The unmoored world is really trying my patience. I’m in the Army deployed right now and I don’t get that much time to play my game. I’m on Ernesto’s evacuation quest, I know I have to get to the gate of the village to start the quest, but obviously the environment is so warped and destroyed I have no idea where I’m going and enemies everywhere, I’m out of ferrystones, and all the people who sell them are now all of a sudden sold out. Dragons everywhere, mini boss battles trying g to kill me so I have to start completely over again, a saurian poisoned me out of nowhere and after I killed it a cured myself with my last cure in my inventory, another one out of completely out of nowhere stabs me in my back right after I cure myself and poisons me again, luckily I had the items to combine for a blight cure. Then I go on YouTube to try to find my way to the gate on the map, but the tutorial people speed fast through showing the map so quick which is weird. And then just when I think I’ve found a way there brine smoke won’t let me continue the path….great job frustrating the hell out of me Capcom, I’m just trying to finish the game up. Anyone know how to get to this camp so I can end this nightmare of an ending?

Synopsis: Things are going very well for you and the pack, but that peace is about to be disturbed.

1. Please give me (Makenzie Mazing) credit somewhere, the thumbnail or description is fine. Thank you!
2. Please do not change the script story unless you get the okay from me.
3. Feel free to tip me on Kofi if you like the script! Link in bio.
4. Please, no content farming. No AI voice
5. Do not add anything homophobic, transphobic, sexist, racist, etc. Be kind.
6. Please do not change the script story unless you get the okay from me.
7. Feel free to tip me on Kofi if you like the script! Link in bio.

SFX: Cloth moving as the listener wakes up and starts to stir.
Matriarch: Shhhh, there’s no need to get up this early, dear one. We still have a while before the sun comes up. Why don’t you snuggle up to me to keep warm?
SFX: Cloth moving around.
Ahhh.
You stirred a little last night. Were you having a nightmare?
Oh no, tell me what happened.
(Concerned) Uh huh.
Well, that’ll never be. You’re here with us now. Everything is going to be okay. No one will hurt you ever again. You’ve noticed everyone has been treating you well, haven't you?
(Satisfied) Hmmm.
This is perfect. Us, together like this.
You know, this is exactly what I’ve been missing. I’ve been waiting so long for someone to come along. Someone who can make my heart sing again. You bring me so much joy just by being near me.
I love-
SFX: Knock on the door.
(Grumbling) Now who could that be at this hour?
SFX: Cloth moves as they get up.
I’ll be back in a moment.
SFX: Footsteps, door opening and shutting.

(Whispering, gruff) What is it, Molly?
The pups? What’s wrong with them?
Sick? Now? Hmmm. Do you have the right medicine to treat them?
(Frustrated) Running low? Since when?
Unable to find them recently? (Sigh) I guess there’s only one thing to do about it.
What do you think? I’ll have to travel to the human village.
Tell the warriors. Quietly though. The other pack may be listening, and I don’t want them to use my absence as an excuse for a surprise attack. Have them stay on high alert until I return.
My mate is coming with me. They’re still human. If we need that much of those ingredients, I won’t be able to just steal it. We’ll have to barter.
I’ll just take some of our surplus with us to trade. Simple as that.
Take care of my pups while I’m gone, alright?
I know I can count on you. Until I return.
SFX: Door opening and shutting.
(Sigh) Dear one, it appears we must make tracks to the human village. We’re running low on important herbs and that seems to be the only place we can get it.
Oh, you heard? Then you understand what’s at stake.
(Pleased) I’m glad you care so much for the pups.
Well, let’s get to it. Get dressed for travel. Take the pack you came in with. We’ll want to be as convincing as possible for this to work. I’ll explain more when we’re closer to the village.
SFX: Cloth moving.
You know, you’re very cute like this. Hair all messed up from sleep, getting dressed in the last bit of moonlight. It’s very nice.
(Satisfied giggle) Oh, did I make you blush? If we had more time I’d think of more ways to make you blush. Now, let’s get ready.
Well I did say the village was far away, but if you ride on my back I can run most of the way and we can be there before nightfall.
Ready? Let’s go.
SFX: Fade in forest night ambience. Footsteps.
Alright, the village is just about in sight. So, here’s how this is going to work. We are a traveling couple looking to get medicines for our sick family.
Yes, pretty much the truth, besides not being a werewolf pack. It’s nice to have a story that’s close enough so you don’t forget it.
Well, I almost got caught last time I tried to just sneak around so I figured a more obvious approach would serve us better, especially since you are still human.
SFX: Footsteps
Alright, I think that’s the place. They should still be open at this hour. Let’s head in and get what we need.
SFX: Door opens and closes.
Apothecary: (Bright and cheerful) Well hello my friends! Welcome to the apothecary! How can I help you today?
Matriarch: (Businesslike) We’re here for the medicines listed on this paper.
Apothecary: Hmmm. That’s quite an interesting selection. I luckily have those in stock, but it’ll take a while to mix. Do you have coin or anything to trade?
Matriarch: Here. Some herbs.
Apothecary: Well well well! These are certainly rare ones in these parts. Where did you get them?
Matriarch: On our travels.
Apothecary: You must have braved the dark forest for these! How courageous!
Matriarch: It was nothing.
Apothecary: Nothing indeed! Those woods are werewolf infested, don’t you know? It’s rare we get anyone who has made it past them.
Matriarch: Look, are we getting our medicines or not?
Apothecary: (A little hurt) Certainly, certainly, they’ll be ready by tomorrow morning.
Matriarch: Hmmm. Alright. If that’s how it has to be. Do you know where we can stay the night?
Apothecary: The local tavern has rooms available.
Matriarch: Good. Let’s go, dear one.
Apothecary: Oh wait, here’s your change!
Matriarch: Thank you.
Apothecary: No problem! Have a great night!
SFX: Door opens and closes. Footsteps.
I do suppose I was a bit short with her, but I didn’t want to stay there any longer than we had to. Even if I can hide what I am, it makes me nervous to be around all these people.
Yes, let’s go to that tavern.
SFX: Tavern music and ambience.
Alright, we have our room for the night.
Oh, you want to grab a drink?
No, that’s fine. I’m going to check out our accommodations. I’ll be back in a moment, alright?
SFX: Footsteps.
Apothecary: Well hello there, cutie.
Yeah, it’s me, from the shop. You just stopped in for those medicines.
I just wanted to see how you were doing. You left in such a hurry.
It’s just crazy to see you two. We don’t see new people that often because of the forest.
(Flirty) Well you certainly must be strong to survive going through that place.
Aw don’t be shy. I just want to talk.
I see you don’t have your companion with you. Don’t tell me you two had a fight or something.
Ah, just checking out the room. (Flirty) But, leaving you all alone like this? I don’t think I could. Not for a second.
What? I’m just being friendly.
Huh. To be honest, I don’t really care that you came in with her. She’s not here right now, is she?
Matriarch: (Trying to hide being furious) What is going on here?
Apothecary: (A little peeved) Nothing, just a bit of fun.
Matriarch: Hpmh. I’d suggest you move along, and get back to work.
Apothecary: And why’s that?
SFX: Kiss noise.
Matriarch: Because this one is mine. So run along, I want those medicines ready by dawn.
Apothecary: (Grumpy) Alright, alright.
SFX: Footsteps.
Matriarch: You don’t have to say anything, I know you weren’t doing anything wrong.
I just need you to remember. You’re mine now.
Let’s go to bed.

