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Goblin

Green Greedy Goblin can't find any coins

"Fake!" she seeths and in the pile it joins

She tosses the second and stomps on the third

Her screeches grow louder but remain unheard

Heaps and Humps and Hills of bounty Galore! Amount to

Our Green Greedy Goblin Foolish and Forlorn.

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The Keeper of Energy and her Subsequent Scribes

Hidden deep in the connected continuum exists a place, or perhaps a concept, of which is eternally expansive and bounded in frequencies invisible to the naked eye. One cannot travel to this realm as a destination of a journey just as one could not plot a course to the concept of time. Both of which one just exists in, it was always there and it is always meant to be. Something that flows through all of us. It’s hard to imagine a river that never begins and ends because all rivers usually begin somewhere high and flow somewhere low, a basic law of nature, one of which requires energy fueled by gravity. Where does time flow from and where does it go? Perhaps this is a silly question that doesn’t have an answer just like the question of where does the continuum and all the energy contained within flow from and where does it go? Imagine if one were to be swept up in this natural flow and carried far away by a current so strong it has the power to hold stars together, breathe life into that which was lifeless, and bind the past to the future so one is meaningless without the other. Eventually on their long journey they would find themselves in this hidden realm with The Keeper.

The Keeper of Energy stands tall grasping in her hands a crystal bowl and from it flows every conceivable frequency, vibration, and pitch as raw plasma. She appears frozen in time as if someone trapped her essence in one pose. Her hair is caught afloat hanging in limbo spreading out and mingling with the galaxies until each individual strand is indistinguishable from the stars. The plasma flows through the air humming with energy, rich with vitality and emanating warmth, curling around her before dispersing in every direction; flowing. Her head is bowed and her eyes closed. One could describe her as a Goddess of life who presides on the throne of all existence. However, the title is not an accurate description as her domain is not to rule, meddle, or even oversee. She simply is.

This energy flows from the continuum and feeds existence acting as the building blocks of the universe. Any component can be described as either containing her life plasma or lacking it all together and everything in between. One strain vibrating a certain way may present as wet life-bearing soil which extends and flows through the many veins of a tree before finally releasing into the atmosphere as gas. As the plasma interacts with itself in the form of laws of physics, nations warring, or neighbors having a conversation it bounces and refracts and reflects, eventually making its way back to the Keeper in a different sequence than when it left. Set to be recycled and redistributed from the Keepers bowl, repeating this process indefinitely.

This reflected set of plasma can be deciphered and understood so that the decipherer can know its journey. On the way back plasma flows through the Scribes and deciphered it is. Every life led, every feather that falls, and every word whispered is documented. Rows and columns and stacks of scribes slaving together writing the world as it is. Clacking together in harmony on strange machines that whir and click as their fingers fly over the buttons. Transforming energy into language, however not any language known to mortals. Scrolls of paper describing all of history down to the most minute of detail fluctuate into the abyss never to be read, scrutinized or even understood. For who would dare try and grasp at all the knowledge known to the Universe? No one bears such a birth right nor the responsibility of knowing things not meant to be known. But what if one could understand, if one had such a birthright, and if one dared? If one were to follow a length of parchment all the way to the end of the continuum where warmth does not dare to go, where the future has no place, and where Creators have long left, one would find themselves in the lands of the faded and forgotten. A world filled with fallen wretched creatures, deities of once great notoriety but time has left obsolete, and by extension the mortals that worship them. And if one were to read the words inscribed within they would find an epic so long forgotten that the past has moved on. Such a story can be found here. Documented by the bravest mortal to have ever lived, who traveled farther than any other of her kind, and was already a storyteller by trade who had a flair for the dramatic. The stories she tells are of her homeland and their notable heroes, herself included. The stories she tells range in subject, from heart wrenching ballads, to violent and bloody epics, to harrowing tales of misfortune. The stories she tells are the Tales from the Lands of the Faded.

