may have some thrilling attractions, but remember! Your safety is always guaranteed!”
Stell made note of the Goddess’ apparent actions. He’d need witnesses before the story would ever get anywhere.
Tram cleared her throat. “One last thing before we open our gates. The newest attraction, Rogue Wave, will be opened at noon by the World Walker himself! Come one, come all, for, in my long life, what might be, the most amazing, thrilling thing I’ve ever had the opportunity to experience.”
That got a pop of excitement from the crowd, Stell noted. Cheers, whistles, clapping.
Tram started to step off the podium—but stopped herself. Clear as day she spoke into the stick, her words echoing across the entire crowd.
“Oh, I forgot to mention. Today, as it’s grand opening, Rogue Wave will be free—no payment necessary.”
The crowd exploded with excitement.
“Welcome! To World Walker Park!”
Stell clutched his lumen recorder closely and followed the crowd as everyone entered the park.
***
Stell sat on a bench, chomping down on a “smashburger.” To his demonic palate, it was good, not great. It needed to be bloodier! Rare and far fresher. Yet, Stell, in his years as a journalist, had grown used to reviewing food based on the local palate. This smashburger would be the best meal a normal person had in a week.
He scribbled down his thoughts, taking up an entire page on his paper pad to explain his thoughts on World Walker Park’s food offerings. Pizza was up next when the line died down some.
Stell finished off his food and reviewed his other notes. So far, he’d failed to speak with the mayor, Tram, nor the World Walker, Luka. He did, however, interview a few villagers—park employees—as well as a few guests who’d been in attendance yesterday, after some eye-related troubles. All confirmed it, the Goddess did appear and bless the park.
A smile crept across Stell’s face. Front page may be an option after all, it seems. Especially if this ‘Rogue Wave’ attraction lived up to the hype.
So far, Stell had ridden all the “basic” attractions. “Basic” was the term he was going with, despite each attraction being anything but. The WHEEL, the teacups, the spinning swings, and the carousel were all basic. Other than the magical glyphs running the rides, they were simply common thrills. They were great. Unique, even, as far as Stell was concerned. But not “magical,” his other coined term.
Rogue Wave was supposed to be leagues better… whatever that meant. Each employee he spoke to claimed the same thing: Rogue Wave would mark the standard for what World Walker Park would become.
Big claims, Stell thought, but if the Goddess really is involved, then maybe they’re legit?
He pocketed his notepad and removed a small wooden coin—the special, super limited, commemorative souvenir Tram had shown off. He was right—all Stell had to do was say he was in attendance yesterday. The employee gladly gave him one with a smile, no checking, no proof, just word of mouth.
And yet, despite the coin obviously being a gimmick to create some kind of artificial positive emotion connected to the park, Stell couldn’t help but feel centipedes in his stomach. Awe was a feeling the demonic rarely felt—and yet, here he was, staring at the “2” burnt into one side of the coin, feeling the strange symbol’s mysticism.
It was an alien symbol, a simple number, yet it tugged at Stell’s sense of wonderment—his sense of the unknown. Just what was the World Walker’s home world like? Where did the man hail from, what kind of mystery did his mind hold, how many untold secrets did he witness, and how many had he long forgotten?
These questions and more swirled in Stell’s head. I’ll get that interview, he decided, and I’ll get my rightful front-page spot—above the fold.
An interview with a Goddess-touched World Walker? Stell could see the headlines now…
The grass suddenly vibrated, a gentle flute song echoing across the park. Stell stirred, looking around. Careful, as to not lock eyes with anyone, he found a peculiar scene playing out across the way. Two dire-wolves and a dire-emu trotted down the path, two orcs and a human on their backs. Behind them, Mayor Tram strolled, alongside a strangely smooth orcish woman wearing a raven on her head. Behind them was the flute player, and the accompanying magical stick.
Stell watched as an impromptu parade appeared behind them—one that drew from the attendees. Everyone began to follow, including Stell.
He looked at the sun. It was noon.
The parade looped around the entire park before coming to rest before a strange magical oddity. With his demonic eyes, Stell noticed a dozen out of place trees. They looked like any other emberwood but reeked of magical fumes. To him, magic appeared as a deathly red essence—the lifeblood of demons. To others, he knew, magic looked like birds or snails, strands of hair or even musical song.
In the case of the trees, red essence danced across the bark and down through the roots. Stell pushed away his magical sight, viewing the trees as they were—trees. Again, they looked like normal emberwood trees… and yet, he just had to take notes on them.
Strange grouping of trees, the World Walker and his entourage, stopped before them.
It was then Stell realized he had yet to actually see this new attraction. Just where was it? Behind the trees?
The flute song ended, and the magical stick was passed to Luka. He held it to his mouth and addressed the park.
“Ladies and gentlemen, mystics and mages, adventurers and explorers, welcome to World Walker Park. I apologize I missed opening the gates, but alas, I needed to rest my eyes.”
Stell quirked an eyebrow at the man’s strange, almost whimsical tone. Such is World Walkers, I suppose.
“And for my actions, I declare half-priced wine for the next two hours!” That got a cheer from the crowd. Luka continued, “Behind me lies an adventure I fear this world is not yet ready for. I can already hear the screams of thrill, the shocked eyes of fear, the flipping stomach of excitement… Yet I believe the explorers here today can, and will, take part—if for no other reason than to brag.”
Around, fog rolled in, covering everyone’s feet. “Behind me lies a journey, one cast in sea mist and salt. Behind me tells the tale of an illegal voyage across deadly oceans. Behind me is a prize worth risking life for.”
Luka slowly extended his arms, presenting the area behind him. The odd trees rumbled and flickered. Faux water sprinkled from their leaves; a rushing wind battered across the area. The World Walker continued to raise his hands—until! He ceased all movement, turning still like a statue. The wind cut off; the rain stopped.
Luka leaned forward, his mighty mount lowering to his front paws. “Behind me,” the man whispered, the grass resonating with his words, “is the journey of a lifetime—a smuggling run across the wicked seas, all to deliver vital supplies to a Hero defending our very lives…” He slowly leaned back, his mount standing tall. “Behind me, is Rogue Wave!”
The flickering trees exploded into a shower of seafoam, rain, and howling winds. The crowd cheered and clapped, their enthrallment latching on to the World Walker’s every word! The trees were gone, and in their place, a long wooden galley swung back and forth between rolling thunderclouds and indomitable waves.
The ship crashed against the water, sending a spray across the immediate area. Sea creatures leaped from the deadly waves, careening parallel to the ship, or jumping across its bow. Some landed on the deck, others were battered away by the hull. Either way, barrels and crates fell overboard, splashing into the murky depths and swallowed by the frightening gale-force.
Stell’s demonic eyes opened wide.
The term “magical” was correct.
His hand slipped into the leather box at his hip. Slowly, carefully, he extracted his lumen recorder, held it up, and activated the some-seven hundred glyphs that controlled the apparatus. The risk of breaking the device was high every time he removed it from its enchanted box—and yet, Stell knew this magic warranted its use.
The front page needed to have a photo of what was going on here.