PROLOGUE:
A SHORT WALK
The castle stands high above protective walls. It is gray, and rotted with time's pulling stress. There is a sense of awe standing before glory now fallen. The air is laden with a horrid stench as you open the gates, and make your way into the village that surrounds the castle. The village also shows the stress of time: the cottages are low and squatted, the dirt is beyond dirty hued with gray and black; it crunches beneath your feet along the brick walk. Your head snaps dangerously up as you hear a distant laughter of a drunken goblin.
All around you there is a menacing feeling of perverseness. By simply breathing in and tasting the air you are aware of the conscienceless of every single inhabitant. It surrounds you. It is in the dirt; it is in the walls; it is in the voice of the drunken goblin. Soon you fear it will be in you. Lifting the weights that have suddenly become your feet you move towards the castle.
Slowly finding yourself in full presence of the castle you realize that you are not alone. That though quiet and subdued there is restlessness in the kingdom. There's more than just the foul stench and perverseness surrounding you. It dawns on you that the kingdom is alive, and that with every kingdom there comes a ruler. You wonder who could allow such decay. A force moves through the air surrounding the castle. You search the rows of windows; looking into each one as you would an eye- searching.
You realize that you are alone and in the midst of a Goblin City.