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The Gatekeeper

The air was thick with moisture and a low light permeated the atmosphere around the Manor. The Gatekeeper peered down at the crumpled slip of paper Lady Vira passed to him that morning before wheezing and hacking into her tissue. “Let them in when they come.” Is all it read. Shackled with debt and no hopes of ever repaying it, the Gatekeeper gave his life to the Vira family. He was young, handsome, and the talk of his hometown. Every mother wanted their daughter to marry Samual Byvvinter. His first day working as the Gatekeeper had been mostly uneventful, a stark contrast to his first night. A rat crawled from his feet to his face before he woke up in a panic startling the rat who then bit him on his nose.

It was sunny in the morning but as the day progressed a thick heavy fog rolled in from the hills enveloping Sam, the Manor, and the surrounding forest. The chittering and chattering birds fell silent and the winds died down settling around the Gatekeeper with a cold that pierced Sam to his bones. As if the forest was holding its breath, waiting patiently, in anticipation. Leaves rustled in the distance, maybe a fox snuffling around for his midday meal. Sam hopped from foot to foot in a measly attempt to keep warm. A lonely howl rang in the distance causing him to flinch away from the intruding noise, but something far more sinister hid behind the veil of fog acting like a white cloth curtain to all who were ensnared in its clutches, perfect cover for prowling predators.

Sharp talons scraped against a stone outcropping deep in the forest. Brass bells clung out dully in the underbrush as sheep rummaged for food unsupervised and unprotected. The beast peered over the edge of the outcropping surveying the defenseless animals below, his long barbed tail lashing back and forth impatiently, large wings with jet black feathers were pinned sleekly to his body for ease of movement. His muscles tensed, he hesitated, and he pounced.

A clamor of bells rang out from the forest causing Sam to jump again, eyes wide and afraid as he peered into the foggy forest. The bells were soon accompanied by a low rumble that seemed to grow louder the longer he stood mouth agape. Sam needed to get a better look. He scampered his way up to the top of the iron gate balancing precariously with one leg hooked over the top. Over the thick of the fog Sam was able to make out some of the forest. The underbrush was shaking violently and in the distance he saw trees swaying, but the wind was still dead. Some force was moving them and whatever it was it was gaining on Sam.

Before he could get over his shock white fleece burst from the underbrush stampeding and braying the whole way over to the fence. There must have been at least a hundred sheep pushing and ramming into the gate in a panic. The gate shook and shook as Sam held on for dear life until his knuckles turned white. Then in all its majestic beauty the beast soared from the forest wings outstretched, talons sharp as knives reaching out for Sam. He let out a scream before falling on the other side of the gate landing just as the beast landed where Sam was just a few moments ago. The beast ruffled his wings before folding them neatly, opened his long narrow maw and trilled, peering down at Sam.

Sam scrambled to his feet before rushing through the outer court and burst through the giant oak double doors. He tore his way up the main foyer stairway and threw open the door to the music room where he knew Lady Vira would be practicing her piano. She jumped at his sudden entrance before settling into a more relaxed posture almost amused.

“Lady Vira!” Sam yelled before turning beet red and clearing his throat, “I apologize for the sudden intrusion. But we are under attack! There is a winged beast out there, a-a” He stuttered searching for his words, “Spawn of the Devil!” Lady Vira began giggling behind her bloodied tissue much to Sam’s chagrin.

“Oh that’s just Montey~”

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Ghost Writer

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Of Impotence and Importance

TW gore, dark themes, cursing

Tales from the Lands of the Faded

The processions of the Academy Inauguration were incredibly boring as far as Claira was concerned. The Academy of Energy and Warriors was, at the blessing of the queen, both headed and funded by the prestigious family of Valleydown, very astutely named as they originated from down the valley, and as such no expense was spared. A fanfare of fireworks and the holy choir clamored through the courtyard lined with marble pillars and sparkling gold filagrees. The whole establishment was beautifully constructed, and accepted no less than the finest of candidates, which only served to inflate Claira's growing imposter syndrome. She was only there because of her Father the Duke Smith-Roshire, married into the royal line through the Queens youngest of five daughters, Claira's step-mom who was, to Claira's disgust, only six years older than her. Let's do the math here, that makes the Duke eighth in line for the throne assuming all Five daughters and their two sons/nephews pass away and if the estranged princes don't claim their rightful rule which is doubtful. Claira and her Father were a royal afterthought at best and despite that being the case the royal family still demanded the best of them therefore ensuring her a spot at the Royal Academy where she could study and serve her kingdom all at once!