[First] [Previous] [Next]
Edited by the man himself, WaveOfWire
- - - - -
Many thoughts whisked throughout the cook’s mind, each spanning from uncertainty about his situation to relief that his fellow villagers had somehow managed to not only find a settlement, but that of a star-sent’s—something he never thought to see in his lifetime! Yet, somehow, the most prevailing impression on his mind at that moment was… Just what spices were imbued into this meat?
It was foolish. He was surrounded by castles made of metal, Malkrin donned in equipment finer and more advanced than that of the high priestess’ holy guards, and a deity’s chosen being… but all he could think about was how a sauce could somehow dance upon his tongue with sweetness, tang, and spice all at once! His home island was small, but whenever merchants had arrived to exchange goods, he always pressured the tavern’s owner to barter for the finest foods. She was always so kind to him, abiding by his request and delivering him herbs and roots grown in the capitol’s isle. He tinkered and melded their mixed tastes, creating some of the finest meals within the entire kingdom.
His achievements felt like nothing in the face of what he had tasted. He had only just now finished the last piece of his meal, its flavor being savored for as long as possible. It was a miracle it had not poached it from him yet, given how quickly the females devoured their portions. The food was such a small thing in the grand scheme of things, yet it would not leave his consciousness. Malkrin from across the kingdom would have flocked to the inn he worked at for a taste of this concoction. The pink male looked up from the empty, cubic plate he was given and toward the other side of the blazing pyre, where the star-sent presided.
Night had dawned a while ago, leaving the group in encompassing darkness, save for the fire and the cloud-covered moonlight, faintly glowing atop the grass and reflective castles. The diety-sent had been in the larger castle while the silent ceramist tended to wounds, and then returned to discussing matters of task allotment and living quarters with his entourage of females and the script-keeper. Fortunately, the rest of the villagers were given an audience for the conversation, sitting or standing around the flame’s warmth.
It was much too important to interfere, so the cook did no such thing—interrupting a star-sent and higher-ranking members would be a death sentence either way. Instead, he managed to suspend his questions about the meal and simply observed the world around him. The Goddess-sent sat upon one of the wooden benches, his skin showing a unique white-tan color in contrast to the various shades of reds, greens, or grays of the Malkrin.
When the star-sent first appeared, it was thought that the metal and sturdy cloth along his head and chest were merely a part of his body, given the general description of one delivered to Ershah from a deity. Yet that was simply not true. It was only recently revealed that the armor atop his skull concealed long strands of damp fur. Curious indeed; this one was certainly not Malkrin, no matter how much his form or intent mimicked one. His accompaniment certainly was, however. They consisted of Akula, the guardswoman and apparent fisherwoman, Shar’khee—a paladin of the… land…?—a quiet ceramist, a craftsman, and another star-sent the chef had yet to see. The latter two were within the other massive metal building, whilst the rest currently stood above the ‘Creator.’ Each of them wore some mix of garments completely foreign and unique, though quite pleasing to the eye. Though few in number, their settlement was certainly not hurting for resources or grandeur.
The banished from the village were still in a mix of disbelief and astonishment at the various nonchalant showings of utter opulence—the numerous robust pockets not going unnoticed. That was without mentioning the various fantastical trinkets and tools held within said storage, or even the finely woven cloths that permeated the garbs of the original Malkrin who resided in the settlement. Then, of course, there was the generous offering of hot food and clean water.
He had expected to arrive on the mainland and thus immersed in poor conditions, but by the luck of the Gods, he was blessed with an opportunity to serve under one who could provide luxuries as if they were commonplace. Hopefully, his profession would still be useful…
“…need to start producing that kind of thing anyway, given the blood-moons,” the star-sent admitted to the elder, the words suddenly catching the chef’s attention.
The script-keeper tilted her head, adjusting herself on the wooden bench to sit taller. “Forgive my ignorance, but why would the crimson nights require the production of sturdy walls?”
The Creator raised a brow. “You don’t know about the hordes?”
The elder held still, letting out a wary breath.“The… Hordes?”
“Yeah, the ‘abhorrent,’ come and attack in droves,” he explained, crossing his singular pair of arms over his chest. Scrutiny marred his face. “I thought you guys knew about that.”
A bewildered expression marred the female’s face. “I… ‘Abhorrent?’”
Akula leaned in, hovering above the foreign male. “Harrison, the abhorrent do not reside within the Land kingdom. They are only found on the mainland.”
“Oh. So they aren’t worldwide, huh? That’s… interesting.” He scratched at his chin hair, eyes focused on the fire whilst he thought. “Guess that’s just the island effect. Either way, we’ll need to start some sort of factory line for something sturdier than wood—maybe a compound using the crab shells we’ve harvested. We’ll use it to build a secondary barracks for you, then walls and pillars for defensive emplacements…”
That was… a confusing string of concepts. It barely even registered in the cook’s mind. He spoke of creating walls, housings and… defenses. His title as ‘Creator’ was quite apt, it would appear. However, there were only fourteen inhabitants of the settlement; how could such large projects be completed? Does the Creator’s abilities defy those of mortals, giving him the power to construct anything without difficulty? Then what of fortifications for the blood-moons? Why was their importance stressed to such an extent? Just what were these beasts?
It seemed his questions were held by the script-keeper as well, her nervous intent breaking the short stint of silence. “S-Star-sent… I am still unsure of what you mean by ‘abhorrent.’ What are these beasts?”
The paladin stepped forward from her spot beside the creator. She addressed the others with a grave tone, her cool orange eyes staring down at the older female. “Eight-legged armored cr—tures that number in the hundreds. T—y have no eyes, only rows of jagged and malformed teeth. Their legs are sharp en—gh to rend flesh itself. You need only look to bel—ve.”
She pulled out an odd spear from the numerous bags on her back, holding it out for everyone around the fire to see, causing a few of the villagers to take a step back. Its jagged segments and edges were covered in black tar-like… blood. The weapon was longer than the chef was tall, and capped with a sharp orange point… Was that…?
“This is the leg of such a cr—ture. Its cruel and deformed body makes for an excellent weapon tip.” She slowly exhaled, letting the blunt end of the spear rest on the ground. “Yet, these are but the smallest of the horrors am—gst the mainland… There are some that tower over even my own frills and are impervious to any sword or spear. Other worm-like creatures suck bl—d through a vile proboscis.”
“H-How are you to defeat such beasts?!” one of the fisherwoman twins suddenly exclaimed.
A devious smirk drew along Shar’khee’s maw. “Of course, I have my str—gth and skills as a paladin to deal with many of the abhorrent, but I am afraid my own ability is not en—gh for the hundreds that approach on crimson nights.”
The lumberjack leaned forward from where she stood, a nervous expression on her visage lighting up under the fire’s glow. “Then what possibly could have dealt with such a number?”
“He sits right be—re you, new one.” The paladin stepped back, gesturing towards the star-sent. The highlighted male rolled his eyes and gave his protector an incredulous look. “The Goddess’ chosen is capable of rend—g countless numbers of beasts into gore with his staff and glorious cr—tions.”
“His staff?” the chef questioned, his sudden outburst surprising himself.
Shar’khee pointed at the lengthy piece of metal and wood resting beside the creator. “Indeed. It is capable of spew—g fire and bringing death from any range, fulminating the shelled b—sts without difficulty.”
The banished wore wide eyes, each of them on the edge of their seat in disbelief. Of course a deity-sent would wield such power. The male had already proved his abilities with the otherworldly equipment that surrounded him, yet the guardswoman beside the cook huffed, her glare growing all the more heated with twitching fingers
“Shar…” The star-sent tiredly stopped the paladin before she could continue. He appeared as if he wished to say more, but elected not to. His attention turned to the group surrounding the pyre. “I assume the rest of you’ve had your dinner by now. Tomorrow, I’ll be needing the lot of you to assist in making your new living quarters before profession-specific tasks can be divvied out, and that’ll be quite the project, so it’d be best to get some rest before hand. The bedding materials should be done fabricating, so we can get you all set up in the barracks for the night… Unless you’d prefer to sleep out here…”
“I thank you deeply for your hospitality, star-sent,” the script-keeper returned warmly, bowing her head. “I believe I speak for everyone here when I say that these last few nights have granted us little in the way of slumber… Rest is what these tired souls need the most now.”
The villagers in attendance solemnly nodded in agreement—the sewist even offering a quiet ‘thank you’ to the star-sent, similar to the gray-frilled elder.
“Alright, we’ll be back with mattresses and blankets. Sit tight for a minute.” The foreign male stood up and rolled his shoulders, nodding for the three females of his cohort to follow him toward the second castle.
They returned with bundles of pristine white cloth and sturdy fabrics within a few moments, bringing them into the closest castle’s entrance. The star-sent looked back and invited the villagers inside as the last one to enter.
The tired mass of Malkrin did not take long to follow suit, shuffling into the building with exhausted yet awestruck expressions. The cook was ready to do the same, but noticed something off. The juvenile, who had been sitting nearby, had elected to stay seated. Perhaps it was just his paternal instincts, but ever since the young one was pushed into their group, he and the sewist had done their best to ensure she was in good health during the arduous trip across the sea. They even offered some of their miniscule rations to the withdrawn pup, knowing it to be essential to her growth.
The chef looked at the illuminated entry to the castle, then back at the only remaining Malkrin, deciding to sit back down on the wooden bench beside her. “Do you not wish to enter the castle, young one?”
Her focus was kept on the fire as she slowly shook her head, a nervous tail curled around her waist. Her arms held onto the appendage timidly, her head dipping down apologetically.
“I understand,” he assured, resting a set of his elbows on his knees and looking into the somber eyes of the juvenile. “It is a monumental change for all of us here, to be ripped from our homes and thrown into a foreign land. I could not imagine how you might feel. However, the fact that you have held on thus far is impressive and shows you harbor more courage than most guardswomen. This, I hope, is a trial to test our fortitude. I too am quite apprehensive at the prospect of joining this settlement, yet I cannot help but be hopeful for all our futures. The people here are still unknown to us, but I have a sense that this may be a divine interaction. The Land God himself is telling us that we are on the right track, rewarding us for our conviction with one who is able to feed, house, and defend us.”
He stood up and offered an open palm to the youngling, her eyes finally meeting his. “Come now. You heard how the paladin described the wildlife. It would be much more dangerous to stay out here than the halls of a great metal castle.”
“…Okay,” the juvenile responded flatly, leaving the wooden bench behind. She was a little taller than him despite the difference in winters passed between them.
The great maw of the building took them in. There was no fire or torches, yet it was well-lit and comfortably warm compared to the cool night air outside. A gate stood on the other side of the room, flanked by a staircase to a second floor. Another door to an unknown area sat on the right, while his left was taken up by a mix of apparatuses, an empty section covered by many beds and the other Malkrin. The original inhabitants of the castle were busy assisting the new arrivals, handing out bundles of soft fabric and holding short conversations about the abhorrent or the metal building itself. The elder script-keeper approached the chef and the juvenile as they entered, looking rather worn.
“Goodness, I thought you two were intending on staying out for the evening. The ceramist has prepared a few bedding spots, so you are free to choose those the others have not already claimed.”
He bowed his head in appreciation. “Thank you, elder.”
The older woman left to deal with her tasks, leaving him to find his own cot. The youngling took a hesitant moment to do the same, striding to an open bed and feeling the comfortable give of the unique material. The chef did the same, appreciating the pliable blanket before letting his aching body fall onto it.
The day was long, and hopefully, his slumber would be even longer… He would certainly cherish such.
\= = = = =
Harrison slipped back into the workshop with Sharky right behind him. The new arrivals seemed alright. They were all settled into their temporary beds, falling asleep or making conversation. They looked a lot better than before, and were openly thankful to him and the others, which was nice. Who knew treating people like… well, people would make them feel better. He felt a little bad about just stuffing them in the lobby after Cera and the craftsman moved their beds to what used to be an open dining room, but neither side complained. Plus, you know, ‘temporary’… Maybe he should ask how their housing was formatted in their society.
That’d be a problem for him… soon. For now, his most pressing issue with the entire process was actually procuring the proper supplies for the job. Wood would work just fine, but the thousands of kilograms of harvested carapace were practically staring at him from the corner of the workshop. It was a good source of chitin—a crucial ingredient for pseudomycelium—which could be made into an alternative lightweight building material. It worked great when combined with steel or concrete, but he didn’t have access to an industrial amount of those.
What did he have access to? There was sand to the east, mud to the south, and rocks to the north, which might be a good place to start a quarry. Well, those rocks were a bit too far away to reasonably bring back. It would be better to just make another wooden cabin in that case. The biome was at least four or five kilometers out, if he recalled how far away the walk to the craftsman’s camp was. Hold on… there were clay trinkets in the tents.
Of course there would be clay; streams and rivers were everywhere. With some of the gray stuff, mycelium, and a source of carbon, he could have a massive supply of mycobrick. It would work perfectly for the foundations and walls of a building, even if it wasn’t as strong as carbon-concrete. It only needed water to meld the blocks in place. All he had to do was find a source of the terracotta, and he knew exactly who to ask about locating some. Unfortunately, Cera was most likely asleep by now, and he wasn’t going to ask her to go searching in the dark, so it would have to start tomorrow.
He could at least start on the mycelium production tonight. Even if there was no clay nearby, it would still be useful to have in general. Then, he could turn his attention to the fabricator project—if he wasn’t exhausted by then…
…Actually, he should have been a lot more tired than he was, now that he thought about it. Sure, he was in a radiation-induced coma for several hours, but walking for in heavy equipment, setting up the new power generators, and the ‘Rad-Away’ side effects should have him absolutely spent by now. The tingling that ran up and down his skin was still very much present, so Cera’s tincture must be running through his veins. That may have been the source of it, but there was no confirming it.
He should just appreciate the lack of nausea while it lasted; radiation drugs do well with clearing radical atoms, but their consequences could sometimes be even more taxing than the illness itself. He had firsthand experience with that. Some planets had much more lax nuclear safety codes compared to Luna or Mars, which led to a lot more leakage than a younger Harrison was supposed to withstand. It certainly didn’t help that those Sino-Venusian companies relied mostly on robotic workers—something that the organic engineer certainly was not.
But that was then. Now, he was already at his desk, and there were more than enough ideas swimming in his head about how to tackle the production line ahead of him. Thank God he could be more liberal with the machines used with the advent of additional electricity. Mycelium would not be as short a process as chopping up dead spider-crabs.
- - - - -
Step one: recycled plant matter and water are softly crushed and mixed together in a standard fabricator, producing cellulose and several other essential organic products.
Step two: chitin bricks are mashed and brought into a simple electrolytic separator, where the material is further parted on the molecular scale while keeping the basic structure.
Step three: previous outputs are piped into a lattice chamber. Said machine will layer the inputs with gamma and ultraviolet rays in sync with Zryachi’s fundamental frequencies of organic materials to form the basis of mycelium.
Step four: the slurry is sent through a purification assembly made of several refining machines that filter out impurities, further concentrating the pseudomycelium.
Setting up these machines and ensuring their efficacy would technically be the end of the task Harrison had allotted to himself for that night, but when he got into the zone of researching the process on top of balancing inputs and outputs per minute, he really didn’t feel like stopping himself. It was relaxing, and almost therapeutic in comparison to how stressful and frantic his other projects were. Again, he wasn’t even the slightest bit tired, so he just preemptively whipped up a second line of machines that would mix the ingredients for mycobricks, shape them, and then essentially slow cook them until they were stiff and workable.
It was well past midnight by now. Sharky helped him move the machines responsible for the mycelium process before quickly passing out afterwards, peacefully resting her arms and head on one side of his desk. She left him enough space to work, but it wasn’t a whole lot. Even less, considering the tail anchoring him in place by his calf. He didn’t mind. Besides the late hour and her hard work today, the sudden reveal of Kegara’s settlement’s existence seemed to take a good bit out of her—no thanks to a self-assured Akula, who wanted to boast about their camp in comparison. Shar didn’t know if it was a relief that someone was out there, or if she should be worried after hearing Akula’s and the craftsman’s stories about their practices, but at least she took the news of their presence well. Thankfully, the paladin agreed with his decision to work on their own camp first before doing anything ‘diplomatic.’
Tracy had left about an hour prior, making him the only conscious person in the workshop. He calmly worked away at the computer, its glow illuminating his hands where the dim overhead light’s intensity failed. He was finishing up the final touches of their plans for creating the custom fabricator. They were able to print every component needed, so the task was more or less regulated by how they were supposed to piece it together, and the steps needed to ensure the programming knew what it was doing with the replaced parts. Coding was mostly going to be Tracy’s doing, but he had the time and energy to help with directing some of it to ease her load of work.
A quiet ‘clink’ echoed from the entrance, followed by short taps. His palm subconsciously pressed against the cool Bakelite pump of his shotgun resting against the desk before craning his neck back to observe the entrance to the fabrication floor. He raised his voice just barely enough to be heard for Shar’s sake.
“Who’s there?”
“Mmm’s jus me,” Tracy’s tired voice called back, the words slurring into each other. Her tank-top-clad form slugged through the row of machines toward him, shoulders dropping and eyes squinting like she just woke up.
His brow raised at the sight. “Weren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”
She made it to his desk, lazily pulling up a rolling chair to the opposite side of the table. She noticed the slumbering shark holding his leg hostage and lowered her speech to a mumbling whisper “I was… but I woke up ‘n said ‘no sleeb for me.’”
He watched the technician cross her arms on the table and rest her chin on them, her barely opened eyes staring up at him. “Woke up from what? Nightmares?”
She looked shocked for a moment before averting her gaze. The way she laid her head down muffled her voice. “Y-Yeah… How’d you know?”
Harrison brought his calloused fingers up to rub his eyelids, mending the strain from looking at a computer screen for so long. “Been there. I understand.”
A short silence permeated their conversation before Tracy quietly continued with a half-guilty, half-hopeful expression. “So… d’ya mind if I stay here…? I-I won’t bug you or anything.”
He shook his head. “You’re all good.”
“Thanks.” She yawned, smacking her lips once afterward. “How’re you feeling by the way? Are you in pain… or feeling nauseous?”
“Perfectly fine, actually. I’ve been meaning to ask you about the radiation, though. You mentioned before that you knew something about the ‘artifact’ thing. What was that all about?”
“Huh?” She squinted further, visibly coming to a realization. “Ooooooooooooh… Yeah, the whole anomaly field jus’ shared some similarities to ‘S.T.A.L.K.E.R.’ I don’t know. Anomalies, artifacts, radiation… they’re probably nothing alike, but at least the nail method worked… Glad you made it out of that… It was close.”
The engineer shrugged. A lot of things came a lot closer than he’d like in general. “It’s… fine. I just need to be more prepared for the next time I go out. I know I’ll need a Geiger counter for sure.”
Her face drew into mild horror. “Do you actually plan on going out again?”
“…Yeah? Four AI cores technically aren’t enough to make modern factory equipment, plus we’ll probably start needing the other modules soon. In all honesty, I’d rather not have to, but who else is going to go interact with the equipment out there?”
She looked a little guilty at the subtle insinuation that she wasn’t expected to volunteer, reluctantly accepting that he’d have to go out eventually. “If you have to… I think that the Geiger counter would only work for detecting artifacts.”
“Why’s that?”
“Only time there’s been radiation has been around that rock. Plenty of anomalies are in places without them, and they haven’t irradiated me despite my own close calls.”
He scratched at his chin, contemplating what he saw earlier. “It could be that there were just so many of them in that one area. I mean, the ground itself was completely different from the swamp around it.”
“I don’t know, dude,” she huffed loudly, causing Shar to stir in her sleep. The technician continued, sheepishly lowering her voice. “This shit isn’t a science. All I’m saying is to have something more proactive than a geiger counter. I saw a good few of them on my journey here. Fire geysers, green caustic puddles, whirlwind-looking things, and those invisible meat-grinders you encountered. Each of them have some sort of giveaway. Like, in the anomaly field, you could sort of see them, and there wasn’t any plant life around it, but didn’t they also give off a low hum?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah. So… what? Keep an eye out and print an active headset to hear them better?” He leaned forward, resting on two elbows.
She nodded. “Basically. If you see something, avoid it. If you hear something, you start lobbing nails or sticks at whatever like a maniac until you activate it.”
Christ, even with a ‘plan’ like that, it was such a risk to just go outside. The anomalies weren’t super common, but their presence alone made venturing out a big ask. He should probably use a drone or something to learn about the anomalies before he went out next…
When Harrison didn’t respond, Tracy nuzzled her face further into her arm pillows, leaving the engineer to continue his work. He managed to finish the project within twenty minutes, using the extra time to compare and contrast the available fabricator’s components for their efficiency. His venture was quickly stopped when a certain unconscious Malkrin yawned, stretching her limbs out in all directions. Her taloned hand reached out and hooked his own, softly reeling it back in and adding it to her pile of limbs at the end of the desk. She encompassed his arm wholly, pushing every inch of available skin against it as if to suck the very heat out of him.
He reluctantly accepted it, allowing himself to at least appreciate the cool texture of her skin.
Unfortunately, the new unrequested position meant he was unable to do much with the computer. He still wasn’t very tired either, so now what? Was he going to just sit here until the others awoke? He rubbed his forehead with his free arm. A desk wasn’t the most comfortable place to fall asleep. They should be in bed unless they wanted to wake up with random back pains—something he learned the hard way when working late hours.
His sigh sounded throughout the workshop, overpowering the fabricators’ low hum. He slipped his hand out of the paladin’s embrace, her claws amusingly reaching out for it when their source of heat suddenly disappeared.
“…Harr…ison?” Sharky drowsily asked.
He stood up, tapping the waking giant on her unarmored shoulder. “Hey, we gotta get back to bed. Can you get up?”
“Bed…? We?” she paused, her frills subtly vibrating in groggy excitement as she sluggishly got up. “Of… c—rse.”
Harrison nodded, moving to the other side of the table to arouse the other slumbering girl… who wouldn’t respond. His pokes and prods were only returned with ‘mmm’s and other similar grumbles. Fuck it, he wasn’t patient tonight. He crouched down, hooking his arms underneath her knees and back, and lift her up bridal-style… or princess carry… Whatever it was called.
The cold night breeze brought goosebumps as he and Sharky moved to the barracks, the extra weight in his arms combined with the half-awake paladin’s stumbling lengthening the trip considerably. He would have let his massive companion take Tracy, but the maroon female looked like she was ready to fall over at any moment, barely catching her forward momentum with last-minute steps. The technician was evidently also a little cold, unconsciously pushing her head into his shoulder and loosely dragging an arm around his neck. He ignored the soft pressure of her chest against his—the thin tank top’s poor attempt at being a buffer not helping one bit.
He and Shar skirted by the array of passed-out Malkrin in the lobby-slash-dining room area—some snores and infrequent sharp exhales making up the room’s ambient noise—and trudged up the stairs with difficulty. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard to put the lightweight woman to bed. He slipped the blanket over her shoulders and placed her data pad beside her.
Well, that was done, and the paladin was also presumed to have gone to bed as well. What was he going to do now? He still couldn’t feel the slightest tinge of exhaustion. Should he return to the workshop? What project would he even work on? Would he continue to compare more fabricator parts? That… almost felt like busy work rather than anything important. Could he attempt to set up another wind turbine? No, that was dumb. It was the middle of the night and he was all alone—that was a recipe for disaster. Was there really nothing to do? Maybe something would show up when he went back to the fabrication floor, like improving his weapon or fixing up his armor.
The engineer turned toward the end of the lengthy bunk room to be greeted with a still-awake Shar. Her massive form was but a silhouette in the dim light entering from the door, slightly swaying from side to side atop tired legs. He approached her, a tinge of worry eating at the back of his head before he whispered to her.
“What’s up? Are you alright?”
She responded in her sluggish half-asleep ‘voice.’ “The night is… frigid, d—rest Harrison”
“…Yeah?” he agreed hesitantly, rubbing the back of his sore neck. “I can turn the heat up for you. I don’t mind.”
He took a step towards the thermostat, only to be stopped by a gentle pressure laying lightly on his shoulder. Harrison glanced at the taloned hand, then at Sharky, the maroon-colored Makrin shaking her head, her smoldering orange irises piercing him with a bashful shade of hopefulness.“No… I wish to… borrow y—r warmth…”
An unusual tightness formed in his chest. “Well, I was just about to…”
His speech petered out when he watched her tired expression fall into disappointment and shame, his reasons for leaving drying up in his throat. Suddenly, he wasn’t so against the idea, and he could feel the need to occupy himself fade. An array of excuses ran through his mind as his legs acted on what his mind had yet to settle, abandoning the idea of adjusting the heaters to bring him closer to the alien who seemed so dejected by his deflection.
There wasn’t anything to do anyway, so why not try to fall asleep?
The best sleep he got was with her, so maybe it would help with the sudden onset of insomnia.
She’s done so much for him, so why not oblige such a small request?
There were a thousand ways to justify it, just as there were thousands more to say no. All of those could be considered as he gave his massive protector a defeated smile and waved a hand towards her sleeping space. Her eyes lit up with fatigued elation, waiting for true confirmation of what he meant.
“Yeah, I’ll join you.”
If he was to be honest in the face of all the poor attempts to be logical about his choice… he had no reason to refuse. He just wanted to do something that she liked, and he had grown not to mind the closeness. There wasn’t anything connected to it besides the fact that every time he woke up and found himself dozing next to her in some way, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate it. The way she cradled him with contentment on her face, how her chest rumbled when she purred.
“Thank you.”
Sharky let her mass down onto her nest of blankets and pillows, settling into them. She raised a portion of the cloth for him to enter, looking up at him with content, warm orange eyes. There was no other conclusion, no other decision to make besides accepting her offer. He stopped, briefly considering what he was accepting, but a subtle grab of her tail on his calf all but made the decision for him. He entered her embrace, enjoying the way her cool skin ran across his own in small sparks. She wrapped all four arms around him, pressing him against her wholly. Her head reached down and nuzzled into him, the bridge between her snout and her eyes prodding into his neck. Her feminine eyelashes mildly tickled him, but the sensation was nothing compared to the complete hold she had on him otherwise. And finally, she tied them together with her tail, sealing his fate.
His mind was quick to recall how Akula reacted to him waking up next to Shar, the faux pas reminding him how little he knew about their culture, not to mention his own. He wondered what Tracy would think of him essentially cuddling up to the Malkrin…
Fuck it. He couldn’t care less. He was damn comfortable and fully surrounded by a ten-foot alien with black horns, sharp claws, rows of serrated teeth, enough slender muscles to rival a transport ‘mech, and her entire purpose in life was to ensure his safety. It contrasted the subtle give of her skin, the feeling of his warmth being siphoned off then returned, and the firm yet ginger cage of care that coaxed him into relaxation.
It was infinitely more preferable to fighting hordes of blood-thirsty bugs, coming face-to-face with an invisible anomaly that could turn him into a red paste, or throwing up his guts from radiation poisoning.
No one could tell him it was wrong to appreciate her company.
- - - - -
Question for y'all: Wooden furniture FAL or M1 Garand?
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Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - Reap what your kind has sewn... A monument to all your sins.

