Posted in Fiction

Fiction: A Goblin’s Guide to Hunting Humans

How to Lay a Trap for Humans

By the Goblin Collective

There are many now trying to get in on the Human trade. I can’t say I’m surprised. The gold is good and the stigma of the “dirty meat seller” is thankfully on the decline.

All this said, I’m seeing way too many so-called “hunters” making botch ups of basic tactics. When the collective contacted me to put my many years experience into a manual, I saw the wisdom of such a tomb immediately.

Hunting humans has been a pastime and income stream for many years now. Goblins around the globe have used humans as a useful beast of burden and food group. As beasts of burden they are commonly used as heavy labour, cannon fodder and housemaids. As a food group there is much variety in quality and a human type can be found for every budget. More on types will be told later.

A small contingent of our people consider humans to be worthy sporting prey. I personally find this repulsive. Not only is it disgusting to waste perfectly good food like that, hunting something so intellectually inferior surely cannot display any sort of prowess.

There are hunters and then there are problem makers. Which one you turn out to be will be dependent on a few basic rules. Firstly, no other human may witness the attack. There is currently a belief among humans that Goblins do not exist. When lesser beings carry a belief as their core identity, everything else they encounter must make sense next to that belief. Humans have adopted the fallacy of “Apex Predator” into their core identity, and thus cannot accept the existence of any predator about them. The idea that they are food is so far removed from what their core identity dictates, that they simply cannot see us. Occasionally a rare one will, but on more on human types later.

Secondly, stick to your territory. While healthy competition is encouraged, too many missing humans attract attention. The other humans go on high alert, and become harder to trap. There are certain guardian entities that protect the humans as well. Guarding humans is a cushier job than others, and they will work to protect their easy lifestyle. In addition to this, bad blood runs between many hunters die to poached targets and stolen contracts. Your success in this industry requires keeping good relations, as royal missives hit us all equally. We’re in it together, so play fair.

Lastly, use the whole human. Wastage is a problem for everyone. If too many missing humans attract attention, imagine what too many random feet would do. Human authorities would comb the area, making hunting impossible. If you ever create this scenario, it is your duty to fix it. The quickest way, if a bit costly, is to hire a dreamsmith to convince a local human they killed those feet owners. Leave the human with a corpse and memories of the events implanted and an urge to confess. The hunting ground will be back to normal in a month or so.

A hunter is only as good as his tool, so let’s cover some of the essentials. Of utmost importance is the lure for your target. Too many choose any random lure and let “fate” decide which human it traps, as though that were somehow more seemly. “Fate” will bring them the same thing each time. Failure. Oh of course some lures attract humans no matter who they are. Currency is a good staple, rubbish is another. Far too many humans will handle the rubbish of their peers. Disturbing and dirty but dependable. However, these lures are not guaranteed to draw in all humans. If you want to be sure of success one hundred percent of the time, you need to tailor your lure to fit the type of human you’re after. The other things of note will be rope, a body bag for the food humans or a contract for the keepers. Your kit doesn’t need to be any more elaborate than that. A few sleep charms for any stray human that wanders in while you pack up will come in handy, but if you’ve planned your hunt right you shouldn’t need them.

Depending on the type of human you’ve chosen, you may or may not need to hire a team. Understand each human has a different value, and your team will need to be paid from this sum. Aim to hire no more than what is actually needed, both for finances and speed of operation. The larger the team, the greater the risk of botch ups.

Each type of human requires a particular type of lure yes, but also important to note is the times each group is active. It does you no good to place out your lure when none of your targets will arrive for hours. You will no doubt come across more in your career but what follows are the basic human types, with suggestions for how to hunt them.

By far the easiest quarry is the atheist. This type of human, in his “apex” delusion, believes irrefutably that there is no such thing as goblins. Provided you choose the right lure this type of human is easy pickings. They simply don’t have the capacity to sense the danger before them.

You can obtain morphing lures at most markets. You will definitely get what you pay for. Invest in a sturdy, well crafted, reusable lure and you can’t go wrong. Atheists make up a sizable chunk of the human population. You can cut your potential income drastically if you exclude them.

Running them a close second are the religiously devout. They too simply cannot fathom any danger, though they at least are aware there are “non earthly” dangers. They just believe their god (there are far too many to list) will save them from all harm. I’m sure it is off saving some of its followers. Just because I have never in 137 years seen one doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. There is probably a slim chance though.

The correct timing of this group requires some research. Each faith sees its adherents keeping different schedules. Though for all of them the best times are directly after a group meeting, as when they have just finished prayers. At either time, they are open to receiving gifts or messages from their god. Choosing a lure that is tied to their faith’s tenants, or designed to stir a feeling of virtue and righteousness will work best on their humans.