Claira thought she was going to throw up so she darted through the crowd to a secluded area on the sidelines. Big crowds were particularly nauseating for Claira. Long locks of pink hair framed Claira's face as her deep burgundy eyes panned over the crowd taking in a mass of information that made her head throb. Energy sparked and popped off of some individuals, and off of others it curled and ebbed reaching out and assaulting Claira's personal space. Her Father called it a gift, speaking to great lengths with the headmaster about how she was a "magical genius" and how "she would make an amazing Mage". Claira called it a curse, because with her sensitive eyes came a horrible voice. One that Claira identified as her own but would never speak aloud the things that were muttered in the darkest depths of her psyche. Her Father had high hopes for her, but Claira knew very intimately that all she could do was destroy.

...

Claira thought that the Academy Inauguration was bad enough but class was so much worse.

"I heard a rumor that you can read minds?" A girl giggled from her seat next to Claira. She had long auburn hair and delicately warm eyes. Claira had the vague notion that her name was Autumn but was too nervous to address her as such. Her energy curled and lashed around her in dark ebony tentacles and was overwhelmingly mischievous by nature.

"I can't read minds that's preposterous." Claira mumbled shooting the girl a cold look. Claira was able to infer what people were thinking, but that was their own fault for letting their spirit and energies spill out of their bodies so much. Claira found it awfully distasteful and unfortunate that most people didn't even have a clue that they were bombarding her senses with highly personal matters at all hours of the day. Claira set her eyes on another Mage in her class whom she had grown fond of. Her name was Lilith and her spirit was reserved and reigned in. Claira only got peeks of her spirit in small licks of green flame that framed Lilith's dainty features. Overall she was well composed and exceedingly mysterious. Lilith noticed Claira's gaze and shot her an exuberant smile, Claira in return smiled and waved a little. She hoped one day she could get to know Lilith's energy one step at a time rather than all at once which had become annoyingly customary.

...

Another aspect of her training at the Academy included in field missions handed out according to each classes respective skill level. Claira had been placed in the lowest class and proudly held the lowest ranking. Much to Claira's surprise Lilith was placed with her, but the notion of getting to know the girl better was an exciting one which sent a cacophony of butterflies through Claira's stomach.

There were four of them all together besides Claira, the mischievous preppy girl Autumn, a quiet boy with an energy that pushed against Claira's personal space grating her senses named Talbot, and Lilith. All of them were aspiring Mage's but each wielded a different weapon. Talbot held a massive longsword just a little too big for his size, Lilith held a crossbow slung over her shoulder in a nonchalant manner, and Autumn was a martial arts specialist and as such wielded her fists and one small dagger. Claira was the designated healer of her team a position to which Claira protested loudly and lengthily. Her efforts were ultimately futile and fell on the deaf ears of their small grumpy teacher.

They crept along through the underbrush of the surrounding forest, their mission brief was short and concise delivered by their grumpy teacher only a few hours prior.

"It's way too late for this but due to curriculum mandates-" She waved her hands about in a manner that came across as both disregarding and frantic "Here we are. Bring home the hog before sunup and don't die." She barked the orders out before stumbling away drunk off her ass and muttering to herself.

Every step of the way Claira's anxiety grew incrementally. She just knew something wasn't right. The night air was crisp and cool and the sky was clear. Claira took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes attempting to calm down. Her heart beat slowed as her minds eye opened wide and swept through the forest monitoring the team's surroundings. The action was practiced and felt as natural to Claira as stretching her arms above her head. Suddenly a pain shot through the back of her skull like a crack. Behind them her minds eye could see the vague and fading imprint from some sort of energy. Something was hiding, or more likely something was stalking them.

"Everyone stop!" Claira spoke in a harsh whisper.