WARNING: MAJOR spoilers for CC, plus the ACOTAR and TOG series (Maasverse)

Look.
I knew Rhys was an ancient—and is still is a common—Welsh name.

What I didn't know, is that Ruhn) is, too

Albeit spelled Rhun.
Shame on me for not brushing up my Tolkien mythology; I probably would have recognized the name and done some digging into its background sooner.
But when I realized Rhys = Welsh name and Rhun = Welsh name (I have such a delicious theory post coming about this commonality) I did some good ol' Googling.

Want to know what I found?

​
Source: earlybritishkingdoms.com
It must be stated:

We can't say SJM took directly from these sources.

This is a CRACKPOT post. We're looking at commonality breadcrumbs and projecting potential future plot lines.

COMMONALITIES:

1. Illegitimate son (Ruhn's mother and the Autumn King were never married).
2. Half-sister and her husband, usurping his position (Bryce + Hunt, with Bryce being the true Starborn Heir).
3. We have hints at Ruhn having children (fun fact: Beli is Celtic for "shining one").
4. If we're going full Maasverse crossover, then a future war between worlds and everyone teaming up is hinted at.

POTENTIAL FUTURE PLOT LINES:

1. If St. Eurgain and Prince Elidry = Bryce and Hunt, then—as many theorized with Hunt's crown of thorns tattoos and its relation to Christ—Hunt will die.
2. If this Rhun Hir, King of Gwynedd, has a half-brother . . . have we gotten it wrong? Is the common theory that Ruhn is Rhys's nephew grossly misplaced?

I'd now like to draw your attention to the fact that Ruhn Hir of Gwynedd went to help his half-brother secure his place on the PICTISH throne.

Where, exactly, did the Pictish people of the Early Middle Ages live?

Ken Feisal vs archeology.org

Huh, cool, ok. And where, exactly is Rhysand's throne? The territory of the Night Court?

​
ia P-dulcis on redbubble

I'm going to leave with you one more Rhun of Welsh history.

And note: We have both a PRINCE Rhun and a KING Rhun in these ancient references.
​
Source: earlybritishkingdoms.com
The only thing I'm excited about here is the St. Ninnies at WHITHORN.
I'll hold on to any potential reference that sir Rowan Whitethorn and his lovely wife will be making an appearance in the future.

Frank Miller's Daredevil and the Ends of Heroism (Comics Culture) eBook : Young, Paul
This was the first honest-to-god analysis of a work of fiction I ever bought. Sure we all think about the stories we read but I had never sought out a professional look at it before. The interviews with Miller and others are really an invaluable look into his creative process, IMO.
I really recommend this book for insights not just into Daredevil, but Batman and Punisher, too.
For anyone curious, here are a lot of the parts which really stood out to me - although of course I have my own interests and you might have parts of the book you love which I just passed over. The first comic I ever remember reading and being deeply impressed by was JMS' Supreme Power. To me, the best superhero stories ask "what does it even mean to be a (super)hero?" I think Miller has some invaluable insights on this topic.