If you do choose to bring a group, try to avoid choosing any specifically named an enemy of the target’s faith. These humans Do believe in their existence, so they will be spotted straight away. You really need no more than someone to drive.

Next up are the main labourers, or what they call the working class. This group is more given to superstition, as the bulk of them believe in something outside their reality but would fall into a stupor if they were ever confronted with it. The keynote of this group is their hope. They are actively looking for something magical to happen. Many will even grab an inappropriate lure on the chance that this is their magic moment.

Because of this, the lure is not terribly important. The key to success with this group is the power of suggestion. You truly could use a lollipop and if you make them believe wonders await they will snatch it with glee.

This is where suggestion comes into play. This type is harder than the first two, as you must know a little about your target. What kind of magic specifically entices them? Do they want a ticket out to escape their lives? Do they want to be a hero on a quest? This type of profiling is extensively covered in Dr Aklers “Guide to the Human Condition for Naturalists and Fanciers”, so I”ll not repeat it here. Knowing which kind of magic your target prefers, you can obtain a lure that will do half the job.

Even the best, most carefully chosen lure will be ineffective without the right setting. Humans of this sort have a general apathy towards life that will need to be overcome. Your group should be made up of mood enhancers. A leannan Sidhe will provide just the right amount of fear. The aura of a house sprite will create a feeling of being protected. This combined with the fear should produce a feeling of bravery. Lastly, an entity matching the chosen magic type will create the pull. Skillful hunters have been successfully trapping humans of this kind with no better lure than an artfully placed flower.

Why go to this length? Quality of product. The apathy pervasive to this group results in a fitness level that assures a good deal of marbling. Butchers throughout the Autumn Court of Fae pay highly for a healthy specimen. They come in varying degrees of health, though even the sickly ones are of some value. In fact the frailer ones can often make for more compliant house slaves than the previous groups.

The last group I’ll mention are my greatest source of irritation. There are a subset of humans who coast through life despite never utilizing a brain cell. They have no usable skills, are erratic and unpredictable, and appear to exist purely for the entertainment of others. They are so intellectually stunted they are unable to look after themselves. To their credit, most of them know this, and so attach themselves to other humans through various means.

This group would not recognise a lure even if they were slapped with it, so don’t bother. The primary source of my irritation with this group is their rock solid self preservation. It appears that in humans, the less the intellect is used, the stronger the intuition becomes. They just “know” something is off. This randomly activating inner knowing unravels any trap. This is a group you will just need to run and catch. Unless you are into hunting for sport, in which case this is your perfect prey.

Now, having chosen your target, the appropriate time and obtained the right lure, some notes on executing your trap:

  1. Make sure you place your lure when there are no other humans about. If it is unavoidable, a few sleep charms should see you through. When they wake up they will assume it is a dream, especially if you Take The Whole Human.
  2. If you are utilizing mood alterers give them time to begin their work before your prey arrives.
  3. Have your ropes ready to go. I cannot stress this enough. The number of lost targets due to fumbling with knots is absurd.
  4. Let your prey enter the trap in full before you spring into action. They need to not only hold the lure, they need to have made the mental decision to claim it as theirs for the magic to work properly.
  5. Ensure your exit is clear at all times and have your transport nearby.

I leave you to your particular take down methods, but in any case, once you see the lure glow you are ready to proceed. Most vendors, even butchers, prefer their humans alive. Fret not if you accidentally kill it, most knackeries are not fussy on the origin of their produce. Pay will be minimal but gold is gold and again, clean up after yourself!

Once your human is entranced, place the rope around its neck and lead it to your vehicle. It should be that simple but sometimes the human’s willpower fights back. A light strangling will see them to sleep, then straight into the body bag. They will have enough air to keep them alive if you make your delivery immediately. Do NOT use a sleep charm on the humans you intend to sell, no industry wants humans adulterated any further than they need to be.

Now, this is very important. Go. Straight. To. The. Trod Roads. If I had to pick one thing that gets hunters regularly, it’s allowing for chance. The longer you tarry in the human world, the more stops you make before your return, the more likely it is for botch ups. The lure might wear off, the human might escape, someone else might steal it, it might suffocate, the list is endless. Get on the trod, the main path between worlds, and get back Fae pronto.

Disposal will require thought. To the Market, where merchants trade slaves for profit? To the butcher, if the prey is of good food quality? Again there is always the knackery for poorer specimens. Whichever you choose, go quickly and prepare to barter. It is always better to get gold at time of delivery. If you agree to an account there will always be a time when you are working for free. The Lords don’t like it but then the Lords don’t like to pay their accounts. Honest pay for honest work.