"What?" Autumn sounded annoyed and her spirit lashed and flailed like a disgruntled cat's tail. Right as everyone stopped to look at Claira, shadows erupted from the bushes and lunged at the team growling and snarling and snapping. It was a wild dog pack. Chaos ensued and for the first time Claira saw Lilith's spirit break from its confines. It erupted into a roaring flame of green and yellow curling and raging around her form. Her face was pinched with anxiety as she assumed a posture of defense. It was as beautiful as it was devastating for Claira to watch.

Talbot swung at a dog snapping and lunging at his face and sent it flying into a tree. Claira darted behind Lilith and Talbot just in time to see that Autumn wasn't so lucky. She swiped at a dog in front of her dagger in hand whilst another dog grabbed her ankle from behind, pulled, and shook. A crack resounded through the air as her ankle twisted a way it shouldn't have blood pouring from the wound as the dog corn-cobbed his way up the rest of her leg. Talbot jumped in and focused his energy into a singular point before releasing it again, shooting it out with enough force to transcend and interact with the corporeal world. The dogs flew about six feet away stunned and confused, but they wouldn't stay that way for long, they were hungry.

"Claira help me damnit!" Autumn screamed as she clutched her leg. Claira took a good look at her spirit and dissected the mass of information, her head throbbed from the strain. She focussed harder and saw invisible strings crisscrossing around Autumns leg and stretching across her wounds. Claira began to imagine those strings pulling taught and wove them together tighter and tighter. Before her eyes new flesh began to materialize on Autumns leg. Autumn let out a laugh of relief.

"You're doing it Claira!" Autumn nearly sang giddy. Claira continued on until-Rip it apart. Claira stoped suddenly gasping for air as her own voice echoes through her mind. The words tumbling around in her head and the actions they represented sickened Claira to the core. She almost withdrew, afraid of what she could do but as soon as she released her hold the strings began to strain and buckle as blood continued to seep from Autumn's wounds.

"No I can do this." Claira spoke with determination and began again. I SAID rip it apart. The strings snapped in an instant of explosive power and at the same time Autumns leg disintegrated, coming apart quickly and precisely. Molecules were ripped apart, atoms disintegrated, hadrons disseminated, and quarks split like hairs. This was no ordinary destructive power such as fire, which only served to rapidly release matter as energy, this destructive power was absolute, pure, and final. Pain seared through Autumns head as every leg nerve singed down to the core and dissipated away.

Claira stared in agape astonishment and horror as the dogs reconvened. Her head running a mile a minute as she watched her team overrun, outnumbered and being devoured. Tears stained her face as she watched Lilith drop under the weight of two dogs one tearing at her shoulder and another at her abdomen, as she watched Talbot drop his sword after his arm is wrenched out of natural order and rearranged, as she watched Autumn bleed out from her leg as a result of Claira's own doing. She watched as all three of their spirits billowed out from their wounds pouring out into the atmosphere. And what could she do?

Her tears turned hot and angry as more pain alit in her head popping and fizzling like fireworks. She shut out her friend's energy and hyper focussed on the dogs' spirits. They were hard to isolate as animals didn't give off much energy but through sheer determination she found it anyway in the heart of their being. Her eyes squeezed shut and she forced her minds eye open keying in on the dogs, once again she saw an invisible web of strings all through out their bodies. She raised her hands and pushed them forward forcing the quarks and atoms to push apart from each other violently. There was no explosion, no beam of light, only void in the dogs' wake as if they never existed in the first place. The night was silent and empty. Mentally and physically exhausted Claira jaggedly lowered to the soil until she was sitting with her legs beneath her.

She dragged herself to Lilith and propped herself up on her elbow. She pushed on Lilith's abdomen wound desperately attempting to stop the bleeding with her hands. With her stupid human hands that could not heal. She was no miracle as her father hoped. She was the stark image of impotence.

"Claira.." Lilith trailed off slipping in and out of consciousness.

"Lilith I'm so sorry." Claira sobbed not even daring to look for her strings in fear of Lilith meeting the same fate as Autumn and the dogs. "I'm no healer, I failed you guys."

...

