"Ricart, put that down," Queen Sigourney (see, there is another one) admonished her hungry husband.

  "Oh," the robust head of the hierarchy dropped his jowls and the big slab of Doombear meat he had prepared to buzzsaw.

  It was still two minutes to Newday and thus, the start of Creation Day. Celebrating that time long ago when Goodwin the Great, the de facto leader of the Five Siblings that began the communities of the landscape, created the epicenter of the Land of Hydenfell, it was Ricart's responsibility to usher in a new year for his people as the direct descendant of Goodwin's first molding. Still a somewhat immature whippersnapper of 200, he was forced into duty earlier than expected after his father's tragic Snapwolf safari in Freeztia, it took all his mighty resolve to not choke down the entire goblet of that fine red.

  "Sir," Burle, the honcho's Chief Defender lowered his trident and turned his head rightward to the throne that had been moved to the dining hall. "I just want to say it's been an honor to serve you and I would never betray you. Certainly not tonight on our most special of days!"

  "Thank you, man! I trust you wholeheartedly."

  Burle returned to an erect position. A towering man of green hue, an example of the Hydenfellian color gamut that ranged from Simpson Yellow to Grimace purple, his size was impressive even considering the statuesque standards of the Kingdom. Even the demure Sigourney was nearly seven feet tall and her daintiest chamber maids could pass for WNBA point guards. Other trademarks included large eyes, tiny noses and pointy ears. While these features looked especially pleasant on the more aesthetically-pleasing citizens, nobody was immune from the famous tongue, as big as Gene Simmons'.

  "Where is Jacinta?" the mother whispered to her beloved. "Is it too much to ask for her to show up on time once."

  "Sorry," the princess announced her presence right before the clock struck what we would call midnight. "I was practicing my didgeridoo."

  "Jacinta," her father furrowed his brow in disappointment. "What did I tell you about wasting your life fiddling around with useless and obscure instruments nobody has ever heard of?"

  All it took was one ethereal smile for daddy to drop the annoyed stance. Princess Jacinta had the purest heart in all of Hydenfell. She was a confidant to everyone regardless of monetary status and a friend to all animals to the point she was dismayed at the Halehog that was to feature as the main entree of this great feast. Knowing the voracious beast would have devoured her given half a chance, she still felt sad at the apple corked in its mangled mouth that served as the creature's undignified end.

  "3..2...1!"

  "Happy Creation Day, Hydenfell," Ricart rang out boisterously, wasting no time going to town on a Sunberry pie his wife baked herself.

  The spacious room soon became drowned in raucous celebration. The mummers played jaunty tunes, pairs betrothed and unknown alike swung to the music and riveting conversation was shared. The fine folks of Hydenfell never suffered for food but they chowed down on the tender morsels as if they hadn't eaten for millennia. Everyone was having a wonderful evening, even Jackassius, the town gadfly. It looked to be another resplendent night in a long history of liveliness.

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  "Where was MY invite to this party?" a pitch black steed with brimstone for eyes burst through the main door, carrying a pugnacious rider the King knew well.

  "Hello......brother," Ricart could not hide his disgust.

  "It is I, your dear kin, Gnarl."

  Gnarl was, to put it elegantly, a dick. A cruel, vindictive and petty man, the bad seed had crashed the shindig after a long tour of pillaging, committing vile acts I can't even describe here because I didn't check the Sensitive Content box. Fueled by the hatred of his twin's arrival 90 seconds before his, Gnarl's anger at his denial of power had caused him to become the first of his lineage to deny the Golden Promise to uphold peace and tranquility in the home he hated. Also, he may have been super grouchy all the time due to the tusk that painfully connected to his teeth.

  "Nice to see you're on the straight and narrow," Sigourney rolled her eyes at her swarthy brother-in-law.

  "Great to see you too, Siggy," the interloper met her venom.

  "What do you want, Gnarl?" Ricart was prepared to throw out his brother like he had at so many events before.

  "Y'know, I've been traveling a while, really trying to find myself, and I came to the conclusion that I would be fit to serve as a great king of this dump."

  "Ha! My finest jester could not come up with a funnier jape. You're pathetic, Gnarl. You're an infected boil on a Strongo's rocky ass! Go ahead and challenge me for my rule. My people will reject you with extreme prejudice and I will lay the smackdown on you so bad, you'll hide in your filthy cave for another 100 years!"

  "Darling Ricart, I am not going to ask for dominion. I shall simply seize it."

  "You and what army?"

  "The army of the undead," Gnarl raised his arm and chanted coarse incantations, manifesting a horde of horrid heathens behind him. "Oh yeah, I took up sorcery. Not that you would have known since you don't give a SHIT about me or anything I do!"

  "Dear Goodwin!"

  "Honey, do something!"

  "Father, what is going on?"

  "Hey, we can still get drinks, right?" an inebriated goer swatted his chalice at the flowing fountain before falling down.

  "Now my revenants and abominations, attack!"

  The fleshless sacks of filth ransacked the mansion, assimilating most of the unnamed characters into their Legion. What had been riotous revelry became howls of hungry hate. Brynn watched in horror as her chivalrous mate Griffold became a snarling cretin. Bone broke, skin snapped and teeth thickened as a putrid smell caused the yet unaffected to vomit. All it took was a gaze into their dead eyes to turn breath into stone. In one minute, the entire guest list had become monstrous turncoats against their will.

  "Sigourney, Jacinta," the fun-loving ruler adopted a serious face. "You know what I must do."

  "The Bell," his baby girl, brimming with knowledge, knew the mythos like the back of her hand. Goodwin had never prepared for Hydenfell to fall into chaos but should that unlikely event come to pass, all the King had to do was ring out a peal from the giant ornament inside the highest tower of Hydenfell Castle and the Great One would awaken from his eons-long slumber. Creating a utopia takes a lot out of a guy!

  "Burle, take my wife and...."

  "Sorry," the behemoth smirked as he removed the bloody fork from his former employer's twitching body. "Gnarl has serious coin now. Ma'am, princess, you're lucky I would never harm a woman or child."

  "But I would," Gnarl cackled as he raised a bony blade high in the air. A demonic neigh followed.

  "Warrior from another world, hear my call," Jacinta pleaded to her pendant, hoping that tale of its ability to summon portals in other dimensions wasn't bullshit; her last prayer before everything went black.