4: Garite's Wrath

Enthralled by the potential of his newfound abilities, John settled into his magically crafted cushioned bench, his mind already racing with ideas for new spells to create. The shock of his initial success gradually gave way to a determined focus as he began to experiment further with what he had named 'SyntaxSorcery'.

Miles away, Garite and his team of goblin hunters were out on a routine patrol of their territory when they stumbled upon a grisly scene. One of their tribe members lay dead, impaled upon a protruding branch, his lifeless body dangling like a macabre puppet. Garite approached the corpse, his eyes narrowing as he examined the situation.

"This doesn't look right," he growled, his voice thick with suspicion. "What kind of creature dies by impaling itself on a branch? And look at the ground around him - there are footprints here that don't belong to any goblin."

One of the other goblins, a skilled tracker named Rognak, stepped forward and sniffed the air. "I smell something unfamiliar," he said. "Not goblin, not animal. Something...different."

Garite stood up and looked around, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Spread out and search for tracks," he ordered. "Whoever did this can't have gotten far."

The goblins fanned out, scouring the area for any sign of the killer. It was Rognak who discovered another clue - a set of footprints leading away from the scene. He called the others over and they gathered around, studying the tracks.

"These are human footprints," Rognak said, his voice tinged with both anger and excitement. "A man, judging by the size and depth of the imprints."

Garite's lips curled back in a snarl. "A human? Here, in our territory? This cannot stand."

He turned to his team, his eyes blazing with fury. "We will find this human and make him pay for what he has done. No one murders a member of our tribe and lives to tell the tale."

The goblins nodded in agreement, their own anger burning hot. They set off at a run, following the trail left by the mysterious human intruder. Garite led the way, his mind filled with thoughts of vengeance.

The goblins moved swiftly through the forest, their anger and determination driving them forward. As they neared the location where the tracks seemed to lead, Garite held up a hand, signaling for the others to stop. He crept forward, his senses on high alert.

Suddenly, a rustling sound caught his attention. Garite peered through the foliage and spotted a figure seated on what appeared to be a luxurious bench in the middle of the forest. The figure was undoubtedly human, and he seemed to be lost in thought, unaware of the danger that lurked nearby.

A wicked grin spread across Garite's face as he signaled for his team to surround the area. They moved into position, their weapons at the ready, poised to strike. The human remained oblivious, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

Garite stepped forward, his sword drawn, ready to confront the intruder. The human looked up, his eyes widening in surprise and fear as he realized the gravity of his situation. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The goblins had him cornered, and they were out for blood.

As Garite approached, his eyes glinting with malice, the human knew that his fate hung in the balance. What happened next would determine whether he lived or died in this strange, unforgiving world.