"Claira attacked her own team members in the heat of battle, turned against her very own where two tragically died and one was left incredibly injured. And her more heinous of acts is she used destruction magic, an act punishable by death if this reaches the court of the Queen." The Headmaster frowned sternly at the Duke Smith-Roshire. "I will not press charges as the Roshire royal name is at stake, however I think it best that she cease her studies here at the Academy. I honestly thought all Destruction Mages were weeded out thirty years ago, but I suppose some slipped through." The Headmaster eyed the Duke Smith-Roshire conspicuously, already scrutinizing a response the Duke has not yet provided.

The Duke let out a huff. "Yes well her Mother was certainly a mystery. No family to speak of, and no family name besides the one I gave her. It was a shame she passed but perhaps it was for the best. As for the matter at hand I have a cousin who lives out in Euruk territory. I will be sending her off to live with him first thing in the morning, he should be able to handle her well enough. I would attend to her myself but my pelting business needs a strong leader, and I have my wife to think about. It truly is a shame."

"Of course of course." The Headmaster shook his head clicking his tongue. "A mighty shame this transpiration has been." The Headmaster clasps his hands together and smiled wide. "Your assessment of the situation is impeccable as always Sir Roshire."

...

That very evening Claira slept in her childhood home off of palace grounds, well one of them. Before her mother passed she lived in the small space above the pelt shop, so there she lie, to her own chagrin awake. She knew she was to be sent off, but she couldn't muster up enough annoyance to care. In fact she didn't feel much of anything these days. The sun had set a while ago but Claira's eyes stubbornly stayed open. It had only been a few days since that night in the woods. Lilith and Autumns dead eyes seemed to still stare into Claira's soul from beyond the thick veil of time. Oh how Claira wished to look away, to think of anything else but she was enraptured or perhaps ensared.

"They misunderstood your potential." Claira bolted up right in her bed at the sound of a strange voice from the corner of her room. Moonlight filtered in through her curtains permeating a low light that left her corners and by extension the strange figure in shadow.

"Who's there?" The form emerges from the her corner robed in purple silk lined with silver and a large brimmed hat that shielded his eyes from view. They had long lustrous black hair that fell over their shoulders in waves. The figure was lanky, petite, and androgynous. Claira desperately looked with her mind's eye to get a feel for their soul but sensed nothing, a deep black tear in her view that seemed to pull her in. The longer she stared the larger the tear became encroaching on her like a creeping predator its maw opening wide to swallow her whole. They began walking towards her with each barefooted step delicate and silent as the night. In their wake mushrooms and fungus grew up from in between the floor boards and a stench much like rotting corpses emanated from their physique. They came closer and Claira held her breath in fear and anticipation. They reached out an arm to her with the grace and eloquence of a black swan before they flicked her on her forehead right between her eyes.

"Close your third eye child, as powerful as you are you're not ready to visage my true form and undertaking such a task is dangerous by nature." Finally under the moonlight Claira could see the soft features of their face just as they sent her a playful wink. "The way they handled you and your power is truly a shame. However I can't blame them, I don't think they knew the magnitude of your powers. They foolishly turned a blind eye to your kind in the wake of their unearned pride." He spoke as he turned her face side to side squeezing just a bit too hard so her lips mushed together in an unseemly pout. "Come with me. Hmm?" He smiled wide as he let go of her face. He backed away a bit and once again extended his arm to her but this time with his palm facing upwards in a welcoming manner. "Come with me and I will teach you to harness your potential so you never have to hurt anyone you love ever again."

Claira stared at the figure hesitant to leave her Father so quickly. But he was ready to ship her off anyways. So she accepted his hand and left. As they walked through the empty city streets Claira suddenly felt a low tremor that shivered her to the bone the street around her warped and twisted until it was so distorted she couldn't make out her surroundings.

"Are you doing this?" Claira asked the figure. Just as she spoke her feet landed on soft grass and the world yawned open around her to reveal a clear sky for miles. They were ironically in Euruk territory. "Who are you again?"

"You have much to learn Claira. I have no name but my people call me Gosuver." Gosuver smiled. Claira's eyes widened and a shock went down her spine, she may have grown up sheltered but Claira was learned enough to recognize the name of the Euruk's deity of death.