Miller's problem with Spider-Man was all the angst. "All my reservations about the character are in how he talks 'cause his visual is still very confident, and very strong - it's just that he never stops whining." Spidey's self-pity, his penchant for martyrdom, and his borderline masochistic self-neglect attracted fans' identification but also made his life more or less a continual nightmare. Even worse, it made his success as a superhero hard for Miller to swallow. Spider-Man's trademark heckling of villains during fights only made his effectiveness less believable:
"I don't believe that Spider-Man would last two weeks [as a crime fighter] the way he's conceived. In order to have power over the criminals, you would have to be that rotten; [criminals] would have to accept him as almost one of them... Daredevil has to reach the point where when he walks into a room. they're terrified of him. because he has to be accepted as a force they'll respect. That isn't done much in comic books; it's around in other kinds of fiction. I'm more comfortable with that; I don't see him as being happy go lucky when he's up against a bunch of guys with guns."
[...]
Miller would probably have incited comparisons to Batman in the fan press simply by transforming Daredevil into a grittier, more deterministic series, but Miller openly stressed the parallel in his Daredevil-era interviews. In 1981, Miller draws an explicit contrast between Daredevil and Batman: "Daredevil . . . operates on a basic motive of love for seeking out justice. . . . [Batman] is punishing those who killed his parents. Batman's focus is on the criminal, Daredevil's is on the victim."27 Critics picked up on Miller's concern with Daredevil's motives, as well as the productive task of measuring them against those of the Batman. Reviewing Miller's work thus far in the Comics Journal in 1982, Ed Via wrote that Miller had made Daredevil "first and foremost a moralist, a person with a strong sense of fairness and . . . compassion, someone whose actions were as directly in line with his convictions as humanly possible."28 Even Daredevil's scuffles with criminals differed from Batman's in that they were performances rather than acts of vengeance:
"I see Matt Murdock as being a grown man and Daredevil as almost being a boy. . . . He believes in everything he's doing and he works very hard at it, but part of him just gets off on jumping around buildings."29 "I'm also trying to develop him as a guy with a terrific sense of humor, who scares criminals and has a great time doing it. Like [Steve Ditko's DC character] the Creeper, he laughs and laughs and laughs, and thinks [to himself], 'Jeez, they're buying it!'"30
Miller's favorite means of exposing his hero's antic side was to send Daredevil to Josie's Bar, a fictional dive where New York's entire population of petty thieves seems to turn up every night. Digging for clues to various cases, DD inevitably sparks fights that trash the place, hurling thugs through the front window while Josie protests (for the umpteenth time) that she just had it repaired. Sometimes he even orders a drink first, but as Miller points out, it's always a glass of milk. The milk (and the milk moustache it leaves behind) comically telegraphs Matt's wholesomeness compared to the hardened types guzzling whiskey and beer all around him, but it also underscores Miller's description of DD as Matt's boyish side, the inner child that "comes alive" while playing superhero.31
Ultimately, however, the contrast Miller once drew between the borderline psychotic Batman and the psychologically healthy Daredevil sounds like an overstatement of the argument, fronted by the Village Voice in 1965 (and echoed in Esquire the following year), that "Marvel Comics are the first comic books to evoke, even metaphorically, the Real World."32 By those lights, "real world" referentiality meant that Marvel heroes dealt openly with persecution, neuroses, and family squabbles and turned out to be their own worst enemies nearly as often as protagonists did in postwar literary fiction.
By contrast, DC didn't raise any schlemiels, with the possible exception of Clark Kent, whose inferiority complex is all an act to keep people from noticing that, but for the eyeglasses and the hunched shoulders, he looks exactly like Superman. DC stories followed the logic of such classical storytelling modes as the epic or the chronicle, where decision making is an exponent of action instead of a process inflected by character subtleties and every action thus taken is world-historical in importance. Its editors exiled strong emotion, anxiety, mortality, and other everyday complexities to the infamous imaginary stories of the fifties and early sixties.
This means of distinguishing Silver Age Marvel heroes from those of DC hits a snag, however, when we stack Batman's origin up against that of Spider-Man or Daredevil. The emotional crux of all three is the Spidey triumvirate of all-too-human gut reactions: guilt, shame, and a desire for revenge. Indeed, the most obvious precedent for Daredevil's origin is the first version of Batman's origin story in DC's Detective Comics #33 (December 1939), in which an anonymous street thug robs and shoots Bruce Wayne's parents before young Bruce's eyes. Batman's origin sets underexamined precedents for many origin stories from Marvel's Silver Age: dead parent, angry child, costume chosen to strike fear into what the Batman of 1939 touts as a "superstitious, cowardly lot" of evildoers, an initial state of helplessness igniting the desire to bulk up and do right. Not unlike the death of Jack Murdock in Daredevil's case, Bruce Wayne's extraordinary childhood loss forges Batman's determination to avenge that loss on all criminals everywhere forever after and to transform himself into a steroidal, bat-eared Sherlock Holmes.
Miller brought the Punisher, then Marvel's most homicidal lead character, into the comparison to develop a pet point about Daredevil's singularity: his duty to the legal system, for better or worse. In 1981, when Richard Howell asked Miller point blank, "Is Daredevil Marvel's Batman?" Miller answered that, no, "the Punisher is Marvel's Batman."33 Miller argued that, unlike the Batman, whose parents' murder catalyzed every major life decision he made from then on, the death of Battlin' Jack did not have as "big an effect on [Matt] as his father's life, and he is his father's son, being a natural born fighter."34 The Punisher, by contrast, shares not only Batman's desire to murdered loved ones but also his will to stop killers and drug dealers in their tracks. He exceeds Batman's mission only in that he executes the bad guys on the spot.
The Punisher, Miller tells Howell, is "Batman without the impurities. The side of Batman that makes him spare the criminals is something that's added on. It's not part of the basic concept of his character. . . . Daredevil's basic concept is very dissimilar. I see Daredevil as someone who operates on a basic motive of love for seeking out justice."35
This was not to say, however, that the Punisher's use of deadly force made him less heroic to Miller than Daredevil or Batman were. The Punisher is a hero, Miller says, but "I don't consider him a role model. The main difference between him and Daredevil is Daredevil's sense of responsibility to the law. The Punisher is an avenger; he's Batman without the lies built in."36
The "lies" Miller mentions refer in part to Batman's vow never to kill; he wields a gun only two or three times in his entire first forty-five years in print, due in each case to editorial inattention. While the no-kill rule probably helped keep Batman out of trouble with parents worried over comics' influence on young children, it exacerbated the tension between his desire for justice and his sense that the legal system is inadequate to the task of collaring mass murderers and rooting out corruption. If Batman's prime motive is to champion justice in the legal sense, to quash anarchy and restore social order, then why does he have such contempt for the police and the legal system except insofar as they can help him achieve his goals?
[...]
The ambivalence about due process expressed here stems in part from Miller's decision to make Daredevil a character whose convictions don't necessarily match his own: "I don't necessarily believe that Daredevil's right about everything he says. The character is built on very strong basic principles, and it would have been a terrible violation of those principles . . . to let Bullseye die. Daredevil has to believe that the law will work in every instance, but I'm allowed to believe differently."17 Miller had much tougher critiques of Daredevil-style liberalism waiting up his sleeve, including the bleeding-heart psychiatrists in Batman: The Dark Knight Returns who claim that Two-Face and the Joker (the Joker, for crying out loud) can be rehabilitated and an unforgettable throwaway joke about liberal hypocrisy in the same book, in which a Central Casting suburbanite tells a reporter that he doesn't believe in Batman's brand of vigilante justice but then snorts that he himself would "never live in the city." But to paint Miller as a legal or social conservative would not be accurate, at least not at this point in his career. Satirically, in fact, Miller plays the entire political field, broiling John Ashcroft and George W. Bush in The Dark Knight Strikes Again (2001–2) for exploiting the Twin Towers' destruction to further their own political agenda (and while these men were doing exactly that in the aftermath of 9/11, no less).
The Daredevil run, though, is less a satire of Matt's position, or anyone else's, than it is a Brechtian experiment in which Miller draws sympathy to Murdock's point of view while examining it with a microscope at the same time, pushing harder and harder on the question of whether justice is served if lives are left at risk, while putting just as much pressure on the opposing question of whether preventive justice deserves to be called justice at all.
[...]
Matt's reaction to the death of Elektra is to bully Heather into the submissive role that Elektra couldn't play. Miller attributes to Matt not a single thought balloon to suggest that he is aware of the toll his bullying takes on her, while Miller continually draws the reader's attention to that toll via Matt's glib condescension and Heather's devastated reactions to it. The soundness of Daredevil's judgment is now more questionable than ever. Does his heroism stem from a neurotic urge to control everything around him, and is that neurosis reaching a tipping point? After all, we see him suffer a nearly dissociative breakdown when he convinces himself in #182 that Elektra somehow survived her own murder. The splash page of that issue still chills me with its full-face close-up of Matt in a cold sweat, staring into our eyes, as if pleading with us to believe something we know to be utterly false just because he believes it: "SHE'S ALIVE." By #189, only seven issues later, his demeaning paternalism has driven his new fiancée straight to the bottle.
In spite of the ugliness of Matt's abuse, and the emphasis Miller places on that ugliness, it's difficult for me to decide whether terrorizing Heather this way makes Daredevil less heroic or more heroic in Miller's definition. Miller has often spoken about the archetypical hero as something other than human, as dismissive of what others think they need as Matt is of Heather's feelings. When Miller discusses The Dark Knight Strikes Again!, which he and interviewer Gary Groth agree is nearly a parody of superhero comics, he emphasizes Batman's abstract quality, born of the kind of social isolation that Stick enforces on Matt: If Batman's "motto is striking terror" into the hearts of criminals, then "Batman can only be defined as a terrorist. . . . I don't want you to like this guy." "My feeling about Batman is that he's similar [to James Bond] in that you'd want him to be there when you're being mugged, but you wouldn't want to have dinner with him. The way he cheers Hawkman on as he crushes Luthor's skull . . . For me, [such scenes demonstrate] the idea [of Batman] coming into its own without the bullshit on top of it being a socially acceptable role model and all of that."23
Matt's disregard for Heather's emotional state during the Glenn Enterprises affair further clarifies Miller's sense of the heroic impulse: it is prosociety but deeply antisocial, convinced that Right and Wrong are real and unchanging standards but dangerously solipsistic in its interpretation of how to achieve Right at the expense of Wrong. The true hero, according to Miller, is, compared to "normal" human beings at least, a pathological narcissist. Daredevil, with unwavering faith in his own judgment, performs "necessary" services for a culture whether it asks for them or not, while those who are under his protection see him as unfathomable at best and terrifying at worst. But even if Miller thrills to his own extrication of the "lies" and "bullshit" from the Batman persona a few years later, in Daredevil he employs dramatic irony to relate the high cost, to both individuals and their community, of the uncompromising, take-no-prisoners heroism that Americans think they want. "Dirty Harry . . . is a profoundly, consistently moral force," Miller tells Kim Thompson, but that wouldn't keep him out of jail for "administering the 'Wrath of God' on murderers who society treats as victims.
An authoritative study of Jack Kirby, Charles Hatfield has suggested that Marvel Comics distinguished itself in the 1960s in part by placing new stress on the tension intrinsic to superhero comics between the hero's desire for justice and the extralegal means by which she or he pursues it.25 I would add that Marvel's Silver Age stories place the stress primarily on the plotting opportunities provided by this tension, as in the case of Spider-Man, whose good deeds only draw the ire of a public (understandably) suspicious of ununiformed law enforcement.
Miller further develops the "upstanding vigilante" paradox from a cliché of the genre into a philosophical dialectic that, though sometimes decried as fascistic, cannot be reduced to an unironic plea for authoritarian rule. The superheroic fantasies on display in 300, the Sin City graphic novels, The Dark Knight Strikes Again!, and even the controversial Holy Terror cast a clear eye on the paradox of the specifically American fascination with the superheroic ideal. All pose to the reader the implicit question, Is this really what you want? Considering the consistency of this theme dating back to Daredevil,
I think of the pre-9/11 Frank Miller as less conservative than libertarian, a posthippie refugee of the 1960s who disdains the everyone-is-special relativism of grade-school participation trophies and liberal humanism but shares with the conscientious objector and the bra burner a fervency for personal liberty: "I'm no middle-of-the-roader, but I find that people who tend to follow any party line, of the left or right, tend to all end up saying the same thing, which is 'Do what I tell you.' Quit those habits I don't like, don't use the words I don't like, don't draw the pictures I don't want my children to see. . . . So yeah, I have a very jaundiced view toward most authority."26 In any event, Miller's focus on Daredevil's unflagging moral code, and his attention to how a relentless diet of violence might change that code into an ideological prison, allows him to explore the upstanding vigilante figure from multiple angles—the broadly liberal defense of constitutional protection for criminals and victims alike; the broadly conservative ideal of defending one's own body, family, and property without impediment from the state—without readily disclosing his personal politics.
[...]
Slowly and steadily, Miller was maneuvering out of Code territory into the world of frankly adult themes and pressing harder and harder on the contradictions on which a traditional concept of heroism depends. Miller's The Dark Knight Returns steps even further into that world even as it sets up new "walls" to push against, namely, the postsixties culture of liberal humanism and so-called moral relativism. Miller's Batman has all of Daredevil's desire for justice but lacks any of DD's concern for the civil rights of the alleged perpetrators; indeed, if Daredevil's primary concern is with the victims, as Jim Shooter taught Miller, then Batman's primary concern is with crushing the perps. And he gets called on it throughout The Dark Knight Returns by loads of liberal-sounding talking heads who claim that Two-Face and the Joker were actually turned into supervillains by Batman's example, that even convicted homicidal maniacs deserve a second chance, and so forth.
What Miller has done is to take Daredevil's line of legal thinking regarding the rights of criminal defendants, the same line that made him save Bullseye from being mashed on the subway tracks, and put it in the mouths of comic-relief characters such as the brain surgeons and psychologists who try to make Two-Face a productive member of society again. Miller's Batman, by contrast, is an epic hero who refuses to mistake good for evil or vice versa, and he gets to define on his own what each term means. Miller's Matt Murdock refuses such a metaphysical view of good and evil as all-or-nothing opposites on idealist grounds of a different sort. Matt believes that obscured innocence and hidden guilt have to be brought to light intellectually by finding proof and testing it, while Batman, who was at one time represented as a detective at heart, relies entirely on instinct when Miller has the reins.
To be fair, Miller presents the crudeness of Batman's worldview as a serious problem and has even done so in the midst of a conflict that seemed to many Americans to draw the brightest possible line between the national Us and a foreign Them. DC had already published the first issue of Miller and the colorist Lynn Varley's Dark Knight sequel, Batman: The Dark Knight Strikes Again!, when al-Qaeda operatives commandeered the planes that destroyed the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, an event that, Miller told Groth, made it impossible to leave Batman's catchphrase about "striking terror into the hearts" of evildoers unannotated. As I've mentioned, Batman's dialogue in The Dark Knight Strikes Again!—even the dialogue written before 9/11—makes the ugliness of his philosophy unmistakable: "Striking terror. Best part of the job."
Groth even points out to Miller that one Batman speech, in which he refers to American capitalists and the federal government as "tyrants" and promises that he and his team will "strike like lightning and . . . melt into the night like ghosts," sounds uncannily like "the point of view of radical Islamists" toward the United States.13 Miller doesn't take such a crack at the obvious bad guys, however. Rather, he immediately pounces on the political reaction to the bad guys and how the George Bushes, Dick Cheneys, and John Ashcrofts of the world use crises like 9/11 for their own purposes. They stand in for the heroes we think we need in tumultuous times but slip the bounds of law at every turn—and Miller attempts to reduce our sympathy for them. This Miller, chastened by the 9/11 attacks but ever the shrewd critic of the media that deliver such disasters to us, digs into the fascistic politics of superhero comics, the news media's role in sensationalizing global politics and inciting fanatical nationalism, and the real-world politics of vigilante justice all at once. He claims comics as a space to explore what "heroism" means—and not necessarily to him but rather to contemporary US culture. If the one who "saves" us from tyranny, even the tyranny of our own leaders, claims he has to act like a terrorist to do it, do we even want to be saved?
At the same time, both Miller's comics and his interviews have long scrutinized the insolubility of the paradox—heroism is necessary to restore order, but it's also authoritarian in its purest form, even fascistic—as a necessary evil. Batman seems the purer Miller "hero" in that Batman's sense of justice is unencumbered by any complicating factors. He metes it out as he sees fit, on the basis of an Old Testament version of righteousness: you take my eye, I'll take yours, score settled. This hero is no model for quotidian life, but as in such classical Hollywood Westerns as John Ford's The Searchers (1956), the frontier will remain forever a chaotic wilderness without him. Only Ford's half-wild hero Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) can save his niece from hostile Comanche in post–Civil War Texas, but his intense race hatred makes him a relic, unfit to cross the threshold into the orderly world of law, family, and home that his very wildness has helped bring to the western frontier.
The civic-minded Daredevil would be welcome in any such home, but for the later Miller especially, that taste for civilization and its rules reads as an "impurity," a liberal-humanist streak within traditional superheroism that Miller once talked about strictly in terms of character type (it's the difference between Batman and his "purer" doppelgänger, the Punisher) but that lately he describes as a moral fault, without any of the irony he mustered up a decade ago. There are signs dating back to 1986's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns that this irony was ambivalent anyway, considering the extent to which Batman adopts the Western hero's ruthless stance when taming the "frontier" of racialized criminals, right down to trading in the Batmobile for a horse.
The progressive reverence with which Miller's comics after Daredevil treat that definition of heroism has everything to do with 9/11 and the scale of twenty-first-century global terrorism as Miller has processed it since The Dark Knight Strikes Again!. Back in 2003, he told Groth, "For at least the foreseeable future, [9/11 is] the whole point of my work. I'm going to play around with doing some propagandizing,"15 but this sentiment did not prevent him from making the US government's reaction to the disaster a target for satire in his second Dark Knight story or lambasting the Bush administration for branding disagreement with its policies as providing solace to terrorists. By contrast, the Fixer, the costumed hero of Miller's frankly propagandistic graphic novel Holy Terror (Legendary Comics, 2011), doesn't care whether he gets thrown out of the house or not; his lot is to make the world safe for civilization, American style, not to inhabit it, and he likes it that way. The Fixer, a behemoth who shares a name with a character that Miller created for his high school newspaper's comics page, kills terrorists like a sledgehammer breaks pavement. There's no second-guessing motives or anything else; as far as the Fixer is concerned, if you're Muslim, you've got a bomb strapped to your midsection, so there's no danger that he will smash the wrong face.
Unsurprisingly, the character originally at the center of Holy Terror was Batman. Finally, Miller had freed the character of its impurities. To do that, he also had to burn off the "impurities" of the fundamentalist foe by painting al-Qaeda as representatives of all Islam and all Muslims and playing on every Arab stereotype he could scratch onto his Bristol board, from big noses to using Evil English to express delight in the torture and murder of "infidels." He has matched such images with political commentaries on National Public Radio, his personal blog, and elsewhere that show none of the critical distance that once made his work as jarring and energizing intellectually as the best Dashiell Hammett novel you've ever read. Our terrorist enemy, Miller has said, is "pernicious, deceptive and merciless and wants nothing less than [our] total destruction." Never mind that the majority of victims of al-Qaida and now ISIS are, in fact, Muslims.16
The hardline right position that Miller takes in Holy Terror differs so dramatically from that expressed in interviews dating back to the early 1980s that one has to wonder if he's been replaced by a Life Model Decoy from Nick Fury's supply closet. But Holy Terror was a critical disaster, prompting fans and critics alike to swear off any future Miller work and even to claim that his comics have rallied around a "sexist, fascist" flagpole since as far back as The Dark Knight Returns and possibly even before. Spencer Ackerman echoes the most scathing reviews when he writes in Wired, "Frank Miller doesn't do things halfway. One of the true comic-book greats, he's created several of the most extraordinary stories ever to grace the art form. So perhaps it's fitting that now he's produced one of the most appalling, offensive and vindictive comics of all time.
[...]
I can't subscribe to such uses of Miller's Batman to evaluate Miller's own character. Critics have been mistaking the positions Miller examines in his comics for his own convictions for decades. Indeed, Miller would agree with every one of Kevin's criticisms of Batman and even offer an aesthetic justification for this portrayal that depends on a dramatic irony that is difficult to locate, precisely because superhero comics have always traded in absolutes; criticism of those absolutes would understandably be less obvious to a dedicated reader of superhero comics, not to mention a nonreader convinced of superheroes' intrinsic lack of sophistication, than to someone interested in exploring or exploding the limits of the Batman mythos. Now, however, it not only looks like Miller has given away his critical distance; he also wants everyone to know it and to decide for themselves whether what he's done is worthless as a result, as comics or as political activism.
Back in 1998, discussing 300 with Christopher Brayshaw in the Comics Journal, Miller acknowledges the historical irony of Greece, the epitome of civil organization and intellectualism in the ancient West, needing a nation-state of cold-blooded warriors to fight its battles. In another context, he tells Brayshaw, he might have invited readers to ponder that irony and consider its paradoxical relationship to the development of democratic ideals.19 He does not do so in this context, however. For Miller, 300 is all about the necessity of saving civilization—Western civilization—from barbarism. The three hundred Spartans did what was necessary; they lost the battle, badly, but without their sacrifice, discipline, and utterly unambiguous worldview, we would apparently still be living in mud huts today.
Even with 300, though, Miller argues that he's playing around just a tiny bit with our tendency to collapse heroes with role models. Miller makes Leonidas admirable but not likable and renders most of the other 299 Spartans as less admirable and even less likable. But maybe, Miller has said not only about the Spartans but about the Punisher, Batman, and Superman, cultures need guys like that, and I do mean guys—the reckless male narcissists who can't or won't make subtle distinctions between good and evil—to do the dirty work of "preserving civilization as we know it." Usually, as in The Dark Knight Returns and The Dark Knight Strikes Again! and to a certain extent the noir riff on Dante's Inferno that is Sin City, Miller lets us sit with that ugly possibility, lets us squirm at our own enjoyment and/or disgust. He forces us to wonder if peace and forward movement are ever possible without the bright lines between good and evil and at the same time makes us ponder whether by drawing those lines, we put our humanity at risk. The generous way to interpret what Miller says here is that, like Hitchcock, he's casting doubt on the very notion of heroism that rules superhero comics, that is, the fantasy that superheroes could do what they do and yet remain "ordinary" people. Miller turned Batman into a living symbol of the fear that criminals should feel when threatened by "good," at least in a Platonist universe, but don't. However, when it's no longer comics, the First Amendment, or aesthetic complexity at stake but national security, take-no-prisoners tactics—in art as well as war—look to Miller like the only way to go.
[...]
In what I want to believe is a triumph of Miller the listener over the absolutist Miller who sneers at the same First Amendment he once sacrificed his industry goodwill to defend, Miller now refuses to comment further on his anti-Occupy rant. Perhaps he thinks it all speaks for itself, or perhaps he has accepted certain tenets of his critics just as he graciously (and legitimately, it seems) accepted the differing opinions of Groth and other interviewers as recently as a decade ago. Either way, he has stopped talking much about politics of any stripe. His blog is now abandoned due to "computer problems," Miller says, glowering during an interview for a Wired profile when Sean Howe suggests he find "a better technician" to fix it. "I will," Miller says, after a long silence.22
Look back on Daredevil's nemeses from the '79–'82 run with Miller's current anti-Islamicism in mind, though, and watch the ambiguities and nuances of his first major achievement get harder to pinpoint. Bullseye is a psychopath, complete with brain damage caused by cancer to guarantee it. Elektra is irredeemable despite her ostensibly clean bill of mental health: "The feeling I've been trying to get across is that she's betrayed something. She was meant to be something better than she is."23 But once you've fallen from grace, that's it. Some people are evil, through and through—think of the "reformed" Harvey Dent/Two-Face in The Dark Knight Returns, whose ruined mind no amount of reconstructive surgery can repair—and they must be punished, locked away for good, dismissed, disposed of. There's no other way to get the cancer out of society. Miller dates the rising scale of violent crime in Daredevil back to his getting mugged and robbed in New York: "The experience filled me with anger, and that translated right into my comics."24 As he got angrier, however, the struggle over right and wrong that plagued Daredevil seemed to get a lot less interesting to him than staking an unwavering claim to right.
Howe shrewdly characterizes Miller's use of secondary characters as a kind of misdirection: "Daredevil's dastardly supporting cast allowed Miller to have it both ways by making Daredevil's barrage of kicks and punches look reasonable in comparison."25 The bleak view on Miller's career would paint it as a slow but momentous roll past such apologies for superheroic vigilantism and into the stark light of the Fixer's gleeful, openly sadistic rampages, a development that Howe connects to Miller's personal victimization by crime prior to plotting Batman: The Dark Knight Returns:
"As Miller's career was taking off, the everyday violence in Manhattan at the time was taking its toll. "New York is no longer fit for human habitation," Miller told one friend. After enduring three robberies in the course of a month, he and [the colorist and his then-girlfriend Lynn] Varley decided to escape to LA. While she went out west to search for a home, he stayed behind to set up more work to get them out of debt. He had a check in his pocket when, once again, someone tried to rob him. "Frank just went berserk on the guy," Varley says. "He didn't hit him or anything, he just went so berserk the guy backed off and ran away. We were on edge."26
Such anger floats to the surface of his work with a bang in 1986, the year I graduated from high school, with not one but two smash-hit stories about characters that didn't belong to him: Batman: The Dark Knight Returns and Miller's most lauded Daredevil story, Daredevil: Born Again, his 1986 return to the Daredevil series, penciled by David Mazzucchelli.
[...]
It's a hell of a second coming for a character whose series stubbornly still bore a Comics Code seal. I won't fault Miller for the anger of that story today any more than I did when I read Born Again at seventeen; on the contrary, I still believe there's not much point in going through adolescence in the United States without some rebel-themed mass culture to embrace for the sole reason that your parents would hate it. Still, I marvel at how much Miller's perspective on his audience had changed between 1983's "Roulette" and the Born Again story line in 1985–86.
According to Howe's account of Marvel in the eighties, Miller's inspiration for Born Again was losing everything himself. Ramped up on the success of Ronin and eager to get away from the city that fostered at least one person's transformation into a real-life vigilante ("one Bernard Goetz is enough"), Miller moved to Los Angeles, found himself dead broke, and decided to pitch a new Daredevil story that started with Matt Murdock in similar straits.28 No doubt it was satisfying to create a world in which a bloated mob boss—somebody, anybody—could actually be held accountable for downturns of fortune, instead of such mundane external forces as random robberies or astronomically high rent. But Born Again also recommends interpretations of Miller's work as reflective of his worldview, making it more difficult to give him the benefit of the doubt when he says he is investigating the justification of defensive violence rather than sponsoring it.

[...]

I’ve been slowly working on some homebrew content for my Theros campaign in regards to its more ancient history. I’d be grateful to hear some people’s thoughts And ideas on this world building. I also apologies for the extremely long post, but hope you read anyways.
The biggest thing I love about Theros is its unique feature of “believe it hard enough and it might come true”. That fact that belief has such a physical power in the world as to weaken and strengthen gods and to enable the previously impossible into reality. It’s no mystery that this does create some significant inconsistencies within the lore of Theros. “Ancient” history being far more recent than it is implied and vise versa for newer history. Myths that occasionally conflict with each other or suggest a rearranged series of events. The implication that the titan of death’s hunger existed before Erebos and Athreos, which would also make Athreos not actually the first person to die since people feared death already. Personally, I love this feature of Theros, but I was thinking of something that could somewhat explain this odd history and started wondering what “real” Theros was like. Basically, the unique magic of Theros does indeed warp history into what people believe it to be, but then there is still the truth of what actually happened. It’s mentioned that Kruphix was not concerned with the rise of Xenagos stating that one day, the people of Theros will believe that Xenagos was simply always the God of Revels and was never anything else. What if this was the case for many events in Theros? Slight alterations to history that happen after the fact that only extremely powerful people can see through.
Essentially, let’s say hypothetically the myth with Phenax, Arasta, and Nylea where Phenax transformed Arasta into the spider monstrosity to prove that Nylea only loved her for her beauty happened differently. In reality, Arasta asks Phenax to transform her of her own free will because she herself wished to test Nylea. The warped myth would be that Nylea proclaims Phenax turned Arasta against her will and did it out malice. Two versions of history, one that truly did happen and the other that “technically” happened, only after the fact due to what became the mass belief of the event.
There would be very few people in the world capable of remembering events as they truly happen essentially resisting the extremely powerful magic of Theros.
My big idea is that long ago, before the gods and the titans and everything magical, Theros was a rather mundane world, pretty much an extremely early version of our own history. Small scattered villages and largely mundane civilizations. Once upon a time, a star fell from the sky. People who witnessed it went to see the star only to discover a creature akin to a god. They were afraid of what they found and sought to destroy it. For generations they chased the creature hoping one day to kill it. The creature held the incredible power of creation. To manifest belief and emotions into reality. Its own fear of death and darkness became embodied in the titans. Soon natures wrath and the wild flames humans used to chase the creature became titans of their own. Strange creatures with humanoid, but monsterous features appeared (Gorgons, Sphinxes, etc.) the creatures wish to be forgotten and left alone became the river Tartyx. Soon the humans own wishes began to form into reality. Spawning the gods Kloyths and Kruphix who are not bound by belief as they are born directly from the source of Theros’ power. With their help, the only way to bind the titans and end the nightmare this world had created for itself was to kill the creature that only wished to be left alone. So five “great heroes” with the aid of Kloyths and Kruphix slayed the creature and stole its incredible power, It’s still beating heart that transformed the “heroes” into great gods (The big five). The gods power would wane if the heart was not bound to a living soul, but the heart couldn’t be bound to one soul for too long or else the person would be transformed into the creature it once was. So they turned the Heart of Nyx into an heirloom of a special family to be passed down from each generation to keep the power of Nyx alive. Eventually history would become warped and change into what it is today, so much so that even the gods have forgotten their own beginnings. All the while, a small family has kept a strange tradition for untold generations no longer even knowing its purpose anymore, only that it was the commandments of the gods for them to fulfill it.

