TL;DR Mawage. Mawage is what bwings us togethah today. Mawwiage, that bwessed awwangement, that dweam wifin a dream!
Our Chairman and these Regarded APES have come here to make this tweasured agweement in front of their family and fwiends, pwomising their commitment in this holy and magnificent pwace, today and each day fowawd.
We would not be here today without wuv. Wuv, twoo wuv between these two. Twoo wuv will follow you forevah, so tweasure your wuv, Mr. Chairman with your Highly Regarded Apes, always.
My wife of 21yrs, who is pursuing her doctorate in Psychology to enhance her Marriage and Family counseling practice, has always been a supportive listener, especially throughout this saga. We watched together the events in 2021 unfold in real-time and in a recent discussion concerning market manipulations and the media's role in it all she interjected with unexpected psychological insights. What felt like a gentle change in the subject matter led to an unexpected and insightful conversation about narcissists, divorcing a narcissist, and the tactics of navigating them in your personal and professional lives.
Miracle Max: “'To blave.' And as we all know, 'to blave' means 'to bluff.' So, you're probably playing cards and he cheated…”
Did you know that there are divorce attorneys who specialize in dealing with cases involving narcissistic spouses? These attorneys are typically well-versed in high-conflict divorce scenarios and understand the psychological dynamics that can arise when one party exhibits narcissistic behaviors. They focus on strategies to manage manipulation, gaslighting, and other tactics that a narcissistic spouse might use to control or prolong legal proceedings.
Specialized attorneys in this area offer guidance on how to maintain clear and documented communication, set firm boundaries, and protect oneself legally and emotionally. Their expertise is particularly valuable in helping clients navigate the complexities of custody battles, financial disputes, and other contentious issues where a narcissistic spouse may attempt to use legal strategies to their advantage.
During our conversation my highly regarded ape-ette, outlined a total of 7 “Acts” in the Narcissist’s playbook.”

1. Denial
2. Minimization
3. Deflection
4. Rationalization
5. Displacement
6. Generalization
7. Victim Blaming

If you have ever had dealings with a Narcissist you know all to well these acts are rarely played in any kind of orderly fashion. Infact, their “playbill” is so well known that a short poem was created by Dyana Craig called “The Narcissist's Prayer”:

1. That didn't happen.
2. And if it did, it wasn't that bad.
3. And if it was, that's not a big deal.
4. And if it is, that's not my fault.
5. And if it was, I didn't mean it.
6. And if I did, you deserved it.

For the purposes of this post and to fully wrap our heads around the manipulative actions by those in the media, the financial system, in government, or our personal lives, we expanded upon the above as follows:

1. "That did not occur."
2. "And if it did, it was not that severe."
3. "And if it was, it is not a significant matter."
4. "And if it is, it is not my fault."
5. "And if it was, I did not intend it."
6. "And if I did, there were extenuating circumstances."
7. "And if there weren't, you provoked me into it."
8. "And if you didn't, others would have reacted the same way."
9. "And if they wouldn’t, the real issue is being blown out of proportion."
10. "And if it isn't, everyone makes mistakes."
11. "And if they don’t, I am under a lot of stress."
12. "And if I did, you deserved it."

These 12 narcissistic acts can be grouped into these stages that reflect a progression in the way responsibility, blame, and reality are manipulated by the media.
Stage 1: Denial

• "That did not occur." - Absolute refusal to acknowledge the reality of the event.

Stage 2: Minimization

• "And if it did, it was not that severe."
• "And if it was, it is not a significant matter." - These steps serve to downplay the severity and importance of the event, suggesting it is unworthy of concern or reaction.

Stage 3: Deflection

• "And if it is, it is not my fault."
• "And if it was, I did not intend it." - Shifts focus from the act itself to the intention behind it or external factors, deflecting responsibility away from the self.

Stage 4: Rationalization

• "And if I did, there were extenuating circumstances."
• "And if there weren't, you provoked me into it."
• "And if you didn't, others would have reacted the same way." - Attempts to provide reasons or excuses for the behavior that justify it or align it with normal responses.

Stage 5: Displacement

• "And if they wouldn’t, the real issue is being blown out of proportion." - This step attempts to shift the discussion from the actions to the reactions of others, suggesting an overreaction.

Stage 6: Generalization

• "And if it isn't, everyone makes mistakes."
• "And if they don’t, I am under a lot of stress." - These steps attempt to dilute personal responsibility by invoking common human faults or personal stress, suggesting that any errors are part of broader, understandable human conditions.

Stage 7: Victim Blaming

• "And if I did, you deserved it." - The final step, which shifts all remaining blame to the victim, positioning them as deserving of the actions or consequences.

These stages reflect a progression from outright denial to subtle and overt forms of manipulation, ending with a complete inversion of blame. Each stage is designed to protect the narcissist’s self-image and deflect any responsibility for their actions onto others or external circumstances.
For those of use that have been around since the beginning and has endured all of the above reminds me of one of my favorite parts in the Princess Bride:
Westley: Aha! Your pig fiance is too late! A few more steps and we'll be safe in the fire swamp. Buttercup: We'll never survive. Westley: Nonsense! You're only saying that because no one ever has. Westley: It's not that bad...Well I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here but the trees are actually quite lovely.
We begin unwinding all financial and manipulative aspects of the now very dead relationship that once existed. We document everything and those weary and nervous and we pick back up with…
Buttercup: We'll never succeed. We may as well die here. Westley: No, no. We have already succeeded. I mean, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurt - no problem. There's a popping sound preceding each; we can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand, which you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too…
We navigate the shills, the media pundits, and hedge fund market making Mayo loving thunts, aka the R.O.U.S’s. Through it all, we arrive at the events of the day! Our mascot triumphantly returns and now the Media is pulling a Prince Humperdink as if we are going to fall for it.
Buttercup: We did it! Westley: Now, was that so terrible? Humperdink: Surrender! Westley: You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well then, I accept. Humperdink: I give you full marks for bravery. Don't make yourself a fool. Westley: Ah, but how will you capture us? We know the secrets of the fire swamp. We can live there happily for some time, so whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit.
Navigating and enduring the demise of your first narcissist relationship is, in my opinion, the fire swamp. Reading all the DD ( • )( • ) and easily recognizing all of manipulations and cheating tactics being used and not reacting to them is what makes apes say “We can live there happily for some time, so whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit.”
Last but not least… our current marriage to our chairman, is bliss compared to our prior sham marriage where belief in a free and fair once existed. Remember, narcissists are married to the devil for time and all eternity!
I share this so that further discussion can continue and help everyone understand the kinds of people we are up against. They will never change, they will never care, and if they are fined or even found guilty of a crime, they will always and forever be the victim.

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The leader of the arrogant trio, Qin Bai, whose cruel eyes had menaced Ji Wuye before, now turned his sneering gaze upon Song Jia.
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With a contemptuous curl of his lips, he spoke in a tone dripping with disdain, "You have a bold tongue, speaking to your Seniors that way. Let's see if your skills match your audacious courage."
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Song Jia met his taunting glare with a defiant fire burning in her eyes. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides as she retorted, "Say what you want, but your empty words won't intimidate me. I accept your challenge willingly if you wish to spar." Her words rang out clearly, jaw set in resolve.
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The once-deserted Outer Disciple courtyard, which had been still as a graveyard moments before, suddenly came alive with hushed murmurs and the soft shuffling of feet as the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon.
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More and more disciples streamed in, alerted by the rising quarrel, as they gathered for the impending start of the morning's training exercises.
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All eyes turned towards the confrontation at the center.
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"Eh...Is that Martial Sister Song? Why is she shouting so early?" a bewildered voice wondered aloud.
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"Look, it seems she's being bullied!" another disciple exclaimed in disapproval, their brows furrowed with concern.
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The murmuring rose like a swelling tide as more onlookers arrived and finally decided to intervene.
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"Martial Brothers and Sisters, please stop," male disciples rushed forward, their hands gently but firmly restraining the agitated Qin Bai and his underlings.
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Meanwhile, the surrounding female disciples moved to calm the raging Song Jia, though her fiery glare remained locked on her antagonist, defiance etched onto her features.
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However, the would-be peacemakers were merely fellow Outer Disciples whose power paled in comparison.
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Under Qin Bai's withering glare, the men grudgingly released their grips, forced to back away.
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“Hmph!” With a disdainful sneer, Qin Bai's eyes raked over Song Jia from head to toe in a display of shameless appraisal.
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While Qin Bai lacked immense skill, having just broken into the 2nd realm, his newfound strength allowed him to easily brush off the feeble interference.
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The cowed disciples could do little more than grumble and shoot resentful glances his way.
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"Tsk...That Qin Bai...Just because he advanced a realm, he acts so arrogant now..."
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"But he's willing to risk the sect's ire over using it on the training tower as intended..."
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The disdainful whispers swirled all around, glares of reproach aimed at Qin Bai's turned back as the disciples reluctantly parted before him like a receding tide.
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All eyes then turned towards the gathered Outer Disciple Seniors observing the scene with folded arms and impassive expressions.
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"But why aren't the Seniors intervening?" Confusion tinged the words as they wondered why the more powerful disciples remained idle spectators.
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Emboldened by the lack of repercussion from the higher realm Outer Disciples Seniors, Qin Bai's sneer stretched into a cruel, satisfied grin.
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He deluded himself that these esteemed Seniors were actually extending him a perverse approval by allowing this confrontation to proceed unhindered.
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Yet he understood that egregious actions like ganging up against a single disciple would certainly attract disciplinary intervention, even from them.
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For this was the Kunlun Sect, a bastion of righteous and orthodox teachings where senseless killing between disciples was strictly prohibited.
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By the sect's tenets, they were all bound as Martial Sisters and Brothers, expected to respect and look upon each other as beloved family. However, when disputes did arise, they could be resolved through sanctioned duels or bouts of sparring.
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"Excellent," Qin Bai flashed a sadistic grin, calloused palms flexing in premature celebration. "We'll see how long that boldness of yours lasts once you're beaten into the dirt where you belong."
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A chorus of dismayed gasps and angry outcries erupted from the surrounding female disciples.
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"Sister Song, don't mind his vile words..."
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"That's right, treat his taunts like a passing wind!"
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They glared at Qin Bai and his cronies with a potent mixture of disapproval and concern, shuffling protectively closer to Song Jia's side.
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Unlike their male counterparts who had advanced higher but displayed a disinterested aloofness, the female disciples - even those of the 3rd realm - unanimously rallied behind their wronged Sister, creating an unspoken pressure that caused beads of nervous sweat to prickle on Qin Bai's brow.
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Sensing the rising tension, the surrounding Sisters looked imploringly at Song Jia, worry etched on their faces as they recognized the all-too-familiar flames of her fiery temper.
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Yet they knew any attempts to dissuade her would be as effective as dousing a wildfire with a cup of water.
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With gentle but firm motions, Song Jia waved off their concerns, patting their hands in reassurance. "It's alright, Sisters," she murmured, the barest hint of a smirk playing across her lips as her gaze met Qin Bai's unflinchingly.
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"We also need to teach a lesson to these arrogant men who think only with their lower bodily urges." Then, with a slight squaring of her shoulders, she purposefully strode forward until she stood mere inches before Qin Bai, eyes alight with conviction.
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"I'm not so easily defeated!" Song Jia shouted defiantly, her eyes blazing with challenge as she sneered back at Qin Bai.
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Thrusting her fist out mere inches from his face, she taunted, "Come at me then, if you dare. Or are you all just empty boasts like the spineless cowards you are?"
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Her words hung in the charged air, daring him to make the first move. The surrounding disciples watched with bated breath, the tension thick enough to choke on.
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Meanwhile, from a respectful distance away, Ji Wuye observed the escalating conflict with sharp eyes.
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It was then that he finally noticed the approach of his Senior Sister Lian Ruogang, her blue eyes - the piercing hue of the deepest oceans - scanning the unfolding scene with a slight crease marring her brow.
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"Sigh, I came to see you, Junior Brother, but..." Her gaze swept over the gathered crowd before her frown deepened at the conspicuous absence of Brother Wu Gao, who should have been overseeing the morning drills.
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"At this hour, where is Brother Wu..."
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Finding the supervisor mysteriously missing, Lian Ruogang could only shake her head in dismay before straightening her shoulders and striding forward with purpose.
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She would have to take charge and resolve this unruly situation herself.
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"Stop this at once," she called out in a tone that brooked no argument as she neared the confrontation. Both parties immediately turned towards the authoritative voice, eyes widening as they recognized the respected figure before them.
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"This junior greets Senior Sister Lian!" They chorused respectfully, bowing in deference.
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Though there were countless Official Disciples, Lian's frequent visits to check on Ji Wuye's progress made her a familiar presence. Even without the dark blue striped patterns denoting her rank adorning her robes, the Outer Disciples could identify her at a glance.
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"I must remind all disciples here that unrestrained combat between Brothers and Sisters is strictly forbidden by the sect's tenets," Lian declared, her ocean-blue eyes radiating reproach as they swept over the unruly gathering.
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"If you wish to settle your grievances, do so through the proper channels of a sanctioned sparring match."
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Though she held no formal disciplinary position, as an Official Disciple her authority could not be ignored lightly. At her stern admonition, a hush fell over the previously raucous crowd.
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"Ah, Senior Sister Lian! You've arrived at last!"
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"With an elite like her overseeing it now, let's see how Qin Bai responds in front of everyone!"
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Excited murmurs rippled through the throngs of onlookers, especially from the male disciples who had been at the brunt of Qin Bai's bullying before. They eagerly awaited how the arrogant youth would react under the disapproving scrutiny of an Official Disciple.
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…
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As this unfolded, Ji Wuye continued observing keenly from the outskirts, finally bearing witness as Qin Bai and Song Jia came to an agreement. With curt nods, they distanced themselves, clearing a space to serve as an impromptu sparring ring.
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"Let's see how the 'dark horse' among these so-called geniuses fares," Ji Wuye mused under his breath, sauntering forward to secure a better vantage point amidst the tightly-packed crowd.
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Once an adequate area had been outlined, both combatants bowed and cupped their hands formally to one another before being handed regulation wooden practice swords.
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As the blunted weapons exchanged hands, Ji Wuye's crimson eyes glinted as a translucent window flickered into view at the edge of his vision.
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[!] Your passive skill, Quick Adaptation(F), has been triggered! 

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IMPORTANT CAVEAT - Please Read

I'm a User Experience designer and can only talk about my perspective as a wandering craftsman, looking in from the outside. Most importantly, and to put my biases down on the table, I've been playing this game for over 340 hours, reaching level 82 at the time of writing and mostly play at level 9 (bugs & bots). I love this game and feel passionate about it, hence the length of this post.
As such, my take is both influenced by my "veterancy" in this game (I don't have the "new player" eyes anymore), and my experience as an IRL designer. This can and will influence my opinion below.
To mitigate that, I've read through all the balancing discussions I've seen and have read the devs comments and the CMs' answers on Discord to try and form a cohesive chain of thoughts. You're welcome to comment below, simply make sure to quote the passage you're referring to so we can have constructive discussions.
I've included some suggestions in italic to outline areas of improvements that I, lacking full understanding of the inner-workings of AH, can see.
**This post is quite lengthy but I hope it helps encapsulate what I, alongside many Helldivers, feel in regards to weapon balance in the game.**
_______

Primary weapons

This is a heated topic at the moment, the recent Polar Patriots war bond came with its fair share of balancing changes, some of which were highly divisive. I'm looking at the topic from a broader perspective and would like to invite you to walk that path with me.
Why focus on the primary weapons? Because they're the bread and butter of a Helldiver's experience, they are the first point of contact between player and character and are used an overwhelming amount of time during missions. They shouldn't be able to single-handedly carry you to victory but they need to significantly contribute in that goal.
With the game currently featuring two (illuminates we see you) enemy factions, primary weapons will fall in either one of 3 categories - Bug killers, Bot killers, both killers. This makes balancing weapons inherently more complicated as it requires the weapon to fall in one of those branches before being refined to fall in a comfortable spot. "Side-grades" as they're often referred to are inevitable when pushing for variety, yet every weapon should offer advantages and drawbacks to make them individually interesting to pick. Some might prefer one variant as it feels better to them whilst others will prefer its counterpart and that's okay.
With that being said, current weapon balance seems to prioritize creating a very level playing field across all branches to avoid certain weapons sticking out or over-performing. A lot of folks in the community seem to disagree with that and I can certainly understand why. Conformity leads to boredom and saturation, this is true in games and IRL.
Assault Rifles

• When designing a virtual experience, we are unavoidably influenced by the real world and draw comparisons to prior experiences to set our expectations. A gunshot sounds like a gunshot, if your weapon sounded like wet noodles dropping it would inevitably subvert your expectations (insert EA Star Wars joke here). As such, when looking at AR's in games, we often see them as the jack-of-all-trades but master-of-none weapons. IRL, these are defined as select-fire, intermediate cartridge firing weapons (think of the AR-15 / AK-74 platforms).
• In Helldivers 2, AR's deal the lowest damage of all primaries bar the Knight SMG. This effectively makes them into jack-of-no-trades and certainly master of none in the eyes of the community. This leads to pick rates (especially at higher difficulties) that are negligible at best.
  • One potential solution for that would be to increase the damage of Assault Rifles to demarcate them from SMGs and place them in a median point between PDWs and DMRs. This would require the developers to play around with other balancing tools (such as recoil and ergonomics) to make them more interesting to pick. For instance, making it so the higher-penetrating rifles deal lower damage to smaller enemies as they over-penetrate but full damage to medium or armored enemies could make your loadout synergy more interesting to balance. As many have pointed out, when you're a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. Balancing by numbers is never a good solution as it distances you from real users and blinds you to the actual experience.

Laser Weapons

• Laser weapons offer a tradeoff to the players - limited damage for potential infinite ammo. However, given the number of ammo points on the map and the frequency of the resupply drops, this is a non-factor in most dives you'll make. Hence, the tradeoff looks more like a sacrifice rather than a balanced choice.
• In-game, we have 2 primary laser rifles, the scythe and the sickle. The former fires a continuous beam of energy that requires you to make constant contact to apply damage whilst the latter functions as a higher-capacity AR. In the chaos of battle, keeping your sights on the enemy at all time can prove challenging, especially when moving around or taking damage (as this will make you flinch).
  • A solution would be to include new effects such as armor sundering (reducing the armor rating the longer you hold the beam on), a cone of damage to be applied right in front of the muzzle because of the heat generated and the like. Laser-beam weapons would then move to a more utilitarian role rather than another hammer for a more nuanced problem.

Explosive Weapons

• Explosive weapons serve either one of two roles IRL: anti-personnel (multiple-target effect) or anti-materiel (single target effect). This is an obvious and gross generalization but it serves to set a baseline to the discussion.
• Currently, explosive weapons seem to focus on anti-personnel exclusively, foregoing the potential of anti-materiel options as a primary. This is exemplified by the Jar-5 Dominator being one of the best regarded weapons in the game as it performs a duty no other weapon covers. Prior to the rework of the Eruptor, that category had two contenders, with one weapon offering higher fire rate and less explosive damage whilst the other offered incredible utility and AOE damage at the cost of handling and RPM.
  • To solve this issue, explosive weapons could be further refined to present other characteristics like penetration before explosion (I see you weirdos, keep it in your pants), more effects (gas capsules, flame puddles, small EMP shocks around the explosion etc.) and wider utility.

Concussive Weapons

• As the name suggests, those are meant to concuss enemies (or stun and stagger them if translated in game terms). This is incredibly useful for crowd-control but as the Pummeller showed us, it limits the breadth of concussive weapons to this one utility.
  • A somewhat interesting solution would be to include more varied effects to the concussion. Some might trigger the enemies to flail uncontrollably, hurting their friends as they attack the air, shoot in all directions or run themselves into obstacles like rocks, cliffs and the like.

_________

Support Weapons

I am aware that support weapons are seen as hit-or-miss by a fair number of divers, yet in my experience, they're all viable in different situations or when paired with other support items or primaries (eg. the heavy machine-gun being an all-around solid weapon that, yes, could benefit from a magazine increase, but when paired with a support backpack will allow you to mow-down enemies very effectively).
With the above caveat out of the way, I'd like to take a closer look at the origin of the discontent surrounding certain support weapons like the MG-43, the HMG, the Railgun etc.
To my understanding (feel free to correct me if you think I'm wrong), the reason why some support weapons are disregarded in favor of others stems from their lack of edge as compared to their counterparts. For instance, why pick the HMG when the Auto-Canon basically outclasses it in every way bar ammo capacity and fire-rate? Why pick the MG-43 when the stalwart and the Auto-canon exist? Why pick the railgun when the QuasaEAT/Recoilless Rifle/AMR exist?
They don't offer a significant enough reason to pick them, or straight up offer a lesser tool to solve the same problem.
Balancing all support weapons to be viable is a challenging task for sure, yet some improvements could go a long way to make them more interesting picks at all levels of play. This includes tweaking handling / ergonomics, ammo economy, etc. to creating more specialized items to pair with (think of an ammo backpack you could link your HMG or MG-43 to, forgoing reloads but needing a resupply box to refill; or a battery backpack to supercharge your rail-gun shots to deal incredible damage in unsafe mode, or pre-charge safe shots so the weapon fires instantly).
_________

To summarize

Arrowhead did a fantastic job with the weapon handling and feeling in the game, proving their ability to offer amazing experiences with a great variety of weapons. And they have continuously improved a lot of the outliers like the Counter-Sniper, the AMR, the Dominator, the Flamethrower and many more.
It seems that in some instances, the experience has been sacrificed on the altar of numbers, with the focus shifting from great-feeling weapons to "balanced" weapons. Helldivers is an incredible game that offers mind-blowing levels of fun which is the reason why so many of us fell in love with the game. This is echoed in the cries of the community that asks for fun over balance. I agree, yet balance still remains quintessential to a good experience and to avoid monopolies of certain loadouts as the only viable ones.
Balancing is multi-factorial and incredibly complex, often requiring the designers and developers to juggle between a great number of facets to get right. Player enjoyment is one of them and, in my opinion, the most important one at that.

Heya! My name is Alex and I haven’t written fanfic for about 20 years. Fourth Wing is the first fanfic I’ve written for since I was 13, because I finished Iron Flame and was mad that the third book wasn’t ready and was unwilling to wait until January. So I decided to take matters into my own hands and explore Rebecca’s world using my own imagination.
As a teenager, I would write fanfic with my female best friend and we would insert ourselves as original characters into a fandom, and we would then play our male love interests, write smut and co-write the fanfic. This was TOTALLY NOT GAY at the time, but now that I look back at it, it explains a lot.
Anyway, I’ve taken a similar approach to my Fourth Wing fanfic in that I draw inspiration from real people in my life and create them as characters within the Empyrean world.
My fanfic follows the perspective and story of Raya Lyadell, a Rebellion Kid, and runs parallel and in sync with the source material/Violet’s story. There are cameo appearances of characters from the source material, primarily other Rebellion kids, but the stories don’t contradict each other in any way.
SPOILER ALERT: please do not read unless you’ve read both Fourth Wing AND Iron Flame
Quick summary of main characters and story outline:
In my story, Raya Lyadell is an emotional, sensitive, maternal, quick thinking and compassionate young woman who is not really cut out for the Rider Quadrant. However, she is one of the few Rebellion Kids to possess the knowledge of how to create runes and so the whole Rebellion is counting on her to graduate so she can create and teach runemaking. She is originally from beyond the border and is technically an illegal immigrant.
Samaya Reinhurtigan is Raya’s best friend and they grew up together outside the border and inside the borders. Samaya is the complete opposite of Raya; hot headed, tomboyish, loud, extroverted, restless, reactive, obsessive and has psychopathic traits that really shine through at the Riders Quadrant. She preferred training with boys rather than learning runemaking and so she doesn’t have the same knowledge as Raya, but she is committed to ensuring Raya’s survival, because they’re best friends. She’ll go to any lengths to make sure she’s never separated from Raya again.
The third main character is Krydon Aaymar who is Raya’s love interest but also from a secret military family. He cottons on early that Raya and Samaya are illegal immigrants but rather than dob them in, he’s committed to helping them survive the Rider’s Quadrant and learning about life outside the borders. He’s also redoing his first year as no dragon chose him, despite being highly skilled, trained, proficient, fit, capable, smart and strategic. He believes Raya and Samaya can help him understand why he was overlooked, by helping them this year.
The story follows these three lives primarily and if you like the premise, here’s hoping what I write is entertaining for you! I’ve only been writing for three weeks but I’m up to 66k words. This is obviously not sustainable and I am in a hyper-fixated creative flow state (yay neurodivergence) and so I will slowly unroll the fanfic, in anticipation of burnout.
I plan on releasing one chapter every week on a Sunday. Hopefully it's okay with u/mod that I do a fresh post every Sunday with a short synposis of the chapter to give some insight, and that's not too spammy or annoying.
If you’d like to read the first chapter is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55693831/chapters/141375025#workskin. In this chapter, you're introduced to Raya, Krydon and their journey across the parapet.
I also have just released the second chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55693831/chapters/141736657#workskin . In this chapter, Samaya and Raya reconnect for the first time in six years but their reunion is interupted by Xaden Riorson who has words to say to Raya about her behaviour.
If you like fanfic I hope you like this and thank you for reading!

