Adam Drake - Blackout

“I think we’re coming up on the town square,” Thorm said.

Suddenly, above us someone hissed. “What are you doing? Don’t go there!”

Everyone whirled around, ready for an attack.

A man peeked out from a second-story window. He wore a deep blue robe and was as bald as an egg. A bright white crystal hung from a necklace around his neck. Sweat glistened against his pink skin. “You don’t want to go to the square. It’s too dangerous.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m Perrin, the town scribe,” the bald man said. His eyes darted about nervously. “But that doesn’t matter. You need to get off the street. Now!”

I glanced at the others.

Thorm shrugged. “He might have information we can use. Let’s pay him a visit.”

To Perrin I said, “We’re coming in to talk. Don’t worry we’re friendly.”

“Friendly right up until he mutates into an acid spewing monster,” Mudhoof said as we filed through the building’s only door.

The inside was as quaint as the exterior. Simple furniture and knickknacks. Everything had the look of being hand crafted.

A stairwell led up and Perrin appeared at the top. He regarded us with obvious nervousness.

“What business do you have being here?” He asked, giving Mudhoof furtive glances. Probably had never seen a minotaur before.

“We’re, uh, adventurers looking to help out,” I said. That was true enough. I could have told him we were human players logged into a game where he wasn’t even real. But where was the fun in that?

Perrin mulled this over. “Well, if you think you can help, it would be most welcome, but I don’t know what good it would do.”

“What happened here?” Thorm asked.

“It all started with when that black tower appeared. It grew right out of the ground at the end of the valley. Then people started acting strangely. Getting angry. Fighting. But it got worse. Much worse. Everyone began to develop black veins in their skin.”

“Everyone?” I asked and shot Mudhoof a meaningful glance. The minotaur frowned with concern.

“Yes. Everyone except me. I don’t know why. So I hid in the cellar here for several days, thinking it would all clear up on its own.” He chuckled nervously. “Foolish, I know, but where else was I to go? I only emerged this morning to see what had happened. Empty streets. No people. Then a few hours ago I heard the most horrid screams and shouts coming from the town square.”

“What happened there?”

“I don’t know. I’m too craven to go look myself, but the screams stopped a short while ago. Terrifying.”

“Let’s go check out the square,” Mudhoof said. “Beats hiding in here.”

Perrin’s eyes went wide. “No! The noises alone were terrible. It sounded as if people were being eaten alive!”

Mudhoof laughed. “Now this I got to see for myself.”

Before I could suggest a more cautious approach, Mudhoof went back out into the street. Thorm shrugged and followed. Feign looked to me.

“Not the wisest approach,” the ice mage said. “But we best go after them. Safety in numbers.”

As Feign and I left the building I said to Perrin, “Stay put and don’t go near the windows. We’ll set things right soon enough.” The game usually gave extra experience points if you treated the non-player characters like real people.

“You poor fools,” Perrin said, shaking his head sadly. “You’re going to your doom!”

Once back in the empty street we all filed in behind Mudhoof who made his way toward the center of town.

“I hate skulking around,” he said by way of explaining himself.

“Then you’d make a lousy thief,” Thorm said with a smile.

“True enough,” Mudhoof said. “But I can’t stand waiting for things to happen. Got to forge ahead. We still have that other group out here somewhere and I don’t think they’d be spending their time stuck in a building talking to an egg-head.”

Before anyone say anything else, Mudhoof held up his hand. “We’re here,” he said.

We entered the town square. It was large and tiered down by several levels like a stadium. On the lowest level, at its center, sat a well. A strange set up by any medieval town’s standards.

But that wasn’t the strangest part of all.

There were people here. Hundreds of them. They looked to be townsfolk and all of them stood bunched together in a big crowd. But no one moved. Still as statues. And each were facing in one direction – toward the center, at the well.

“What the heck?” Muttered Thorm while he adjusted the grip on his great broadsword.

Not one person gave us so much as a glance. It was as if we didn’t exist. Their entire focus was the well.

I looked at the people closest. They were dirty and their clothes disheveled as if they’d been fighting. But there was one detail that caused even greater concern other than their strange behavior.

They all had black veins marbled in their flesh.

“Oh, dear,” said Feign.

“Told ya,” Mudhoof said to me.

“What?” I asked, nervously surveying the huge rabble.

“All bottled up,” Mudhoof said. His confidence faltered a little at the sight of so many potential mutants. Each one could become as crazed and powerful as the mayor who nearly wiped us out all on his own.

I looked over the crowd, trying to guess their number. The game picked up on this and gave it to me: 1,006.

“Maybe we should just turn around and…” I said before the ground beneath our feet shook. The vibration was so hard the masonry of the nearby buildings cracked and windows shattered.

Our group fought to keep their balance. I used my sure-footed ability which locked my feet to the ground. The others didn’t have it so easy.

Oblivious to the earthquake, the huge crowd of townspeople did not react at all, nor did any of them fall over. They continued staring at the well.

“What is going on?” Thorm asked.

As if in answer to his question, the well at the center of the square cracked violently. It rented apart and the ground beneath it heaved.

“Something is making an entrance,” said Feign, he held a cluster of snowballs in the crook of one arm, and one in his hand at the ready.

“Not good, my sweet!” Phlixx said, as he perched on my shoulder, little crossbow with a flaming bolt pointed toward the crowd.

The gap of the broken well widened with the force of something underneath pushing upwards. Then a humanoid figure emerged out from the large hole, cobblestone and earth crumbling around it.

It was clad in black armor. Fiery yellow eyes smoldered from within its helmet and it held a massive wooden staff in one hand. The being now stood towering above us in the center of the square. Everyone looked up at it; so tall that its head was higher than the buildings.

We stood frozen in shock. This guy was big. Really big.

“I think we should be leaving now,” said Feign as he hefted a snowball.

Before I could say anything, the being spoke.

“My children,” it said. Its voice was deep and resonant. “The time has come for a new beginning.”

I recognized that voice. It was the same which the mutant-mayor had used.

The being continued. “For thousands of years I have waited. Waited for the opportunity to return to this realm and cleans it of the vermin which has overrun it.”

The townsfolk stared up at the being with obvious reverence. Their black-veined affliction making mindless worshipers of this being. They hung on its every word.

A name appeared above the head of the being. ‘Demon King’ and then in brackets beside it ‘GOD’.

“FILTERED!” said Mudhoof.

I couldn’t agree more.

“I am the one true overlord of all. To show your supplication to me you must cleanse the world in my name,” the Demon King said. He turned his huge head and leveled our group with a hot yellow glare. He pointed at us. “Starting with them!”