Today I want to tell you a tale, the tale of Serenity.
Beware, weary traveler, for it is not for the faint of heart, because Serenity was only a name, for peace and quiet were only found in the hopes and dreams of the slaves that lived under the iron foot of an old vampire.
That vampire's name was long forgotten for all, but her vampire spawn, Sarai, who kept the secret tightly after the master's sudden disappearance. She found herself alone, surrounded by slaves. And she started to work tirelessly (But not as tirelessly as her slaves).
Months passed, and a couple of people joined her, bewitched, maybe by her wisdom, maybe by her powers. It's hard to tell. But one was surely stuck by Sarai's beauty, his name was Takumi, and little by little, he won Sarai's heart.
The fruit of the union was a little and healty boy. Alistair, but few called him that way, he was known as Bicep. But what an unlucky boy let me tell you, there was no black sun when he was born, and no storm was brewing. It was just a sunny, normal day. But his birth marked the beginning. The appearance of the monolith.
Sarai went to check the monolith; could it be the work of the lost master? She was always scared, for when the old vampire disappeared, she didn't go looking. She just looked up at the sky and stared at the starry night, gratefully. Since then, a speck of terror has been installed very deeply in her mind, and it has refused to leave.
She didn't find any clues, but the air wasn't right. She came back to the mountain that served as her home, and at the entrance, she noticed something. The wind gently caressed the nearby trees, but not her. And then it appeared just in front of Sarai blocking the wind. A dark creature with sharp claws plounged to her, ripping her left arm off, and a couple of fingers in her last hand. And then she fell. The only thing she remembered was Takumi, her husband killing with a well placed shot that wretched creature.
The stars and the moon went by, and she woke up. In her casket, right next to the empty casket of her old master. She was not brave enough to remove it. What would happen to her if he ever came back? She was the leader of Serenity, but a vampire is always bound to the one who makes you. In her terror, she began training Bicep at the tender age of 3. One child who would not know peace. One child who wouldn't have a wooden horse, only a wooden sword.
A couple more years went by, and Bicep was around nine or ten. He traded his wooden toy sword, and he was branding a real sword. For he was not a child anymore. He was a soldier. He spent years battling invaders and abominations. He was the sword and shield of Serenity. But nothing could prepare him for what destiny had in store. The maddnes of his Mother.
Like the strange monolith years before, one more building appeared of thin air. It was a black and smooth obelisk. Bicep was the protector, but each one of the creatures he slayed. Sarai would take them behind a big armored door and spend days and weeks studying and analyzing. So when the obelisk came, Sarai went. But two returned.
Both Sarai claimed to be the one, and that appeared to be true. Until a surgical inspection showed clear signs of brain deterioration. They used a strange remedy, and she was cured. So two Sarais now inhabited Serenity. And Takumi was the luckiest of all, eventually marrying both Sarais.
But that wasn't the end. That would been nice, especially for Takumi. Sarai was scared; that speck of terror ingrained in her mind never left. But now they were two. And she was powerful and clever. One Sarai might not be enough against her old master. But two? She liked those odds. But one dark and corrupted thought crossed her mind. That building... could it make more?
They experimented, and eventually more came, all with illness, and little by little, some of those illnesses were cured. But not all could be cured; some were killed, and some were euthanised. And it became the norm... it became mechanical. Sarai, butchering Sarai. She was eating herself. She was wearing herself. After a dozen corpses, they stopped counting.
Then the obelisk vanished, but that wasn't the end of it. They started making rituals. They started sprinting blindly in the dark. And eventually the obelisk came again. But the psychological toll that Sarai endured... was too much. She took Bicep to the obelisk against his will. And now she had two sons. And then came a third.
It was at this point that Sarai's mind was completely gone. A couple of them allowed the darkest thoughts to become reality and forced their sons into marriage. And the cannibalism never stopped, and now it was their son as well.
Everyone feared the Sarais, and no one dared to talk againts her. The rituals keept coming, the cannibalism, the incest. Until the third, and last, appearance of the smooth obelisk.
Everything was going right for the Sarais. They had a ton of prisoners to suck blood. One of their sons was a shield, but all of them were a impassable wall. Destiny gave the Sarais one last chance. Deactivate the obelisk. Walk away.
They did not. Wasn't enough.
And then the night came. One darker night. Not a single star could be seen. And that dark hallway, you know which one, the one that had that one unlit corner... You could see it. Something. And then nothing. One of the prisoners was found, hours later, dead. His torch ran out of wood. The dark took him. But you know what also took the dark? The obelisk. It was far away, and it grew unstable. And hours, or maybe days later, the mad clones appeared; one moment they were alone, and then not. It was dark, and the panic spread like fire inside Serenity and Sarais were killing Sarais, And then They started attacking their sons, and their vassals. They turned. It was the last straw. The three Biceps turned against their mothers and spouses. It was impossible to tell which Sarai was which. There was only one solution. Put an end to it.
When the sun came up, the Biceps went outside. The sun shined on them. The red blood covered the three of them. It was a nightmare, but now they were awake. The biceps gathered their belongings, and the rest of the survivors. They swore to not make the same mistakes as their mother, and they left. All of them, Never to return.
Now Serenity is empty, and maybe with the passage of time, it will become forgotten.
A couple of years later, a few rumors of a new village emerged. Firefly. Some say that it's a dwelling full of cultists and barbarians. Some say that it is a fiercely defended village that refuses all contact with the exterior, and some say that not one single person in that place has ever taken a weapon. Who knows which rumor is true, or if any of it is true.
I hope that you had fun reading it (I know that may be a bit long and repetitive). I work tomorrow at 9 and it's 2 am and I am procrastinating a bit, my neighbour has a house party and is laud as hell, and I have fun writing. So the result is the story of my game And that's it.i just wanted to share the story of Sarai. I thought that was hilarious when is was playing that I could keep duplicating Sarai, and then when i cloned her son it's weird, because the game doesn't consider the duplicate son, a son. Then you can have the weird scenario that I had where mother and son were married. At first I thought it was a bug, and maybe it is. Still hilarious.
(I apologise for words that may be out of place, any misspellings or weird grammar. I'm used to English for work, TV or movies but I'm not used to write in English)
Have a nice day!

My wife and I recently took the exciting leap into homeownership by purchasing our first townhouse in Milton, built by MattAmy. The community here on this subreddit was an invaluable resource, helping us navigate costs with precision. However, we encountered an unexpected twist: interim occupancy, typically associated with condos, became a reality for our townhouse.
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As our final closing date drew near, the developer dropped a bombshell: our final closing would be replaced by an interim one, accompanied by a 7.8% interest charge. This unexpected financial burden has thrown me for a loop, especially since I had meticulously planned based on my pre-approval from TD at 5.07%.
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While I understand interim closings are mandated by law and typically short-lived, this interest rate difference has significantly impacted my finances. I'm actively exploring options to mitigate this, such as accelerating payments to reduce the principal amount. Still, I'm eager to hear from fellow members who have faced similar challenges. Any insights or workaround strategies would be greatly appreciated.
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PS: I'm aware that interim fees are unavoidable due to legal requirements.