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have shared a deep love for the great outdoors, particularly the enchanting allure of the forest. The allure of nature's symphony, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the melodious songs of birds never failed to captivate our senses. The verdant foliage, adorned with vibrant flowers, created a kaleidoscope of colors that danced before our eyes, while the towering trees whispered ancient secrets to those who would listen. It was a place where tranquility and serenity embraced us, soothing our souls in the embrace of nature's embrace.
Our excursions into the wilderness were often brief, day trips filled with laughter, exploration, and a shared appreciation for the natural wonders around us. But the recent addition of an RV to our family provided an opportunity to embark on a new adventure—an overnight camping trip nestled within the embrace of majestic mountains and the allure of the forest.
Excitement bubbled within us as we meticulously planned our journey. We imagined gathering around a crackling fire, its warm glow casting dancing shadows upon our faces. The scent of burning wood mingling with the crisp mountain air would create an intoxicating aroma that would forever be etched in our memories.
Finally, the day arrived, and we eagerly set off, our RV becoming our mobile sanctuary. The journey itself was a testament to the beauty of the land we traversed. Majestic peaks rose like sentinels, their snow-capped summits piercing the heavens. As we delved deeper into the heart of nature's domain, our anticipation heightened, and our hearts beat in sync with the rhythm of the forest.
Upon reaching our destination, we carefully parked our RV, a tiny fortress amidst the towering giants. The forest seemed to embrace us, its silence broken only by the distant chirping of birds bidding us welcome. The air carried a crispness that invigorated our spirits, as if it whispered tales of forgotten legends and ancient mysteries.
With each step we took, the forest welcomed us into its secret realm. Our senses were intoxicated by the sweet aroma of pine needles underfoot, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil. Sunlight, filtered through the canopy above, created dappled patterns on the forest floor, like nature's own mesmerizing tapestry.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the campsite, we gathered around the fire pit. Amelia, our adventurous and nature-loving daughter, was brimming with excitement at the prospect of building a fire.
Amelia's eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands together, her voice filled with anticipation. "Dad, I can't wait to make the fire! Can I help? Please?"
A smile stretched across my face, mirroring the twinkle in her eyes. I nodded, appreciating her eagerness to participate in this age-old ritual of outdoor adventure.
"Absolutely, Amelia," I replied, my voice laced with fatherly pride. "You can gather some dry branches and twigs. Just be careful not to venture too far into the forest."
With an enthusiastic nod, Amelia seized a small, weathered basket and darted towards the beckoning trees and rustling underbrush.
"Watch out for the prickly bushes, sweetheart!" I called out, a touch of caution in my voice. "And remember, stay within sight!"
Her voice, tinged with determination, floated back to me on the gentle breeze. "Don't worry, Dad! I'll find the best branches!"
As Amelia vanished into the verdant embrace of the forest, my wife, Emma, emerged from our trusty RV. Her graceful movements belied her quiet excitement as she retrieved the carefully packed food provisions from within.
Emma's nimble fingers unwrapped the ingredients with a practiced ease, her eyes glimmering with a mix of culinary artistry and familial warmth. She hummed a gentle tune under her breath, her love for nurturing our family evident in every deliberate action.
Meanwhile, I busied myself by unloading the essential cooking equipment from the storage compartments. With the clinking of metal against metal, I extracted the gleaming grill grate and stoked the coals, preparing the stage for a delicious outdoor feast.
After a while, with a skip in her step and a glimmer of triumph in her eyes, Amelia emerged from the lush foliage, clutching a trove of dry branches and twigs within the sturdy basket. Yet, nestled in the crook of her other arm was an unexpected treasure—an enchanting discovery that had captured her young heart.
Amelia's voice bubbled with excitement as she approached, her words tumbling forth. "Dad! Look what I found! It's a small Teddy bear! Isn't it adorable?"
Curiosity sparked within me as I studied the small, weathered toy she presented. Its once vibrant colors had faded, its fur slightly disheveled, but it bore an undeniable charm. A silent narrative unfolded before my eyes, envisioning the laughter and companionship this cherished possession once brought to another child.
A mixture of caution and wonder mingled in my voice as I questioned, "Where did you find it, sweetheart? It seems someone may have lost it."
Amelia's face radiated with innocence and genuine affection for her newfound friend. "I found it near a tree, Daddy. Maybe another family played here, and the Teddy bear got left behind. Can I keep it, please?"
My instinctual protective nature rose, a desire to shield her from the potential disappointments that accompany lost treasures. Yet, a tender understanding blossomed within me. This small act of generosity and acceptance would foster her sense of empathy and compassion.
Considering her wide-eyed enthusiasm, I yielded to the warmth in my heart. "Alright, Amelia," I relented with a gentle smile. "If it brings you joy and reminds you of this beautiful adventure, then you can keep it."
Amelia's jubilant squeal filled the air, punctuating the acceptance of her request. With an affectionate hug, she embraced her newfound companion, promising it a future filled with endless tea parties and imaginary adventures.
Afer I set the fire, with a satisfying crackle, the flames sprang to life, dancing and flickering in a mesmerizing rhythm. The golden tendrils reached towards the night sky, casting a warm glow upon our faces. The radiant heat embraced us, dispelling the chill of the evening air as we gathered around the enchanting inferno.
I meticulously arranged the equipment we had brought, positioning the sturdy metal grill over the roaring fire. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the tantalizing aroma of seasoned meat, sizzling and sputtering as it made contact with the heated grates. The tantalizing melody of crackling embers serenaded our senses, a symphony of anticipation and contentment.
My wife, her eyes sparkling with both determination and tenderness, deftly prepared the ingredients that would transform into a feast of flavors. The rhythmic symphony of chopping, the aromatic dance of herbs and spices, and the gentle sizzle of ingredients meeting the heated pan created a harmonious tableau of culinary artistry.
Amelia, wide-eyed and filled with wonder, took her place by my side, her small hands outstretched in eager anticipation. I showed her how to position the meat on the grill, carefully instructing her on the art of achieving the perfect sear. Her youthful enthusiasm ignited a sense of pride within me, as I witnessed her embracing the opportunity to contribute to our family's culinary adventure.
“We still need some firewood. I will get some until it gets darker. I will be right back!,” I told Emma and I delved deeper into the wilderness.
The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, a symphony of nature enveloping me as I wandered amidst towering trees. My fingers brushed against dry leaves and moss-covered rocks, searching for the elusive twigs and branches necessary to further kindle our flames.
But my curiosity led me further ahead, my gaze alighting upon something beyond the ordinary. "What the hell," I murmured, my voice was like a whisper amidst the wilderness.
My my heart was quickening as I glimpsed the outline of a vehicle amidst the foliage. It stood solitary and still, like a relic from another time, its metal frame weathered by the passage of seasons.
I hesitated whether or not to go closer, my instincts prickling with unease.
"Perhaps just another camper," I told myself, though doubt lingered in my mind.
Then I changed my mind the hairs were raising on the back of my neck and walked away from the silent sentinel of metal and glass.
I retraced my steps through the labyrinth of trees, the distant echo of our footsteps mingling with the whispers of the forest. I was immediately relieved as the warmth of our camp awaited me and I was not sure if I should tell Emma that I had seen another RV deeper in the forest. I decided not to, it might ruin the warm athmosphere of our moments.
The crackling fire and the tantalizing aroma of the cooking meat wove an enchanting tapestry around us, casting a spell that encapsulated the essence of togetherness. As the minutes ticked by, we shared stories, laughter, and the warmth of familial love. The darkness around us seemed to fade away, replaced by the glow of our shared experiences and the promise of a memorable night.
In that moment, it was not just the flickering flames that illuminated our campsite, but the intangible bond we shared as a family. We were not merely three individuals gathered around a fire, but a tapestry of love, connection, and shared dreams. The crackling fire served as a beacon, illuminating the path towards a future filled with shared adventures, cherished memories, and an unbreakable bond that would withstand the tests of time.
As we reveled in the joyous harmony of food and company, the night sky glittered above, painting a breathtaking backdrop for our intimate gathering. The stars, like sparkling witnesses, bore witness to the magic that unfolded in that humble campsite.
In the symphony of crackling flames and joyful chatter, we savored the beauty of simplicity, finding solace and fulfillment in the warmth of our shared presence. It was in this tranquil moment, surrounded by the wilderness and enveloped in the embrace of our loved ones, that we realized the true essence of life's blessings—a serene respite from the world's chaos, and the unrivaled joy of being together, just the three of us.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering the world to the embrace of darkness, a palpable chill crept into the air, sending shivers down our spines. Wisps of mist curled and swirled around us, lending an ethereal quality to the night.
Feeling the temperature drop, I retrieved a thick, cozy blanket from the confines of our trusty RV. Its soft fabric, woven with memories of past adventures, held the promise of warmth and comfort. Gently draping the blanket over Emma and Amelia, I ensured their precious forms were shielded from the encroaching cold.
Amelia, her energy waning with each passing moment, fought against the drowsiness tugging at her eyelids. Her yawns, like tiny symphonies of weariness, punctuated the tranquility of the evening. Sensing her fatigue, I knelt down beside her, my voice filled with gentle concern.
"Sweetheart, it's getting late and you look tired," I whispered, my breath carrying warmth in the crisp night air. "Would you like to go to bed?"
Amelia's eyes, still sparkling with the remnants of excitement, met mine. A yawn escaped her lips, a delicate melody of exhaustion. However, her spirit remained steadfast, determined to revel in every last moment of our outdoor escapade.
"No, Daddy," she replied, her voice a soft murmur. "I'm not sleepy yet. I want to stay here and enjoy the campfire."
Her response resonated with the boundless enthusiasm of youth, and I couldn't help but smile at her unwavering spirit. In that instant, I understood that this was a rare and precious opportunity—a chance to immerse ourselves in the magic of the night, to surrender to the allure of the crackling flames and the mysteries concealed within the darkness.
Then I thought of the camper van that I had just seen and for some reason, it made me feel uneasy. Trying to ignore it, I settled myself beside Amelia, the fire's radiant glow casting enchanting shadows upon our faces. Emma, her hand tenderly clasping mine, joined us, her presence a comforting reassurance amidst the whispering night.
As we sat there, the crackling fire casting an otherworldly glow upon our little circle, a symphony of silence enveloped us. The distant chirping of nocturnal creatures mingled with the soft crackling of the firewood, creating a harmonious lullaby that serenaded us into a state of tranquil contentment.
Stars, like celestial lanterns, punctured the ink-black canvas above, their shimmering brilliance a testament to the vastness of the universe and the infinite possibilities that lay beyond our mortal reach. The fragrant scent of pine mingled with the smoky essence of the campfire, intoxicating our senses and anchoring us to this moment of fleeting serenity.
Time seemed suspended, as if the world had paused to allow us this respite from the frenetic pace of life. We basked in the warmth of the fire, our souls nourished by the shared silence and the bond forged through the simple act of being present with one another.
But amidst the tranquil symphony of nature, a rustling in the nearby underbrush shattered the stillness. The sudden disruption reverberated through the air, jolting us from our serene reverie. Emma's eyes widened, her hand instinctively tightening its grip around mine. Amelia, her youthful curiosity piqued, looked to me for reassurance.
"What was that, Daddy?" Amelia whispered, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
I cast a soothing smile in her direction, my attempt to allay any growing fears. "It's probably just an animal, sweetheart," I reassured her, my voice carrying a calm certainty. "Maybe a deer or a boar exploring the woods. Nothing to be worried about."
Yet, as the rustling persisted, growing louder and more distinct, even I couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease gnawing at the edges of my composure. The sound seemed to possess an undeniable weight, suggesting a presence larger and more formidable than initially anticipated.
Emma's eyes darted nervously between the surrounding trees, her senses attuned to the slightest movement. "Are you sure, dear?" she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension. "It sounds quite... substantial."
Instinctively, I rose to my feet, my protective instincts surging within me. "Stay here," I instructed, my voice firm but laden with an undercurrent of caution. "I'll go check it out. It's probably just passing through."
With cautious steps, I ventured toward the origin of the enigmatic rustling, my ears straining to decipher its source. I thought about the camper van. Was it possible that they could see our fire and wanted some company? That sounded ridiculous. Or could they have been in trouble? I should have checked that vehicle out.
Each crackle of twigs underfoot seemed to amplify in the stillness of the night, magnifying my senses. As I neared the treeline, anticipation mingled with a lingering sense of trepidation.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rustling ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The once vibrant symphony of nature now seemed muted, as if holding its breath in anticipation. I scanned the darkness, searching for any signs of movement, my heart thudding against my chest.
Slowly, I retraced my steps back to the warmth and safety of our campfire haven, my senses on high alert. Returning to my family, I wore a reassuring smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm despite the lingering mystery.
"It's alright," I assured them, my voice infused with a newfound conviction. "Whatever it was, it must have moved along. We're safe here."
Relief washed over their faces, their tense postures gradually easing. We settled back into our makeshift sanctuary, the familiarity of the crackling fire offering a comforting embrace. Our senses remained heightened, vigilant for any lingering signs of the unseen visitor.
Just as a semblance of calm began to settle over our campsite, an otherworldly roar pierced the night air, tearing through the fabric of serenity. The sound, far from the natural symphony we had grown accustomed to, possessed a menacing quality that resonated deep within our souls. Its metallic timbre reverberated through the darkness, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking down our spines.
Amelia's eyes widened in terror, her small frame trembling with the weight of the unknown. Emma's expression mirrored the trepidation etched across our faces. This was no ordinary sound—a realization that hung heavy in the air.
"That... that doesn't sound like a deer or a boar," Emma stammered, her voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and dread. "What could it possibly be?"
Before we could ponder further, the deafening roar reverberated through the night once more, closer this time. Its proximity shattered any illusions of safety that had momentarily settled over us. The air seemed to thicken, charged with an electric sense of urgency. Our instincts kicked into overdrive, urging us to abandon our belongings and seek shelter.
"Leave everything!" I shouted, my voice laced with urgency. "We have to get to the RV now!"
Without a moment's hesitation, we sprang into action. Emma snatched Amelia's hand, her grip tight and resolute, while I scooped up our precious daughter into my arms.
“My bear,” she screamed and picked up her new toy, her tiny hands clung to the worn bear with an intensity that belied her tender age.
The campfire, once a symbol of warmth and tranquility, was abandoned in an instant as we sprinted toward the sanctuary of the RV.
The world around us blurred into a frenzy of motion as our legs carried us with desperate urgency. Fear propelled us forward, fueling our determination to reach safety. With each pounding heartbeat, the roar grew louder, its ominous resonance seemingly at our heels, a predator closing in on its prey.
Finally, we reached the welcoming embrace of the RV, its sturdy frame offering a semblance of refuge from the unknown terror that lurked beyond. I swiftly deposited Amelia onto the seat, her wide eyes reflecting the same mixture of fear and relief that mirrored our own.
As I fumbled with the keys, my hands trembling with a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety, I spared a glance back at the abandoned campsite. The darkness swallowed our belongings, the remnants of our interrupted evening left behind as a haunting reminder of the inexplicable menace that had disrupted our peaceful retreat.
With a trembling hand, I inserted the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life in harmony with the echoes of the unknown creature outside. The RV became our fortress, its metal walls shielding us from the terrors that lurked beyond.
As we peeled away from the once idyllic campsite, the wailing roar echoed in the distance. Our hearts raced in unison, our breaths coming in jagged gasps as we sought solace in the sanctuary of the rolling vehicle.
With a trembling hand gripping the steering wheel, I pressed my foot down harder on the gas pedal, urging the RV to accelerate. The vehicle responded with a surge of power, propelling us forward with a newfound urgency. The engine roared in unison with the thundering beat of my heart, creating a symphony of adrenaline-fueled chaos.
As the wheels churned beneath us, the surrounding trees became a blur of green and brown, their branches reaching out like ghostly specters in our wake. The world outside the windows shifted in a dizzying dance, a kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses and fleeting shadows.
The headlights sliced through the darkness, casting elongated shadows that flickered and danced upon the passing foliage. Each passing plant and tree seemed to contort and twist in the ethereal glow, their distorted forms morphing into grotesque silhouettes of their former selves.
A heavy silence settled within the RV, broken only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic whoosh of the rushing wind. Our breaths remained caught in our chests, suspended in a shared state of shock and disbelief. The weight of what we had witnessed hung in the air, a chilling reminder that the boundaries of our world were not as fixed as we had once believed.
The scene we had left behind in the forest haunted our thoughts—a glimpse into a realm far removed from our own, something demonic, something that defied explanation. The image of that otherworldly roar and the malevolent presence it implied lingered like a scar etched into our memories, forever imprinted upon our souls.
Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as we raced along the winding road, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Our collective relief remained just out of reach, overshadowed by the lingering unease that clung to us like a specter. The distance between the forest and the main road seemed interminable, every curve and bend in the road prolonging our escape.
Finally, the familiar sight of the main road materialized before us, a beacon of respite in the darkness. As the RV merged onto its paved embrace, a collective sigh of relief cascaded through the cabin. The weight that had burdened our shoulders began to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of safety and security.
Yet, despite the relief that washed over us, the memory of the demonic encounter refused to dissipate as we were heading home. We knew that what we had witnessed in the depths of the forest would forever remain a haunting enigma, a testament to the boundless mysteries that lurk on the fringes of our understanding.
With weary bodies and restless minds, we arrived back at the familiar sanctuary of our home. The weight of the night's harrowing encounter clung to us like a heavy shroud, making the simple act of finding solace in sleep an arduous task. We all slept in the same bed that night. Tossing and turning beneath the covers, we battled against the remnants of fear that lingered within the recesses of our thoughts.
Morning finally broke through the darkness, casting its tentative rays of light upon our weary faces. The sun's gentle warmth filtered through the curtains, offering a glimmer of respite from the lingering shadows of the night. We emerged from our sleep-deprived haze, grateful for the sanctuary that our home provided.
Gathering around the breakfast table, our shared silence spoke volumes. We sought solace in the simple act of breaking bread together, a familiar routine that offered a semblance of normalcy amidst the lingering unease. No words were spoken of the night's horrors; instead, we focused on the mundane tasks of the morning, the clinking of cutlery and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee serving as a comforting backdrop to our collective attempt at healing.
As the day unfolded, we busied ourselves with the routine tasks, finding solace in the familiar rhythms. Dusting shelves, tending to neglected plants, and tidying up the remnants of the night's chaos became acts of therapy, a means of grounding ourselves in the reassuring normalcy of domesticity.
The weight of exhaustion settled upon our shoulders, and we allowed ourselves moments of respite as the day wore on. Sunday, a day of rest, offered a reprieve. We retreated to the cozy corners of our home, seeking solace in the embrace of soft couches and plush pillows.
As the hours slipped away, a quiet calm enveloped our home. The once-turbulent waves of fear and uncertainty settled into a gentle ebb and flow. Laughter and conversation, began to permeate the air, intermingling with the familiar sounds of a household in motion.
As the evening sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the living room window, we settled down in front of the TV, seeking solace in laughter and lightheartedness.
I reached for the remote control, ready to immerse ourselves in the comedic world of a streaming service, when something caught our attention. The TV screen flickered to life, displaying the urgent and captivating headlines of the news. A mixture of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension filled the room, prompting me to pause and leave the news channel playing.
The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, delivering the shocking report of a missing family. My wife leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the TV, her voice trembling with concern. Amelia, her eyes wide with curiosity, leaned closer to the TV, her Teddy bear still clutched tightly in her arms as she was listening to the newsreader.
“This is a breaking news update on a harrowing incident that has shaken the community to its core. The Hudson family, who embarked on a seemingly routine hiking trip into the serene depths of the nearby forest several weeks ago, has tragically met a devastating fate. Today, authorities have confirmed the discovery and identification of their camper van and remains, a discovery that has left investigators, medical examiners, and locals alike in a state of shock and disbelief. The process of identifying the bodies was nothing short of a nightmare for the dedicated team of forensic experts. The unimaginable horror that unfolded in those woods rendered their task exceptionally challenging. Their bodies, torn apart by an unknown and unimaginable force, presented investigators with an enigma that defied explanation. Their positions were grotesquely twisted, their injuries inexplicable and mind-boggling. According to the investigators, an unknown force seriously damaged their RV as well. Medical examiners, renowned for their expertise, were left dumbfounded as they grappled with the mysterious circumstances surrounding this tragic event. The sheer brutality of their demise left them searching for answers that seemed to lie just beyond their reach. The bite marks, enormous in size and ferocity, left on the bodies only added to the perplexity of the situation. Astonishingly, DNA testing revealed that these bite marks belonged to an unidentified creature, sending shockwaves of fear and disbelief through the community. The repercussions of this shocking revelation have reverberated throughout the town, leaving residents on edge and gripped by a pervasive sense of fear and uncertainty. The once serene forest, a place of solace and tranquility, now holds untold horrors that have shattered the peace and shattered the lives of the Hudson family. Authorities advise everyone not to go into the forest until they find out what happened and what killed the family.”
As the newsreader went on we all stopped eating our popocorn.
“In light of these disturbing developments, it is my duty to advise against venturing into the forest at this time. The safety and security that once accompanied our tranquil natural surroundings have been shattered, replaced by an aura of uncertainty and fear. Folks, we cannot ignore the evidence before us, the evidence that points to an unknown and terrifying presence within those woods. I understand the allure of nature's embrace, the desire to explore, to seek solace, and to reconnect with the world around us. However, in this moment, I implore you to prioritize your safety and exercise caution. The risk is simply too great, and the consequences too dire to ignore. I urge you to remain vigilant, to report any suspicious activities or unusual occurrences to the authorities immediately. Your eyes and ears are our greatest assets in keeping our town safe. Together, we can overcome this darkness and restore a sense of security to our beloved community. In the coming days and weeks, we will keep you updated on the progress of our investigations,” the country sheriff said to the reporter.
“We will continue to bring you updates on this developing story as more information becomes available. Our hearts go out to the Hudson family and all those affected by this unimaginable tragedy. Please stay tuned for further updates as we strive to unravel the mysteries that lie hidden within the depths of our world,” the newsreader said and they showed some photos of the Hudson family.
The images on the screen showed their smiling faces, frozen in time. The thought that the camper van I saw in the forest was the crime scene of a brutal and unexplained murder not far from our camp, sent chills down on my spine. This was something I kept to myself. But we all thought about the same thing: the next ones could have been us.

New Chapter on every MWF (Monday, Wednesday,Friday)
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Chapter 19: Four-Legged
Gribble's bare feet pounded against the wet ground, splashing through puddles and squelching in the mud. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to burst out of his ribcage with every frantic beat. The dark, damp forest closed in around him, the trees looming like silent sentinels in the gloom. Above, the sky rumbled ominously, the sound echoing through the woods like a warning.
Raindrops pattered against the leaves overhead, the light drizzle gradually soaking through Gribble's clothes and mingling with the sweat that beaded on his skin. He gulped in lungfuls of air, the earthy scent of the forest filling his nostrils - the petrichor of rain on soil, the green aroma of the trees, the musty odor of decaying leaves underfoot. In another time, another place, it might have been a comforting smell. But here, now, with danger nipping at his heels, it was little more than a fleeting distraction from the terror that consumed him.
"Gotta keep going," he panted, his voice barely a whisper. "Can't let them catch me."
The goblins and trolls were hot on his heels, and Gribble knew he couldn't afford to slow down. The forest was his only chance to escape, and he was determined to make it count. He pushed himself harder, ignoring the burning in his lungs and the ache in his muscles.
The heavens opened up, unleashing a torrential downpour that battered against the forest canopy. Fat droplets burst through the leaves, pelting Gribble's skin like icy needles. His tattered clothes, already hanging off his lean frame in shreds, were drenched within seconds, the fabric clinging to his body like a second skin.
The deluge blurred his vision, reducing the world to a hazy mess of greens and grays. Gribble squinted against the rain, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, but it was a losing battle. The path ahead disappeared, swallowed up by the murky gloom, and he stumbled blindly forward, his steps faltering on the slick, uneven ground.
But Gribble refused to let the storm halt his desperate flight. He gritted his teeth, determination burning in his chest like a flame, and pushed onward. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, he forged ahead, his mind focused on a single, all-consuming goal: escape. Grimrock's forces were out there somewhere, searching for him, hunting him like a fox before the hounds. He couldn't let them catch him. He wouldn't.
So he ran, and he kept running, even as the rain pounded against his back and the wind howled in his ears. He ran until his lungs burned and his muscles screamed in protest, until the forest was a blur of green and brown around him. He ran, and he didn't stop.
"Come on, Gribble," he urged himself. "You can do this. Just keep moving."
The rain was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it helped to cover his tracks and hide his scent. But on the other hand, it made the ground slippery and treacherous. Gribble lost his footing more than once, catching himself just in time to avoid a nasty fall.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning lit up the forest, and Gribble saw something that made his heart leap with hope. There, in the side of a nearby hill, was a dark opening - a cave that could offer him shelter from the storm.
"A cave!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Maybe I can hide in there, just for a little while."
He hesitated for a moment, wondering if the cave might be dangerous. But another crack of thunder made up his mind for him. He couldn't stay out in the open, not with the storm getting worse and his enemies getting closer. The cave was a risk he had to take.
Gribble scrambled towards the cave, his heart pounding in his ears as the thunder crashed around him. The rain pelted his face, making it hard to see, but he didn't let that stop him. He slipped and slid on the wet ground, nearly losing his balance several times.
"Almost there," he panted, his eyes fixed on the cave's entrance. "Just a little further."
The mouth of the cave loomed ahead of him, a dark and forbidding hole in the hillside. Gribble's mind raced with thoughts of what might be waiting for him inside, but he pushed them aside. Whatever the cave held, it couldn't be worse than what was behind him. His lungs burned and his muscles screamed in protest, but he refused to slow down. He was so close to safety, so close to a moment's rest.
As he reached the cave's entrance, Gribble paused for a moment, peering into the darkness. It seemed empty, and he knew he had no choice but to go inside. The sound of the rain and thunder faded as he stepped over the threshold, replaced by an eerie stillness. Gribble blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden change in light.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing off the cave walls. "Is anyone there?"
Only silence answered him, and Gribble let out a sigh of relief. He was alone, at least for now.
His heart was still racing, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He knew he couldn't let his guard down, not even for a moment, but the relief of being out of the storm was overwhelming.
Gribble stepped further into the cave, shivering from the cold and exhaustion. The sound of the rain and thunder became muffled, and he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the damp stone wall. The rough surface scraped against his skin, but he barely noticed. His mind was swirling with emotions - fear, relief, desperation, and a tiny spark of hope.
"I can't believe I made it," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I thought for sure they were going to catch me."
He knew he couldn't stay in the cave forever, but for now, it was the closest thing to safety he'd known in a long time. He closed his eyes, letting the coolness of the stone seep into his skin, grounding him in the present moment.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Gribble took a look around the cave. It was small but deep, with a low ceiling and narrow passages leading further into the hillside. The floor was uneven, with loose rocks and pebbles scattered about. He could make out the faint shapes of stalactites hanging from the ceiling, their tips glistening with moisture.
"Wow," Gribble breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. "I've never seen anything like this before."
The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and something else, something Gribble couldn't quite identify. He shivered, pulling his tattered clothes tighter around himself. The cave may have provided shelter from the storm, but it was far from comfortable. Gribble knew he'd have to keep moving soon, but for now, he allowed himself a moment to rest and gather his strength.
Just as he was starting to relax, Gribble saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. At the mouth of the cave, a dark, shadowy figure appeared. Gribble's heart leapt into his throat, and he froze, his body going rigid with fear.
"Who's there?" he called out, his voice shaking. "Show yourself!"
He squinted, trying to make out more details, but the figure was backlit by the dim light from the entrance, making it impossible to see clearly. Gribble's mind raced with possibilities. Was it another goblin? A troll? Something even worse? He held his breath, not daring to make a sound. The figure didn't seem to have noticed him yet, but Gribble knew that could change at any moment. He cursed silently, realizing that his moment of rest may have just put him in even greater danger.
As Gribble watched, his heart pounding, he realized that the figure was crawling on four legs, moving with a predatory grace that sent a chill down his spine. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and a sense of dread washed over him. He could hear the faint click of claws against stone, and he shuddered, realizing that whatever this thing was, it wasn't friendly.
"Oh no," Gribble whispered, his eyes wide with fear. "What is that thing?"
His mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, but he was trapped in the cave with nowhere to run. Gribble's body was tired and he didn't think he had the strength to summon the vines, and he knew he was no match for the creature in terms of strength or speed. His only hope was to stay still and silent, praying that the figure would pass him by.
Gribble pressed himself against the cave wall, hardly daring to breathe as he watched the mysterious creature make its way into the cave. Its eyes glinted in the darkness, reflecting the dim light from the entrance. Gribble's heart was pounding so hard he was sure the creature must be able to hear it, but he didn't dare move.
"Please don't see me," he prayed silently, his hands trembling. "Please just go away."
The figure paused, its head swiveling from side to side as if searching for something. Gribble held his breath, his body trembling with the effort of staying still. The creature took another step forward, and Gribble could see the outline of its muscular body, the way its shoulders rippled with each movement. He closed his eyes, silently begging for the creature to go away, to leave him alone. But deep down, Gribble knew that his luck had run out. Whatever happened next, he was on his own.
Trapped in the cave with nowhere to run, Gribble's mind raced as he tried to come up with a plan. He knew he was no match for the creature in terms of strength or speed, and he was too exhausted to summon any powers. His eyes darted around, searching for anything he could use as a weapon or a means of escape. But the cave was empty, with nothing but rocks and shadows.
"Think, Gribble, think," he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed in concentration. "There's got to be a way out of this."
He cursed his own foolishness for not being more prepared, for not having a backup plan. He'd always relied on his wits and his powers to get him out of trouble, but now, faced with an unknown enemy in an unfamiliar place, Gribble realized just how vulnerable he truly was. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He knew he couldn't give up, not after everything he'd been through. Gribble steeled himself, ready to fight or flee, whatever it took to survive.
As the silhouetted figure drew closer, Gribble's heart pounded frantically in his chest. He held his breath, hoping against hope that the creature hadn't noticed him yet. His mind was reeling, trying to find a way out of this terrifying situation, but deep down, he knew that his options were limited.
"Come on, Gribble," he whispered to himself, his fists clenched at his sides. "You can do this. You've faced worse than this before."
The figure was almost upon him now, and Gribble could see the glint of teeth in the darkness, the flash of claws against stone. He braced himself, ready for the attack, ready for the pain and the fear and the desperate struggle for survival. But even as he faced this new threat, Gribble felt a flicker of something else, something he hadn't felt in a long time: hope.
"I've survived the dungeon, the goblins, and the trolls," Gribble said aloud, his voice growing stronger with each word. "I've fought my way through the storm and the forest. And now, faced with yet another challenge, I know that I have the strength to keep going, to keep fighting, no matter what."
He may be small, but he wasn't alone. The cave, the forest, the earth itself - they were all on his side, all part of the same unbreakable will that drove him forward. And with that knowledge, Gribble faced the silhouetted figure, ready for whatever came next.
"Bring it on," Gribble said, his eyes narrowing with determination. "I'm not going down without a fight."
The creature took another step forward, its claws scraping against the stone. Gribble tensed, every muscle in his body coiled and ready to spring into action. He didn't know what was going to happen next, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn't going to give up. Not now, not ever.