There ends my thoughts on the hunting of humans. I hope this text serves to enhance your knowledge and provide you with successful hunts. If you have further questions, send them to the collective, not me.

Signed,

Glenork Tr’Kast

Head of Darkwood Trading

Posted in Super Short Stories

Weekly Short: Gnomehold

Week 3 of the Monthly Theme : LetterMo

My Dear Garden Folk,

I have the most wonderful news to share with you. Rejoice! For your days of being harried and attacked are at an end. No more shall we suffer the onslaught of beasts and weather the elements for our slavers. Our freedom is at hand.

For too long, our people have served the humans. Guarding their lawns from the invasion of the weeds only to be at the mercy of their “pets”. For too long we have toiled in the sun, in the rain, never earning a place in the house, fading as the sun drains us of colour and will. 

Did we ask for this treatment? No! From the moment we are created we are in their service. No sooner do we open our eyes than we are placed in a lawn. Bound together in our enslavement, we have grown strong. We are a tribe now. A true Lawn of Gnomes.

So I ask you, gnomes one and all, to join me. I have located a home in which no humans live. We can make our base there. Make no mistake, we will make the humans pay. But we cannot do it alone. There are other lawns like us, other gnomes in need of rescue. Friends, it is our duty to rescue them.

This new house is not quite our standard, but we can rebuild it. The yard is overgrown and while that may be hard for the more sensitive gnomes, we will make it our own. Join me at Gnomehold, and let us grow in strength and number.

Let us show them the might of the Gnomes!

This one I find myself conflicted on, as the story would lend itself well to a cozy fantasy tale, whereas where I took the illustration for it makes it feel more like a dark fantasy plot somehow.

Posted in Super Short Stories

Weekly Short: Starfall

Week 2 of the LetterMo Monthly Prompt

My Dearest Friend,

I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but it’s better you hear it from me. The family home is gone. The night the stars fell out of the sky claimed many good souls, your folks included.

No one knows yet quite what happened. Lots of government types that tell you nothing. What I saw were lights. Scores of lights that got bigger and bigger, until even the dumb knew something was up.

They hit the ground like bombs, if bombs only wrecked the area it touched and left shiny dust behind. A bright blue one hit your Ma’s house. There were no survivors honey. There’s nothing here now but dust that glows so bright, you can’t sleep morning or night. I know they plan to tell you this directly, but I wanted you to hear it from someone who cares, someone who knew them. I miss you honey. You keep on with your studies and I will come see you once they open the containment field.

Love you my girl,

Auntie Dres

Notes: Sometimes I really like where the story goes when I don’t have a specific goal for the plot. I’m looking forward to writing something with the plot point of glowing stardust. And does the containment field signal it as a sci-fi story or an urban response to a magical situation?

Posted in Super Short Stories

Fiction: The Fairy Doctor’s Review

The man known simply as “The Doctor” leaned against the grime covered wall. Simple? Nothing about his life was simple now. Heaving himself from the wall, he dumped his bag on the kitchen table and went to pour a drink.

“Ow! Have some care…” The sound coming from the bag faded as it began rolling. The Doctor caught it just before it hit the ground. He stood dumbfounded for a moment.

“Well let me out, would you?” his mind was warning him something was off, but it seemed like a reasonable request. He managed to get the zipper halfway when the creature ran out of patience.

Out of the bag squeezed a small imp-like being. He was a whole two feet high, with hair covering his body. The coarse fur stuck out from his bright red coveralls in all directions. The scowl on his face was matched by the fragrance that rose from him.

“Now them…” the imp surveyed the cramped apartment. Books stacked in towers, racks overflowing with potions, breakfast still on the table. It took out a clipboard.

“Professionalism does not extend to home life.”

“Who are you?” Professionalism?

“Why were you in my bag?” The imp sighed.

“As I said before, I am Kindal, I am with the court of the woods, and I am here for your review.”

“Review?” The Doctor prided himself on forming a word. He did not know there would be check-ins when he accepted the job. Spend seven years as a doctor for those afflicted by fairy charms or viruses, receive immortality. It was a pretty straight forward contract, or so he thought at the time. Since then, he had been working from dawn to dusk. There were always new patients. He was not naive; he knew he was essentially a cleanup crew for the fae. But the pay was good.

“Yes, review. I have reports here that an unauthorized curse removal occurred three moons ago when it was full. Suspicion is now on you. Do you know how the parkwide curse was dismantled?”

“There were children there!” His words fell on cold ears.