The military base doesn’t exist.
Not officially.
It’s a rusted-out corpse of abandoned hardware, a veritable graveyard of fallen soldiers and crumbling structures. Hidden twelve miles deep in the jungles of South America, there’s no reason anybody should be here. None. So why did I find a woman half-dead on the ground? It’s a question I want answered.
She’s sitting across from me. Her eyes are downcast, her blouse is torn and her copper cheeks are flecked with spots of red. I don’t know if the blood belongs to her or somebody else, but I figure by the end of this, I’ll have a pretty good idea.
“Tourist?” I ask.
She gives me a hard stare. It’s quiet. Unyielding. She’s not certain who I am, and judging by the look in her eyes, she’s running a series of probabilities. It’s the black suit that does it. Always. People see the suit, they see the briefcase, and their imagination spins into overdrive.
I try another question. “Did you come alone?”
She shakes her head. Her mouth is a thin line, defiant and uneasy. The legs of her chair squeal as she rocks back and forth, giving motion to her anxiety. She’s considering the possibility that this is her last day on earth. Her last hour.
If I’m being honest, it might be.
“How many were with you?”
“Lots,” she says quickly. “They're still around. They know where I am, know where we are right now and–”
“I doubt that.”
Her voice stumbles.
“If anybody was with you, then chances are they’re already dead. Jobs like this? They’re usually bloodbaths. Massacres. They’re not the sort of places you expect to find survivors, much less unarmed ones.”
She swallows. “Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“Some friend. I don’t know the first thing about you.”
“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.” I reach into my briefcase and pull out my clipboard, centering it on my lap. On it are questions. They’re the sort of questions whose answers are typically written in blood. “How about you and I get to know each other?” “If you think I’m gonna just tell who I am–”
“I don’t care who you are. I care about what you're doing here, miles deep in the jungle, sitting in a military base that doesn’t exist.” I press my pen to the clipboard. “How about you fill me in?”
The woman’s eyes narrow. Her slender hands ball into tight fists. If I had to guess, she’s not used to feeling this vulnerable, this powerless. “And if I leave?” she says, standing up. “What then? Are you going to cuff me to a pipe?”
I smile. “Why bother?”
The corner of her mouth twitches.
“You’re not going to leave,” I tell her. “You wouldn’t dare.”
For a moment, my eyes dance with hers, and in their fire I see something– some buried ember of fear. It’s unmistakable. “You know better than I do what’s out there,” I say. “So go ahead. Walk out that door if you think you’re safer outside. I won’t stop you.”
I wait for her to move, but she hesitates. They always hesitate.
“Maybe you’re right," I say. "Maybe I’m not a friend, but I’m the closest thing you’ll find to one for miles, so if I were you, I’d quit worrying about me. I’d start worrying about what it is I’m doing here.”
“Meaning?”
I wave my hand toward the broken window. Outside are rusted humvees. A crumbling barracks. Outside is a road so overgrown that tiny trees are sprouting from cracks in the concrete, while clutches of moss do their best to hide old rifle rounds. “Places like this aren't left to rot without a good reason. Soldiers are trained to fight. They aren't trained to flee into the jungle, leaving their equipment and assets behind." I gesture broadly. "Look around. This base was evacuated in a hurry, and that begs the question– why? More importantly, why did I find you in the middle of it?”
Her eyes dart outside. Her pupils are dilated in a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety. “If I tell you… then you’ve gotta tell me something first.”
“Tell you what?”
“Who you are,” she says, voice trembling. “I want to know what’s really going on here. The truth. I’ve been lied to enough today.”
Have you? I study her. The truth of my work isn’t something people want to hear about– not really. They might think they do. They might think they’re ready to open Pandora's Box, to see the dark underbelly of reality, but it’s rarely the case.
Still, the woman strikes me as stubborn. If pulling back the veil can get her talking, then maybe it’s worth the existential crisis. I slip a hand inside my jacket, pull out my badge and toss it to her. She catches it, just barely. “There you go,” I say. “Everything you need to know about me, right down to my height and birthday."
She appraises the badge. Her eyes move across the laminate once, twice, then snap back up to me, suspicious. “This says you work for an organization called The Facility. I’ve never heard of it.”
“That’s the idea. We’re a shadow contractor. The less people know about us, the easier it is to do our job.”
“And what is that job?”
“Anomalies,” I tell her. “We investigate Events of supernatural origin. They’re typically caused by entities– things you’d recognize as monsters, or urban legends. My job is to hunt those things. Capture them.”
She shakes her head. "Why?”
“That’s a complicated question. The short answer is that it’s necessary. The long answer is that you’ll sleep better not knowing." I lean forward, flaring my jacket behind me, letting the woman get a glimpse of the pistol on my hip. "Fact is, I came here tonight to investigate an Event, but instead I found you. I’d like to know why that is.”
Her eyes drift to the window. She’s wearing the expression of a woman who was praying her nightmare was all in her head, that whatever she saw today was the product of acute psychosis, a little bit of neurological sabotage and nothing else. Now she’s considering that maybe there’s something more here. Maybe she’s not as crazy as she hoped she was.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
She bites her lip. Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “Maria.”
“You look like you’re having a hard time processing things, Maria.”
“You don’t know what I saw…” she mutters. “You have no idea…”
“I hear that a lot.” I pull out a pack of smokes, slip one between my lips. I light it and the nicotine tastes sweeter than heroin. It ripples through my body like emotional morphine, and just like that, the next part gets a little easier. “Between you and me, my father was killed by an entity, Maria. I watched him die.”
Her eyes meet mine. They’re wide. This wasn’t the emotional curveball she was expecting, and that’s exactly what makes it effective. Always.
“Happened when I was seven," I tell her. "I saw the whole thing from under my bed, cowering. A creature had him in its grip. Some tall man with two faces. He lifted him up to the ceiling and turned to me, asked what my favorite nightmare was, and then he tore my father in two. Like paper mache.”
I blow out a plume of smoke and it hangs in the air between us. Then I take another long drag. The truth is, I hate this story. I hate it more than anything else in the entire world. It’s a memory I’ve gone my entire life trying to forget, but in moments like these, it’s the most valuable piece of history I own. Even now, it’s working its black magic. I watch Maria’s posture shift. Her shoulders fall, slumping forward in horrified disbelief. She’s doing the human thing and empathizing with me, sharing a piece of my pain, and that’s exactly what I need her to do.
“Is that how this so-called Facility found you?” she asks.
“It is.”
Her eyes are staring a hole into the concrete floor. She looks distant. Haunted. “I’m so sorry,” she says.
I ash my cigarette. “Don’t be. It’s ancient history. The point I’m trying to make is that when you’ve seen an entity kill somebody, it stays with you. You recognize the scars. And right now, I see those scars all over your face.”
She doesn’t speak. She looks out the window, out across the military ruins to a rusty steel wheel rising from the dirt. It's bolted to a hatch that leads underground. One she’s been stealing glances at for the better part of our conversation.
“That bunker,” I say. “I found you lying beside it, bleeding and barely conscious. Something happened down there, didn’t it?”
A moment passes. Her eyes are narrowed in focus, like she’s weighing her options. Calculating outcomes. Eventually, she takes a breath. Asks a question. “You said that you hunted entities… Well, what about demons?”
“What about them?”
“Do they exist?”
I crack a grin. “Depends who you ask. Are you saying that you saw one down there?”
“I’m not sure,” she says at length. “Maybe not a demon but… something like it.” She stops. Her teeth dig into her lip, and then she says something that shocks even me. “I think I saw the devil. Satan.”
“Satan?” I say, whistling. “Now that’d be something.”
“You think I’m nuts,” she mutters, shaking her head. “I knew you would… Everyone will…”
“I don’t think you’re nuts. Not yet." I take one last drag on my cigarette, burn it to the filter and flick it to the floor. "The truth is, The Facility’s been tracking strange activity in the area. A lot of it. Entities are being drawn to this base, being pulled in from nearby regions like moths to a flame, only to vanish without a trace. I'm talking about heavy hitters. Nightmare fuel. These aren’t the sort of entities that we can destroy, much less contain, so the fact that they’re dropping off the face of the Earth is starting to get concerning.” I thumb to the broken window. “This base? It’s the Bermuda Triangle for boogeymen. I’m here to find out why.”
She shrinks in her seat. “Jesus… Do you think it has something to do with what I saw?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I won’t know until I get more details, and that means I need to know what you’re doing here.”
"Here?” she says, glancing at the bunker. “Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
"Not possible. We do this before nightfall. There’s no other way.”
What Maria doesn’t realize is that this entity likely already has her scent. Sooner or later, it’s going to return for her. When that happens, I need every advantage I can get– and that means understanding just what happened here.”
“Hang on,” she sputters. “What happens at nightfall?”
“Keep derailing my investigation, and you’ll find out.” I scratch her name onto the clipboard. “Now start talking. We’re losing daylight.”
She runs a frantic hand through her hair. “Christ. Alright,” she says, voice cracking. “Let me think for a second. It started a couple weeks ago, I think. A reader sent in a tip about this place–”
“Slow down. A reader?”
“Right, fuck. I'm a journalist. I work for an online paper, and we solicit tips for our stories. Usually scandals. Corruption. It's mostly political stuff… but a couple weeks back, a man sent in something bizarre.”
“That man have a name?”
“John.”
“Just John?”
Her voice breaks. “Yes.”
I write it down.
She continues. “John said he'd been hearing screaming, that his whole village had, coming from somewhere in the jungle nearby. Military was in the area. They were sending convoys through the village in the dead of night, with their headlights off to avoid drawing attention to themselves.
Apparently they were all driving up an old road, one that hadn't been used in decades. John knew the road. He knew it led to an old military base… one that used to conduct illegal experiments."
I lean back. "What kind of experiments?"
"The human kind. Genetic stuff. DNA splicing, mutating– you name it."
“Seems weird John would know that.”
“He used to work there,” she explains. “A long time ago, during the Cold War.”
I frown. “The nearest village is twelve miles away. Nobody is hearing screaming at that distance."
“That’s just it. They didn’t hear screaming from the base, they heard it from the jungle. John said it sounded just like it used to when he worked there. Guttural. Animalistic. He could tell that the people screaming had been experimented on, and that they were being let loose in the jungle."
"Let loose?"
"Yeah. I guess they'd send out test subjects, then release other experiments, more advanced ones, to hunt them down.
"What for? To test their capabilities?"
“Partly,” she says darkly. “But mostly for food.”
I chew on the tip of my pen. "Cannibal humans, genetic testing, a massive military cover up– sounds like Pulitzer Prize material."
She folds her arms, gives me a scathing look. “Is that sarcasm?”
“Not at all. Give me John’s age.”
“Not sure,” she says. “Seventy, maybe? He was in good shape. Fit. But he looked rough.” “Rough?”
“I just mean he looked like he’d been through the ringer. Had a hard life. His skin was leather, and he was missing half of his teeth. His hair was a tangled mess. I’m pretty sure I saw lice moving in his beard.” She pauses. “And his eyes…. His eyes were unnerving.” “Describe them.”
“Well, they were pale– paler than the moon. And every so often they’d sort of pulse, almost bulge out of their sockets. I hate to say it, but he looked freaky.”
“And John brought you here, to this base?”
She nods.
“And where’s John now?”
“He’s…” Maria’s eyes drift to the bunker. “He’s dead. Down there.”
Could’ve guessed. I follow her gaze and the steel hatch is turning crimson in the setting sun. My stomach twists. What I don’t tell Maria is that entities are most active after nightfall. If I don’t solve this mystery soon, then the answer is likely going to come find us– and I’m not sure I like our chances of survival.
“That hatch,” I say. “I'm guessing that's how you and John entered the bunker.”
“Yes.”
“Describe the interior.”
Maria takes a second. She furrows her eyebrows, as though thinking back. “It was narrow,” she says slowly. “Like a tall cylinder. I remember standing at the top of the hatch and looking down into a dark pit that stretched forever. John got on the ladder and told me to follow. He said it’d be a bit of a descent, but once we were down there, he was certain we’d find the evidence we’d need to blow the conspiracy wide open.”
“What state was the bunker in?” I ask. “John implied operations had resumed, but did it appear that way?”
“No…” she says. “Frankly, the condition was awful. It looked like the bunker had been abandoned since the Cold War. Moss crept up the walls and the ladder rattled with every step we took. The place was a deathtrap. Every time I put my foot down, I half-expected the ladder to snap.”
Odd. One would think John would clue in after seeing the state of the bunker that it wasn’t fit for operation. Then again, John strikes me as a man not altogether there. He might have been mentally ill. Out of his mind. Based on Maria’s description of him– the pale eyes, chilling demeanor– I can’t help but wonder if John wasn’t so much an employee of the program as he was a test subject.
Maria continues. “About fifty feet down the ladder, we started to see catwalks. Dozens of them. They extended off the ladder in every direction, leading to various entrances along the interior.” She trails off, as if collecting her thoughts. When she speaks again, her voice is hoarse. Quiet. “The entrances were welded shut. All of them. It’s like they were trying to keep something trapped inside… like they didn’t want it getting out.”
“All of the entrances?” I ask.
“No,” she says, tugging nervously at her sleeve. “Not all of them. One was different. We found it at the bottom of the ladder, half-submerged in rainwater. The flooding only came up to our knees, so we were able to wade through easily enough but…” Her fingers dance across her jeans. They pick at the fabric.
“But what?”
“It was torn open,” she breathes. “The entrance, I mean. It was warped outward like something had clawed its way out of the bunker, pulled it apart like a tin can. I’m talking about inches of steel here. Enough to shrug off the shockwave of a nuclear warhead– I mean fuck, what could do that?”
For the first time, I feel the ghost of fear creep through me. It’s subtle. Insidious. If what she’s describing is true, then there are two, maybe three entities I’m aware of with that capability. All three are impossibly violent. Vicious. Official policy to avoid contact at all costs. If such avoidance isn’t possible, then policy dictates the elimination of all witnesses to ensure the preservation of social order.
I look to Maria. She’s covered in bruises, blood and judging by the way she’s cradling her arm, probably has at least one fracture. She’s already suffered a nightmare. I wonder if I’ll have the courage to put her down if the time comes.
“The door,” I say, hoping she doesn’t hear my voice crack. “John used to work there. He must have had thoughts on the damage.”
She snorts. “He said it was explosive charges. He said the military probably breached the door to get inside when they restarted their science project, but I knew that couldn’t be true. First of all, the door was warped outward– not inward. More than that, there wasn’t a shred of explosive damage in the area.”
“I’m assuming these were observations you shared.”
“Of course. John didn’t care though, just changed the subject– asked me if I had any skeletons in my closet. Asked me if I’d ever hurt people, or considered it and–”
“What?”
“Yeah, I know,” she says, laughing in disbelief. “Talk about a left turn into what the fuck. I shrugged it off. I mean, I knew John had demons in his past– maybe he was looking for a little absolution from me. It’s not like he sounded threatening. He almost asked the questions casually, like he was hoping we could start a conversation, forgive each other for our sins, sorta thing. He didn’t press the subject. Maybe if he had, though, things would’ve been different.”
She sighs. Her eyes shift to the bunker, hazy with memories. “He helped me squeeze through the damaged doorway, and we continued on. All the passages were flooded down there, utterly dark. We sloshed through countless corridors, our headlamps reflecting off the black water and making shadows against the walls. It creeped me out. It felt like we weren’t alone down there because I’d keep seeing movement out of the corner of my eye.”
Movement. I wonder if she really was just seeing things, or if there had been something down there, stalking them even then. “Anything stand out as interesting in those corridors?” “In some sense, all of it was interesting,” she says. “The whole place was like a buried time capsule. In the rooms we passed I saw ancient magazines and peeling posters. I saw little relics from the 70s or earlier, some floating in the water, others sitting on dusty tables and countertops– even keepsakes, like lockets, wedding rings. Even the desks were full of soggy documents. Classified ones. Seemed strange they’d just leave all that behind.”
She takes a deep breath. “We passed through a series of maze-like corridors, then climbed a ladder that finally got us out of that floodwater. It felt nice to be on dry ground again, but the new chamber…” A shiver runs through her. “It was narrow to the point of being claustrophobic, and all along its walls were streaks of dark paint. The air felt musty. Rancid. But it wasn’t until we turned the corner that–” She stops suddenly, her expression paling.
“Maria,” I press. “What happened when you turned the corner?”
A moment passes. When she speaks again, her voice is hoarse. “Something crunched under my foot,” she says. “Bones. The passage was full of them. Skeletons were piled a foot high. It looked… It looked like they’d died scrambling over each other, like they were trying to reach the ladder and escape something. That’s when I realized the streaks along the walls weren’t paint. They were blood. Old and brown.”
My heart thrums. Could this be evidence of John’s so-called experiments? “Did the bones appear to be mutated at all?”
Maria nods, slowly. “Yes. Some more than others. One skull could’ve belonged to a man, but its jaw was elongated, like a horse’s. A single, twisted horn curved out of its forehead. Another was… another was flat. Square. It looked like somebody had rolled a person’s head under a tractor, but it had dozens of eye sockets. Multiple mouths.”
She brings a hand to her mouth. Gags. She looks like she might be sick, and I can’t blame her. I’m beginning to feel a little light-headed myself, though for another reason. Outside, we’re losing light. Night is fast approaching, and I’m worried it might be bringing something that I’m not yet ready to deal with. Something violent. Deadly.
“What was John’s reaction to the bones?” I ask, swallowing my dread.
“His reaction?” she mutters. “Jesus… Well, he picked one up– another skull. This one looked like it could’ve belonged to a woman, maybe, but where the mouth should have been was something else entirely. Mandibles. Like a wasp, or an ant. Whatever it was, it got John excited. His eyes did that creepy thing where they bulged from his sockets, and down there in the dark, I swear they even glowed. He held the skull up, just inches from my face and asked me how it made me feel. I could hardly focus on his words. His breath smelled like rot. Decay. He pressed me against the wall, but I shoved him off. He came back at me, and I took a swing at him– caught him across the jaw because I wasn't taking any chances down there. That dazed him. He stumbled, spat out some blood.”
An altercation. A new, unexpected wrinkle to her story that isn’t giving me any solutions to save our lives. Still, John is a curious individual. He was right about the experiments. If he’s dead, then I wonder what role he played in all of this… “How did John react to you hitting him?”
“He got weird,” she says, shaking her head. “Like fucking bizarre. He started mumbling nonsense, then shouting that I was being cruel, evil, like those monsters all over the ground. He cried. He whimpered that he was hurt, and that he brought me here as a favor, but now I was betraying him.” Maria pauses, as if she’s trying to make sense of her own story. “It was so strange. The way he was shouting didn’t sound angry, but almost performative. He kept calling me a monster like he was trying to get somebody’s attention.”
“And did he?”
Her mouth falls open as if to say no before a sudden realization flickers across her eyes. “Yes…” she breathes. “Oh God, I didn’t notice at the time but yes. Right after the shouting, we heard a clanging sound. It echoed through the passage. Whatever it was, it sounded distant. Far off, like it was coming from the entrance to the bunker, from that long ladder.”
“How did you react?”
“I didn’t know what to do. I mean, hell, I don’t think I believed it was really happening. We were miles deep in a jungle in a military base that by all accounts didn’t exist. Who the hell could be coming down the ladder?”
“And John’s reaction?”
“He grabbed my hand. Swore. He said the military must’ve figured out we were there, that they were coming to capture us, or kill us, or turn us into one of their newest abominations– who the fuck knows. He told me he knew a place where we could hide. We fled down passages that twisted and turned like a labyrinth. I followed his lead. At that point I had no idea where we were, no idea how to find my way back. He was my lifeline. My only shot. But the entire time we ran… I heard something rumbling in the dark.”
“Something human?”
“Do humans howl?”
Goosebumps trace my skin. No. They certainly don’t. “Maria,” I say, “this is important. What did the howl sound like– a wolf, or maybe a hyena?” This could be my chance to identify this thing. To figure out what it is we’re up against, and save our lives.
But she shakes her head. She shakes her head and I hate her for it. “No,” she tells me. “It didn’t sound like anything alive. It sounded artificial, electronic. It howled like a microphone screams with feedback, all high-pitched and ear-splitting.”
My grip tightens, cracking the plastic shell of my pen. Maria’s description doesn’t sound like any entity I’m familiar with, and that’s making me frustrated and terrified. “This place John mentioned,” I say, swallowing. “The place he said you’d be safe– where was that?” The color in her face washes away. “A wide room, shaped like a pentagon. All along the wall were slots. Gun turrets. They were abandoned, rusted out like everything else there but it was the words written all across the walls that made my blood go cold…”
Her voice trails off. She tries to finish her thought, but it comes out as a sob. She drops her face into her hands and the tears come out like a torrent, messy and loud. I give her a moment to let it out, to collect herself, but the truth is I’m not sure it’s a moment we can afford.
Outside, the sun is missing. It’s gone. The last scraps of daylight are making crooked shadows out of the treeline, spilling them across the base like decrepit fingers, reaching toward us like hungry phantoms.
My eyes find my clipboard. I scan it. I review the details I’ve recorded in search of some clue, some revelation that might get us out of this alive, but my writing is a mess. It’s uneven. It occurs to me that my hand has been shaking, that even now my palm is slick with sweat.
“I’m sorry,” Maria sniffles, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay.”
It isn’t.
“You said there were words on the wall. What did they say?”
“Sector 5…” she says, taking a shuddering breath. “Sector 5: Feeding Trough. And the room… Oh god, there were corpses everywhere. They were scorched. Burned. They were half-devoured, rotting away, with maggots pouring out of their skin. The scent was… Nothing in the world smelled more terrible, more revolting.”
“Corpses,” I say, heart pounding. “Like the ones you saw before? Genetic experiments?”
“You said something earlier. Something about missing monsters… Disappearing entities…”
I lean forward. "What about it?"
Her eyes get wide. The contours of her face twist with the onset of dawning horror. “I think I found them,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “I think I found all of them down there.”

Adding spoiler tag just in case.
I just started the game, I killed the harpies saving the soldier, explored until dark and reported back to the camp for reward and slept. Then I crossed a bridge into a destroyed village where I woke up saved by the girl having the memory flash back of the dragon. I’m wanting to explore ALOT! I love exploring, should I be worried about times for quests if I don’t pick any up and just keep exploring for awhile? I haven’t even made it to the town/castle main quest but I am following the Goober knight commander who wants to talk.
I’m a fighter and I plan to make myself a Paladin as much as possible, my main Pawn a Mage I plan to make a Cleric as much as possible, she looks like my wife thanks to AdrianaNightmare :) who’s Pawn I’m using (PS5). Thank you in advance!

All of SoulsBorne games have badass final bosses and endings, but what other games also have is a badass final area. Places that tell the players "You're entering the endgame, get psyched!"
Kiln of the first flame, Capital of Ash, invaded Ashina, walk to old king Alant and Ostrava's final words, all these areas have a very big impact and you instinctively know the ending is near. Even the final areas in the DLCs are like this.
Meanwhile, both nightmare of mensis and the fishing village feel like any other location. Both times I thought to myself "Wait, that was the final boss? I had no idea I was already at the end". The final bosses would have been way cooler if the game had a proper buildup for them.

Its not a hard fight, but those Odin-be-damned plains enemies that inevitably spawn and join the fight make it magnitudes harder than it needs to be!
My experiences in detail:
A friend and I prepared ourselves for the fight with what little knowledge we had. We'd intentionally avoided spoiling it to experience this boss for the first time, together. We knew we needed fire reistence, but that was it! We didn't even know what he looked like! We were equally excited and terrified.
We summoned him, started fighting and learning how he fights, and we were doing well. We worked out a method by which one of us would run in and get his attention, get him to use his meteor attack and run away while the other beat on him, then we would swap roles.
I also learned that with Fire Resistence, there was a threshold of health that I considered to be safe to stand in his fire and continuously attack him, knowing I had enough health to take a bit of damage from standing in the fire and still survive. For anyone wondering, I consider that safe threshold to be above 75hp.
We got him down to about three quarters health remaining, neither of us had died, and thats when it all went downhill.
First, a pair of Fulings joined in. We dealt with them, continued fighting and a random Lox joined in. That was annoying, but we started to handle it until a group of four Fulings joined in as well! Now we were running around evading Yagluth's fire, meteors and breath, as well as avoiding a Lox who does area attacks and four Fulings with a variety of weapons and spears! It got chaotic!
We had our first death. My friend fell, and I fought on. The Lox seemingly disappeared, I took out the Fulings while avoiding Yagluth (thankfully, he's slow). My partner-in-'heim returned through a nearby portal we prepared in advance, re-equipped all of his armour, drank his Fire Resistence mead and we fought on!
He promptly located and dealt with the Lox and not long after, we got attacked by more groups of Fulings! This trend continued for a while as we whittled away at Yagluth, one of us dying every now and then.
Then, our worst nightmare... Everyone's worst nightmare. The enemy whose name alone would send legions cowering in fear, begging for the sweet release of death. The Deathsquito.
Fulings, Yagluth and a Deathsquito, this was the most chaotic it would get! My ally fell to the dreaded insect twice. It would then zoom toward me, seemingly at the speed of light, and take a jab. I got hurt, but tracked it and killed it before it could try for the killing blow.
We eventually overcame Yagluth and what felt lke the rest of the Plains on the world, and we called it a night/day (opposite sides of the (real) world).
My experience, alone...
Armed with the knowledge I had gained, I returned to my own world which was also progressed up to the point of fighting Yagluth and wanted to try and defeat him alone. I prepared the area and all of the surrounding area, knowing what to expect. I put Crafting Tables everywhere. My Crafting Table perimeter extended from Yagluth's giant stone spires two crafting build-zone diameters out. I wanted to make sure there was no way I would have any unexpected extras! There was a Fuling village down the hill, but it was far enough away that when I placed a Crafting Table roughly halfway between Yagluth's spires and the village, no enemies spotted me, and I wasn't exactly being sneaky! I was confident, but oh how bittersweet that confidence would prove to be....
I consumed all my best foods, my Fire Resist mead and summoned Yagluth. I fought him, and even learned that his breath attack can be avoided from any distance simply by moving sideways around him, no sprinting or rolling needed! I dealt roughly one third of his health in damage, and completely unexpectedly, I was met with additional enemies.
I never moved out of the perimeter of the large stone spires, so I have no idea how any enemies spawned nearby or noticed Yagluth and I, but, I had a problem and I had to deal with it. Fighting Yagluth alone without the aid of someone to distract him is hard enough. Doing it with a full party of Fulings chasing me made it much harder.
The Fulings slowed me down, but I beat them and continued on. Then a two star Fuling and his posse of *one star Fulings joined in! I couldn't sinply hit this two star gangster to stagger him and buy time. He took my hits and dealt back twofold, all the while supported by a crawling half-skeleton with a crown of swords and his merry me-... Uh, merry Fulings.
They presented a challenge, and I defeated the two star bully, but I fell. Not to worry, I had a small base setup nearby. I'd just portal straight back and keep fighting.
I recovered, re-equipped while being chased by Yagluth and Fulings, and just as I finished putting my armour on, four more Fulings joined the fight! Right... Time for Bonemass' forsaken skill! I massacred those Fulings and sustained heavy damage from Yagluth, but I survived and fought on, but a fool I was for thinking that was the end of my worries.
Shortly after, a Fuling Shaman and Brute joined the fight! What in the world tree was going on... I was MILES away from the village, and as far as I know, Shaman and Brutes don't randomly spawn in the Plains.
Many deaths later, and I beat the duplicitous duo and would eventually defeat Yagluth, one hour and a half after summoning him...
I meandered down the hill and the Fuling village was empty.... I couldn't make any sense of it.
Yagluth himself isn't difficult. His breath can be avoided, his meteors can be avoided and with enough health, you can whack at hime while standing in his fire, ensuring you deal as much damage as you can, as quickly as you can. Its all about managing your stamina and health. But when extra enemies join in.... The difficulty mulitplies!
Alas, these will go down as tales of woe and glory, so I'm not upset I experienced it this way!