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have shared a deep love for the great outdoors, particularly the enchanting allure of the forest. The allure of nature's symphony, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the melodious songs of birds never failed to captivate our senses. The verdant foliage, adorned with vibrant flowers, created a kaleidoscope of colors that danced before our eyes, while the towering trees whispered ancient secrets to those who would listen. It was a place where tranquility and serenity embraced us, soothing our souls in the embrace of nature's embrace.
Our excursions into the wilderness were often brief, day trips filled with laughter, exploration, and a shared appreciation for the natural wonders around us. But the recent addition of an RV to our family provided an opportunity to embark on a new adventure—an overnight camping trip nestled within the embrace of majestic mountains and the allure of the forest.
Excitement bubbled within us as we meticulously planned our journey. We imagined gathering around a crackling fire, its warm glow casting dancing shadows upon our faces. The scent of burning wood mingling with the crisp mountain air would create an intoxicating aroma that would forever be etched in our memories.
Finally, the day arrived, and we eagerly set off, our RV becoming our mobile sanctuary. The journey itself was a testament to the beauty of the land we traversed. Majestic peaks rose like sentinels, their snow-capped summits piercing the heavens. As we delved deeper into the heart of nature's domain, our anticipation heightened, and our hearts beat in sync with the rhythm of the forest.
Upon reaching our destination, we carefully parked our RV, a tiny fortress amidst the towering giants. The forest seemed to embrace us, its silence broken only by the distant chirping of birds bidding us welcome. The air carried a crispness that invigorated our spirits, as if it whispered tales of forgotten legends and ancient mysteries.
With each step we took, the forest welcomed us into its secret realm. Our senses were intoxicated by the sweet aroma of pine needles underfoot, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil. Sunlight, filtered through the canopy above, created dappled patterns on the forest floor, like nature's own mesmerizing tapestry.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the campsite, we gathered around the fire pit. Amelia, our adventurous and nature-loving daughter, was brimming with excitement at the prospect of building a fire.
Amelia's eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands together, her voice filled with anticipation. "Dad, I can't wait to make the fire! Can I help? Please?"
A smile stretched across my face, mirroring the twinkle in her eyes. I nodded, appreciating her eagerness to participate in this age-old ritual of outdoor adventure.
"Absolutely, Amelia," I replied, my voice laced with fatherly pride. "You can gather some dry branches and twigs. Just be careful not to venture too far into the forest."
With an enthusiastic nod, Amelia seized a small, weathered basket and darted towards the beckoning trees and rustling underbrush.
"Watch out for the prickly bushes, sweetheart!" I called out, a touch of caution in my voice. "And remember, stay within sight!"
Her voice, tinged with determination, floated back to me on the gentle breeze. "Don't worry, Dad! I'll find the best branches!"
As Amelia vanished into the verdant embrace of the forest, my wife, Emma, emerged from our trusty RV. Her graceful movements belied her quiet excitement as she retrieved the carefully packed food provisions from within.
Emma's nimble fingers unwrapped the ingredients with a practiced ease, her eyes glimmering with a mix of culinary artistry and familial warmth. She hummed a gentle tune under her breath, her love for nurturing our family evident in every deliberate action.
Meanwhile, I busied myself by unloading the essential cooking equipment from the storage compartments. With the clinking of metal against metal, I extracted the gleaming grill grate and stoked the coals, preparing the stage for a delicious outdoor feast.
After a while, with a skip in her step and a glimmer of triumph in her eyes, Amelia emerged from the lush foliage, clutching a trove of dry branches and twigs within the sturdy basket. Yet, nestled in the crook of her other arm was an unexpected treasure—an enchanting discovery that had captured her young heart.
Amelia's voice bubbled with excitement as she approached, her words tumbling forth. "Dad! Look what I found! It's a small Teddy bear! Isn't it adorable?"
Curiosity sparked within me as I studied the small, weathered toy she presented. Its once vibrant colors had faded, its fur slightly disheveled, but it bore an undeniable charm. A silent narrative unfolded before my eyes, envisioning the laughter and companionship this cherished possession once brought to another child.
A mixture of caution and wonder mingled in my voice as I questioned, "Where did you find it, sweetheart? It seems someone may have lost it."
Amelia's face radiated with innocence and genuine affection for her newfound friend. "I found it near a tree, Daddy. Maybe another family played here, and the Teddy bear got left behind. Can I keep it, please?"
My instinctual protective nature rose, a desire to shield her from the potential disappointments that accompany lost treasures. Yet, a tender understanding blossomed within me. This small act of generosity and acceptance would foster her sense of empathy and compassion.
Considering her wide-eyed enthusiasm, I yielded to the warmth in my heart. "Alright, Amelia," I relented with a gentle smile. "If it brings you joy and reminds you of this beautiful adventure, then you can keep it."
Amelia's jubilant squeal filled the air, punctuating the acceptance of her request. With an affectionate hug, she embraced her newfound companion, promising it a future filled with endless tea parties and imaginary adventures.
Afer I set the fire, with a satisfying crackle, the flames sprang to life, dancing and flickering in a mesmerizing rhythm. The golden tendrils reached towards the night sky, casting a warm glow upon our faces. The radiant heat embraced us, dispelling the chill of the evening air as we gathered around the enchanting inferno.
I meticulously arranged the equipment we had brought, positioning the sturdy metal grill over the roaring fire. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the tantalizing aroma of seasoned meat, sizzling and sputtering as it made contact with the heated grates. The tantalizing melody of crackling embers serenaded our senses, a symphony of anticipation and contentment.
My wife, her eyes sparkling with both determination and tenderness, deftly prepared the ingredients that would transform into a feast of flavors. The rhythmic symphony of chopping, the aromatic dance of herbs and spices, and the gentle sizzle of ingredients meeting the heated pan created a harmonious tableau of culinary artistry.
Amelia, wide-eyed and filled with wonder, took her place by my side, her small hands outstretched in eager anticipation. I showed her how to position the meat on the grill, carefully instructing her on the art of achieving the perfect sear. Her youthful enthusiasm ignited a sense of pride within me, as I witnessed her embracing the opportunity to contribute to our family's culinary adventure.
“We still need some firewood. I will get some until it gets darker. I will be right back!,” I told Emma and I delved deeper into the wilderness.
The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, a symphony of nature enveloping me as I wandered amidst towering trees. My fingers brushed against dry leaves and moss-covered rocks, searching for the elusive twigs and branches necessary to further kindle our flames.
But my curiosity led me further ahead, my gaze alighting upon something beyond the ordinary. "What the hell," I murmured, my voice was like a whisper amidst the wilderness.
My my heart was quickening as I glimpsed the outline of a vehicle amidst the foliage. It stood solitary and still, like a relic from another time.
I hesitated whether or not to go closer, my instincts prickling with unease.
"Perhaps just another camper," I told myself, though doubt lingered in my mind.
I cautiously approached the abandoned camper van, each step echoing in the eerie silence of the forest. A sense of unease crept over me, intensifying with every closer stride. The van, though not ancient, bore the unmistakable marks of neglect and abandonment, standing alone like a forgotten relic amidst the wilderness.
"Hello?" My voice broke the stillness, but no reply greeted my inquiry. It was as if the very air held its breath, shrouding the scene in an unsettling silence. Abandonment hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over the once vibrant camping spot.
My eyes scanned the scene, taking in the disarray that surrounded the camper. Camping equipment lay strewn haphazardly, a jumbled testament to the hurried departure of its previous occupants. But it was the ominous black stain on the ground that drew my attention, a stark reminder of some past calamity, perhaps a fire that had ravaged this place.
As I moved closer, my gaze was drawn to a chilling sight—a massive scraping marred the side of the camper van, like a grotesque scar etched into its metal skin. It seemed almost as if some colossal force had clawed at the vehicle, leaving behind a haunting testament to its power.
The stillness of the campsite was oppressive, suffocating, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation of some unseen threat. Not even the birds dared to break the silence with their song, lending an unsettling quality to the desolation that surrounded me.
With a shiver of apprehension, I realized that I stood on the precipice of a mystery, the unanswered questions hanging in the air like a thick fog. What had transpired in this forsaken place? And more importantly, was I truly alone in this silent wilderness?
The hairs were raising on the back of my neck and walked away from the silent sentinel of metal and glass. I retraced my steps through the labyrinth of trees, the distant echo of our footsteps mingling with the whispers of the forest. I was immediately relieved as the warmth of our camp awaited me and I was not sure if I should tell Emma that I had seen another RV deeper in the forest. I decided not to, it might ruin the warm athmosphere of our moments.
The crackling fire and the tantalizing aroma of the cooking meat wove an enchanting tapestry around us, casting a spell that encapsulated the essence of togetherness. As the minutes ticked by, we shared stories, laughter, and the warmth of familial love. The darkness around us seemed to fade away, replaced by the glow of our shared experiences and the promise of a memorable night.
In that moment, it was not just the flickering flames that illuminated our campsite, but the intangible bond we shared as a family. We were not merely three individuals gathered around a fire, but a tapestry of love, connection, and shared dreams. The crackling fire served as a beacon, illuminating the path towards a future filled with shared adventures, cherished memories, and an unbreakable bond that would withstand the tests of time.
As we reveled in the joyous harmony of food and company, the night sky glittered above, painting a breathtaking backdrop for our intimate gathering. The stars, like sparkling witnesses, bore witness to the magic that unfolded in that humble campsite.
In the symphony of crackling flames and joyful chatter, we savored the beauty of simplicity, finding solace and fulfillment in the warmth of our shared presence. It was in this tranquil moment, surrounded by the wilderness and enveloped in the embrace of our loved ones, that we realized the true essence of life's blessings—a serene respite from the world's chaos, and the unrivaled joy of being together, just the three of us.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering the world to the embrace of darkness, a palpable chill crept into the air, sending shivers down our spines. Wisps of mist curled and swirled around us, lending an ethereal quality to the night.
Feeling the temperature drop, I retrieved a thick, cozy blanket from the confines of our trusty RV. Its soft fabric, woven with memories of past adventures, held the promise of warmth and comfort. Gently draping the blanket over Emma and Amelia, I ensured their precious forms were shielded from the encroaching cold.
Amelia, her energy waning with each passing moment, fought against the drowsiness tugging at her eyelids. Her yawns, like tiny symphonies of weariness, punctuated the tranquility of the evening. Sensing her fatigue, I knelt down beside her, my voice filled with gentle concern.
"Sweetheart, it's getting late and you look tired," I whispered, my breath carrying warmth in the crisp night air. "Would you like to go to bed?"
Amelia's eyes, still sparkling with the remnants of excitement, met mine. A yawn escaped her lips, a delicate melody of exhaustion. However, her spirit remained steadfast, determined to revel in every last moment of our outdoor escapade.
"No, Daddy," she replied, her voice a soft murmur. "I'm not sleepy yet. I want to stay here and enjoy the campfire."
Her response resonated with the boundless enthusiasm of youth, and I couldn't help but smile at her unwavering spirit. In that instant, I understood that this was a rare and precious opportunity—a chance to immerse ourselves in the magic of the night, to surrender to the allure of the crackling flames and the mysteries concealed within the darkness.
Then I thought of the camper van that I had just seen and for some reason, it made me feel uneasy. Trying to ignore it, I settled myself beside Amelia, the fire's radiant glow casting enchanting shadows upon our faces. Emma, her hand tenderly clasping mine, joined us, her presence a comforting reassurance amidst the whispering night.
As we sat there, the crackling fire casting an otherworldly glow upon our little circle, a symphony of silence enveloped us. The distant chirping of nocturnal creatures mingled with the soft crackling of the firewood, creating a harmonious lullaby that serenaded us into a state of tranquil contentment.
Stars, like celestial lanterns, punctured the ink-black canvas above, their shimmering brilliance a testament to the vastness of the universe and the infinite possibilities that lay beyond our mortal reach. The fragrant scent of pine mingled with the smoky essence of the campfire, intoxicating our senses and anchoring us to this moment of fleeting serenity.
Time seemed suspended, as if the world had paused to allow us this respite from the frenetic pace of life. We basked in the warmth of the fire, our souls nourished by the shared silence and the bond forged through the simple act of being present with one another.
But amidst the tranquil symphony of nature, a rustling in the nearby underbrush shattered the stillness. The sudden disruption reverberated through the air, jolting us from our serene reverie. Emma's eyes widened, her hand instinctively tightening its grip around mine. Amelia, her youthful curiosity piqued, looked to me for reassurance.
"What was that, Daddy?" Amelia whispered, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
I cast a soothing smile in her direction, my attempt to allay any growing fears. "It's probably just an animal, sweetheart," I reassured her, my voice carrying a calm certainty. "Maybe a deer or a boar exploring the woods. Nothing to be worried about."
Yet, as the rustling persisted, growing louder and more distinct, even I couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease gnawing at the edges of my composure. The sound seemed to possess an undeniable weight, suggesting a presence larger and more formidable than initially anticipated.
Emma's eyes darted nervously between the surrounding trees, her senses attuned to the slightest movement. "Are you sure, dear?" she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension. "It sounds quite... substantial."
Instinctively, I rose to my feet, my protective instincts surging within me. "Stay here," I instructed, my voice firm but laden with an undercurrent of caution. "I'll go check it out. It's probably just passing through."
With cautious steps, I ventured toward the origin of the enigmatic rustling, my ears straining to decipher its source. I thought about the camper van. Was it possible that they could see our fire and wanted some company? That sounded ridiculous. Or could they have been in trouble? I should have checked that vehicle out.
Each crackle of twigs underfoot seemed to amplify in the stillness of the night, magnifying my senses. As I neared the treeline, anticipation mingled with a lingering sense of trepidation.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rustling ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The once vibrant symphony of nature now seemed muted, as if holding its breath in anticipation. I scanned the darkness, searching for any signs of movement, my heart thudding against my chest.
Slowly, I retraced my steps back to the warmth and safety of our campfire haven, my senses on high alert. Returning to my family, I wore a reassuring smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm despite the lingering mystery.
"It's alright," I assured them, my voice infused with a newfound conviction. "Whatever it was, it must have moved along. We're safe here."
Relief washed over their faces, their tense postures gradually easing. We settled back into our makeshift sanctuary, the familiarity of the crackling fire offering a comforting embrace. Our senses remained heightened, vigilant for any lingering signs of the unseen visitor.
Just as a semblance of calm began to settle over our campsite, an otherworldly roar pierced the night air, tearing through the fabric of serenity. The sound, far from the natural symphony we had grown accustomed to, possessed a menacing quality that resonated deep within our souls. Its metallic timbre reverberated through the darkness, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking down our spines.
Amelia's eyes widened in terror, her small frame trembling with the weight of the unknown. Emma's expression mirrored the trepidation etched across our faces. This was no ordinary sound—a realization that hung heavy in the air.
"That... that doesn't sound like a deer or a boar," Emma stammered, her voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and dread. "What could it possibly be?"
Before we could ponder further, the deafening roar reverberated through the night once more, closer this time. Its proximity shattered any illusions of safety that had momentarily settled over us. The air seemed to thicken, charged with an electric sense of urgency. Our instincts kicked into overdrive, urging us to abandon our belongings and seek shelter.
"Leave everything!" I shouted, my voice laced with urgency. "We have to get to the RV now!"
Without a moment's hesitation, we sprang into action. Emma snatched Amelia's hand, her grip tight and resolute, while I scooped up our precious daughter into my arms.
“My bear,” she screamed and picked up her new toy, her tiny hands clung to the worn bear with an intensity that belied her tender age.
The campfire, once a symbol of warmth and tranquility, was abandoned in an instant as we sprinted toward the sanctuary of the RV.
The world around us blurred into a frenzy of motion as our legs carried us with desperate urgency. Fear propelled us forward, fueling our determination to reach safety. With each pounding heartbeat, the roar grew louder, its ominous resonance seemingly at our heels, a predator closing in on its prey.
Finally, we reached the welcoming embrace of the RV, its sturdy frame offering a semblance of refuge from the unknown terror that lurked beyond. I swiftly deposited Amelia onto the seat, her wide eyes reflecting the same mixture of fear and relief that mirrored our own.
As I fumbled with the keys, my hands trembling with a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety, I spared a glance back at the abandoned campsite. The darkness swallowed our belongings, the remnants of our interrupted evening left behind as a haunting reminder of the inexplicable menace that had disrupted our peaceful retreat.
With a trembling hand, I inserted the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life in harmony with the echoes of the unknown creature outside. The RV became our fortress, its metal walls shielding us from the terrors that lurked beyond.
As we peeled away from the once idyllic campsite, the wailing roar echoed in the distance. Our hearts raced in unison, our breaths coming in jagged gasps as we sought solace in the sanctuary of the rolling vehicle.
With a trembling hand gripping the steering wheel, I pressed my foot down harder on the gas pedal, urging the RV to accelerate. The vehicle responded with a surge of power, propelling us forward with a newfound urgency. The engine roared in unison with the thundering beat of my heart, creating a symphony of adrenaline-fueled chaos.
As the wheels churned beneath us, the surrounding trees became a blur of green and brown, their branches reaching out like ghostly specters in our wake. The world outside the windows shifted in a dizzying dance, a kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses and fleeting shadows.
The headlights sliced through the darkness, casting elongated shadows that flickered and danced upon the passing foliage. Each passing plant and tree seemed to contort and twist in the ethereal glow, their distorted forms morphing into grotesque silhouettes of their former selves.
A heavy silence settled within the RV, broken only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic whoosh of the rushing wind. Our breaths remained caught in our chests, suspended in a shared state of shock and disbelief. The weight of what we had witnessed hung in the air, a chilling reminder that the boundaries of our world were not as fixed as we had once believed.
The scene we had left behind in the forest haunted our thoughts—a glimpse into a realm far removed from our own, something demonic, something that defied explanation. The image of that otherworldly roar and the malevolent presence it implied lingered like a scar etched into our memories, forever imprinted upon our souls.
Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as we raced along the winding road, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Our collective relief remained just out of reach, overshadowed by the lingering unease that clung to us like a specter. The distance between the forest and the main road seemed interminable, every curve and bend in the road prolonging our escape.
Finally, the familiar sight of the main road materialized before us, a beacon of respite in the darkness. As the RV merged onto its paved embrace, a collective sigh of relief cascaded through the cabin. The weight that had burdened our shoulders began to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of safety and security.
Yet, despite the relief that washed over us, the memory of the demonic encounter refused to dissipate as we were heading home. We knew that what we had witnessed in the depths of the forest would forever remain a haunting enigma, a testament to the boundless mysteries that lurk on the fringes of our understanding.
With weary bodies and restless minds, we arrived back at the familiar sanctuary of our home. The weight of the night's harrowing encounter clung to us like a heavy shroud, making the simple act of finding solace in sleep an arduous task. We all slept in the same bed that night. Tossing and turning beneath the covers, we battled against the remnants of fear that lingered within the recesses of our thoughts.
Morning finally broke through the darkness, casting its tentative rays of light upon our weary faces. The sun's gentle warmth filtered through the curtains, offering a glimmer of respite from the lingering shadows of the night. We emerged from our sleep-deprived haze, grateful for the sanctuary that our home provided.
Gathering around the breakfast table, our shared silence spoke volumes. We sought solace in the simple act of breaking bread together, a familiar routine that offered a semblance of normalcy amidst the lingering unease. No words were spoken of the night's horrors; instead, we focused on the mundane tasks of the morning, the clinking of cutlery and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee serving as a comforting backdrop to our collective attempt at healing.
As the day unfolded, we busied ourselves with the routine tasks, finding solace in the familiar rhythms. Dusting shelves, tending to neglected plants, and tidying up the remnants of the night's chaos became acts of therapy, a means of grounding ourselves in the reassuring normalcy of domesticity.
The weight of exhaustion settled upon our shoulders, and we allowed ourselves moments of respite as the day wore on. Sunday, a day of rest, offered a reprieve. We retreated to the cozy corners of our home, seeking solace in the embrace of soft couches and plush pillows.
As the hours slipped away, a quiet calm enveloped our home. The once-turbulent waves of fear and uncertainty settled into a gentle ebb and flow. Laughter and conversation, began to permeate the air, intermingling with the familiar sounds of a household in motion.
As the evening sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the living room window, we settled down in front of the TV, seeking solace in laughter and lightheartedness.
I reached for the remote control, ready to immerse ourselves in the comedic world of a streaming service, when something caught our attention. The TV screen flickered to life, displaying the urgent and captivating headlines of the news. A mixture of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension filled the room, prompting me to pause and leave the news channel playing.
The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, delivering the shocking report of a missing family. My wife leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the TV, her voice trembling with concern. Amelia, her eyes wide with curiosity, leaned closer to the TV, her Teddy bear still clutched tightly in her arms as she was listening to the newsreader.
“This is a breaking news update on a harrowing incident that has shaken the community to its core. The Hudson family, who embarked on a seemingly routine hiking trip into the serene depths of the nearby forest several weeks ago, has tragically met a devastating fate. Today, authorities have confirmed the discovery and identification of their camper van and remains, a discovery that has left investigators, medical examiners, and locals alike in a state of shock and disbelief. The process of identifying the bodies was nothing short of a nightmare for the dedicated team of forensic experts. The unimaginable horror that unfolded in those woods rendered their task exceptionally challenging. Their bodies, torn apart by an unknown and unimaginable force, presented investigators with an enigma that defied explanation. Their positions were grotesquely twisted, their injuries inexplicable and mind-boggling. According to the investigators, an unknown force seriously damaged their RV as well. Medical examiners, renowned for their expertise, were left dumbfounded as they grappled with the mysterious circumstances surrounding this tragic event. The sheer brutality of their demise left them searching for answers that seemed to lie just beyond their reach. The bite marks, enormous in size and ferocity, left on the bodies only added to the perplexity of the situation. Astonishingly, DNA testing revealed that these bite marks belonged to an unidentified creature, sending shockwaves of fear and disbelief through the community. The repercussions of this shocking revelation have reverberated throughout the town, leaving residents on edge and gripped by a pervasive sense of fear and uncertainty. The once serene forest, a place of solace and tranquility, now holds untold horrors that have shattered the peace and shattered the lives of the Hudson family. Authorities advise everyone not to go into the forest until they find out what happened and what killed the family.”
As the newsreader went on we all stopped eating our popocorn.
“In light of these disturbing developments, it is my duty to advise against venturing into the forest at this time. The safety and security that once accompanied our tranquil natural surroundings have been shattered, replaced by an aura of uncertainty and fear. Folks, we cannot ignore the evidence before us, the evidence that points to an unknown and terrifying presence within those woods. I understand the allure of nature's embrace, the desire to explore, to seek solace, and to reconnect with the world around us. However, in this moment, I implore you to prioritize your safety and exercise caution. The risk is simply too great, and the consequences too dire to ignore. I urge you to remain vigilant, to report any suspicious activities or unusual occurrences to the authorities immediately. Your eyes and ears are our greatest assets in keeping our town safe. Together, we can overcome this darkness and restore a sense of security to our beloved community. In the coming days and weeks, we will keep you updated on the progress of our investigations,” the country sheriff said to the reporter.
"According to the ancient tales of our indigenous tribes," the newsreader's voice reverberated with a solemn tone, "the depths of this forest are said to be haunted by a sinister entity known as the Black Beast." As the words hung heavy in the air, the camera panned over the tranquil landscape, capturing the rustic charm of a small Indian village nestled amidst the wilderness. Suddenly, the screen flickered to life, revealing the weathered visage of an elderly Indian man, his eyes bearing the weight of centuries-old wisdom.
"The Black Beast," the elder's voice resonated with a mixture of reverence and dread, "has cast its shadow over these lands for generations." His weathered hands gestured emphatically as he spoke, as if summoning forth the very essence of the creature from the depths of memory. "It is a creature of terror, a specter that prowls the heart of the forest, its presence a harbinger of doom."
The camera zoomed in, capturing every line etched upon the elder's face, each wrinkle a testament to the trials endured under the watchful gaze of the Black Beast. "We know not how it selects its victims," he continued, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and resignation, "nor why it chooses to spare some while condemning others to a fate worse than death."
The picture went back to the studio again.
“As you have heard, these are just local legends of course. We will continue to bring you updates on this developing story as more information becomes available. Our hearts go out to the Hudson family and all those affected by this unimaginable tragedy. Please stay tuned for further updates as we strive to unravel the mysteries that lie hidden within the depths of our world,” the newsreader said and they showed some photos of the Hudson family.
The images on the screen showed their smiling faces, frozen in time. The thought that the camper van I saw in the forest was the crime scene of a brutal and unexplained murder not far from our camp, sent chills down on my spine. This was something I kept to myself. But we all thought about the same thing: the next ones could have been us.