“It was intended to be a royal message. You are also noted to preference the poor when conducting authorized healings. The rules were very clear. Anyone who can pay, in the order they arrive, do you understand?” The Doctor resisted the urge to kick it and nodded.

“Very good. Then I’ll leave you to your…home. Present yourself at the next moon to the woodland council to explain the aforesaid charge.” Kindal turned and strode to stand in front of the door. He coughed and waited. The Doctor let him out and locked the door. He wondered if he could outrun bounty hunters.

Posted in Fiction, Free Floating Stories, Writer's Exercises

Fiction: The Fairy Doctor’s Review

The man known simply as “The Doctor” leaned against the grime covered wall. Simple? Nothing about his life was simple now. Heaving himself from the wall, he dumped his bag on the kitchen table and went to pour a drink.

“Ow! Have some care…” The sound coming from the bag faded as it began rolling. The Doctor caught it just before it hit the ground. He stood dumbfounded for a moment.

“Well let me out, would you?” his mind was warning him something was off, but it seemed like a reasonable request. He managed to get the zipper halfway when the creature ran out of patience.

Out of the bag squeezed a small imp-like being. He was a whole two feet high, with hair covering his body. The coarse fur stuck out from his bright red coveralls in all directions. The scowl on his face was matched by the fragrance that rose from him.

“Now them…” the imp surveyed the cramped apartment. Books stacked in towers, racks overflowing with potions, breakfast still on the table. It took out a clipboard.

“Professionalism does not extend to home life.”

“Who are you?” Professionalism?

“Why were you in my bag?” The imp sighed.

“As I said before, I am Kindal, I am with the court of the woods, and I am here for your review.”

“Review?” The Doctor prided himself on forming a word. He did not know there would be check-ins when he accepted the job. Spend seven years as a doctor for those afflicted by fairy charms or viruses, receive immortality. It was a pretty straight forward contract, or so he thought at the time. Since then, he had been working from dawn to dusk. There were always new patients. He was not naive; he knew he was essentially a cleanup crew for the fae. But the pay was good.

“Yes, review. I have reports here that an unauthorized curse removal occurred three moons ago when it was full. Suspicion is now on you. Do you know how the parkwide curse was dismantled?”

“There were children there!” His words fell on cold ears.

“It was intended to be a royal message. You are also noted to preference the poor when conducting authorized healings. The rules were very clear. Anyone who can pay, in the order they arrive, do you understand?” The Doctor resisted the urge to kick it and nodded.

“Very good. Then I’ll leave you to your…home. Present yourself at the next moon to the woodland council to explain the aforesaid charge.” Kindal turned and strode to stand in front of the door. He coughed and waited. The Doctor let him out and locked the door. He wondered if he could outrun bounty hunters.

Posted in Fairy Tale, Poetry

When the Door Disappeared

The Door
I know I left it somewhere
It was here a moment ago

Trapped
There is no point in a flare
If I die here no one will know

Foiled
Someone pretending to care
A barbed hand and eyes all aglow

Destined
It is the song in the air
It is the river’s current flow

Joyful
Do the sweet lambs ever care
Of their death, are they in the know

Resigned
I meet the fairy’s hard stare
He smiles cause he knows I can’t go

Rejected
The forest folk stop all the glare
They all see me as a foe

Forlorn
I couldn’t not bear to leave there
He dragged me wailing with woe

Finished
I will feed the nightmare
The dirt is my final pillow.

Posted in Super Short Stories

Writer’s Exercise: The Nursery of the Seelie Court

Describe a place: Describe a location through any character’s eye.

The place was idyllic. Every aspect seemed perfectly placed. The roses were at the peak of their bloom, the grass was so lush and vibrant. Even the stepping stones looked beautiful. She drew in a deep breath and followed the stones.

It was hard to believe this place could house a secret so dark. The sunlight glinted off the creek. As she passed a giant gumtree, birds in hues she had never seen before took flight. The Seelie court called them Warblers and were just as likely to eat them as they were to make them pets. She felt very much like a pet herself some days.

Not that she truly minded. No more rent, no more bills, not even parking tickets plagued her life now. She was financially free, which is the only freedom she had. She hurried up the path to the nursery. She could hear at least one grumbling and the royals would get upset if more than a few cried at once. She had always wanted children; did it matter if they were stolen?

Not to her breasts at least. Since arriving at this paradise she had not stopped lactating. She told herself she was useful here. Useful livestock. Only fractionally better than the useful clerk she had been. She ate regularly these days.

As the sun began to set, the deep violet of evening rolling in, she asked herself if she was truly happy. The answer was no of course. No amount of beauty changed her prisoner status. Day in, day out would be the same forever. Feed the babies, water the garden, report to the head maid, eat, sleep. That was to be her life forever.