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Celebrating Mickey HD MA $5.50 HD GP $5
Chappie HD MA $4
Christopher Robin HD MA $4.50 HD GP $3.50
Cinderella 1950 4K MA $6 HD MA $5 HD GP $4.50
Cinderella 2 HD MA $6.50 HD GP $6
Cinderella 3 HD MA $6.50 HD GP $6
Cinderella 2015 HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Clerks 3 HDVD/4KIT $5.50
Clifford 2021 HDVD/4KIT $4
Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs 2 SD MA $2.50
Coco HD MA $4 HD GP $2.50
Cold Pursuit 4K VD/IT $5 HD Vudu $4
Columbiana HD MA $4
Company Of Heroes HD MA $4.50
Contraband iTunes $4
Cowboys And Aliens iTunes $4
Crawl 4K VD/IT $5 HD Vudu $4
Creed 3 HD Vudu $3.50
Criminal 4K iTunes $4.50 HD Vudu $4
Cruella 4K MA $6 HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Daddys Home 4K ITunes $4.50 HD Vudu $2.50
Daddys Home 2 4K ITunes $5 HD Vudu $4
Danny Collins HD Itunes $3
Dark Skies HD Vudu $4.50
Darkest Hour 2017 4K MA $5 HD MA $3.50
Date Night iTunes $4
Dead In Tombstone Unrated HD MA $4 iTunes $3.50
Dead Man Down HD MA $4
Deadpool 4k iTunes $4 HD MA $2
Deadpool 2 HD MA $4
Death On The Nile HD GP $4
Deepwater Horizon 4K ITunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Denial HD MA $4 HD iTunes $3.50
Despicable Me 4K MA $6 4K iTunes $4.50 HD MA $4
Despicable Me 2 4K Itunes $4.50 HD MA $3
Despicable Me 3 4K iTunes $4.50 HD MA $3.50
Despicable Me Minion Madness iTunes $4
Despicable Me Minions 2 Film Collection Minions/Rise Of Gru HD MA $7.50
Despicable Me Minions 4K MA $5 4K iTunes $4.50 HD MA $3.50
Despicable Me Minions Rise Of Gru HD MA $4.50
Detective Knight Rogue HD VD/IT $4
Devotion 4K VD/IT $5.50
Diary Of A Wimpy Kid Dog Days HD MA $4
Diary Of A Wimpy Kid Long Haul HD MA $3
Die Hard HD MA $4
Die Hard 2 Die Harder HD MA $4.50
Die Hard 3 With A Vengeance HD MA $4.50
Die Hard 4 Live Free Or Die Hard HD MA $3.50
Die Hard 5 A Good Day To Die Hard HD MA $3.50
Dig 4K VD/IT $5
Dirty Grandpa HD VD/IT $3.50 SD Vudu $2
Disney Nature Monkey Kingdom HD MA $3.50 HD GP $3
Disney Pixar Short Films Collection Vol 3 HD MA $4 HD GP $3.50
District 9 4K MA $5.50
Divergent 4K Itunes $4 HD Vudu $2 SD Vudu $1
Divergent Insurgent 4K Itunes $4 HD Vudu $2
Django Unchained HD Vudu $4
Doctor Strange 4K MA $5.50 HDMA/4KIT $4.50 HD GP $2.50
Doctor Strange Multiverse HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Don Jon iTunes $4
Don't Worry He Won't Get Far On Foot HD Vudu $4.50
Downsizing HD VD/IT $3
Dracula Untold HD MA $3.50 iTunes $3
Dredd 4K VD/IT $4
Dumbo 2019 HD MA $3.50 HD GP $3
Dying Of The Light SD Vudu $2.50
Earth Girls Are Easy HD Vudu $4
Edge Of Seventeen HD MA $4.50 HD iTunes $4
El Chicano HD MA $3
Empire Of Light HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Encanto 4K MA $6 HD MA $4.50 HD GP $4
Enders Game 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Epic HD MA $4 iTunes $3.50
Equalizer HD MA $4
Equalizer 2 HD MA $4
Equalizer 3 HD MA $5.50
Escape Plan 4K iTunes $3.50 HD Vudu $2
ET 4K MA $6 4K ITunes $5.50 HD MA $4
Eternals 4K MA $6 HD GP $3
Everything Everywhere HD Vudu $5
Evil Dead 2 HD Vudu $4
Ex Machina HD Vudu $4
Exorcist 4K MA $6
Expendables 1-4 Film Collection 4K Vudu $17 HD Vudu $12
Expendables 1 4K VD/IT $5
Expendables 2 4K VD/IT $5 HD Vudu $2 SD Vudu $1
Expendables 3 4K VD/IT $5 HD Vudu $2
Fantastic Four 2015 HD MA $4.50
Fast And Furious 1 4K MA $4.50 4K iTunes $4 HD MA $2
Fast And Furious 5 HD MA $1
Fast And Furious 6 4K ITunes $2.50 6 HD MA $1
Fast And Furious 7 4K iTunes $2.50 HD MA $1
Fast And Furious 8 4K Itunes $2.50 HD MA $1
Fast And Furious 1-8 Film Collection 4K MA $19 HD MA $12
Fast And Furious 1-9 Film Collection HD MA $15
Fast And Furious 1-10 Film Collection HD MA $18
Fast And Furious Hobbs And Shaw HD MA $4
Fault In Our Stars 4K Itunes $3.50 HD MA $2
Ferdinand HD MA $4
Fifty Shades Darker Unrated HD MA $2.50
Fifty Shades Of Grey Unrated 4K MA $2.50 4K iTunes $2 HD MA $1.50
Finding Dory HDMA/4KIT $3.50 HD GP $1.50
Finding Nemo HD GP $3.50
First Cow HD Vudu $5.50
Flight HD Vudu $3.50
Florence Foster Jenkins HD Vudu $4 HD Itunes $3
Fox And The Hound 2 HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Free Guy 4K MA $6 HD MA $4 HD GP $2.50
Frozen 4K MA $4.50 HDMA/4KIT $3 HD GP $1
Frozen 2 4K MA $4.50 HD GP $2
Frozen Olaf Frozen Adventure HD MA $4 HD GP $3.50
Frozen Sing Along Edition HD MA $4 HD GP $3.50
Fury HD MA $3.50
Game Of Thrones Season 5 iTunes $4.50
Gamer 3D HD VD/IT $3.50
Gemini Man 4K Vudu $4.50
Get A Job SD Vudu $2
Get Out 4K MA $5.50 4K iTunes $5 HD MA $4
Ghost In The Shell 2017 4K ITunes $5 HD Vudu $3.50
Ghostbusters Answer Call Extended/Theatrical HD MA $4
GI Joe Retaliation 4K Vudu $4 4K iTunes $3.50 HD Vudu $2.50
GI Joe Rise Of Cobra iTunes $4
Girls Trip HD MA $3 iTunes $2.50
Glengarry Glen Ross HD Vudu $5
Godfather 1 4K iTunes $6
Gods Not Dead 2 HD MA $2 iTunes $1.50
Gods Not Dead A Light In Darkness HD MA $3
Gods Of Egypt 4K iTunes $4.50 SD Vudu $2
Good Kill HD VD/IT $4
Goodbye Christopher Robin HD MA $4.50
Goosebumps HD MA $4
Goosebumps 2 HD MA $4
Grace Unplugged HD Vudu $4
Grand Budapest Hotel HD MA $4.50
Green Room HD Vudu $5
Grown Ups 2 HD MA $4 SD MA $2
Guardians Of The Galaxy 4K MA $6.50 HDMA/4KIT $4.50 HD GP $2
Guardians Of The Galaxy Volume 2 HD MA $3.50 HD GP $1.50
Guilt Trip HD VD/IT $4
Hacksaw Ridge 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $2.50
Halloween 2018 HD MA $4
Halloween Kills HD MA $4
Haywire Itunes $3.50
Heat 4K MA $5
Heaven Is For Real HD MA $4 SD MA $2
Hell Or High Water 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Hellboy 2019 HDVD/4KIT $5.50
Hercules 2014 HD VD/IT $3
Here Comes The Boom SD MA $2
Hereditary HD Vudu $4
Hilary's America SD Vudu $2
Hillsong Let Hope Rise HD MA $1 HD iTunes $1
Hitman's Bodyguard 4K Vudu $5 4K iTunes $4.50 HD Vudu $3
Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard 4K VD/IT $5.50
Hocus Pocus HD MA $5 HD GP $3
Home 2015 HD MA $3.50
Home Alone HDMA/4KIT $5
Home Alone 2 HD MA $4
Hope Springs HD MA $3.50 SD MA $2
Hotel Transylvania HD MA $4
Hotel Transylvania 3 SD MA $2.50
Hostiles 4K VD/IT $6
How To Train Your Dragon 1-3 Film Collection HD MA $10
Hugo SD VD/IT $2
Hunger Games 4K Itunes $3.50 HD Vudu $1 SD Vudu $0.50
Hunger Games Catching Fire 4K Vudu $4.50 4K Itunes $4 HD Vudu $1.50 SD Vudu $0.50
Hunger Games Mockingjay Part 1 4K Itunes $4 HD Vudu $1.50
Hunger Games Mockingjay Part 2 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Hunger Games 4 Film Collection 4K Vudu $15 HD Vudu $6.50
Hunter Killer HD Vudu $3.50
I Can Only Imagine HD VD/IT $3
I Feel Pretty Itunes $2.50
I Frankenstein HD VD/IT $3.50
Ice Age 5 Film Collection HD MA $18
Ice Age HD MA $4.50
Ice Age Christmas Special HD MA $4.50
Ice Age Continental Drift HD MA $4.50
Ice Age Dawn Of The Dinosaurs HD MA $4.50
Ides Of March HD MA $4.50
Incarnate iTunes $4
Incredibles 2 4K MA $6 HDMA/4KIT $4.50 HD GP $3
Indiana Jones 4 Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull 4K VD/IT $6
Indiana Jones 5 Dial Of Destiny HD MA $5.50
Independence Day 2 Film HD MA $8
Independence Day HDMA/4KIT $4.50
Independence Day Resurgence HDMA/4KIT $4.50
Inferno HD MA $4
Inside Out HDMA/4KIT $5.50 HD GP $3.50
Instructions Not Included HD Vudu $4 SD Vudu $2
Interstellar 4K VD/IT $5.50 HD Vudu $3
Into The Woods HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Iron Man HD GP $4.50
Iron Man 3 HD GP $3.50
Iron Man And Hulk Heroes United HD MA $5
Iron Mask HDVD/4KIT $5.50
It's A Wonderful Life 4K VD/IT $6
Jack And Jill HD MA $4
Jack Reacher Never Go Back 4K Itunes $3.50 HD Vudu $2
Jack Ryan Shadow Recruit 4K Itunes $3.50 HD Vudu $2
Jackass 3 HD VD/IT $4.50
James Bond Connery Collection Volume 1 HD Vudu $14
James Bond Connery Collection Volume 2 HD Vudu $14
James Bond Daniel Craig 4 Film Collection HD Vudu $11
James Bond Skyfall HD Vudu $1.50
James Bond Spectre HD Vudu $3.50
Jarhead 2 HD MA $3 iTunes $2.50
Jarhead 3 HD MA $3 iTunes $2.50
Jaws 4K MA $6
Jay And Silent Bob Reboot HD VD/IT $4.50
Jigsaw 4K VD/IT $4.50 HD Vudu $3
Joe Dirt 2 HD MA $4.50
John Wick 1 4K iTunes $3 HD Vudu $1
John Wick 1 And 2 Combo HD Vudu $2.50
John Wick 2 HD Vudu $2
John Wick 3 HDVD/4KIT $4
Journey To Bethlehem HD MA $5
Jumanji 2 Film (Welcome To The Jungle/Next Level) HD MA $6.50
Jumanji Welcome To The Jungle HD MA $3.50 SD MA $2
Jungle Book 1967 HD GP $4.50
Jungle Cruise 4K MA $6 HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Jurassic Dominion 4K MA $5.50
Jurassic Park 4K MA $4 HD MA $3
Jurassic World 4K Itunes $2.50 HD MA $1
Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom HD MA $3
Jurassic 5 Film Collection 4K MA $15
Jurassic 6 Film Collection HD MA $15
Justice 2017 HD MA $4
Justin Bieber Never Say Never Itunes $1.50
Kickass 2 HD MA $4
Killer Elite iTunes $3
King Kong 2005 4K MA $6
Kingsman The Golden Circle 4K ITunes $4
Kingsman The Secret Service 4K Itunes $4 HD MA $3
Knock At The Cabin HD MA $4.50
Krampus iTunes $4.50
Kubo Two Strings HD iTunes $4.50
Kung Fu Panda 3 HD MA $3
Lady And The Tramp HD MA $5
Lady And The Tramp 2 Scamps Adventure HD MA $6 HD GP $5
La La Land HD Vudu $3.50
Lara Croft Tomb Raider HD Vudu $4
Last Vegas HD MA $4 SD MA $2
Lee Daniels The Butler HD Vudu $4
Legends Of Oz Dorothy's Return HD MA $5
Leperchaun 8 Film Collection HD Vudu $13
Leprechaun Origins HD VD $3
Let Him Go HD MA $4
Life Of Pi Itunes $4 HD MA $3
Lightyear 4K MA $6 HD MA $3.50 HD GP $2.50
Lilo And Stitch HD MA $4.50 HD GP $4
Lilo And Stitch 2 HD MA $3.50 HD GP $3
Lion King 1994 HD MA $4 HD GP $2.50
Lion King 2019 HD MA $4 HD GP $2.50
Little Mermaid 1989 4K MA $6 HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Little Mermaid 2023 HD MA $5.50
Lone Ranger HD MA $4.50 HD GP $4
Lone Survivor 4K MA $5.50 4K Itunes $4 HD MA $2.50
Longest Ride 4K iTunes $4 HD MA $2
Looper HD MA $4.50
Lorax 2012 HD MA $4 HD iTunes $3.50
Lost Highway HD MA $5
Lucy 4K MA $4.50 4K iTunes $4 HD MA $3
Machine Gun Preacher iTunes $4
Madea's Witness Protection VD $2
Maggie HD Vudu $3
Maleficent 4K MA $6 HDMA/4KIT $4 HD GP $2.50
Maleficent Mistress Of Evil HD GP $3.50
Marvins Room HD VD/IT $4
Mary Poppins HD MA $3.50 HD GP $2
Mary Poppins Returns 4K MA $5.50 HDMA/4KIT $4.50 HD GP $3
Max Payne Unrated iTunes $4
Mechanic Resurrection 4K Itunes $3.50 HD Vudu $2.50
Megan Leavey HDMA/iTunes $2
Men In Black 3 HD MA $3
Men In Black International 4K MA $5
Mickeys Christmas Carol HD MA $6
Mickey Classic Shorts Volume 1 HD MA $6 HD GP $5
Mickey Classic Shorts Volume 2 HD MA $6
Midsommar HD Vudu $5.50
Midway 4K VD/IT $5 HD GP $3
Mile 22 4K iTunes $5
Million Dollar Arm HD MA $3.50 HD GP $3
Mike And Dave Need Wedding Dates HD MA $4.50
Miss Peregrines Home For Peculiar Children HD MA $4
Mission Impossible 1 4K Vudu $5 HD Vudu $3
Mission Impossible 2 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Mission Impossible 3 4K Vudu $5 4K iTunes $4
Mission Impossible 4 Ghost Protocol 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $2
Mission Impossible 5 Rogue Nation 4K Vudu $4.50 4K Itunes $4 HD Vudu $2
Mission Impossible 6 Fallout 4K Vudu $4.50 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $2
Moana HDMA/4KIT $4 HD GP $3
Moneyball HD MA $4
Monsters University HD GP $4.50
Morbius 4K MA $5.50 SD MA $2
Mr Peabody And Sherman HD MA $4.50
Mud HD Vudu $3
Mulan 1 HD MA $6 HD GP $5
Mulan 2 HD MA $5 HD GP $4
Mulan 2020 HD MA $4 HD GP $2.50
Mummy 1932 4K iTunes $4.50
Murder On The Orient Express HD MA $4.50
My All American HD MA $4 iTunes $3.50
My Girl 1 And 2 Film Collection SD MA $6
Need For Speed HD MA $4.50 HD iTunes $4.50 HD GP $4
News Of The World HD MA $4.50
Night At The Museum Secret Tomb HD MA $3
Nightmare Before Christmas 4K MA $6 HD MA $5 HD GP $4
No Escape HD Vudu $4
No Good Deed 2014 HD MA $3.50
Noah 2014 Itunes $3.50
Nonstop 4K Itunes $5 HD MA $4
Norm Of The North HD Vudu $3
Now You See Me HD VD/IT $2 SD Vudu $1
Now You See Me 2 SD Vudu $1.50
Nutcracker And The Four Realms 4K MA $5 HD GP $3
Oblivion 4k iTunes $4 HD MA $3
Office Christmas Party 4K iTunes $5.50 HD Vudu $4.50
Old 4K MA $6
Olympus Has Fallen HD MA $4.50
Once Upon A Time In Hollywood 4K MA $6
Onward HD MA $3.50 HD GP $3
Overdrive HD Vudu $4 iTunes $2.50
Oz The Great And Powerful HD MA $3 HD GP $2
Paddington HD Vudu $4.50
Pain And Gain HD Vudu $4
Paranormal Activity 3 HD VD/IT $1
Paranormal Activity Ghost Dimensions HD VD/IT $3
Parental Guidance HD MA $4 iTunes $3
Parker SD MA $2
Passengers HD MA $4.50
Patriots Day 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 SD MA $2.50
Peanuts The Movie HDMA/4KIT $4.50
Percy Jackson Sea of Monsters HD MA $2.50
Pet Semetary 2019 4K Vudu $5 4K Itunes $4.50
Peter Pan HD MA $5.50 HD GP $4
Peter Pan 2 Return To Neverland HD MA $6 HD GP $5.50
Petes Dragon 2016 HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Pinocchio 1940 HD MA $5 HD GP $4
Pirates Of The Caribbean DMTNT HD MA $3.50 HD GP $2
Pitch Perfect 4K iTunes $4 HD MA $2
Pitch Perfect 2 4K ITunes $4 HD MA $2
Planes HD MA $3.50 HD GP $2
Planes Fire And Rescue HD MA $3.50 HD GP $2
Planes Trains And Automobiles HDVD/4KIT $5.50
Planet Of The Apes "Dawn" HDMA/4KIT $3.50
Pocahontas HD MA $5.50 HD GP $4.50
Pocahontas 2 HD MA $5.50 HD GP $4.50
Poltergeist 4K MA $5.50
Precious Cargo HD VD/IT $3.50
Predator 4 Film Collection 4K MA $19
Premium Rush HD MA $4.50 SD MA $2
Prey For The Devil 4K Vudu $5.50 HDVD/4KIT $4.50
Psycho HD MA $4
Public Enemies iTunes $4
Pulp Fiction 4K VD/IT $6
Queen And Slim 4K MA $6
Queen Of Katwe HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Rambo First Blood HD Vudu $3
Rambo Last Blood 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Raya And The Last Dragon HD MA $4 HD GP $3
Red 2 4K iTunes $3.50 HD Vudu $2 SD Vudu $1
Red Dawn 2012 HD MA $4.50 iTunes $4
Redemption HD VD $3
Replicas HDVD/4KIT $5.50
Rescuers HD MA $4.50 HD GP $4
Rescuers Down Under HD MA $4.50 HD GP $4
Reservoir Dogs 4K VD/IT $5
Resident Evil Death Island HD MA $4.50
Riddick Unrated Directors Cut HD MA $4 iTunes $4
Ride Along iTunes $3.50 HD MA $3
Ride Along 2 ITunes $3.50 HD MA $3
Rio 2 Sing Along HD MA $4
RIPD 4K ITunes $4.50 HD MA $3.50
Rise Of The Guardians HD MA $4
Rob Zombie Firefly 3 Film Collection HD Vudu $8
Robin Hood 2018 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Robin Hood Disney 1973 HD MA $4 HD GP $2
Robocop HD Vudu $4.50
Rocketman 4K iTunes $4 HD Vudu $3
Rocky 2 4K VD/IT $5
Rogue Warfare The Hunt SD VD/IT $2
Roman J Israel HD MA $3
Rons Gone Wrong 4K MA $6 HD MA $3.50 HD GP $2.50
Saban's Power Rangers 4K VD/IT $5 HD Vudu $3
Safe HD VD/IT $2.50
Same Kind Of Different As Me HD VD/IT $3
Samson HD MA $3
Sandlot 3 Film Collection SD MA $9
Sausage Party HD MA $4
Savages iTunes $4
Saving Mr Banks HD MA $5 HD GP $4
Saw 7 Film Collection HD Vudu $13
Saw 10 HDVD/4KIT $5
Scarface 4K ITunes $5
Scorpion King 4 HDMA $3.50 iTunes $3
Scream 1996 4K VD/IT $6 HD Vudu $4.50
Scream 2022 4K VD/IT $6
Scream 2 HDVD/4KIT $5.50
Scream 5 HDVD/4KIT $5.50
Season Of The Witch iTunes $4
Second Act iTunes $4
See No Evil 2 SD Vudu $3
Selma HD Vudu $2.50 HD Itunes $2
Serenity 4K MA $6
Seventh Son iTunes $3.50
Shang Chi HD MA $4.50 HD GP $3
Show Dogs HD MA $4
Sicario 4K iTunes $4.50 HD Vudu $3.50
Sing 4K ITunes $5 HD MA $4
Sisters Unrated Itunes $3
Sixteen Candles HD MA $4 HD iTunes $3.50
Skyscraper HD MA $3
Sleeping Beauty HD MA $4.50 HD GP $3.50
Sleepless Itunes $3.50
Smurfs Lost Village HD MA $4
Snatched HDMA/4KIT $4
Sniper HD MA $5
Sniper 2 HD MA $5
Sniper 3 HD MA $5
Sniper 4 Reloaded HD MA $4.50
Sniper 5 Legacy HD MA $4.50
Sniper 6 Ghost Shooter HD MA $4.50
Sniper 7 Ultimate Kill HD MA $4.50
Sniper 8 Assassins End HD MA $4.50
Snitch 4K Itunes $4 HD Vudu $3 SD Vudu $2
Snow White Disney 4K MA $6.50 HD MA $5.50 HD GP $4.50
Snow White And The Huntsman 4K Itunes $3.50 HD MA $3
Snowden HD MA $4.50 HD iTunes $4
Sonic Hedgehog 4K VD/IT $6 HD Vudu $5
Soul 4K MA $5.50 HD MA $3 HD GP $2
Speed 4K MA $6.50
Spider-Man Across The Spiderverse HD MA $4.50 SD MA $3
Spider-Man Amazing Spider-Man 4K MA $6 HD MA $4
Spider-Man Amazing Spider-Man 2 4K MA $6 HD MA $4 SD MA $2
Spider-Man Far From Home HD MA $4
Spider-Man Homecoming 4K MA $6 HD MA $2
Spider-Man Into The Spiderverse HD MA $4.50
Spider-Man No Way Home 4K MA $6 HD MA $4
Spider-Man Tobey HD MA $4
Spider-Man 2 Tobey 2 Film Collection Theatrical/Extended HD MA $4.50
Spider-Man 3 Tobey HD MA $4
Spies In Disguise HD GP $3
Spy Unrated HD MA $4
St Vincent HD Vudu $4.50
Star Trek Beyond 4K VD/IT $4.50 HD Vudu $2.50
Star Trek Into Darkness 4K Itunes $3 HD Vudu $1
Star Trek 2 Wrath Of Khan 4K VD/IT $4 50
Star Trek 2009 4K iTunes $4.50
Star Wars Rogue One HDMA/4KIT $4 HD GP $2
Star Wars Solo HD GP $4.50
Star Wars Ep 4 A New Hope 4K MA $7.50 HD GP $6
Star Wars Ep 5 Empire Strikes Back 4K MA $7.50 HD GP $6
Star Wars Ep 7 Force Awaken 4K MA $6 HDMA/4KIT $3 HD GP $2
Star Wars Ep 8 The Last Jedi 4K MA $5 HDMA/4KIT $3 HD GP $2
Star Wars Ep 9 Rise Skywalker 4K MA $6.50 HD GP $3.50
Step Up All In SD Vudu $2.50
Step Up Revolution HD Vudu $3
Straight Outta Compton Unrated 4K iTunes $4.50 HD MA $3.50
Strange World HD MA $5 HD GP $4
Studio 666 HD MA $4.50
Suburbicon 4K Itunes $4
Super 8 HD Vudu $3.50
Superfly HD MA $3
Super Mario Bros Movie 4K MA $6 HD MA $5
Sweetwater HD MA $4
Taken iTunes $4
Taken 2 HDMA $4 iTunes $3.50
Tangled HD GP $4.50
Ted Unrated HD MA $3
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2014 4K Vudu $4 4K Itunes $3.50 HD Vudu $2
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Out Of Shadows HD Vudu $4
Terminator Dark Fate 4K Vudu $5.50 4K iTunes $4.50
Terminator Genesis 4K Vudu $5.50 4K Itunes $4.50 HD Vudu $3
That Awkward Moment SD MA $2
The A Team iTunes $4
The Adventures Of Tin Tin SD Vudu $2
The Age Of Adaline HD Vudu $3
The Artist SD MA $2
The Art Of Self Defense HD MA $3
The Best Man Holiday 4K iTunes $4.50
The BFG HD GP $4
The Boy HD MA $3.50 Itunes $3
The Bye Bye Man HD iTunes $4
The Cabin In The Woods 4K iTunes $4.50 HD Vudu $3
The Call HD MA $4.50
The Call Of The Wild HD GP $4
The Children HD Vudu $4.50
The Choice HD Vudu $3.50 iTunes $3 SD Vudu $2
The Commuter 4K VD/IT $5 HDVD/4KIT $4
The Croods HD MA $4.50 Itunes $3.50
The Croods 2 Film Collection HD MA $8
The Dentist 2 Film Collection HD Vudu $6
The Departed 4K MA $7
The Devil Inside SD Vudu $2
The Dilemma HD MA $4.50 HD iTunes $4
The Doors 4K iTunes $5.50 HD Vudu $4.50
The Duff HD Vudu $3
The Emoji Movie HD MA $3
The Exorcist 2 Film Theatrical/Extended 4K MA $6
The Gambler HD VD/IT $3.50
The Ghost Writer HD Vudu $4.50
The Girl On The Train 4K Itunes $4 HD MA $3.50
The Good Dinosaur HD MA $4 HD GP $3
The Greatest Showman HD MA $4
The Gunman HD MA $2.50 HD iTunes $2
The Heat HD MA $3 Itunes $2.50
The High Note HD MA $3
The Host iTunes $4
The Imitation Game HD Vudu $4.50
The Impossible HD Vudu $3.50
The Internship HD MA $3 iTunes $2.50
The Interview HD MA $4.50
The King Of Staten Island HD MA $4.50
The Last Duel 4K MA $6 HD MA $5 HD GP $4
The Last Witch Hunter 4K Vudu $4.50 HD Vudu $3.50
The Legend Of Hercules HD VD/IT $3
The Machine HD MA $4.50
The Magnificent Seven 2016 HD MA $4
The Marksman HD MA $4
The Martian HDMA/4KIT $5
The Mask Of Zorro 4K MA $6
The Menu HD GP $4
The Mist 4K Vudu $6
The Monuments Men HD MA $3.50 SD MA $2
The Mountain Between Us HD MA $4
The Mummy "Tom Cruise" 4K ITunes $5 HD MA $4
The Night Before HD MA $3.50
The Nut Job HD MA $4 iTunes $3.50
The Nut Job 2 HD MA $4 Itunes $3.50
The Perfect Guy SD MA $2
The Perks Of Being A Wallflower HD VD/IT $3.50 SD Vudu $2
The Possession HD VD/IT $3.50 SD Vudu $2
The Purge 4 Film Collection HD MA $14
The Purge 5 Film Collection HD MA $17
The Purge 4K MA $5 4K Itunes $4.50 HD MA $4
The Purge Anarchy 4K MA $5.50 4K Itunes $4.50 HD MA $4
The Purge Election Year 4K MA $5.50 4K iTunes $4.50 HD MA $4
The Purge Forever Purge HD MA $4.50
The Raven iTunes $4
The Rocker iTunes $4
The Santa Clause HDMA/4KIT $5 HD GP $3
The Santa Clause 2 HDMA/4KIT $5 HD GP $3
The Santa Clause 3 HDMA/4KIT $5 HD GP $3
The Secret Garden 2020 4K Vudu $5 Itunes $3.50
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TRADES FOR PERSONAL REDEEM LOOKING FOR LIST
These are some new release codes im looking for
Killers Of Flower Moon
Mean Girls 2023
The Kill Room
These are some older titles I know have codes I'm looking for
Battle For Sky Ark
Doubt
Judge Archer
Little Stranger
Piercing
Stonewall
Throwdown