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have shared a deep love for the great outdoors, particularly the enchanting allure of the forest. The allure of nature's symphony, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the melodious songs of birds never failed to captivate our senses. The verdant foliage, adorned with vibrant flowers, created a kaleidoscope of colors that danced before our eyes, while the towering trees whispered ancient secrets to those who would listen. It was a place where tranquility and serenity embraced us, soothing our souls in the embrace of nature's embrace.
Our excursions into the wilderness were often brief, day trips filled with laughter, exploration, and a shared appreciation for the natural wonders around us. But the recent addition of an RV to our family provided an opportunity to embark on a new adventure—an overnight camping trip nestled within the embrace of majestic mountains and the allure of the forest.
Excitement bubbled within us as we meticulously planned our journey. We imagined gathering around a crackling fire, its warm glow casting dancing shadows upon our faces. The scent of burning wood mingling with the crisp mountain air would create an intoxicating aroma that would forever be etched in our memories.
Finally, the day arrived, and we eagerly set off, our RV becoming our mobile sanctuary. The journey itself was a testament to the beauty of the land we traversed. Majestic peaks rose like sentinels, their snow-capped summits piercing the heavens. As we delved deeper into the heart of nature's domain, our anticipation heightened, and our hearts beat in sync with the rhythm of the forest.
Upon reaching our destination, we carefully parked our RV, a tiny fortress amidst the towering giants. The forest seemed to embrace us, its silence broken only by the distant chirping of birds bidding us welcome. The air carried a crispness that invigorated our spirits, as if it whispered tales of forgotten legends and ancient mysteries.
With each step we took, the forest welcomed us into its secret realm. Our senses were intoxicated by the sweet aroma of pine needles underfoot, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil. Sunlight, filtered through the canopy above, created dappled patterns on the forest floor, like nature's own mesmerizing tapestry.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the campsite, we gathered around the fire pit. Amelia, our adventurous and nature-loving daughter, was brimming with excitement at the prospect of building a fire.
Amelia's eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands together, her voice filled with anticipation. "Dad, I can't wait to make the fire! Can I help? Please?"
A smile stretched across my face, mirroring the twinkle in her eyes. I nodded, appreciating her eagerness to participate in this age-old ritual of outdoor adventure.
"Absolutely, Amelia," I replied, my voice laced with fatherly pride. "You can gather some dry branches and twigs. Just be careful not to venture too far into the forest."
With an enthusiastic nod, Amelia seized a small, weathered basket and darted towards the beckoning trees and rustling underbrush.
"Watch out for the prickly bushes, sweetheart!" I called out, a touch of caution in my voice. "And remember, stay within sight!"
Her voice, tinged with determination, floated back to me on the gentle breeze. "Don't worry, Dad! I'll find the best branches!"
As Amelia vanished into the verdant embrace of the forest, my wife, Emma, emerged from our trusty RV. Her graceful movements belied her quiet excitement as she retrieved the carefully packed food provisions from within.
Emma's nimble fingers unwrapped the ingredients with a practiced ease, her eyes glimmering with a mix of culinary artistry and familial warmth. She hummed a gentle tune under her breath, her love for nurturing our family evident in every deliberate action.
Meanwhile, I busied myself by unloading the essential cooking equipment from the storage compartments. With the clinking of metal against metal, I extracted the gleaming grill grate and stoked the coals, preparing the stage for a delicious outdoor feast.
After a while, with a skip in her step and a glimmer of triumph in her eyes, Amelia emerged from the lush foliage, clutching a trove of dry branches and twigs within the sturdy basket. Yet, nestled in the crook of her other arm was an unexpected treasure—an enchanting discovery that had captured her young heart.
Amelia's voice bubbled with excitement as she approached, her words tumbling forth. "Dad! Look what I found! It's a small Teddy bear! Isn't it adorable?"
Curiosity sparked within me as I studied the small, weathered toy she presented. Its once vibrant colors had faded, its fur slightly disheveled, but it bore an undeniable charm. A silent narrative unfolded before my eyes, envisioning the laughter and companionship this cherished possession once brought to another child.
A mixture of caution and wonder mingled in my voice as I questioned, "Where did you find it, sweetheart? It seems someone may have lost it."
Amelia's face radiated with innocence and genuine affection for her newfound friend. "I found it near a tree, Daddy. Maybe another family played here, and the Teddy bear got left behind. Can I keep it, please?"
My instinctual protective nature rose, a desire to shield her from the potential disappointments that accompany lost treasures. Yet, a tender understanding blossomed within me. This small act of generosity and acceptance would foster her sense of empathy and compassion.
Considering her wide-eyed enthusiasm, I yielded to the warmth in my heart. "Alright, Amelia," I relented with a gentle smile. "If it brings you joy and reminds you of this beautiful adventure, then you can keep it."
Amelia's jubilant squeal filled the air, punctuating the acceptance of her request. With an affectionate hug, she embraced her newfound companion, promising it a future filled with endless tea parties and imaginary adventures.
Afer I set the fire, with a satisfying crackle, the flames sprang to life, dancing and flickering in a mesmerizing rhythm. The golden tendrils reached towards the night sky, casting a warm glow upon our faces. The radiant heat embraced us, dispelling the chill of the evening air as we gathered around the enchanting inferno.
I meticulously arranged the equipment we had brought, positioning the sturdy metal grill over the roaring fire. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the tantalizing aroma of seasoned meat, sizzling and sputtering as it made contact with the heated grates. The tantalizing melody of crackling embers serenaded our senses, a symphony of anticipation and contentment.
My wife, her eyes sparkling with both determination and tenderness, deftly prepared the ingredients that would transform into a feast of flavors. The rhythmic symphony of chopping, the aromatic dance of herbs and spices, and the gentle sizzle of ingredients meeting the heated pan created a harmonious tableau of culinary artistry.
Amelia, wide-eyed and filled with wonder, took her place by my side, her small hands outstretched in eager anticipation. I showed her how to position the meat on the grill, carefully instructing her on the art of achieving the perfect sear. Her youthful enthusiasm ignited a sense of pride within me, as I witnessed her embracing the opportunity to contribute to our family's culinary adventure.
“We still need some firewood. I will get some until it gets darker. I will be right back!,” I told Emma and I delved deeper into the wilderness.
The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, a symphony of nature enveloping me as I wandered amidst towering trees. My fingers brushed against dry leaves and moss-covered rocks, searching for the elusive twigs and branches necessary to further kindle our flames.
But my curiosity led me further ahead, my gaze alighting upon something beyond the ordinary. "What the hell," I murmured, my voice was like a whisper amidst the wilderness.
My my heart was quickening as I glimpsed the outline of a vehicle amidst the foliage. It stood solitary and still, like a relic from another time.
I hesitated whether or not to go closer, my instincts prickling with unease.
"Perhaps just another camper," I told myself, though doubt lingered in my mind.
I cautiously approached the abandoned camper van, each step echoing in the eerie silence of the forest. A sense of unease crept over me, intensifying with every closer stride. The van, though not ancient, bore the unmistakable marks of neglect and abandonment, standing alone like a forgotten relic amidst the wilderness.
"Hello?" My voice broke the stillness, but no reply greeted my inquiry. It was as if the very air held its breath, shrouding the scene in an unsettling silence. Abandonment hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over the once vibrant camping spot.
My eyes scanned the scene, taking in the disarray that surrounded the camper. Camping equipment lay strewn haphazardly, a jumbled testament to the hurried departure of its previous occupants. But it was the ominous black stain on the ground that drew my attention, a stark reminder of some past calamity, perhaps a fire that had ravaged this place.
As I moved closer, my gaze was drawn to a chilling sight—a massive scraping marred the side of the camper van, like a grotesque scar etched into its metal skin. It seemed almost as if some colossal force had clawed at the vehicle, leaving behind a haunting testament to its power.
The stillness of the campsite was oppressive, suffocating, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation of some unseen threat. Not even the birds dared to break the silence with their song, lending an unsettling quality to the desolation that surrounded me.
With a shiver of apprehension, I realized that I stood on the precipice of a mystery, the unanswered questions hanging in the air like a thick fog. What had transpired in this forsaken place? And more importantly, was I truly alone in this silent wilderness?
The hairs were raising on the back of my neck and walked away from the silent sentinel of metal and glass. I retraced my steps through the labyrinth of trees, the distant echo of our footsteps mingling with the whispers of the forest. I was immediately relieved as the warmth of our camp awaited me and I was not sure if I should tell Emma that I had seen another RV deeper in the forest. I decided not to, it might ruin the warm athmosphere of our moments.
The crackling fire and the tantalizing aroma of the cooking meat wove an enchanting tapestry around us, casting a spell that encapsulated the essence of togetherness. As the minutes ticked by, we shared stories, laughter, and the warmth of familial love. The darkness around us seemed to fade away, replaced by the glow of our shared experiences and the promise of a memorable night.
In that moment, it was not just the flickering flames that illuminated our campsite, but the intangible bond we shared as a family. We were not merely three individuals gathered around a fire, but a tapestry of love, connection, and shared dreams. The crackling fire served as a beacon, illuminating the path towards a future filled with shared adventures, cherished memories, and an unbreakable bond that would withstand the tests of time.
As we reveled in the joyous harmony of food and company, the night sky glittered above, painting a breathtaking backdrop for our intimate gathering. The stars, like sparkling witnesses, bore witness to the magic that unfolded in that humble campsite.
In the symphony of crackling flames and joyful chatter, we savored the beauty of simplicity, finding solace and fulfillment in the warmth of our shared presence. It was in this tranquil moment, surrounded by the wilderness and enveloped in the embrace of our loved ones, that we realized the true essence of life's blessings—a serene respite from the world's chaos, and the unrivaled joy of being together, just the three of us.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering the world to the embrace of darkness, a palpable chill crept into the air, sending shivers down our spines. Wisps of mist curled and swirled around us, lending an ethereal quality to the night.
Feeling the temperature drop, I retrieved a thick, cozy blanket from the confines of our trusty RV. Its soft fabric, woven with memories of past adventures, held the promise of warmth and comfort. Gently draping the blanket over Emma and Amelia, I ensured their precious forms were shielded from the encroaching cold.
Amelia, her energy waning with each passing moment, fought against the drowsiness tugging at her eyelids. Her yawns, like tiny symphonies of weariness, punctuated the tranquility of the evening. Sensing her fatigue, I knelt down beside her, my voice filled with gentle concern.
"Sweetheart, it's getting late and you look tired," I whispered, my breath carrying warmth in the crisp night air. "Would you like to go to bed?"
Amelia's eyes, still sparkling with the remnants of excitement, met mine. A yawn escaped her lips, a delicate melody of exhaustion. However, her spirit remained steadfast, determined to revel in every last moment of our outdoor escapade.
"No, Daddy," she replied, her voice a soft murmur. "I'm not sleepy yet. I want to stay here and enjoy the campfire."
Her response resonated with the boundless enthusiasm of youth, and I couldn't help but smile at her unwavering spirit. In that instant, I understood that this was a rare and precious opportunity—a chance to immerse ourselves in the magic of the night, to surrender to the allure of the crackling flames and the mysteries concealed within the darkness.
Then I thought of the camper van that I had just seen and for some reason, it made me feel uneasy. Trying to ignore it, I settled myself beside Amelia, the fire's radiant glow casting enchanting shadows upon our faces. Emma, her hand tenderly clasping mine, joined us, her presence a comforting reassurance amidst the whispering night.
As we sat there, the crackling fire casting an otherworldly glow upon our little circle, a symphony of silence enveloped us. The distant chirping of nocturnal creatures mingled with the soft crackling of the firewood, creating a harmonious lullaby that serenaded us into a state of tranquil contentment.
Stars, like celestial lanterns, punctured the ink-black canvas above, their shimmering brilliance a testament to the vastness of the universe and the infinite possibilities that lay beyond our mortal reach. The fragrant scent of pine mingled with the smoky essence of the campfire, intoxicating our senses and anchoring us to this moment of fleeting serenity.
Time seemed suspended, as if the world had paused to allow us this respite from the frenetic pace of life. We basked in the warmth of the fire, our souls nourished by the shared silence and the bond forged through the simple act of being present with one another.
But amidst the tranquil symphony of nature, a rustling in the nearby underbrush shattered the stillness. The sudden disruption reverberated through the air, jolting us from our serene reverie. Emma's eyes widened, her hand instinctively tightening its grip around mine. Amelia, her youthful curiosity piqued, looked to me for reassurance.
"What was that, Daddy?" Amelia whispered, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
I cast a soothing smile in her direction, my attempt to allay any growing fears. "It's probably just an animal, sweetheart," I reassured her, my voice carrying a calm certainty. "Maybe a deer or a boar exploring the woods. Nothing to be worried about."
Yet, as the rustling persisted, growing louder and more distinct, even I couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease gnawing at the edges of my composure. The sound seemed to possess an undeniable weight, suggesting a presence larger and more formidable than initially anticipated.
Emma's eyes darted nervously between the surrounding trees, her senses attuned to the slightest movement. "Are you sure, dear?" she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension. "It sounds quite... substantial."
Instinctively, I rose to my feet, my protective instincts surging within me. "Stay here," I instructed, my voice firm but laden with an undercurrent of caution. "I'll go check it out. It's probably just passing through."
With cautious steps, I ventured toward the origin of the enigmatic rustling, my ears straining to decipher its source. I thought about the camper van. Was it possible that they could see our fire and wanted some company? That sounded ridiculous. Or could they have been in trouble? I should have checked that vehicle out.
Each crackle of twigs underfoot seemed to amplify in the stillness of the night, magnifying my senses. As I neared the treeline, anticipation mingled with a lingering sense of trepidation.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rustling ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The once vibrant symphony of nature now seemed muted, as if holding its breath in anticipation. I scanned the darkness, searching for any signs of movement, my heart thudding against my chest.
Slowly, I retraced my steps back to the warmth and safety of our campfire haven, my senses on high alert. Returning to my family, I wore a reassuring smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm despite the lingering mystery.
"It's alright," I assured them, my voice infused with a newfound conviction. "Whatever it was, it must have moved along. We're safe here."
Relief washed over their faces, their tense postures gradually easing. We settled back into our makeshift sanctuary, the familiarity of the crackling fire offering a comforting embrace. Our senses remained heightened, vigilant for any lingering signs of the unseen visitor.
Just as a semblance of calm began to settle over our campsite, an otherworldly roar pierced the night air, tearing through the fabric of serenity. The sound, far from the natural symphony we had grown accustomed to, possessed a menacing quality that resonated deep within our souls. Its metallic timbre reverberated through the darkness, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking down our spines.
Amelia's eyes widened in terror, her small frame trembling with the weight of the unknown. Emma's expression mirrored the trepidation etched across our faces. This was no ordinary sound—a realization that hung heavy in the air.
"That... that doesn't sound like a deer or a boar," Emma stammered, her voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and dread. "What could it possibly be?"
Before we could ponder further, the deafening roar reverberated through the night once more, closer this time. Its proximity shattered any illusions of safety that had momentarily settled over us. The air seemed to thicken, charged with an electric sense of urgency. Our instincts kicked into overdrive, urging us to abandon our belongings and seek shelter.
"Leave everything!" I shouted, my voice laced with urgency. "We have to get to the RV now!"
Without a moment's hesitation, we sprang into action. Emma snatched Amelia's hand, her grip tight and resolute, while I scooped up our precious daughter into my arms.
“My bear,” she screamed and picked up her new toy, her tiny hands clung to the worn bear with an intensity that belied her tender age.
The campfire, once a symbol of warmth and tranquility, was abandoned in an instant as we sprinted toward the sanctuary of the RV.
The world around us blurred into a frenzy of motion as our legs carried us with desperate urgency. Fear propelled us forward, fueling our determination to reach safety. With each pounding heartbeat, the roar grew louder, its ominous resonance seemingly at our heels, a predator closing in on its prey.
Finally, we reached the welcoming embrace of the RV, its sturdy frame offering a semblance of refuge from the unknown terror that lurked beyond. I swiftly deposited Amelia onto the seat, her wide eyes reflecting the same mixture of fear and relief that mirrored our own.
As I fumbled with the keys, my hands trembling with a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety, I spared a glance back at the abandoned campsite. The darkness swallowed our belongings, the remnants of our interrupted evening left behind as a haunting reminder of the inexplicable menace that had disrupted our peaceful retreat.
With a trembling hand, I inserted the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life in harmony with the echoes of the unknown creature outside. The RV became our fortress, its metal walls shielding us from the terrors that lurked beyond.
As we peeled away from the once idyllic campsite, the wailing roar echoed in the distance. Our hearts raced in unison, our breaths coming in jagged gasps as we sought solace in the sanctuary of the rolling vehicle.
With a trembling hand gripping the steering wheel, I pressed my foot down harder on the gas pedal, urging the RV to accelerate. The vehicle responded with a surge of power, propelling us forward with a newfound urgency. The engine roared in unison with the thundering beat of my heart, creating a symphony of adrenaline-fueled chaos.
As the wheels churned beneath us, the surrounding trees became a blur of green and brown, their branches reaching out like ghostly specters in our wake. The world outside the windows shifted in a dizzying dance, a kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses and fleeting shadows.
The headlights sliced through the darkness, casting elongated shadows that flickered and danced upon the passing foliage. Each passing plant and tree seemed to contort and twist in the ethereal glow, their distorted forms morphing into grotesque silhouettes of their former selves.
A heavy silence settled within the RV, broken only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic whoosh of the rushing wind. Our breaths remained caught in our chests, suspended in a shared state of shock and disbelief. The weight of what we had witnessed hung in the air, a chilling reminder that the boundaries of our world were not as fixed as we had once believed.
The scene we had left behind in the forest haunted our thoughts—a glimpse into a realm far removed from our own, something demonic, something that defied explanation. The image of that otherworldly roar and the malevolent presence it implied lingered like a scar etched into our memories, forever imprinted upon our souls.
Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as we raced along the winding road, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Our collective relief remained just out of reach, overshadowed by the lingering unease that clung to us like a specter. The distance between the forest and the main road seemed interminable, every curve and bend in the road prolonging our escape.
Finally, the familiar sight of the main road materialized before us, a beacon of respite in the darkness. As the RV merged onto its paved embrace, a collective sigh of relief cascaded through the cabin. The weight that had burdened our shoulders began to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of safety and security.
Yet, despite the relief that washed over us, the memory of the demonic encounter refused to dissipate as we were heading home. We knew that what we had witnessed in the depths of the forest would forever remain a haunting enigma, a testament to the boundless mysteries that lurk on the fringes of our understanding.
With weary bodies and restless minds, we arrived back at the familiar sanctuary of our home. The weight of the night's harrowing encounter clung to us like a heavy shroud, making the simple act of finding solace in sleep an arduous task. We all slept in the same bed that night. Tossing and turning beneath the covers, we battled against the remnants of fear that lingered within the recesses of our thoughts.
Morning finally broke through the darkness, casting its tentative rays of light upon our weary faces. The sun's gentle warmth filtered through the curtains, offering a glimmer of respite from the lingering shadows of the night. We emerged from our sleep-deprived haze, grateful for the sanctuary that our home provided.
Gathering around the breakfast table, our shared silence spoke volumes. We sought solace in the simple act of breaking bread together, a familiar routine that offered a semblance of normalcy amidst the lingering unease. No words were spoken of the night's horrors; instead, we focused on the mundane tasks of the morning, the clinking of cutlery and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee serving as a comforting backdrop to our collective attempt at healing.
As the day unfolded, we busied ourselves with the routine tasks, finding solace in the familiar rhythms. Dusting shelves, tending to neglected plants, and tidying up the remnants of the night's chaos became acts of therapy, a means of grounding ourselves in the reassuring normalcy of domesticity.
The weight of exhaustion settled upon our shoulders, and we allowed ourselves moments of respite as the day wore on. Sunday, a day of rest, offered a reprieve. We retreated to the cozy corners of our home, seeking solace in the embrace of soft couches and plush pillows.
As the hours slipped away, a quiet calm enveloped our home. The once-turbulent waves of fear and uncertainty settled into a gentle ebb and flow. Laughter and conversation, began to permeate the air, intermingling with the familiar sounds of a household in motion.
As the evening sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the living room window, we settled down in front of the TV, seeking solace in laughter and lightheartedness.
I reached for the remote control, ready to immerse ourselves in the comedic world of a streaming service, when something caught our attention. The TV screen flickered to life, displaying the urgent and captivating headlines of the news. A mixture of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension filled the room, prompting me to pause and leave the news channel playing.
The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, delivering the shocking report of a missing family. My wife leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the TV, her voice trembling with concern. Amelia, her eyes wide with curiosity, leaned closer to the TV, her Teddy bear still clutched tightly in her arms as she was listening to the newsreader.
“This is a breaking news update on a harrowing incident that has shaken the community to its core. The Hudson family, who embarked on a seemingly routine hiking trip into the serene depths of the nearby forest several weeks ago, has tragically met a devastating fate. Today, authorities have confirmed the discovery and identification of their camper van and remains, a discovery that has left investigators, medical examiners, and locals alike in a state of shock and disbelief. The process of identifying the bodies was nothing short of a nightmare for the dedicated team of forensic experts. The unimaginable horror that unfolded in those woods rendered their task exceptionally challenging. Their bodies, torn apart by an unknown and unimaginable force, presented investigators with an enigma that defied explanation. Their positions were grotesquely twisted, their injuries inexplicable and mind-boggling. According to the investigators, an unknown force seriously damaged their RV as well. Medical examiners, renowned for their expertise, were left dumbfounded as they grappled with the mysterious circumstances surrounding this tragic event. The sheer brutality of their demise left them searching for answers that seemed to lie just beyond their reach. The bite marks, enormous in size and ferocity, left on the bodies only added to the perplexity of the situation. Astonishingly, DNA testing revealed that these bite marks belonged to an unidentified creature, sending shockwaves of fear and disbelief through the community. The repercussions of this shocking revelation have reverberated throughout the town, leaving residents on edge and gripped by a pervasive sense of fear and uncertainty. The once serene forest, a place of solace and tranquility, now holds untold horrors that have shattered the peace and shattered the lives of the Hudson family. Authorities advise everyone not to go into the forest until they find out what happened and what killed the family.”
As the newsreader went on we all stopped eating our popocorn.
“In light of these disturbing developments, it is my duty to advise against venturing into the forest at this time. The safety and security that once accompanied our tranquil natural surroundings have been shattered, replaced by an aura of uncertainty and fear. Folks, we cannot ignore the evidence before us, the evidence that points to an unknown and terrifying presence within those woods. I understand the allure of nature's embrace, the desire to explore, to seek solace, and to reconnect with the world around us. However, in this moment, I implore you to prioritize your safety and exercise caution. The risk is simply too great, and the consequences too dire to ignore. I urge you to remain vigilant, to report any suspicious activities or unusual occurrences to the authorities immediately. Your eyes and ears are our greatest assets in keeping our town safe. Together, we can overcome this darkness and restore a sense of security to our beloved community. In the coming days and weeks, we will keep you updated on the progress of our investigations,” the country sheriff said to the reporter.
"According to the ancient tales of our indigenous tribes," the newsreader's voice reverberated with a solemn tone, "the depths of this forest are said to be haunted by a sinister entity known as the Black Beast." As the words hung heavy in the air, the camera panned over the tranquil landscape, capturing the rustic charm of a small Indian village nestled amidst the wilderness. Suddenly, the screen flickered to life, revealing the weathered visage of an elderly Indian man, his eyes bearing the weight of centuries-old wisdom.
"The Black Beast," the elder's voice resonated with a mixture of reverence and dread, "has cast its shadow over these lands for generations." His weathered hands gestured emphatically as he spoke, as if summoning forth the very essence of the creature from the depths of memory. "It is a creature of terror, a specter that prowls the heart of the forest, its presence a harbinger of doom."
The camera zoomed in, capturing every line etched upon the elder's face, each wrinkle a testament to the trials endured under the watchful gaze of the Black Beast. "We know not how it selects its victims," he continued, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and resignation, "nor why it chooses to spare some while condemning others to a fate worse than death."
The picture went back to the studio again.
“As you have heard, these are just local legends of course. We will continue to bring you updates on this developing story as more information becomes available. Our hearts go out to the Hudson family and all those affected by this unimaginable tragedy. Please stay tuned for further updates as we strive to unravel the mysteries that lie hidden within the depths of our world,” the newsreader said and they showed some photos of the Hudson family.
The images on the screen showed their smiling faces, frozen in time. The thought that the camper van I saw in the forest was the crime scene of a brutal and unexplained murder not far from our camp, sent chills down on my spine. This was something I kept to myself. But we all thought about the same thing: the next ones could have been us.