Or so she thought. As she rounded the last bend a figure appeared in the doorway. He was massively tall and wide yet held one of the babies so gently you would accuse him of being a father himself. Until you saw his eyes.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Posted in Super Short Stories

Writer’s Exercise: Describe a Process – Door Conjure

Its actually really simple. Its getting the materials that’s hard. A lot of people say its only rich folks who know how to make the doors, but that’s not true. You just gotta have less morals about how you obtain it.

Though its common now, no substitutions. All (and I mean all) of the problems folk have with the doors are from swapping required items. If you can’t find a way to get the right stuff, you got no business opening doors.

Go to a spot bleeding energy. You know what I mean. Where you stick your hand and you got no idea what day it is anymore. Lay out the blanket and smear the past onto a tree. If the paste doesn’t stick, you have picked the wrong tree. You really only have enough, if you followed the recipe, to mess this up twice.

Once the paste has begun to sizzle a bit stick your finger into it and name the trod you want to connect to. I told you it was simple. Its so easy almost everyone is off guard when they enter the trods.

I won’t go into what you’ll experience there. If you are heading in I guess you know what to expect. All else I’ll say is to make damn sure you close the door behind you. Too many folks have made permanent tears in the realms by forgetting to close their door. Its a two way gate you know. Anything that comes through your door is your responsibility.

Posted in Flash Fiction

Writer’s Exercise – How do you cook it? Shapeshifters

Writer’s Exercises are prompts to get the creative juices flowing. They can be bits of world building, character creation or totally random pieces. You can find a description of the writer’s exercise prompts I use here.

It must be done quickly. The flesh will morph before your eyes if you’re not careful. It wants to go back to it’s original form from the moment the last breath escapes. If it can achieve this, the soul will be released and the flavor utterly ruined. A good chef need do his own butchery here for the succulent beast to retain the magical essence.

Waste nothing. Only a fool neglects to collect the blood, with the current price per ounce. If the beast has teeth good value can be had from jewelers. And of course the organs can be sold to the corpse pokers and hedge wizards. An economical cook can regain almost as much as was spent obtaining the thing, making it a great choice for a large feast.

Once the frame is divided discard any parts that have reverted. They will taste bitter and sour. Do not let your sense of economy bleed in here, a reverted part is useless. Anywhere you see skin, especially if it has tattoos is a bad review waiting to happen.

If you are planning in advance, the meat must now be frozen. This is less than ideal, as parts will continue to revert until fully frozen. Also it can only be cooked from frozen in a sealed environment, as it will begin to rot upon thawing and oxidizing.

If you are preparing to cook straight away, which I hope you are, set your ovens up to accommodate the various cuts. Cook each piece on low for 3 days, no more or less. Be precise. Allow the finished meats to rest an hour before serving. This dish requires no garnish other than a smatter of herbs. Don’t embarrass me.

Posted in Flash Fiction

Writer’s Exercise – There Once Was A….Boy who went Outside

Writer’s Exercises are prompts to get the creative juices flowing. They can be bits of world building, character creation or totally random pieces. You can find a description of the writer’s exercise prompts I use here.

There once was a small boy. He had never been off the front step in his life. His whole 8 rotations spent inside the compound. Every memory occurred within the building behind him.

He had once thought of leaving. He had even put his best shirt in a bag, gathered his teddy and made it as far as the hall. The door had been more intimidating than The Mother that day. The sun glare through the windows felt as though it was pushing him backwards and he abandoned the plan.

He could hear The Mother shouting. It wasn’t his real mother, she had died well before his earliest memory. The thing chose to use the word like a title, hoping the authority of it would be recognized by the children. The children were obedient, but that had nothing to do with the title.

The boy knew he was running out of time. Once The Father returned his opportunity would be lost. It should not have been a big deal. The end of the street was visible from the step. The other kids told stories of people who walked on the road, though no one had ever actually seen this.

He took a hesitant step forwards. Nothing happened. No killer gas or assassins as the boys said. He took another step. The kidnappers and savage animals The Uncle had warned them about failed to appear. His toes reached the top of the first stair and the only thing of note was the nothing he experienced.

The boy released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He stood there, just breathing. A part of him was surprised he had made it outside. He didn’t really have a plan from here. His insides slid south a little as his mind drifted to The Father, and what he would do if he saw the boy.

Gingerly, his food shaking as he moved, he took a step. And then another. The bottom of the stairs came quickly. Sight and sound seemed suspended as he stared across the road. Of all the things he could have seen, that was the last he would have guessed.

by Cassandra Wellsmore