Bright illuminescant flashes bolted through the dark-lit sky, rushing and raging through clouds seemingly made of gossamer and finely woven felt. You could almost reach out and touch them if not for the raging storm ripping and hollering. It shone and splintered along the sky, splitting into a thousand arcs, each converging and convexing along the stars. Electrical currents spun like lavender spider webs along a farmhouse wall. The arcs traveled, painting a vibrant tapestry along its wake before reaching their climax and releasing a wicked KRAK as the lights slowly faded.
The gossamer clouds wept tears of dull acidic rain that fell, cascading downwards. Down to the swampy fetid fields below. Their droplets splashed and sizzled against the sand, slowly fizzing before hardening into a thin velvet glass before beginning all over again. A sad display of god’s fury laid bare and plain for all to see. The rain had begun just a week prior, but its assault had persisted in a constant pattern ever since. The swamp ached and squirmed in an agonizing way as the rain melted away any sign of basic life.
Puddles of the acidic deluge collected along a road leading to the once fertile silver mine, just three miles from the town of Crestfall. Near the edge of the road, a fork splits off into multiple directions. South of the fork leads to the entrance of Deep Rock Mine. The mine’s entrance stands agape, resting at the base of a mountain. The mine’s layout, a cavern of crisscrossing and haphazardly formed tunnels, awaited past the thick darkness entrapping the entrance. They curve and wind up the spine of the mountain, as well as descend deep into the now dead earth.
The face of the mountain was bare but rough. Rocks jutted and sloped along its curvature, forming a near mesmeric pattern of spiked granite. Towards the peak, a malicious and not all entirely natural pattern emerged. As the acidic rain fell, framing the mountainous backdrop, the pattern watched and waited. An almost human-like visage stretched along the face of the mountain like canvas pulled over a wooden frame. It’s design scorn into the rock itself as if meticulously laid out to warn any who dared breach the confines of the swamp.
Silence lingered amongst the misty atmospheric dredge, save for the muffled and subtle ambietic sounds of the rain. Through the dead foliage and gnarled remains of creatures recently passed, a sound rang forth. Distant exclamation and reverberated clanging rhythmically sounded from deep within the mine. Up and down the mine laid stalactites and stalagmites haphazardly stationed around every corner. Their abrupt positioning cast shadows wherever light felt unable to reach. The mine walls were smooth from years of work and toilage, along with the long uninterrupted tunnels, created an almost echo chamber for sound.
Abrupt crashes and distant thrashes echoed through the winding chamber. Its sounds detailed a fierce battle between clashing swords and fervent blows.
Or so it would seem.
A sword, emblazoned with the sigil of a raven, flew across the dimly lit room. Its body crashes and clings as it skips along the floor, its blade slashing and carving thin lines into the granite flooring as it makes contact with the ground. A fierce shadow sprawls along the cave walls, depicting a struggle between foes.
The wanderer-and recent owner of the raven crested blade-crashes to the floor. Leather straps firmly tied around his shoulder blades catch most of the weight of the fall, but pain still echoed through his nerves.
“Hells! You slimy bastard!” The wanderer winces and yells in a blinded fury. “You don’t play fair, and here I thought we were having a nice sport of it.”
No reply immediately came from his opponent, still standing off near a downed torch. Flame wisped and flicked along the ground, casting shadows and dreaded omens as if they were ripped directly from a child’s nightmare.
At once, the foe stepped forward. The shadows sprawled across the walls painted a disturbing picture of horror and grotesque form. Imaginative figures born from shadows were always so much more terrible than the beings that cast them, but in this case it was clearly the other way around. The foe opposite The Wanderer lurched forward, it's body a gnarled vestige of exoskeleton and mandibles. It almost resembled a large insect, like a praying mantis that decided its evolutionary cycle had not quite finished yet.
On multi-socketed legs, it snapped and convulsed along. Every movement of its body felt agonizing, as if the creature was hastily thrown together by a quite absent god. Various olive and violet fluids oozed and dripped from its husk like body as it vocalized terrible sounds. The creature-seemingly unable to speak-produced noises from its mouth that resembled a mix of gargles and marbles being tossed along a wooden floor. All the while, its grotesque pincer like appendage snapped and clicked almost involuntarily.
The wanderer-still recovering from his fall-slowly pushed his body along the cold rocky ground, his arm still pulsing with pain.
“Oh my, what big mouths you have.” The wanderer teased sounding much more worried than he intended. ‘Always good to keep in control of the situation. Confidence is key.’ As he was always want to say, but this wasn’t an ordinary situation.
His arm traced along the ground, reaching and prodding for his recently lost weapon. Daring not look away from the oncoming threat, he felt nothing. His sword was currently resting near the opposite side of the cave room, resting flat along the ground. Away from The Wanderer’s grasp, far away from being of any further use here it seemed.
Doubt surged through his mind, but only for a short time. ‘Doubt breeds more doubt, and further doubt breeds ruin’, another favorite.
Clenched palms moved along the granite flooring. Leather gloves scraped and bruised as The Wanderer lifted back to his feet, regaining balance and fervor. The arm that had broken his fall felt numb and altogether absent.
‘Dislocated most likely, not a big enough fall to break.’
The insect-like foe-still closing the distance between them-snapped and gurgled in an almost territorial display of aggression.
The Wanderer grinned, placing his uninjured arm against its opposite’s elbow, before violently, yet methodically, pushing it upwards. A clear snap, followed by a dull pop echoed through the room. Feeling began pouring back into his arm as the vibrating itch of numbness faded. Both arms began to raise, fists clenched, the leather gloves creased and squelched from the sheer pressure as his hands formed tightly wounded fists. Fists pointed squarely towards the all not entirely normal creature still gurgling and jerking along the shadow filled room.
“Oh...” The Wanderer began. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t enjoy every second of this.” His fists raised up, reaching level with the bridge of his nose. “Come one now, give us yer best.”
As if understanding -and altogether disliking- the series of vulgar remarks thrusted toward it, the creature squealed through its deformed face. The jerking motion its movement seemed to have before was replaced with a fluid dash as it quickly closed the distance between the two adversaries. Arms outstretched as its gnarled and jagged hands opened and closed with violent snaps and twinges. Reaching out, grasping the air between them. The gap closed quickly, much quicker than he anticipated, but not enough to catch him entirely off guard as he shifts weight from right the left. The slender frame of his body flanking to the side of the creature.
Shadows arched and flailed with each movement, creating a strange optical illusion across the cave walls. The subtle shifting wind and osculation of the two fighters created an almost mural of events through the flames. Clashing swords, trumpeting horns and creatures that rivaled the tallest spires in Etheral began to converge into an unrecognizable painting of events. The fire loomed, gazing at the creature, at The Wanderer. Its gaze almost purposeful and full of intent. Neither the two beings made any note of the grand display unfolding around them. Fire is known to be a harsh mentor, and an even harsher ally. If one was to wander too deeply into its wounding gaze, one might find themselves trapped, forever living in the tapestry it painted.
The creature was fast, but nowhere as fast as him. Once useless, now repaired, the dislocated arm wrapped between the creatures glistening forearm, interlocking before weight shifted again. The creature stalled as if to reorient itself to face the man, but its movements were not its own. Quickly and deftly, The Wanderer placed immense weight on his forward foot, counterbalancing against the creature as their locked arms rotated and shifted sideways. Arching forward, the shift in balance quickly broke as the creature began to lift in the air as The Wanderer’s rear leg lifted to relegate pressure onward. Flailing and spewing its noxious fluid, the creature flipped entirely, finally crashing to the floor in a savage crunch. The Wanderer stands above, looking downward as it convulses in a fit of pain (could it even quantify pain) and anger.
A greyish foul-smelling slime coated The Wanderer’s chest and forearm. Small indentions formed along the hard leather surface of his jacket, most likely from the not entirely cosmetic spikes embedded into the creature.
“Alright, now I’d say we’re fairly close to a draw here.” The Wanderer began. “How’s say we handle the rest with a bit more diplomacy and grace? No point and making a bigger stink than we already got, but telling by the state of yourself, I’d say you know all about stink.”
The maddening gurgle of the creature slowed as its body began to calm. Its arms moving outward, sprawling along the hard granite rock as its legs raise along with the rest of it. Wet dew drips along the ground, rippling and casting weird reflections from all directions as the creature steps slowly along their puddles. Slow anxious steps it takes. Its demeanor changes from a wild and disturbed animal to a more methodic and wary being. Eyes of bluish gray sink into its head, pupils moving slowly, analyzing and taking in information. It stands straight, back locked into an opposing stance. God it was big. The man couldn’t much get a good measurement before with its body slouched over in a hermit like stance. It must be at least seven feet tall, equally proportioned from its legs to its torso. The head was rounded, almost human, with its bug-like mandibles protruding in a horrific fashion.
The Wanderer had dealt with creatures before. Along his travels he had come across a litany of monstrous beings; Wargs, Secrolants, Jittering Fiends, Goblins, Spiderlings. None of them quite matched the state of this one. Although he had heard of such beings, none had crossed paths before. The way it moved, the way it thought, it all was abnormal. It's quite simple to take a beast down, some you anger and gain the advantage, some you outsmart, others you can simply scare away. But this one.... oh, he was a different breed entirely. The way its mood could change mid-fight, or how it seemingly understood what was being said. And the way it stared. Thoughts were jutting along in the bug brain of its, and when monsters start thinking, all strategy and preparation goes out the window. Unpredictable is what they become, and prediction was The Wanderer’s bread and butter.
Wary now he waits, staring back at the creature. Locked eyes, they waited. Eyes filled with thought, filled with understanding and reasoning -but most egregiously- they were filled with malice. The fight was not over, they had just reached half-time.
“Let it not be stated that I did not strive for peace and harmony at every turn.” The Wanderer quipped, his hand raised once more, ready for another assault.
A flame flickers, casting shadows once again. Shadows of a man holding wolves at bay, hands outstretched to create a distance between them. The wolves circled and plotted, looking for weakness at every tune, but finding none. Leaves fell, becoming ash as they reached the ground. A fire spreads amongst the ash laden floor, consuming the visage, the man, the wolves. All in consumed in an immense concentrated heat, until the shadows fade to nothingness once more.
The creature meanders onward, just a few steps at a time; looking on as The Wanderer holds his footing, fists raised and ready. Each step of its hard glistening exoskeleton crunches against small rocks and debris sprawled along the cave floor, knocking them aside, producing echoed wails that seemingly bounced from surface to surface. After the third step it abruptly launches at the man, arms outstretched once more in a fit of animalistic fury. Thought seemingly left its eyes as they glazed over into a dull grey, the feeling and reasoning sinking further and further to the back of its mind. The Wanderer grinned, his stance loosening as the soles of his feet began to trace an outline of movement, preparing and readying for a counteroffensive. As its dripping breached the outline, The Wanderer shifted his weight once more, quickly flanking the creature to the side once again, but something was off. His eyes traced the movements of its body, of its arms, of its legs. The animosity in them seemed to almost shift mid attack, becoming lucid and methodical. As if the creature was dancing along with him. Even tracing down to the ground, the footing was wrong. Not his footing. He was always perfect. The dance was memorized, trained, honed to a sharp edge. No, it was the creature’s.
Abruptly the creature’s body shifted, its legs tracing backwards, its torso shifting to the side. A corrective action, a counterattack to his counterattack. Shadows of the pair danced along the cave wall, depicting a wickedly abstract waltz. The creature’s arm whipped outward, its claws barreling towards the thin leather separation between his elbow and forearm. God, it was fast. Faster than The Wanderer. Rip, flash, a bright light, then the crashing of feet as the two returned to their original standing.
It all happened so fast. Faster than he could articulate. He was used to speed, used to tracking and understanding battle situations, creating countermeasures, analyzing the most likely move and executing it within a fraction of a second. All of that was done, but it was all wrong. The creature moved in peculiar fashion, acted as if it were moving on instinct while simultaneously acting with thought and strategy. How could it possibly go both ways?
As he thought, mouth slightly open, breath pouring between his lips in a hot and heavy fashion, he hardly thought of anything else. They had made contact, but there was no feeling. Checking for wounds mid-encounter was generally out of the question with beasts. Often, they gave little time for thought or first aid, but the creature stood and waited. The dull grey look in its eyes were gone again, replaced with the methodical gaze of a strategist analyzing a battlefield. The Wanderer lowered his right arm and traced it along the path of his elbow, reaching his shoulder before he felt it. A definite gash traced about two inches wide, the depth of it couldn’t be guessed, but it had breached the leather. As his hand returned to a fist, warm fresh blood dripped between the fingers, falling and coagulating against the dust and pebbles along the ground. He had indeed been injured, but there was no feeling to it. All felt well, and that’s precisely why all was, in fact, not well.
“You’re a strange one. Not quite like anything I’ve seen before, but I’ll get to know you real well soon enough.”
His eyes moved from the creature, scanning along the ground. Before when this was a simple clean-up, a weapon would be handy, but hardly required of someone with his skills, but this was anything but simple. Parameters had changed, he’d very much like his sword back now.
It was nowhere to be seen initially. The room was dark, with little else than a soft glow from the fallen torch illuminating a small area and casting shadows that obscured others. Then it appeared. Near the feet of the creature, the raven crested blade sat where it had since the beginning of this strange dual. Thoughts echoed along in his head, casting suspicions and doubt in every facet of the encounter. Things were not as they appeared.
A slight grin crept along his face again, before quickly subsiding. “Think I have enough time for one more go of it. Care to lead?”
The creature stood, watching and plotting before the dull grey of its eyes appeared once again, launching it into another fury. It lunged, arms outstretched again, running full speed to the man. He simply stood, his hands loosening from tightly wound fists of rock to loosely packed fists of snow. His palms opened slightly; his footing loosened as the heels of his feet digging into the hard rocky floor. They began to move slightly, tracing a straight horizontal line where he stood as he slowly began to back away. The creature, still in a frenzy, closes the distance fast. Seemingly faster than any previous assault as The Wanderer ceased his slow backing retreat, his feet returning to a strong stance, soles digging deep into the earth. He takes in a breath, his heartrate slowing. The light sounds of the cave begin to grow, becoming more apparent and concentrated. Small droplets of dew falling from the ceiling, wind softly blowing along, echoing through the harrowed halls and the flickering of a flame slowly speaking its ancient language. They all converged, mirroring themselves as The Wanderer’s eyes closed. Time seemed to slow as the creature came closer, its steps further apart, its maddening gurgling seemingly floating away. It stepped, stepped and stepped along the ground, pushing pebbles and dust without thought.
Finally, it reached the line carved into the rock. Its foot crunched, making contact with the earth, and in an instant its eyes reverted again. The grey dullness seeping away to its methodically stategistic norm. In that instant, The Wanderers eyes erupted open. The chittering thing’s arms stretch out for his neck, hoping to seize his artery with its horrific claws. Quickly, quicker than anything that day, The Wanderer moved in a fast range of motions that all seemingly happened at once. His weight once again shifted, flanking the creature. His arms locked into a position of counterattack. The creature quickly issued its own countermeasure, once again whipping its body and throwing its claw outward, aiming higher than before, aiming for his neck.
A flame moved. Shadows formed along the walls once more, although they showed a different scene. A scene depicting two swordsman locked in deathly combat. Their swords swinging violently but with grace and purpose. They clashed a thousand times. Each time sending a spray of bright sparks that swelled through the air creating intricate patterns that lingered before slowly fading.
The creature was stuck, unable to move, unable to continue its assault and unable to return to its desired location. The Wanderer's palm grasped the creature's wrist tightly, locking it into a hold. The grey of the creature’s eyes were completely gone now as its pupils darted around in panic. His hand arched forward, his foot kicking –what would assumedly be- the creature’s calf, buckling its knees and forcing it to the ground. Cracking and popping erupted from the joints of its arm as his grip tightened. It’s gurgling became sporadic, as if pleading to be set free. He simply watched it, once against studying its behavior, its patterns, its mannerisms.
“You really are special. Not like anything in the world I imagine, but what makes you so special.” The Wanderer clenched his hold tighter, the creature falls lower, its face pushing into the cold rock. “You were playing a game, weren’t you? You understand what I’m saying too, and that I can assure you is indeed something special. Predicting my movements, using the techniques against me. You weren’t just fighting for a meal. You were learning, weren’t you?”
The creature clicked and gurgled, chittering against the ground as the hard surface of its arm began to crack.
“Now, I’m not opposed to teaching if I aim to gain something from it, but what I won’t abide is being played with. Now...” He plants his foot against the back of the creature's neck, both arms holding its locked appendage in a pulling motion. “I think I deserve to know a little more about you my foul-smelling friend, and if I’m right up until this point, you outta know exactly what I’m saying. I also assume you know a threat when you hear one. So...” His grip tightens, his leather boot slowly crunched against the creature’s skull. “Tell me what you are, and where you learned to be so damn special.”
The creature’s eyes widen, the dull grey returning, filling its retinas as it begins to violently convulse. A shrill screech fills the room, echoing along the walls, traveling through the twisting and winding tunnels of the long-forgotten mine. Shadows creep along the cave walls once more, scattering and convulsing, twisting into horrid and unimaginable shapes. Creatures that belong to fables and horror tales begin flooding along the shapes as the flame whips and crackles. The torch quickly combusts, the flames turning a sharp blackish violet. Heat bellows from the waves of ember emitting from the now monumental display of hellfire as the shadows multiply, taking over every inch of coverage. The Wanderer’s ears tremble at the immense noise, his vision begins to weaken as the shrill echo reaches a climactic crescendo. Any more of this and it’s all over, lights out.
He looks downward to the creature, its mind warped with whatever dark arts influenced it. His grip tightens as his foot presses firmly against the back of its head. Slow crunching and cracking sounds begin to intermingle with the terrible sounds of its cry. As the boot came down, harder and harder, the creature’s terrible screech began to thin and grow in pitch, like the air being slowly released from a balloon. Then, a horrendous snap before the head was no more. Violet and green brain matter covered the area around its neck as small fragments of skull of tissue caked along the sides of his boots. All at once the cry stopped, and along with it the room slowly began to darken. The flame began to slowly dwindle back to its original size, its color returning to a soft orange glow.
The Wanderer stepped back; his eyes firmly planted on the now deceased creature lying before him. A pool of its blood slowly trickled along the floor, reaching for his sword. Slowly, his body lumbered to the lost blade. Its handle was wrapped in scaled pitch blade leather, its blade a vibrant silver, still glistening with oil. The visage of a raven prominently scorn into the finish of the blade itself. Before the foul-smelling blood reaches the blade, the man slowly leans down to collect it. His body ached, his arms felt heavy and as the world around him began to dim, he retrieved the blade. Weighing it in his hand he felt secure, like a lost piece of him was restored with its retrieval. It felt so much heavier than before, or maybe he had just been weakened from the encounter. He gazed down upon it, his hand clenched hard around the dark leather handle. A dark fluid began to pool around his hand, streaming softly down from his arm.
The Wanderer turned his arm over, now looking at the wound he had taken from the creature’s first counterattack. It didn’t seem very bad, or at least not as bad as previous wounds he’d sustained, but the bleeding was alarming. It streamed softly, almost without notice. The blood itself was dark as well, as if it had already begun coagulation. A strange wound. A worrying wound. Suddenly his head became light, the room began to dim, and the walls started to blur. No, everything about this was wrong.
In the strange lucid state he was left in, he almost didn’t notice the changes around him. A quite fell over the room, the flickering flame seemed to even quite down to a faint whisper. A soft noise crept along the ground. Soft tapping, the sound of pebbles and rock being pushed aside, dust parting between single soft strides. The pain in his head grew louder, his heartbeat thumping from his chest to his forearm, ending finally against his forehead.
What is happening to me?
As if to answer, a rapid movement jostled him back to reality as he quickly turned, sword still gripped tightly in hand. A quick flash of movement rushed towards him, its motioned and sounds all too familiar to him. As nimbly as he can muster, he raises his blade outward in an attempt to impale the newfound enemy now barreling towards him, but a twinge of searing pain in his shoulder halts the attack. All he manages is a defensive stance, sword raised, arm placed behind the blade to prepare for impact as the creature crashes into him.
They both fall, splashing into the violet puddle of dank smelling blood that has pooled along the cave floor. A creature –almost identical to the one lying dead beside him- lies atop the blade protecting his body. Its arms crash against the leather bracers protecting his soft flesh. Claws come crashing down, scrapping against leather, making large slashes in them but not enough to break fully through the thick coating. Slime and mucus drip down from its maw, coating The Wanderer’s arms and neck. His arms are placed defensively against the side end of the blade, separating the two, but he can feel himself weakening further and further. Rough outlines of the creature emerge through blurred vision. Heat travels along his arm and forehead, casting confusion and sweat to pour over his body.
What the hell is happening!?
Suddenly, the creature lunges its head down, breaching the space between the blade and The Wanderer’s neck. Its snapping pincer like mandible opening and shutting in rapid and rabid bites. Before it has a chance to make contact, The Wanderer frees one of his trapped hands and grapples the creature’s head. With strength slowly fading from his body, he fruitlessly pushed back the creature's disgusting face. With every inch he pushes, the creature seemingly gains two. A battle of attrition begins. Snapping, clawing, drooling the creature continues its unending assault. Reach for the soft part of his neck in hopes of ending the encounter in a single bite. Just one slip, and its lights out. Forgotten and left to be fed on to a host of disgusting bugs. The thought rips through his mind, his veins fill with hot fire, his muscles contract creating energy that wasn’t there before. He pushes hard against the creature’s head, pushing it past the breach in the sword until his arm reaches full length.
The energy’s fading, the small window of opportunity’s closing, and for once in his miserable life, he can’t think of a thing to do. The hand not grappling with the creatures head pulls free from the back of the sword. His fingers slowly begin moving, drawing a pattern in the air. Faint lines form, like strokes from a dry paintbrush. Lines sparkle and faintly crackle with weak power, power being sapped away. The pattern is rough and unfinished, its edges not straight, its lines fumbling. The feeling in his fingers is weak. Strength fading, the pattern breaks as his hand twitches before returning to the blade. Fire begins erupting from the torch again, the strange violet flame re-emerges and casts strange shadows once again along the cave walls. Shadows depicting men falling in the thousands, figures standing above them. A strange light emits from the wrecked battlefield as the dominant figures rise, floating above, breaching unending clouds and sending a cleansing fire downward. Fire spreads along the walls, engulfing the shadows, casting them far away as it shrieks and flickers violently. The Wanderer’s vision begins to fade. The world around begins to dull. Rocky walls, granite floors, the creature all fade, losing color and becoming shadows themselves. Heat wells in his head, as tears stream down his cheek.
I can’t.
Shadows slowly engulf him as the energy drains from his arms.
I won’t
The creature’s face inches closer and closer to its target.
This is where it ends.
The fire erupts, banishing the shadows away once more, filling the room with soft orange light as the creature lunges uninterrupted at its prize.
Then nothing. The pain of stabbing pincers ripping along his throat never occurs. Instead, a loud CLAP echoes along the walls. It’s deafening and almost endless, but it's over in an instant. A river of fluid splashes along The Wanderer’s face and body. It’s warm and thick like syrup but smells like rotten apple cores. For a moment, he contemplates if this is death. A strange death, and a strange place to end up, but who’s to know. Before long his eyes opened. The creature that stood hunched over him was still there, but its head was entirely missing. Fragments of skull and viscera lined the walls and floor around him as the creature stood cold, dead. Seemingly out of nowhere, its head just seemed to explode.
“Did...” The Wanderer began quizzically. “Did I do that?”
Before an answer could be given, a shuffle could be heard across the room, hidden against the far wall deep within the dark. Slowly The Wanderer rose, knocking the deceased creature away from him, the feeling and strength slowly returning to his body. He stared off to the dark corner, waiting in vain for his eyes to adjust to the dark. They didn’t. Bending down, he grasped his sword in one hand, and what remained of the faint torch in the other as he cautiously meandered to the muffled sound coming from the dark corner.
“Gods, if it’s one more of these disgusting fucking things, I’m straight gone.”
Slowly, the image of a man appears. He almost seemed affixed to the wall due to some form of slightly translucent webbing sprawled across his body. His feet were a few inches raised from the floor as he hung limply against the wall. A thin layer of the same substance covered his mouth as he muffled violently to The Wanderer, his eyes red and spread as wide as they could go. Near the middle of the webbing his right hand was tightly bound, unable to move. On the other side, it seemed he was able to shake loose enough to free it. A silver revolver with gold carved inlays held tightly between his fingers. Faint trails of smoke emanated from the pistol’s barrel. The smell of spent gunpowder lingered In the air, a smell The Wanderer had memorized.
The Wanderer looked puzzlingly at the man stuck to the wall, before a spark of remembrance and realization came to life in his eyes. Sweat beaded down the side of his head, slowing before soaking into his shirt collar. That chance encounter had taken its toll, and had gone on for longer than he thought, longer than he had hoped.
“Hells man, I had forgotten entirely of you. Why not speak up next time?”
The stuck man convulsed in a fit of annoyance and fury as The Wanderer laughed heartily.

"I am going to be 48 years old in a few weeks. I have been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder since I was twenty years old. Much of my life, I have met all of the criteria of this disorder, and I have had a long, hard road ahead once it dawned on me that it was true. I have a fundamental dysfunction in my personality. I cannot cope with the world because at my core, I am unable to maintain stability as a functional adult for long periods of time due to my impulsive nature and my ability to forgive and love unconditionally. I don't know how to reconcile those traits with a healthy and successful life. My relationships are 'ride or die,' with me as the enabledoormat/reactionary drama queen. I tend to date men who need constant, obsessive attention and servitude, with them being the dominant to my submissive, their ego to my down-to-earth, and they are the Narcissist to my Borderline. I don't want to romanticize like so many JokeHarley memes, but this has been the way that it has gone for far too long.
My upbringing wasn't even close to being abusive. I was the only child, and my parents stayed married. I was sheltered, with no physical or sexual abuse; both of my parents were good people who loved me. It wasn't easy; we lacked money but never love. We struggled, but there were so many things that were different than for most people, in cool ways and in ways that were not cool. But never was I considered 'normal.'
One of the challenges of being Borderline is the difficulty in being our own therapist. Not because of this new 'favorite person' misinformation, but because we struggle with justifying anything. We see very little wrong with the way we are; we just need to know how we can make others understand that it's okay that we are intense, unpredictable in a predictable way, and humanly sensitive to everything that affects us. We insert ourselves into everything so we can let it all affect us. We claim that we didn't realize that we're supposed to change because we see no problem with the way we are; it's other people who are concerned, and we are not concerned with what people think (except when we are). So why do we have to change? It's our life, the one that is unmanageable and dysfunctional, and giving us unhoused vibes. This is still our life, and it's not easy to get through that we need to act accordingly because we don't care about your self-esteem; why do you care about ours?
So, we are often pushed into admitting that we can potentially be a little bit much. We are painted into the roles of the serial killer and the horrible Narcissistic Personality Disorder twin flame that nobody trusts because we follow our hearts (and we tend to hold grudges). Our dynamics are different, but we all follow astrology. Our sign is 'complete psycho' most of the time. I have been trying to figure out how to make it so we can get along with the world and it is not our enemy...but people keep messing up the whole situation.
People with borderline personality disorder may exhibit fear of abandonment through intense and unstable relationships. They might go to great lengths to avoid real or perceived abandonment, such as clinging to others, becoming quickly and intensely attached, or displaying extreme reactions (anger, panic, or depression) when they anticipate abandonment.
Abandonment fears can lead to impulsive actions to prevent separation or worse, therefore it's important to seek professional help for a comprehensive understanding and support. Additionally, individuals with BPD may engage in frantic efforts to avoid abandonment, such as making frantic, impulsive gestures to maintain a connection, even if those actions are not in their best interest. They might experience intense feelings of emptiness when alone and may go to extremes to fill that void. These behaviors can strain relationships, making it challenging for individuals with BPD to establish and maintain stable connections with others. Therapy, particularly dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), is often recommended to help manage and address these challenges.
Patterns of instability in borderline personality disorder (BPD) refer to consistent and recurring disruptions in various aspects of a person's life. This instability typically manifests in the following areas:

1. Relationships: Individuals with BPD often experience tumultuous relationships marked by extremes of idealization and devaluation. Their attitudes and feelings toward others may change rapidly, contributing to a cycle of intense, yet unstable, interpersonal connections.
   
2. Self-Image: BPD can involve an unstable sense of self. Individuals may struggle with a fluctuating self-identity, feeling uncertain about who they are, their values, and their life goals. This instability in self-perception can lead to a lack of direction and purpose.
   
3. Emotions: Emotional instability is a hallmark of BPD. Intense and rapidly shifting emotions, such as anger, anxiety, and sadness, can be challenging to regulate. Mood swings may occur in response to external events or perceived threats to relationships.
   
4. Impulsivity: Impulsive behaviors in areas like spending, substance abuse, reckless driving, or unsafe sexual practices are common in individuals with BPD. These actions often stem from a desire to alleviate emotional distress or avoid perceived abandonment.
   

These patterns of instability can significantly impact a person's daily functioning and relationships, making it crucial for individuals with BPD to seek professional help for effective management and support. In the context of borderline personality disorder (BPD), impulsivity refers to engaging in behaviors without careful consideration of the consequences. Individuals with BPD may display impulsive actions in various areas of their lives, such as:

1. Spending: Reckless and impulsive spending, often beyond one's means, is common in individuals with BPD.
   
2. Substance Abuse: Engaging in impulsive and risky behaviors related to substance use, including alcohol and drugs.
   
3. Sexual Behavior: Unplanned and impulsive sexual encounters, sometimes without regard for potential consequences, can occur.
   
4. Reckless Driving: Impulsive and risky driving behaviors, such as speeding or dangerous maneuvers.
   
5. Self-Harm: Engaging in impulsive self-harming behaviors as a way to cope with intense emotions.
   

Impulsivity in BPD can be driven by a desire to alleviate emotional pain, boredom, or to avoid perceived abandonment. Developing coping strategies and emotional regulation skills through therapy, particularly dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), can be beneficial in managing impulsive behaviors associated with BPD.
Identity disturbance in borderline personality disorder (BPD) refers to a pervasive and unstable sense of self. Individuals with BPD may struggle with a coherent and consistent understanding of who they are, which can manifest in several ways:

1. Self-Image Fluctuations: A person with BPD may experience rapid shifts in self-perception, ranging from feeling exceptionally positive to extremely negative about themselves. This can occur within short periods.
   
2. Uncertainty About Goals and Values: Individuals with identity disturbance may have difficulty establishing and maintaining long-term goals or consistent values. They might struggle with defining their life direction and purpose.
   
3. Chameleon-Like Adaptation: Some individuals with BPD may adopt different personas or behaviors in different social situations, often as a means to fit in or avoid rejection. This can lead to a lack of stable and authentic self-expression. Intense Fear of Abandonment: The fear of abandonment can exacerbate identity issues, as individuals may shape their identity based on the perceived expectations or desires of others, leading to a lack of a stable core sense of self.
   

Addressing identity disturbance in BPD often involves therapeutic interventions, such as dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) or psychodynamic therapy. These approaches aim to help individuals explore and develop a more stable and authentic sense of self.
Dissociation in borderline personality disorder (BPD) refers to a coping mechanism where individuals disconnect from their thoughts, feelings, memories, or sense of identity. This disconnection can occur as a response to stress, trauma, or overwhelming emotions. Dissociative experiences in BPD may include:

1. Depersonalization: Feeling detached from oneself, as if observing from outside the body.
   
2. Derealization: Perceiving the external environment as unreal or distorted.
   
3. Amnesia: Gaps in memory, especially related to stressful events or periods of intense emotion.
   
4. Identity Confusion: Momentary lapses in awareness of one's identity or feeling unsure about who they are.
   

Dissociation serves as a way for individuals with BPD to manage distress, particularly when emotions become too overwhelming. However, it can interfere with daily functioning and contribute to difficulties in relationships. Therapy, especially approaches like dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) and trauma-focused therapy, may help individuals develop healthier coping mechanisms and address dissociative experiences.
Certainly, here are some examples of dissociative experiences that individuals with borderline personality disorder (BPD) may encounter:

1. Depersonalization: Feeling as though you are watching yourself from a distance, almost like being an observer rather than an active participant in your own life.
   
2. Derealization: Perceiving the external world as strange, unreal, or distorted. You may be on a heavy trip off mushrooms and wandering around the closet park in the middle of the night feels different when you are over 40. It hits different, and you can get in a lot more trouble than experimenting teenagers. You're not holding a job long under these circumstances.
   
3. Amnesia: Having periods of time where you cannot recall significant details or events, especially those associated with heightened emotional states or trauma. If you are being sedated for trying to call the same number over and over at three am because you desperately need to move to
   
4. Identity Confusion: Brief moments of not recognizing oneself or feeling uncertain about personal identity, values, or goals. Taking in the attributes of your signiotg
   

It's important to note that dissociative experiences can vary widely among individuals, and not everyone with BPD will necessarily experience these examples. If you or someone you know is experiencing dissociation or other symptoms associated with BPD, seeking professional help from a mental health practitioner is crucial for appropriate diagnosis and support.
Suicidal ideation in borderline personality disorder (BPD) involves persistent thoughts about death, dying, or the desire to end one's life. Individuals with BPD may experience varying degrees of suicidal thoughts, ranging from fleeting notions to detailed plans. Some aspects of suicidal ideation in BPD include:

1. Frequency and Intensity: Suicidal ideation can be a chronic feature, with thoughts occurring regularly or intermittently. The intensity can range from vague thoughts to detailed plans.
   
2. Impulsivity: Individuals with BPD may be prone to impulsive behaviors, and this impulsivity can extend to suicidal acts or self-harming behaviors during periods of emotional distress.
   
3. Sense of Hopelessness: Suicidal thoughts in BPD can be linked to a pervasive sense of hopelessness, often fueled by challenges in relationships, identity, and emotional regulation.
   
4. Coping Mechanism: For some, suicidal ideation may serve as a coping mechanism, providing a perceived escape from emotional pain or a means to regain control.
   

Addressing suicidal ideation in BPD requires immediate attention from mental health professionals. Therapeutic interventions, such as dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) and cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), can be effective in helping individuals manage intense emotions and develop healthier coping strategies. If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, it's crucial to seek help from a mental health professional or a crisis hotline immediately.
Mood swings in borderline personality disorder (BPD) are characterized by rapid and intense changes in emotional states. These fluctuations can occur in response to various triggers or even without apparent cause. Key aspects of mood swings in BPD include:

1. Intensity: Emotions can shift from one extreme to another rapidly, with individuals experiencing intense feelings of joy, anger, sadness, or anxiety.
   
2. Instability: The duration of mood swings can be brief, lasting only a few hours or days. This instability contributes to the challenge of predicting or managing emotional states.
   
3. Triggered by Interpersonal Events: Mood swings in BPD often correlate with interpersonal stressors, such as perceived rejection, criticism, or the fear of abandonment.
   
4. Impact on Relationships: The intensity and unpredictability of mood swings can strain relationships, as others may find it challenging to understand or respond to the rapidly changing emotional landscape.
   

Therapeutic approaches, particularly dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), focus on helping individuals with BPD recognize and regulate their emotions, providing skills to manage mood swings effectively.
The term "Cluster B" refers to one of the four personality disorder clusters outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5). Cluster B personality disorders share certain features, including dramatic, emotional, and erratic behaviors. This grouping includes the following personality disorders:

1. Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD): Characterized by instability in relationships, self-image, and emotions, along with impulsive and self-destructive behaviors.
   
2. Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD): Involves an exaggerated sense of self-importance, a preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, and a lack of empathy for others.
   
3. Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD): Characterized by a disregard for the rights of others, impulsivity, deceitfulness, and a lack of remorse after harming others.
   
4. Histrionic Personality Disorder (HPD): Involves a need for attention, dramatic and seductive behavior, and intense emotions that may be perceived as shallow.
   

These personality disorders within Cluster B share some common traits, such as difficulties in forming and maintaining relationships, impulsivity, and emotional dysregulation. However, each disorder within the cluster has distinct features and diagnostic criteria. The clustering is a way to organize and understand patterns of personality pathology for diagnostic and treatment purposes.
Diagnosing borderline personality disorder (BPD) typically involves a comprehensive assessment by a mental health professional. Several tools and methods are used to gather information, including:

1. Clinical Interviews: A mental health professional conducts thorough interviews to assess the individual's symptoms, emotional experiences, and history of relationships. These interviews may involve discussions about mood, identity, impulsivity, and interpersonal difficulties.
   
2. Diagnostic Criteria: The assessment often involves evaluating the individual against established diagnostic criteria, such as those outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5). Meeting specific criteria is essential for a formal diagnosis.
   
3. Structured Interviews: Mental health professionals may use structured interviews designed to elicit specific information related to BPD symptoms. These interviews help standard ize the diagnostic process.
   
4. Self-Report Questionnaires: Individuals may be asked to complete self-report questionnaires designed to assess various aspects of personality, emotional experiences, and interpersonal functioning.
   
5. Collateral Information: Information from family members, close friends, or other relevant sources may be considered to gain a more comprehensive understanding of the individual's behavior and relationships.
   

It's important to note that a diagnosis of BPD should be made by a qualified mental health professional based on a thorough assessment. Early diagnosis and intervention are crucial for individuals with BPD to receive appropriate treatment and support.
Here's the continuation of the edited text:
Cluster B Personality Disorder #clusterb #clusterbs #bpd-dbt #dbt #fearofabandonment #linean
This revised version addresses spelling, grammar, and ensures clarity in expression. Let me know if there are any further edits or adjustments you'd like to make!

1. **

Hi there! I wanted to give a rough outline of my rental plan and see if it makes sense to the experts here. I don't want to step on any landmines.
Last year I bought my first house (4 bed, 2 bath) for 350k at 6.99 percent. I've been throwing money at it to pay it down like the house is on fire and the only thing that puts out flames is cash. Next year I'll have the loan down to 150k owed, where I plan to recast (unless refinance rates come down. Am not counting on that, though).
That should bring the monthly payment to 997 per month with about 300 added for property tax + insurance.
From there, I plan to rent out my first house, buy a second home to live in, and repeat the process. There may be a year delay while I gather up a healthy down payment for a second house + start an emergency fund for the rental house in case of vacancies.
Rental comps in my area are 2100-2400, and I plan to use a property management place, which I estimate at 10% of the rent.
According to my numbers, bare minimum I'll be getting 600 dollars a month in profit for the rental.
It feels... a little too simple? Is there anything that I'm missing? Also, how much do people usually have put aside for house emergencies like vacancies and such?

Introduction:

Hi everybody. Its me again. Now that Finals are over for me, I am able to participate a bit more for the next couple of months now. And a good thing too, because i really wanted to participate in this month's competition. Specifically, I latched onto the "No/Unique Ultimate" prompt, as I built an Udyr-esque champion about 2 years ago (Side Note: Damn, that was 2 years ago?? I was just starting college and now I am halfway through my degree. Man, time flies!), and it fit this prompt perfectly. This is the link to the original post, as I will be tweaking a lot of things, given how Items and Runes have changed significantly since then. and I will have tuned and tweaked some numbers as well.
To summarize from the Introduction in the other post, Umbara is designed as a Specialist, Auto-Attack based Jungler from Ixtal. The main gimmick is that, just like Udyr, she has no Ultimate instead she has 4 Basic Abilities. The kicker is that she has access to only 2 of said Abilities plus a Unique passive at any given time, and she transforms to get the other abilities and passive. This is probably the most mechanically intensive champion that I have ever created, and I am really proud of it, so I am re-submitting it here.P

Abilities:

Passive: Bloom of Life
Umbara is the Aspect of Nature, allowing her to use the Magic of the 4 seasons, allowing her Basic Attacks to scale with 100% AP instead of 100% AD. Additionally, she changes form based upon the current season, gaining a unique Passive and access to two abilities
Spring Form: Umbara gains a Stack of Wild Growth for every second in combat with Enemies, Minions and Monsters, up to a max of 5. Each Stack grants her 8% Attack Speed, and 6% Lifesteal and Spellvamp.
Summer Form: Enemies and Monsters gain a Stack of Wildfire every second in combat with Umbara, up to a max of 3 Stacks. Enemies take 5% Bonus Magic Damage for every Stack of Wildfire. When fully Stacked, each Stack of Wildfire deals True Damage instead of Magic Damage
Autumn Form: Umbara gains a Stack of Bleak Decay for Every Second in Combat with Enemies and Monsters, up to a max of 5. Her Basic Attacks and Abilities benefit from 7 Magic Penetration for Every Stack of Bleak Decay.
Winter Form: Enemies gain a Stack of Frostbite every second in combat with Umbara, up to a max of 3 Stacks. Enemies are slowed by 20% for every Stack of Frostbite they have. When fully Stacked, Umbara's next instance of Damage on an enemy will consume all Stacks, and stun them for 1 second.
Umbara will always start off in her Spring Form at the beginning of the game, and keeps her current form upon death. Every 90 Seconds, or after a Takedown, while out of combat, she will transform into the next form, in the order listed above. Every 180 Seconds, she will gain a Stack of Primordial Evolution, up to a max of 3 Stacks. She can spend 1 Stack to go to her next Form in the list, after which she has to wait 15 seconds before she can use a Stack of Primordial Evolution again.
Additionally, Umbara has no Ultimate Ability, instead she has a 4rth Basic Ability. She can only use 2 Abilities, her Primary and Secondary, per form. Her Primary Ability corresponds to her current form, and her Secondary Ability corresponds to her Previous Form:
Spring Form:
Primary: Vernal Dawn
Secondary: Steel Sleet Slash
Summer Form:
Primary: Devastating Drought
Secondary: Vernal Dawn
Autumnal Form:
Primary: Autumnal Awakening
Secondary: Devastating Drought
Winter Form:
Primary: Steel Sleet Slash
Secondary: Autumnal Awakening
The Cooldown of Each Ability depends on whether it it the Primary or Secondary Ability. Primary Abilities have a Cooldown of 8 Seconds, and Secondary Abilities have a Cooldown of 13 Seconds. She has access to all her abilities at Level 1, but they can only be leveled up 4 times instead of 5. Additionally, Cooldown Reduction affects the Primary and Secondary Abilities equally, however Ultimate Cooldown Reduction will instead reduce the time it takes to gain a stack of Primordial Evolution.
Q: Vernal Dawn
Passive: Umbara stores all Damage Taken while in Combat with Enemies, Monsters and Minions.
Active: Umbara calls upon the Power of Spring and gain a Shield equal to (100 + 0.055% Bonus Health)% of the Damage Stored for 3 Seconds, and Heal for 30/40/50/50/70% of the Shield's Value over 3 seconds as well. While she is Healing, or Shielded, she does not Store any Damage
W: Devastating Drought
Active: Umbara conjures up a Magical Flame and Blasts the area in front of her in the shape of a cone, dealing 140-60% Total AP + 10/15/20/25/30% Target Max Health Magic Damage, and reducing 40%-10% of all Enemies' and Monsters' Magic Resistance, who are still in the cone, depending on their distance from Umbara, for the next 8 seconds. Leveling up this ability increases the width and length of the cone
E: Autumnal Awakening
Passive: Enemies and Monsters damaged by Umbara gain a Stack of Wild Toxin for 8 Seconds, stacking up to 5. Affected Enemies have 20% Grievous Wounds for Every Stack of Wild Toxin
Active: Umbara Ignites all Stacks of Wild Toxin into Spirit Fire, consuming all Stacks that exist, and Dealing 50/65/80/85/110 + 2/3.5/5/6.5/8% Target Missing Health Magic Damage per Stack consumed to all Enemies who where affected by Stacks of Autumnal Toxin.
R: Steel Sleet Slashes
Active: Umbara empowers herself with Snow Magic, giving her Basic Attacks and Abilities 75 + 30% Bonus AP On-Hit Physical Damage for the next 5 Seconds. She can recast this Ability within those 5 seconds.
Recast: Umbara dashes to a nearby Enemy or Monster, and rapidly striked them 3 times. Each strike counts as a Basic Attack and applies On-Hit Effects. Additionally, each strike ignores 5% of the Target's Armor, stacking on top of the previous amount of Armor ignored. Leveling up this ability makes her strike the target an additional time. This abilities animation and speed is reduced by Attack Speed
If the target enemy moves out of range of this ability, it will pause for 3 seconds, during which is the enemy comes into range, this ability will resume. If they do not come into range within those 3 seconds, then this ability will go onto cool down immediately.

Lore:

Umbara was born Millennia ago to a family of Nomads. They where camped at the edge of Shuriman Desert and the Ixtali Jungles. While this was happening, a terrible Winter Storm was paving its way through the continents, the like of which have never before been seen again. Snow fell meters at a time, sleet rained like blades from the sky, and the temperatures dropped to below freezing, even in what was supposed to be the warmest portion of the day. Yet when she was born, the storm started to cease. In front of their eyes, the snow and sleet stopped falling, the temperature started to rise,a and the clouds dissipated. And where Umbara touched the ground for the first time, a beautiful flower bloomed, one that no one had ever seen before. Thus her surname became, "Winterbloom".
Even as a child, Umbara had a close relationship with Nature. Whenever she was angry and threw a tantrum, the clouds immediately disappeared, plants withered and died, and the heat increased to near lethal heights and when she was sad, sleet and hail would drop from the sky, and feet of snow would start falling as well. Whenever she became happy and joyful, the spring rains would fall, and the jungles around them bloomed like nothing else, and when she was melancholy or nostalgic, the autumnal season came. In her early years she had no control over her emotions, and thus the seasons ran wild, yet as she grew up she cut herself completely off from her emotions. This was a strange power, with the ability to produce devastating consequences. She knew that it was her responsibility to bear, and she willed that it would never be used again by her.
Everything changed when more humans came. Her parents and their group, once nomadic, had settled into a small village on the edge of the border of Shurima and Ixtal. Ixtal had always been eyed by Shurima for its vast forests and rich resources, and now the culling had arrived. Hundreds of Thousands of Sand Soldiers poured into the Jungles, razing nature and people alike. The Ascendants lead the charge, and powered by the might of the Sun Disk, they left a trail of pure devastation in their wake. Umbara was the first village to fall, being right at the border, though not without a fight. The Ascendants where not yet in command of the Soldiers, and in their uncontrolled destruction they awoke a terrible beast. By this point Umbara was alone in this world, her family having been carried off by a plague years earlier, yet even still she felt no emotions. Instead she dedicated her life to preserving and serving the nature around her, finding a deep beauty to it, and trying to find out anything about her powers. It was as if Nature itself called out to her. When the soldiers came, she and the others in her small Hunter-Gatherer village fought well, but where defeated. Most where killed or taken prisoner, doomed to be slaves for the rest of their life.
Yet when they came for her, Nature itself unleashed its wrath. She was not in control of her body anymore, instead the Aspect itself had taken control. Her eyes glowed a bright neon green, and a green aura surrounded her. Up until now it had been content to let the world be, and Umbara to lock away her gifts with it, but now it was time to stop the defilers in their tracks. Dark Clouds churned overhead, appearing almost instantaneously. From them a rain of sleet and hail fell, arriving with devastating force. The temperature spiked rapidly, creating forest fires so hot, Soldiers burned inside thier armor near instantly. All the creatures that the Shuriman soldiers where using on their crusade, all the horses, oxen, even the creatures within the jungles that the Soldiers hunted for food died, their flesh turning acidic and toxic. The Vanguard of the invasion was utterly decimated beneath this reign of chaos.
In an entire day, the Aspect halted the entire invasion, yet when the Ascendants came it was different. Up until this point the Aspect had taken control of Umbara's Body and utilized the gifts it had given her at Birth to enact its vengeance, suppressing Umbara's conscious up till now. But Umbara was stronger than the Aspect had expected. When the Ascendants came, Umbara had suppressed the Aspect once and for all. She was horrified at the destruction she had caused by being so weak to let her power take over her, and once again forsook the Aspect's gift, repressing the Aspect itself nearly entirely. THe Ascendants easily found and captured her.
She let herself be captured, let herself be sold into slavery, let herself take the brutal punishments of her master, all as repentance for her mistake. Through all of this, she still suppressed her emotions and powers, though not nearly as well as she had thought. The Aspect could have taken over her body at any point, yet it was curious. Never before was it heard of that a mortal had resisted the power of an entire Aspect, and the Aspect wondered if it had finally found the perfect host. It had already given Umbara many gifts when she was born, yet she controlled them, and sacrificed an entire part of her personality to keep them under control. She had even devoted herself to Nature entirely as a way to understand her gifts even further. It watched for years as Shurima grew stronger, and Ixtal became a vassel state. It watched for years over Umbara, as she endured multitudes of pain, agony and hard labor as a penance.
The Aspect eventually devised a test for Umbara. One night, after a particularly harsh lesson from the Master, as Umbara slept, it gave her access to all of its' powers. It didnt take over her body this time, but the Aspect's powers where temporarily hers. it wanted to see what would be done with it. Would she waste them pettily by killing her master, escaping and then getting caught back again? Or would she demonstrate the same restrain she had earlier? The latter outcome came true in the end. Umbara felt a change within her that night, an increase in power, similar to what she felt when she stopped the Shurimans, yet without the extra-worldly force controlling her. She had vowed to never use it herself, and still kept this vow, but at the same time, she knew that it was within her, and it scared her deeply, fearing still a loss of control. For another set of years, she endured her self-punishment, feeling that no amount of it could redeem her self, and even through the multiple sales to different masters, even under the pain of the whip, even under the threat of death working amongst other slaves, she kept it to herself. Umbara was captured when she was a teenager at the age of 16, and now she was 27. She had kept her powers under control for so long, and quite impressively that the Aspect was satisfied.
It sent the the Aspect of Twilight to bring her to the peak of Mount Targon. It took many weeks, but the Aspect of Twilight, in its host, found Umbara. She tried to buy Umbara from her master, but he was having none of it, being a very suspicious and jaded person. Shurima had long finished its conquest of Ixtal, and thus good slaves where hard to come by. The Aspect of Twilight was having none of it. Diplomacy having failed, it secretly freed Umbara in the middle of the night. They started their journey back to Targon. Along the way she fed hydrated the malnourished Umbara, and explained all about the Aspects, the different one, their powers, responsibilities, and that she was destined to become the Host to the Aspect of Nature. Umbara herself did not believe any of this at first, and eventually when she did, she rejected the offer of the Aspects. Guilt and horror still overcame her, even 11 years later. She oft woke up screaming at night, as she dreamed of the destruction her body had caused, and only being able to watch it. She escaped multiple times, and attempted to again sell herself into the Shuriman work horse, yet every time she did, the Aspect of Twilight bought her back. Once they crossed over into Targon, Umbara gave up on escaping, as this was a wholly foreign land, and instead tried to end herself multiple times, yet she threw herself off a cliff, a portal would appear and dump her back on the path. Eventually they reached the peak of Mount Targon, and the Aspect of Nature itself spoke to her.
It told her many a things. It admitted to giving her gift at birth, it praised her for her sacrifice to control these gifts, it admitted to taking over her body to defeat the Shuriman Army, it recognized her conviction to her word, even after many years of abuse. It spoke many more things, yet Umbara was in shock. A Divine entity, hitherto she had never even heard of was speaking to her, and telling her how her life had been shaped for this very moment. She then felt once more, a feeling of Guilt, but this time it was mixed with a sense of Duty. She contemplated her life thus far, wondered if this was what she was meant to do in life? She remembered when she first suppressed her emotions, and in extension her powers, when her family died of a plague and she felt nothing for fear of unleashing it all, she remembered all the years of study and introspection in the Wilds of Ixtal, as she sought to understand what where these powers, and why she of all people had them. The Aspect's final words before its offer, was praising her for her restraint and her sense of duty. Nature itself was a benevolent being, yet when triggered it was a force not to be toyed with, and Umbara displayed all these qualities.
In the end, she accepted the Aspect's offer, and in view of all the other Aspect's and their hosts, she transformed. A Beam of Bright Green light surrounded her. Raw natural energy flowed through her. And she came out a different person entirely. Her eyes glowed green. Her hair, once brown, was now shamrock green. All scars and imperfections on her body where healed and removed. She now wore a white dress outlined in colors reflecting the current season, replacing the tatters that she had worn as her time as a slave. And her powers grew exponentially as well.
The Aspect of Nature had not just taken Umbara for its Host, they had instead fully merged together, something only few Hosts and Aspects have managed to do. Their conscious was one, their memories one and their power one. Every single experience, memory and power of the Aspect was no Umbara's giving her a eternity's worth of experience and knowledge to pull from. Umbara now wielded the Bident of Nature. The 2 pronged Scepter exuding the power of the Seasons, just as her powers had before, but now instead of attuning itself to her emotions, she had free will over them. Finally, with this power, comes the final Gift of Nature itself. Nature is unending, it can never be fully destroyed, and it will always regenerate. The Aspect's Host is considered immortal unless the physical body of the Host is irreversibly destroyed, otherwise it will regenerate over time, no matter the injuries. There was no more Aspect and Host anymore, there was only Umbara.
For Millennia, Umbara was the personification of Nature. She watched as time flowed around her, and she protected Nature around the world. She watched as the Host to the Aspect of Twilight died, and became good friends with the new one, Myisha. She watched as Azir's ambition led to the fall of Shurima, and she spit upon his final resting place. When the Great Darkin War began, she was instrumental in not only protecting her domain, but also proposed a scorched earth method to ending the Darkin once and for all. Hellfire and Sleet rained from the sky, the oceans churned and the sand of the Shuriman Desert swirled under her wrath. She nearly succeded in destroying the Darkin once and for all until Mysiha taught the mortals how to seal them away. When Myisha died, she mourned her, and became a Mother figure to the new Host to the Twilight Aspect, Zoe. Now, as the Noxians have sown chaos and discord over the natural world in Ionia, Umbara unleashes her Anger. Nature is benevolent, until it is crossed, then it becomes veangeful. These traits where reflected in Umbara, making her the perfect host to the Nature Aspect. She changed the weather on the Noxians, made the Seasons so severe that they oft retreated under threat of death. She sank their fleet, burned their crops, killed their livestock and healed and preserved the Ionian wilds.
Now, several new issues have appeared in Runeterra. Ionia itself is forgetting about Nature itself, and becoming no better than the Noxian scum. Azir has been resurrected, and with him the bastardly Ascendants. The Frejlord is in chaos as the followers of Volibear wreak havoc, and the Demigods stand idly by. Targon itself has two rogue Aspect Hosts, both of whom have no respect for Nature either. And on top of this, the void has been unleashed in parts of Shurima, destroying anything and everything in its path. Through all of this, Umbara watches, waiting for the right time to strike, and when she does, the world hath better be ready, for the might of Nature has not been released in millennia, and none thus far are prepared for such a harrowing, nor on this scale.

Quotes, Interactions and Appearances:

Pick and Ban Quote:
Pick Quote: All that Blooms, can also Wilt!
Ban Quote: Nature waits for no one but me!
Special Interactions:
Aatrox: You where sealed away once before, NOW YOU DIE!
Anivia: There is more Weather than Snow, Cryophoenix.
Azir: You where better as Sand, let me turn you back to it!
Diana: Host or not, I will defend my domain!
Ivern: My praises, Green Father.
Kennen: You should learn something new, Lightning Lord!
Leona: As I told your lover, my power Eclipses both of yours. Don't forget it!
Maokai: One day, we will restore your home.
Nasus: You should have stayed in your Library, Ascendant! All the knowledge in the world cannot save you now!
Ornn: Balance will be bought back to the Frejlord, with or without you!
Pantheon: Do what you will Pantheon, we have no grievances, nor will I make any.
Renekton: The Butcher indeed! Your blood waters my garden!
Swain: Your Dark Magic is a Defilement on the land. I will purge you and your sin from it!
Udyr: You think nature is your ally? You merely adopted it, I was born with it!
Volibear: End this, or I will!
Umbara's appearance changes depending on her form. She has Shamrock Green Hair, Pale Skin and wears a white dress. The Dress itself is is outlined and has designs in colors depending on her form. Summer Form is Dark Red, Autumnal Form is Orange, Winter Form is Light Blue and Spring Form is Light Green.

Analysis:

So for the Analysis portion, I will be going over what changes I made, as I did rework a lot of stuff. Looking back, there are some quite absurd stuff that I wrote in the old post, like 30% Max Health True Damage for example. At the bottom is a full change log that you guys can see, and I will keep that updated if there are any other changes I make before the voting stage.
A lot of my changes where in the spirit of aligning things more closely with how I want this champion to function. I want this champion to be an AP Bruiser of sorts, akin to Gwen, Diana and Mordekaiser in the jungle. I really took a lot of inspiration from Mordekaiser's builds of Riftmaker, Liandry's Rylai's, but I also wanted to make things like Malignance and Blackfire Torch and Nashor's Tooth potentially viable as well. The goal was to make her abilities scale not with primarily damage but with other stats. For example, Vernal Dawn's shielding and Healing is based on Bonus Health, While Steel Sleet Slashes scale with the amount of Strike it can make. This means that you can build things like a Riftmaker and not be punished for building not raw Damage.
The Passive is where I made a lot of changes. Specifically, I reduced the Stack count from 8 and 5 to 5 and 3. Keeping 8 stacks on an enemy is just not viable, given that they will most likely have some form of mobility to get away and let the stacks fall off, or if it is a sort of champion that wants extended fights like Darius, Aatrox, etc then they are going to very much stat check you unless you are in your Spring Form. Overall, the stack count is down, but to compensate the stats and effects per stack is up. Everything comes out roughly even at max stacks. The other major component I changed is how Ability Haste affected Umbara. Now that there is significantly reduced CDR on Mage/AP Items in general, I think it is safe to allow CDR to affect normal abilities now, especially given that the items that have CDR are Bruiser-y items anyway. Ultimate CDR via Ultimate Hunter and Malignance now affect how Primordial Evolution stacks. The one thing in retrospect that I did not want was having players use primordial evolution to liberally change their forms at will, as the entire point of this champion was the 4 Seasons and balancing different playstyles and effects. To that end, I made Primordial Evolution Stacks take much longer to get, however if you really wanted to, then a fully Stacked Ultimate Hunter + Malignance reduced the CD by about 1/3 which is still significant enough that it makes speccing into these items viable, at least at first sight. Beyond that, i also reduced the lock out time of using a stack of Primordial Evolution, as the goal of Primordial Evolution is to give a way for players to get the right/needed/wanted form before major objectives without disrupting the overall cycle of the Seasons.
As I mentioned above, I reworked a lot of how the abilities scale, so that she can be that AP Bruiser Champion. Vernal Dawn no longer has an absurd Healing and Shielding Ratio, but rather now scales with Bonus Health a la Riftmaker, Liandry's, Rylai's etc. This is also much healthier design, as healing and shielding that much is absurd, and this keeps the essence of the ability intact while keeping her on track.
Devastating Drought has a significantly higher AP scaling when Champions are close to Umbara, and deals Max Health Magic Damage, however realistically this would only max out if an enemy is so close that the models are basically overlapping. Its hard to describe and tune such things without a diagram and actual models, so just assume that the scaling is reasonable enough to not be absolutely bonkers for the sake of the champion design. The main idea behind this ability, which is that leveling it up increases the cone size, is still intact, all that is changed is the damage.
Autumnal Awakening got a lot of number re-tuning to make it more balanced and useable. Again, the Stack count is down because 8 is just unrealistic in modern League, and thus the damage has been amped up a bit to compensate. In addition, it now deals Missing Health Damage, and this is because it is intended to function more as a Conditional Finishing tool rather then an engage or simple damage nuke.
Steel Sleet Slashes, I made a lot more conditional but I also reworded a lot of things to be more clear. Most importantly, since leveling up this ability added an additional strike, If it was a simple Pantheon W then anybody in range would get obliterated once you level this up a bit. Pantheon W is anyway super un-fun to play against, so this was an automatic red flag in my book, so I balanced it on when enemies come into and leave the range of the ability. When they leave, there is a small window where if Umbara can reach them again, the ability will resume, otherwise it goes on Cooldown. This way, if you have mobility you can use it to escape the onslaught of damage, and if you do not then Umbara in Winter Form is designed for you to die to.
In terms of build, I really see some combination Rylai's, Riftmaker, Blackfire Torch, Malignance, Liandry's, Demonic Embrace and Nashor's Tooth being core items on her, depending on how you want to play her. Umbara really synergizes with DoT effects and Bruiser items, however hybrid Assassin-Bruiser items like Nashor's Tooth I can see being viable, especially given that she can be a viable assassin for half the time if you spec into it. At the same time, you are Bruiser for the other half the time, and the abilities you have still function on Bruiser items, so you can certainly spec into the other side. In total, I would forsee her having a lot of build variety and the ability to switch gears on a whim.

Change log:

May 11-12, 2024:

• Passive: Bloom of Life
  • Spring Form Passive: Max Stacks 8 > 5, AS and Lifesteal adjusted to be the same at Max Stacks. Spellvamp added.
  • Summer Form Passive: Max Stacks changed from 4 > 3. Bonus Magic Damage Ratio changed from 2.5% > 5% flat. 5% more Bonus Damage at Max Stacks
  • Autumn Form Passive: Max Stacks 8 > 5. Magic Pen per stack increased 5 > 7. 5 Less Magic Pen at max Stacks but still 35 Magic Penetration
  • Winter Form Passive: Max Stacks 4 > 3. MS Slow increased per stack, but overall 10% less slow at full stacks. Changed wording to be more clear
  • Form Transformation will occur out of combat instead of immediatly.
  • Primordial Evolution charge time 120 > 180 seconds.
  • Primordial Evolution lock-out time reduced from 30 > 15 seconds.
  • Max Stacks of Primordial Evolution reduced 4 > 3 (using 4 stacks puts you at the same form, therefore its pointless)
  • Cooldown Reduction now affects Basic Abilities, and Ultimate CDR now affects the time for Primordial Evolution
• Q: Vernal Dawn
  • Shield value changed to (100 + 0.055% Bonus Health)% of Damage stored
  • Heal amount changed to 30/40/50/50/70% of the Shield's Value
• W: Devastating Drought
  • AP Ratio changed to 140-60% Total AP + 10/15/20/25/30% Target Max Health Magic Damage
  • Magic Resist Reduction now applies for the next 8 seconds instead of only benefiting this Ability
• E: Autumnal Awakening
  • Max Stacks reduced 8 > 5
  • Grievous Wounds per Stack increased 10 > 20%
  • Damage per Stack changed to 50/65/80/85/110 + 2/3.5/5/6.5/8% Target Missing Health Magic Damage per Stack
• R: Steel Sleet Slashes
  • Slightly re-worded
  • Reworked slightly
    • Active now empowers Basic Attacks
    • Recast is a Dash + Striked
    • Moving out of range pauses strikes for 3 seconds

Getting Lost in a Dark Fantasy

Dark fantasy art opens doors to worlds where the imagination is king and shadows dance. We go on an adventure through the eerie creatures and haunting landscapes of the dark fantasy genre with this comprehensive guide. Come along as we explore the mysteries surrounding this fascinating art form, from its enigmatic beginnings to the contemporary advancements that are redefining its limits.

Understanding Dark Fantasy Art: the Basics and Progression

The Garden of Earthly Delights
The shadows of myth and folklore, as well as the depths of human imagination, serve as inspiration for dark fantasy art. The fascination of the unknown has always drawn artists, who have used it to inspire works of art that straddle the border between nightmares and dreams.
Bosch’s “The Garden of Earthly Delights” is among the first and most famous works of dark fantasy art. This masterwork, a triptych painted in the late fifteenth century, shows a fantastical landscape full of strange creatures. Bosch’s vision, which takes viewers to places like the Garden of Eden and the flames of hell, dissolves the lines between reality and fantasy.
Through their surrealistic visions, artists such as Salvador Dali pushed the boundaries of dark fantasy art further in the 20th century. The eerie investigation of time and decay found in Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory” is characterised by melting clocks and desolate scenes that inspire a sense of existential dread.

Essential Techniques for Drawing Dark Fantasy

Dark fantasy writing demands a combination of technical proficiency and limitless creativity to master. The following are some crucial methods to assist you in realising your sinister fantasies:
Understanding Light and Shadow: Dark fantasy is all about contrast, so understanding how light and shadow interact is essential. Try experimenting with various lighting configurations to produce striking effects and a feeling of depth and ambience.
Making Dynamic Compositions: The way your artwork is put together will determine how well it draws the viewer in and directs their attention. Try varying your viewpoints, angles, and focal points to produce compositions that are captivating and dynamic and entice the viewer into your gloomy world.
Examining Symbolism and Imagery: Mythology, folklore, and the occult provide a wealth of symbolism and imagery for dark fantasy art. Use symbolic elements in your artwork to entice viewers to explore the hidden depths of your imagination by adding layers of meaning and intrigue.
Embracing Texture and Detail: Texture gives your artwork depth and a tactile quality that entices the observer to enter its immersive world. Try experimenting with various drawing methods and mediums to produce textured, rich surfaces that beckon exploration — from the plush fur of mythological creatures to the rugged stone of ancient ruins.

Fun Drawing Exercise: Summoning Your Inner Creativity

With this entertaining drawing exercise, let’s set out on a voyage of artistic exploration. Take out your sketchbook and pencils, then do the following:
Setting the Scene: Shut your eyes and picture a twisted tree and crumbling ruins in a misted-over, bleak landscape. Imagine the unsettling sights and sounds of this dark fantasy world, and let your imagination run wild.
Selecting Your Topic: Who lives in this shadowy world? Is it an evil creature hiding in the shadows, a lone traveller daring the night, or something else entirely? Select your subject, then allow their tale to come to life on the page.
Drawing the Outline: Outline your subject’s form on the page using light, expressive strokes while keeping them in mind. Concentrate on drawing their silhouettes and basic forms, then let your creativity lead the way in bringing them to life.
Adding Textures and Details: After you’re satisfied with the composition, begin incorporating textures and details into your artwork. Try varying the shading methods you use to produce depth and ambiance, such as the harsh glare of a torchlight or the soft glow of a moonlit night.
Accepting the Dark Side: Accept the darkness with open arms! Play with shadows and highlights to add drama and tension to your artwork; dark fantasy art thrives on contrasts.
Finishing Touches: Complete your artwork by enhancing details and adding any last touches that will make it stand out from the rest. As you take a step back and admire what you’ve created, remember that you’ve called something genuinely magical out of your imagination.

Famous Dark Fantasy Art Pieces

Conan the Barbarian
There are many well-known pieces of dark fantasy art that have had a lasting influence on the genre. Here are a few noteworthy instances:
The eerie illustrations by Gustave Doré for Dante’s Inferno perfectly convey the terrifying scenery and tormented spirits found in Dante Alighieri’s epic poem. Dante’s trip through hell is vividly brought to life by Doré’s vision, which takes him from the flaming depths of hell to the icy wastes of Cocytus.
Conan the Barbarian paintings by Frank Frazetta: The fantasy genre’s visual aesthetic was shaped in part by Frank Frazetta’s famous Conan the Barbarian paintings. He established the bar for future generations of fantasy artists with his powerful heroes, vicious monsters, and grandiose landscapes.
Dark fantasy Art by Brom: Brom is well known for his atmospheric, gloomy fantasy artwork that combines elements of mythology, the paranormal, and horror. His vivid paintings teleport viewers to realms of forbidden magic and gloomy enchantment, where peril lurks around every corner.

The Rise of AI Art in Dark Fantasy

Artificial intelligence has become a potent tool in the art world in recent years. Large image databases can be analysed by AI algorithms, which can then produce incredibly lifelike dark fantasy artwork. While some art critics might object to the notion of AI producing art, others find the fusion of technology and creativity to be fascinating.
AI art explores new creative possibilities by utilising the computational power of machines, providing a distinct viewpoint on the genre. Artificial intelligence (AI) algorithms can recognise patterns, themes, and visual motifs in thousands of dark fantasy artworks that may have escaped human artists. This process can result in the production of captivating works of art that stretch the bounds of our imagination and alter our ideas of what is conceivable in the field of dark fantasy.
But it’s crucial to understand that AI art is a supplement to conventional artistic techniques rather than their replacement. Even though AI is capable of producing beautiful images, it lacks the emotional nuance and human touch that come from the artistic vision and the artist’s life experiences. As artists, we imbue our work with meaning and resonance that artificial intelligence is unable to match by bringing our distinct viewpoints, feelings, and life experiences to it.
AI art, in my opinion, is not a threat but rather a useful instrument that can support artists with their research and inspiration. Artists can explore uncharted creative territory, try out novel styles and techniques, and expand their creative horizons by working with AI. In the end, dark fantasy art will continue to be relevant in the digital age thanks to the fusion of human creativity and technological innovation.

“In conclusion, let your creativity run wild.”

Creating dark fantasy art is an adventure into the unknown, where creativity is king and imagination is unbridled. Embrace the dark and let your imagination run wild, regardless of your level of experience as an artist or your level of curiosity. A little inspiration, the correct methods, and a hint of magic will allow you to craft works of dark fantasy art that will enthral and motivate viewers for years to come.
So, why do you hesitate? Explore the depths of dark fantasy and let your creative side out now!

My Dark Fantasy World

Hi there, fellow fans of dark fantasy! Thanks to your unflinching support, our blog — which is packed with tales and inspirations of dark fantasy — is making waves on TikTok, Pinterest, and YouTube. Even more thrilling is the fact that we’re creating a captivating Trading Card Game to further engross you in Twilight Citadel’s eerie mysteries. Explore the depths of the shadows with our website, where you can get eerie yet lovely phone wallpapers and posters. Furthermore, we’ve got you covered with free resources like desktop wallpapers and profile pictures to make sure your gadgets are brimming with eerie fantasy atmosphere. Come along with us on this surreal adventure, where fears come true and shadows dance. Are you prepared to welcome the gloom?

Another one-off. The general outline of this story has been sitting in the back of my mind for a long time, possibly over a decade. When you hold onto an idea for that long it's hard to be ever satisfied with the result, but I'm actually quite pleased with this.
If you prefer to listen rather than read, you can find this story on my Youtube channel: Children Of The Stars
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The fleet was starting to slow down. And as it did so, it began to wake up.
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Fleet? Perhaps not the best way to describe it. A fleet implies ships. You could be forgiven for mistaking them for space ships, but the members of the fleet would describe themselves as more like a pod of whales. Or at least, they would if they had any idea what a whale was.
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They would still be wrong, anyway, although they wouldn't know why; not only do they not understand what a whale is, they don't understand themselves very well either. But it's a close enough analogy for now.
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The ships... whales... individuals that made up the pod had turned their engines towards the larger of the two stars in the binary system, and were currently braking to bring themselves into relativistic parity with the rest of the objects there - planets, asteroids, and so on. This was a subconscious process, automatically started near the end of their journey in the same way seeds put out shoots after the first thaw of spring. But as they got closer to the main sequence star and the temperature crept just a few degrees above the absolute cold of space, more and more consciousness began to return.
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Well, in fourteen of the fifteen individuals that made up the pod. The journey had been a long one, and the more time you spend in the void the more you expose yourself to its dangers. In this case, the fifteenth individual had been hit by a micrometeoroid large enough to punch through the thick, metallic skin and scramble the much softer parts contained within. Or at least, those bits relevant to consciousness. It was already well ahead of the rest of the pod, and as its companions began to awake the first thing they registered was that its engines had failed to ignite. They called out to it, searching across the spectra for a signal it could still hear. But no, nothing but silence.
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It would cruise on through the binary system and out the other side, and then on through the universe. Forever, in silence.
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Death was not unknown to the pod. It was rare; each individual was a metal-encased, tapered wedge over a kilometre long, so there wasn't much that could hurt them. But on a long enough time scale, even something as unlikely as running into a lump of matter in the middle of the void becomes possible. Each of them knew this.
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Yet still, it was a shock. There were many objects in the universe, but only fourteen other individuals. It was a small number, and it had just been reduced by one. Worse still, it was one of the elders of the group. The pod had no way of marking objective time, at least consciously; they kept track of the past by saying how many stops back in their constant wandering an event had taken place. But each knew its place in the birth order and there were only two individuals who preceded the deceased. For most of the pod, they had just lost someone they had known since the beginning of their existence.
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So when the braking finally brought them into a stable orbit around the main star, before they did anything else, they mourned. This started with sharing their favourite memory of their lost companion. Over such a long life there were many to choose from. Then, one by one, they aimed the laser mounted on their nose towards but not quite at their departed friend, and performed a final salute.
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On very low power, of course. Their energy reserves were low after their long journey, and although the sun was starting to replenish them a little, they would need everything they had left for what came next. Engines burning on low, blue flames, they reoriented themselves, and started heading towards the nearest comets.
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This system had several relatively dense asteroid belts, which was one of the reasons they'd chosen it as their destination; in some places the small lumps of rock and ice were only a few tens of thousands of kilometres apart. The ice was what they were interested in at the moment, and they approached a comet a few hundred metres across.
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Then they fired their lasers at it. They melted the ice slowly and carefully, because they didn't want escaping steam scattering the globs of liquid. Once they had enough, each of them extended their collection funnel, hull plates peeling back away from their nose maybe for a fifth their body length, until where before there had been a spike there was now an enormous inverted cone.
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Then, by the simple expedient of propelling themselves through the globules of liquid water, they began to drink.
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They repeated this with two more comets, and then they rested for a moment. They were carrying a lot of extra weight now, and they needed time for it to settle. They used this time to do detailed scans of the asteroids near them. They detected several with roughly the mineral balance they needed; there was a bit of debate on which to head for, the closest or the richest. As usual, a compromise was found, and they decided on the third-best mineral composition, which was the fourth closest. When the water was evenly distributed internally, their engines lit up again.
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Unhurriedly, the kilometre-long darts coasted towards their target, an oblate spheroid of a rock roughly five times their length. Its composition was mainly nickel and iron, but with high amounts of lithium, carbon, silicon, sodium, lanthanides, and various other trace elements. The pod did not know these specifics, of course. They just knew it looked rich.
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They braked using their manoeuvring thrusters rather than going to the trouble of flipping themselves over. It was gentler, too. Then their catapults extended from hatches roughly halfway along their hulls.
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At some point when they were young, each member of the pod inevitably asked why they couldn't use their lasers to break up asteroids. For most members of the pod it would be so long since they heard the question that they would have forgotten the answer and just tell their junior companion that this was how things were done. However, with enough pestering eventually one would remember.
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The rock needed to be pulverised to a fine dust in order for them to consume it. If they tried doing that with a laser they would just scatter it all over the solar system. But now that they had water, they could use that with reserves of material they'd collected in the last system to make a liquid that would dissolve the rock on contact. That was why they had to be careful to be out of each other's way when they shot their catapults. The corrosive liquid could damage even their thick, durable skin.
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They pelted the asteroid with acid, each droplet several thousand litres. Whatever they did to it internally to make it so corrosive - and they had no idea what that was - also made it very viscous, so that it stuck to the asteroid rather than splashing off. At least, not before they were ready for it to. Every so often they warmed the acid with their lasers to stop it from freezing solid, and they continued the bombardment until the whole surface was covered.
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Sometimes they had to visit several asteroids before they collected enough material, but this one was large enough and rich enough that by the time it was half-dissolved they felt they should have what they needed. The next bit required a certain amount of precision, so it was the eldest among them, who no others remembered a time without, who went first. It shot an extra-fast droplet at the asteroid, with enough force that it looked like it should burst the whole wobbling, jelly-like mess apart like a supernova.
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Instead, it hit just hard enough to cleave off a large chunk intact. Then, at much lower power, the elder shot a droplet of a substance they understood would make the corrosive liquid neutral again. Essentially it was now a big, juicy ball of water in which were dissolved all the rich minerals that they needed.
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The eldest was the first one to open their scoop again and feast, followed by the others according to the birth order. A few more shots were required to break off the rest of the consumable material. To give them practice, younger individuals were then allowed to try. With mixed success.
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Now they were sated. Well, almost. All their water and mineral reserves had been replenished, but they were still very low on energy after their long voyage. They put a little distance between themselves and the half-melted asteroid, and then they began to extend their solar panels.
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First, the spines extended perpendicular to their bodies, from a ring just forward from their engine section. Then the gossamer-fine fabric of the panels began to unfurl, like a frill around their necks, silvery gold and shimmering against the pitch-black void. At full extension, the energy collectors had a radius three times the length of their bodies. In fact they were so large that they actually provided enough thrust to give them a small but noticeable acceleration. They could travel the stars by sail alone, if they were prepared for it to take a thousand times longer.
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At this distance from the sun, the energy was relatively weak and it would take a long time to fully restock their reserves. However, they didn't plan to leave the binary star system just yet. They had only just got here, after all. Fully recharging could wait until they were getting ready to leave on the next leg of their nomad lives.
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First, they were going to explore.
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There was, as usual, some debate over what was interesting enough to be worth taking a closer look at. Several individuals wanted to head over to the largest gas giant. Navigating through the strong and complex gravity eddies created by the interactions between the planet and its moons would be exhilarating.
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The eldest was against this. One who had come before even they themselves had been lost this way. Two other elders who remembered this also voiced concerns, although they also said that if they maintained a reasonable distance the risk should be extremely negligible. But at some point they would have to do the tedious chore of mapping the other asteroids for important trace elements, so they might as well start with that. However, several of the younger individuals kept pushing for the gas giant.
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In the end, a compromise was reached. They would investigate the fourth planet from the sun. A rocky planet, rather than a gas giant, but it was large enough that it had its own atmosphere. Scans from a distance showed that its composition was consistent with the presence of some forms of life.
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Some of the very youngest had never seen other life before. The potential was enough for them to forget about the gas giant for the moment.
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They were retracting their solar panels and just about to head towards the planet when they suddenly felt a change come over them. Yes. This. They never discussed this, never planned this, but somehow at every system they came to, every time they finished replenishing themselves, they felt compelled to do this.
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The moment the solar panels locked closed again, each individual was hit by a wave of pleasure so intense that for a moment, they were all but unconscious. As they came to, they found that a funnel, much smaller than the main scoop on their nose, had unfolded from roughly a third of the way along from their engines.
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One by one, each individual turned their catapults towards the other members of the pod. And one by one they shot a small globule of liquid, encysted in a white, reflective film, at low speed. There was a sense of release and relief with every bit of liquid they shot, and every time they intercepted a globule they were hit by another wave of pleasure, shivering from bow to stern.
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For a while, they drifted in a daze. Then they started to come to their senses again. They did not discuss this; they enjoyed it, certainly. They enjoyed it a lot. But the feeling that they weren't entirely in control of themselves made them uncomfortable. When discussion started again, it was all concerning the planet they had decided on.
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Almost without thinking about it, they vented the waste material left over from the asteroid, ejected from ports by their engines in large plumes of sludgy liquid that quickly froze in the vacuum. Some of them melted again for a moment as they were caught in the brilliance of the engine burn, but then the cold enveloped them. The pod sped away, leaving a cloud trails of darkly glinting crystals behind them.
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It was a fairly brief jaunt from the asteroid belt over to the fourth planet. When they arrived in orbit, the pod spread out and started to look around. Their sensors and scanners could operate over millions of kilometres, so surveying a rock only a few hundred kilometres below them wasn't much of a challenge. Quickly, they began to find points of interest. For example, there were agglomerations of twisted metal that looked more like their own skins than natural outcroppings.
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According to the eldest, this probably wasn't evidence of life. Life, as it occurred on rocky planets at least, was usually accompanied by a green fur across large parts of the planet. Or something similar. But across all the continents, there was nothing but bare rock and dust. If those piles of twisted metal had once been life, they had most likely been from another pod like theirs. Individuals who had strayed too close to the planet's gravity well for some reason, and not been able to escape.
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A sobering thought. There were many dangers in space, but the idea of falling, snared by gravity and unable to escape, with nothing they could do but consider the inevitable impact that awaited... that was a horror they all feared.
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Then one of the younger ones spotted something.
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Something moving.
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Quickly, all the rest of the pod swung round like needles spinning towards magnetic north, and jetted over to have a look. What they found was, in a word, curious. At first they couldn't even work out what they were looking at.
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A sphere. A metal sphere, two hundred metres across. Held up on eight legs, that rose and fell with arthritic jerks that just about provided forward motion. It stomped along a dusty plain a almost three thousand kilometres wide, and from the tracks snaking around the continent it had been doing it for quite a while.
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From the hollowed-out husks of metal scattered across the plain, it had had more company once upon a time. Some remains had the right geometry that they could be siblings of the wandering orb, and others close cousins; there were ovals and oblongs and a set of smaller connected spheres that the pod would have compared to a caterpillar, if they'd had any idea what a caterpillar was.
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There were also more arcane shapes, although it was hard to tell if these were the remains of something larger that, millennia by millennia, had been whittled down by the grit-studded winds. Some looked so embedded in the surface that it was hard to see how they would ever have moved, although again, it could just be that the loose sand had piled up around them and been compacted into something approaching rock. They certainly looked like they'd been there long enough. Maybe they were the remnants of individuals like the pod, who had impacted at high speed, or perhaps they had been sedentary denizens of this dusty rock for the whole course of their lives, whatever those had been, however long ago.
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All that could be said for sure was that there had once been many things here, and now there was only one.
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The pod watched the sphere trundling along the expanse for a while. To individuals who were able to travel millions of kilometres for a short jaunt, it was agonisingly slow. Still, there was something admirable about its persistence. Wherever the bulbous thing was going, it was certainly determined to get there, although whether it would or not was an open question. It's skin was stained with streaks of corrosion and starting to flake away. In some places there were already small holes in its metal casing.
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But as they watched, it stopped, and retracted one of its legs into its body. When the leg extended again, the corrosion had been wiped away, and a shiny new coating applied in its place. However decrepit it was, it clearly wasn't ready to give up yet. On and on it dragged itself, heading towards no particular goal that they could see.
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Then the sphere stopped again. This time a hatch in its underside opened, and a screw extended down, punching into the ground. Churn, churn, churn, the sand and rock was drawn up into its body, and a big cloud of dust started billowing out from waste pipes on top. After a while it stopped, retracted its drill, and started stomping along in a new direction.
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This prompted an argument amongst the pod. Having show no signs of life other than the ability to walk, it had now done something not so very unlike what the pod had done with the asteroids. Could it be more interesting that it first appeared? Could it be an individual with consciousness? The pod bombarded it with signals from across the spectrum, but there was no response. Was it devoid of intellect, or could it just not hear them? Some thought they should keep trying, others thought that the ability to consume was no indication that there were any higher functions.
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Not everyone found this debate particularly interesting. After a while, one of the younger individuals extended its catapults, and threw a rock at the sphere.
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Well, just a small clump of waste minerals, and not actually at the sphere. Just close enough to elicit a reaction. The projectile thudded into the plain a few hundred metres away from the sphere, sending shockwaves through the ground and air, and a plume of debris into the sky.
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The sphere didn't react. Its legs continued to rise, rotate, and stamp back down again without missing a beat.
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The elder individuals admonished the rock thrower. It might have been taken for an attack, and they didn't know whether the sphere was capable of retaliating. However, no harm done. It seemed that the sphere wasn't aware after all.
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The other individuals of the pod started taking pot-shots at the planet as well, aiming closer and closer to the sphere to try and provoke a response. Still nothing. One of the pod tried making a crater in the sphere's path. The sphere stopped at the edge, walked around it, and continued on its way. Another one tried the same thing, and the sphere once again just walked around. At no point did it show any signs that it might fear damage from the impacts, or even notice them apart from the obstacles they caused. It just doggedly trudged along.
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Then one of the individuals, getting bored, aimed a large clump of matter right next to the sphere. The missile screamed down through the atmosphere, red hot, and slammed into the ground close enough to blast several more panels away from the sphere's outer hull. The sphere was in the middle of a step, but when its leg came down, it came down on loose and broken rock.
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The rest of the pod scolded the reckless individual. Even with their precise senses, the shot could easily have gone wide and vaporised the sphere. And then what would they have amused themselves with?
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They were about to forgive the now contrite individual, no harm done, when the ground gave out beneath the sphere's leg. As rock crumbled away two more legs found themselves standing on nothing but thin air. The sphere teetered, and scrabbled in its agonisingly slow way as its legs tried to find stable ground. Then it started to tip.
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It was almost serene, the way it keeled over, and slid down the still-smouldering bowl of the crater, carving a furrow in the loose scree. The cloud of dust thrown up shrouded it for a moment, and the pod waited, anxiously, to see what had become of the curiosity that had caught their interest.
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Gradually, the winds carried away the dust. The sphere was on its side. Intact, but it would be walking nowhere anymore. A shame. It would have been interesting to see if what else they could learn from it, but it clearly was of no use to anyone now.
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And yet, its legs were still moving. The sphere was still struggling to right itself, kicking against the ground but mostly grasping only empty air. A few of the pod debated trying to blast a new crater beside it to tip it upright again, but that seemed more likely to destroy it altogether. In any case, they had more or less lost interest now. The rocky planet had proved an interesting diversion, but it was time to go and have a look at the gas giant now.
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However, one of them spotted that from this angle it was possible to see inside the sphere. Especially now that more of the hull plates were missing. It refocused, refining its scanners and its receivers to pick out the finest details. At first it saw nothing but a jumble of conduits not unlike what was visible in the exposed wreckage scattered across the continent.
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Then it saw something interesting. Glass tubes, maybe two, three metres long. Filled with liquid. Curious in itself, but it was what was in these tanks that was really interesting. Whatever they were, they didn't look metallic. They looked sort of... squishy. Four appendages coming off a central trunk, and a round lump on top. The individual could see that there were tubes connecting each occupant to its tank, and perhaps therefore to the rest of the sphere.
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Every so often the things in the tanks jerked. Spasmodically, without any indication of intent. But there was movement that was more than just a plodding mechanical process. Were these a type of organ, helping to process consumed material in some way, or regulating some other function? They definitely seemed to be integrated into the sphere's internal structure, they must serve a purpose of some kind.
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The individual called the rest of the pod's attention to the tanks. The other individuals, who had just been about to head off, cast a cursory glance back down at the planet. Then they took a closer look. The younger individuals started to chatter excitedly. This was new. This was interesting. This was something worth investigating. They debated whether to try throwing more stuff at it. They debated whether to poke it with a laser, on very low power, to see if there was a reaction.
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The eldest four, however, had a very different, private conversation. The four who were old enough to remember an individual who had come before them, who had been killed in an unexpected meteor shower. And also remembered what they had seen when they investigated the shattered remains of their former companion...
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Suddenly they announced that there would be no more time wasted on the rocky planet. They had learned all they were going to learn from the eight-legged sphere, it was time to leave it alone and go on to the gas giant. A few of the others protested, wanting to investigate this new discovery further. But the four elders were unusually insistent. Those who didn't really care sided with them immediately, and a few more were swayed, until the hold-outs had no choice but to concede.
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The fourteen darts swung themselves around, and with a flare of their engines broke orbit, kilometre-long forms receding from the planet until they were merely specs in the sky, and then not even that.
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There was some grumbling during the short journey, but once they got to the gas giant the younger ones quickly forgot all about the sphere. And what was inside the sphere.
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The eldest four, on the other hand, lingered on it for quite some time. They couldn't explain, even in the privacy of their own minds, exactly why the sight of those tanks and their contents had made them uncomfortable. Maybe because they had injured something that, if not quite like them, was at least similar. Or had been once. Or maybe it was because there are some questions that should not be delved into too deeply. Especially questions about oneself.
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However, even the elders eventually became so wrapped up in the interesting things elsewhere in the system that they stopped thinking much about the sphere. It was not in their nature to dwell on the past. Instinctively they always looked forward, to the next leg of their long, long journey.
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The pod bounced around the binary star system for a while, visiting the gas giants, taking a look at a few interesting dwarf planets caught between the main sequence star and its white dwarf partner, then returning to the asteroid belt to catalogue them in detail and extract a few more trace elements they would need.
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Then they headed deep into the inner system, almost touching the corona of the star, and unfurled their solar panels again. There was nothing interesting left to see here now: soon they would start the next stage of their cosmic journey, and settle down into a sleep of aeons. But first, they would bask. Drinking in the suns rays until they were not just sated but absolutely saturated with energy.
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Only once they were done could they accelerate to interstellar speeds again. They would leave almost as soon as they were finished. Almost, but not quite...
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First they would retreat a little, heading back to cooler climes where they weren't blasted with radiation. Then a hatch would open on the underside of one of the pod, and a new individual would emerge. Only a hundred metres long, but once they got to the next system and started to consume more asteroids, it would start to expand until it was the same size as the rest of the pod. Until then, however, its small size would be an asset: much less mass to accelerate, it would make the interstellar journey easier than most of them. They all remembered what it had been like to be so agile, and so young. Curious about everything.
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They didn't know how this happened, or why. They didn't even know which of the pod would be the one to bring forth this new companion, although it tended to be one who hadn't done it recently. There might even be two; the elders said it was more likely for multiple individuals to bring forth new life when one of the pod had been lost recently, which suggested some kind of intentional process rather than a random event. But again, when it came to their own internal workings they were somewhat squeamish, losing their natural curiosity.
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But all that was a surprise waiting for them in the future, where surprises always waited. For now, the pod was content to sit and bask.
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They never returned to the fourth planet to see how the sphere was faring. Perhaps it had righted itself, and continued stomping along its circuit round the dull and dusty wastes, for whatever inscrutable purpose. Or perhaps it had finally accepted the end, and reclined into a final, permanent sleep like all the companions it once shared its journey with. Perhaps that might even be for the best; certainly, none of the pod could imagine enduring their long journey alone.
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They would leave without knowing any more about it. And perhaps that was for the best as well.
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For context, I and my now ex-gf were dating for 3 years. We met through mutual friends and while we had known each other for some time we didn't start dating for months after initially meeting and attending several events within our friend's group.
When we did start dating I made it clear I was only interested in a monogamous relationship, I had no interest in sharing a partner not being shared. So for 3 years, we were exclusive, or at least I thought we were. Over this time we were both gainfully employed and both made good money, yes I made more money but she was by no means a pauper. I had my own house, I purchased a nice fixer-upper and spent the better part of the last four years and most of my savings restoring and upgrading it. She helped me with some of the basic stuff like painting and cleaning but most of the meaningful work was done by family and contractors. But I did appreciate that she wanted to contribute.
Oh and one other thing, I bought the house the year before we ever met, this is relevant.
Well at roughly our three-year mark her lease was about to expire and she suggested we move in together, I would be lying if I said I wasn't apprehensive but I did feel it was time to move into the next stage of our relationship. I put on a smile and told her it was a great idea, so she made her plans just as the final work was being wrapped up on the house. I was putting solar panels, a tankless water heater, and water softener in. The same weekend I was enjoying my now-finished home was also the weekend she moved in. She along with all her girlfriends did the moving, my house was full of clucking hens discussing how they were going to redecorate and turn my man cave into a house that reflected her style and taste. All while giggling as though I had no choice.
One of my favorite possessions was my collection of vintage full-size arcade games from the 80s and 90s, I had 7 of them. They were all in my basement, of which I had also finished and painted to look like a pool hall and arcade, even had a full wall bar with several flat screens. Several neon's adorned the walls. While they moved I along with my two brothers were hanging out in the basement shooting pool and watching a ball game. My two brothers are tradesmen, one is an electrician the other a plumber. It's because of them we were able to do the resto of the house so cheaply, they hooked me up with other guys to help and that evening most of them showed up at the house for a celebration of the job being done.
When everyone arrived we had a great time, grilling meat, drinking beer, and relaxing outside. The house was on three acres and included a detached garage. My then-GF was about halfway through her move as the guests showed up and most of the guys helped unload her boxes and in general get her stuff out of the way so we could all enjoy ourselves. Many were married and or had kids, so kids were running around and making a racket. It was a pretty cool scene, I even had a couple neighbors show up with beer and kids in tow.
That's when it all came crashing down, turns out my supposedly exclusive girlfriend came face to face with her FWB. He was the brother of my roofer, I am sure he didn't know about me as made no effort to hide their relationship when he saw her with her girlfriends chatting it up in their little pod, I was at the grill flipping burgers as this guy I never met walked across the yard and came up behind her to give her a squeeze.
Before I could even get mad most of the girls were either warning her about her side guy showing up or looking at me to see if I saw what was happening. She had horror in her eyes and immediately turned to see me at the grill staring her down. She started crying right off and her friends did their best to get rid of this now very confused guy and shield her by dragging her away. The poor guy was standing there and I was juggling my emotions trying to decide if rage was the right one to choose. Her best friend ran to me and told me "It's not what it looks like". I hadn't even said a word or reacted yet and excuses were already flying. The brother was being yelled at by the girlfriends to leave while his brother was now involving himself.
The whole circus was pretty entertaining to most of the guests I am sure, my brother came and took over the grill, while my other brother got between me and the FWB. I was still in some kind of shock I guess because as all the dots were connecting I wasn't according to my brothers saying a word, just staring this guy down. My oldest brother said I looked like I was gonna kill him and my other brother said he was waiting to see if I was gonna make a move so he could tackle me. Well to cut to the chase, I didn't lose my cool, I regained my composure and made my way to my basement. The party did not end either, weeks later I recall thinking about how residential building guys aren't gonna leave when there is free beer and food. My brother came down to the basement with the FWB, he had talked to enough people to have a rough outline of what was going on, turns out FWB and ex had been hitting it for the better part of the last two years, he was unaware of me and came to the basement to apologize, told me man to man he would never have hooked up if he knew she was in a committed relationship. That his ex-wife cheated on him and that's why he only has FWBs now, but never if they aren't single. She lied to both of us. I guess they work for the same company but in different locations and met at some big company sales event.
Well, that's the summary of all that happened leading up to me kicking her ass out that night. She came back the next day with her hens saying she had a right to live in my house because she did so much work making it what it is. She also said I asked her to move in and she had to cancel her lease and took a loss so she owed me that money too. Lastly, her circle of friends told me she didn't do anything wrong because we weren't even engaged let alone married. That I was controlling and insecure, and I needed to man up. Now both of my brothers and her ex-FWB were still there, along with his brother. They crashed in the spare rooms and available couch space. When her ex-FWB came out, he started cussing her a blue streak and let the hens whom he knew most of them have a portion of his anger too. In no time it was 5 guys my oldest brother's wife and my other brother's GF all ganging up on the harpies. My sister-in-law is 5' tall, 90 pounds soaking wet with flaming red hair. She is scary as shit when she is mad. It was the first time I laughed since the drama began the day before. Well, my ex was scared and she and her friends took off. The guys rented a moving truck we loaded all her stuff up and took it to her parents. I told her dad what happened and introduced him to the FWB. Now her dad was a good guy, he had only recently retired and was enjoying his time fishing with his grandkids, my ex had two brothers and a sister, she was the youngest and the only one not married with kids. She was his little princess and learning she cheated broke his heart. He cried and apologized to me as his wife came out and he had to retell what was going on, the mom was enraged that the FWB was even there and demanded it was all his fault and he better leave. We all left.
Later that day, the bunch of us were cleaning up from the night's festivities when the EX showed up with her best friend in tow, screaming and cursing me for telling her parents. Saying her dad said she had one week to find a place to live because it wouldn't be under his roof.
So, was I the A-Hole for involving her parents?

Blurb: Stranded on the hell-planet of Arachnea, the last remnants of the human Fleet fight to survive in a world overrun by insectoid monsters and a sentient ecosystem gone mad. It is a war they are destined to lose, as with every century that passes, more of the ancient science lies forgotten, replaced by myth and superstition. That is, until assistant navigator Rene stumbles the mightiest weapon of the ancestor-gods...
Link to 1st chapter here: 1st chapter on HFY
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
They encountered no further patrols and reached the outpost before evening fell. Outpost 13 was a smaller mound that had been subjugated not long ago. It was wedge-shaped, far taller than it was wide, with short stumps of feeder towers running down its spine. It was cement grey rather than the virulent black of Mound Euler, and stood like the ominous gravestone of some forgotten giant, crumbling away in a backwoods cemetery, cratered and pockmarked by scores of holes where shells and grapeshot had impacted.
Rene had been part of sieges before, as an ammo hopper in the artillery, and he could well imagine how costly this one had been. The unique shape of the mound would have meant that any advances would have been focused along a brutal, narrow front, where any advantage in numbers enjoyed by the attackers would have been negated. Usually a mound had several entrances through which one could spearhead an assault, pouring into the tunnels from a dozen different directions, but that hadn’t been the case here. Given the smaller population of the Amits, they had only ever needed to construct one gate. He shuddered to imagine the relentless carnage of such a battle, with men and Amits both pouring their numbers into a slaughter of single-minded purpose. He wondered how they had ever managed to take this place, until he saw the segment of the eastern wall that had collapsed entirely. It would have taken a great deal of ordinance to crack open. Even from a distance the walls appeared thick and imposing. He imagined entire weeks spent pounding the place into submission with mortars and heavy canon, engineers making combat runs to find lines of weakness, then directing their fire to hammer home relentlessly on these until finally the place had given way, collapsing all at once in a great thundering sheet of shattered stone. Even now he could see the cross-section of the mound exposed in all its beehive complexity. Amits in their thousands must have spilled out from such a wreckage, cringing at the sudden light of the suns piercing their dark abodes. Then infantry would have poured through, putting them to the bayonet before they could wriggle themselves free of the debris.
It would have been a bloody affair, and he wondered why he had never heard of such an action taking place.
Since then the current occupants had shored up their defenses. Wooden scaffolding spanned the areas of worst damage, brick and mortar replacing the crumbling dolomite. A feeder tower with cracks running down its length had been converted into a commanding keep from which the maws of several cannon peeked out, covering the approaches from either flank. Stout palisades now ringed the outer defenses, constructed in dog-toothed patterns to break the impact of a charge and provide overlapping fields of fire.
They came up to the main road. Along this at regular intervals stakes had been pounded into the ground, onto which the skins of dead Amits had been impaled, desiccated scales rustling in the wind. These grisly trophies dotted the area for several miles around. It served to inform Amits of other broods who might think to try and claim the mound that the place was now occupied by dangerous predators. Once a month a scent detail would make the rounds, splashing over the ground buckets of sharp, pungent death-warning-fear pheromones extracted from dead Amits.
At the palisades they were challenged by a man wearing a steel shod helmet. He saluted them and asked:
“Names and purpose, please.”
“Navigator Deschane, 4^th Command Echelon, Navigator. This is Ensign Rene, of the 3^rd Pathfinder Regiment. We’re here to report our mission results.”
The man peered down at them, saw a pair of disheveled, exhausted men, blood smearing the insides of their sealant suits, with barely enough strength left to stand. He saw the tattered stripes on Deschanes shoulder pad, immediately saluted once more with a clatter of body armor, shouting:
“Aye, sir! Open the gate! We need medical officers here!”
The relief was almost unbearable. The gate unlatched and men rushed to help them as they sank to their knees in the mud, finally safe.
“Don’t know about any mission, but you look to be in an awful state,’ the man said, “How’d the two of you made it this far on your own?”
“There were more of us yesterday,” Rene said heavily.
“Who is the ranking officer here?
“Admiral Prota, sir.”
“Take me to him. With dispatch!”
They were half guided, half carried to the pressure gate, a broad circle of steel that hissed as the airlock within equalized with the outside. The entrance was on the northern edge of the wedge, where it protruded forward at a height of several stories from a barbican. Broad bolts thick as a man’s arm slid back and allowed them in. As it closed behind them and the chamber depressurized once more, men in full cleaning gear came and emptied buckets of decontamination fluid onto their sealant suits, scrubbing them with long handled brushes. A second batch of cleaners peeled off their masks and sealant suits, and for the first time in four days they felt fresh air make contact with their skin. The second door opened, and they entered Outpost Euclid.
The mounds were one of the few places where one could breathe freely without the cloying restriction of a valve. In the natural pockets of stale air that permeated the cave systems, mankind clawed its way to a continued existence. Great turbine fans turning endlessly in the feeder towers served to regulate the air flow and internal pressure, powered by the underground rivers percolating through the layers of soft stone. Without a contained, self-regulating environment and machines to purify the dwelling place a man would die within days, convulsing as the neurons of his brain fired in vain in an atmosphere oversaturated with oxygen.
Mound 13 was a young settlement, only possessing the most basic necessities. Rows of braziers hung from every doorway, framing passing faces in flickering orange light. Stacks of crates and supplies lined the corridors, bales of wire, nails and planks of rough wood littered the floor.
A small crowd had gathered by the entrance, led by a middle-aged woman in medical fatigues. At her signal several attendants bustled forward with stretchers. Deschane sent them back with a scathing look. He looked the woman up and down, and his jaw muscles twitched. If the woman saw this, she gave no sign of offense.
“Well met, lord navigator,” she began, “This way to the hospital ward, if you please.”
“Later,” he snapped, “Where is Admiral Prota? I was told he was in command here.”
“Sir, your medical situation takes precedence. Your wounds are quite serious.”
“Pardon me, but to the void with my medical condition. Madame, I’ve come a very long way to deliver a missive of the utmost importance, and I will not be put aside until I’ve had my say.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed.
“Please don’t be difficult.”
“Difficult? If I don’t see him within a minute from now, I’ll show you precisely how difficult I can be. Respectfully of course, madame.” he said, in a tone that was anything but.
“It’s possible your eyesight might have been affected by recent trauma to the head. Not to mention whatever region of the brain that handles basic etiquette.”
She brought out from her field pouch a strip of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic solution, and came forward to clean his face. In the dim light of the flames Rene caught a glimpse of the pendant hanging around her neck, a thin blue rectangular wafer fashioned from some unearthly glass. Rene drew breath: she was an officer of the 2^nd Command Echelon, almost the highest station in existence. The pendant was her seal of command, a relic passed down generations beyond count. It swung on its leather thong, caught the torchlight and broke it into a thousand points of light.
“Away with that, woman, or by the ancestors I’ll-”
“Sir.” Rene said quickly, with concern.
“Its Rear-Admiral Prota, actually. And it certainly isn’t ‘woman’.”
Deschane blinked, realizing the magnitude of his error. Despite himself, Rene hid a smile behind his hand.
“I must apologize. I presumed-”
“Yes, of course. Now, before I cite you for an infraction, would you kindly come this way? You can debrief me while we stitch your head back together.”
Deschane nodded with reluctance. They allowed themselves to be led away. As they walked it became apparent that the scars of war still lay thick upon the place. The walls were dotted by bullet holes and oddly warped surfaces where streaks of acid had been sprayed to dissolve both stone and attackers alike. Once they even saw the outline of a man, the moment of his death forever etched into the ageless calcite. From the cave entrances sets of shattered columns jutted like broken teeth, reminding them of the storm of violence that had once ripped through the place.
Despite all this, Mound 13 was beautiful. Its spare halls possessed a natural symmetry and decidedly pleasing dimensions that were out of place in a newly conquered mound. All around them, workers bustled about, busy making renovations that would eventually make the place home.
“As you can see, we’ve been rather busy around here,” explained Admiral Prota, “There’s much to do, and not enough people to do it. Why, we haven’t even explored the entirety of the natural cave system yet, not to mention all the segments the Amit added. There’s talk of us being made into a full settlement someday, but of course that isn’t possible, given the nature of our work here.”
“Your work?”
“I’d explain, but you’re losing far too much blood.”
The massive cut across the top of his head had resumed its slow red trickle. Deschane wiped his face and winced as his scalp stretched.
They went into a wide, well-lit room and Rene’s eyes widened. He could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Above them yawned three massive domes of the purest blue marble, like those of a great basilica, held aloft by elegant pillars and jagged friezes that overflowed like molten candlewax.
Every surface was pockmarked by endless tessellations, countless branching forms and geometric shapes that merged one into the other in pleasing harmony. But what really stood out were the stars.
The tip of every stalactite shone as a thimbleful of water gathered. For a long moment, before gravity took precedence, they hung suspended in all their adamantine brilliance, before the illusion ended, and they flashed downward in lightning streaks of silver.
“Nice, isn’t it?” said Prota, noting his reaction.
“You’ve done magnificent work here madame.”
“Oh, but I can’t take credit for that. None of us can really.”
Rene frowned at this curious remark. He had never seen such a formation, not in all his lifetime spent beneath the ground. At first glance he had marveled at the hands and minds of those whose craft had shaped the place. But now he remembered that there was no way the working crews could have completed such a thing within a few weeks. He put it down as just another one of nature’s novelties.
At the end of the hallway men with picks carefully chipped away at a section of collapsed tunnel, supervised by an engineer.
“What’s behind that?” he asked eagerly.
“One of the sloping tunnels that run beneath the eastern segment where the collateral damage was greatest. We have yet to uncover most of them, but the engineers assure me that beyond this obstruction the tunnel ceilings remain intact. We’d try explosives but we’re afraid the whole place would come crashing down about our ears.”
They entered a small side chamber attached to the basilica, where cots had been arranged for them to sit upon. A medical orderly stood ready to receive them, needle and thread in hand. Deschane sat, wincing as they jabbed at his opened head wound, and delivered his report. Prota stood and occasionally nodded her head, her face devoid of emotion. Until, that is, they stated their estimation of the size of Mound Euler. Then she looked up sharply, asked:
“How large did you say?”
“Ensign, if you please.”
Rene produced the map.
“Madame, around here is where the primary towers are. The new cluster of secondary feeder towers were here. Assuming that the mound is of the usual ovoid shape, and that it’s major axis stretches between these two points, this would be its approximate size.”
He drew the outline with his finger.
“But that would make it-”
“Exactly. Greater than all our core settlements combined. And so,” concluded Deschane, “Given the magnitude of this threat, admiral, I must respectfully request that you evacuate Outpost 13 as soon as possible.”
“I understand. Thank you for bringing this to our attention. You are to be praised for having made it here in one piece. Both of you,” she added, nodding at Rene, who was surprised to be acknowledged.
“But you must understand,” she continued with a set look on her weathered face, “Retreat is not an option for us here at 13.”
Deschane sat up.
“It is not cowardice to withdraw in the face of certain annihilation.”
“Bravery has nothing to do with it. I suppose I had better tell you. I owe it to you for the men you’ve lost, if nothing else,” she sighed. “Navigator, why do you think Command sent you on your mission?”
Deschane shrugged.
“Overpopulation. Settlements Yohan and Gaus are at maximum capacity. The others will reach theirs soon enough.”
“No. Population factors alone do not warrant full-scale invasion of a large mound. It is too costly, and command does not waste lives when there is little of strategic value to be gained. And there is nothing around here worth the misery of claiming it.”
“Except for Mound 13.” said Rene.
“Correct.” She nodded with approval. “You catch on quick.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Navigator, your men died to keep 13 secure. This small mound is the sole reason that Command wants to push north.”
“But why?”
“As you may have guessed, your operation was the first step towards a wider offensive. To claim this mound permanently we must seize control of all surrounding areas, even if it risks aggravating the enemy into surface skirmishes.”
“Madame, what makes you think that they would confine themselves above the ground?”
She persisted, “Even so. 13 is too valuable to lose.”
“But why?” Rene broke in.
“Tell me ensign, how long have you fought the enemy?”
“All my life. Ever since they found a sealant suit that could fit me.”
“What is your opinion of their intelligence?”
They could adapt to situations and plan with meticulous attention to detail. They made tools, fashioning stone into lethal axes and spear heads. They were capable of highly effective communication, both tactile and pheromonal. They built labyrinthine structures that dwarfed any that man could make.
“They’re clever. Given time, they eventually learn. It makes them very hard to kill,” he said finally.
“But would you say they are sentient?”
He thought for a moment.
“No.”
“Really? Above all else, the Amit display an unwavering hatred of all things human. That they can commit themselves to the utter eradication of an entire species outside of their natural food chain is a clear indication of abstract thought, yes?”
“Forgive me, but what does this have to do with the deaths of my men?”
“That chamber of stars behind you?” she paused, a smile playing over her face, “For that’s what it is, I’m sure you had a similar impression. It isn’t natural. We certainly didn’t make it. They did, though why we are still struggling to guess.”
The orderly finished his work. They stood and returned to the star chamber, gazing about in wonder and confusion.
“All through the past year we have been rebuilding and cataloguing items of interest. Beginning to piece together the connotations of this place. What we have here is the first veritable proof of the Amit race possessing a culture.”
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road