I just wanna vent about a game I had played.
Idk how to even explain it, I was playing a game where I was med, somehow I always get problems when I’m med. so night 1 aura dies. Night 2 jailer jails me, which means I cant revive aura. Atp whole village is mad af saying why med didnt revive. Night 3 I get nightmared and killed same night. What actually had happened was wolfs found me night 2 and couldnt kill me because I was in jail and night 3 they had nightmared me and killed. There was only one doc ig that was protecting det, so idk why I shouldve claimed med, obviously I didnt know I was already found by wolfs and wouldve never thought that I would get nightmared. But after I died people reported me saying how I didnt revive anyone and saying how bad of a player I was calling me names, but it wasnt even my fault, like dont be rude 😭😭

It was on a cool night when the soldier rode his horse into the village hidden deep within the forest. The canopy was so thick that the grass had hardly ever seen the light of day. Though the residents of the village had managed to get by for longer than any one person could remember, they were still a fragile group of people and as such had become the targets of a gang of thieves. After entering the village, the soldier was met by a tall man with a great beard who looked as though he were in his mid thirties.
“You hear ‘bout the break-ins?” asked the man.
“Yes, I am Lieutenant Godfrey of the royal army” the soldier replied as he dismounted his horse, “and who might you be?”
“The name’s Tom” replied the man
“Good to meet your acquaintance Tom, now could you give me details on these break-ins you have been experiencing?” said the Soldier
“Sure, but first let’s go inside” Tom said as he pointed towards the house to his left, “I’m sure you’re quite famished from the journey here”
“Thank you, is this where I will be staying while I am here?”
“I figured I’d let you stay with us while you figure out what’s been going on, it’s the least I could do”
Inside of the house sat a table with food on it meant for the soldier and the man’s family, the man’s wife greeted the soldier before the man’s son approached the table
The boy asked “Are you a knight?”
“No” replied the soldier
“But, I thought they were going to send a knight for us”
“Hey!” yelled Tom from the other side of the room, “Do not disrespect our guest like that”
There was a long pause before the soldier interjected, “It is okay, I did not take any offense, and really if anything I appreciate your hospitality” the soldier continued “I think it’s time we discuss these break-ins now, shall we?”
“Why yes” responded Tom, “over the last three weeks, give or take, everyone here’s been noticing things going missing. We believe it must be some sort of traveling band of thieves, there hasn’t been any signs of the break ins so we’re at our wits ends at this point”
After a few minutes of contemplation the soldier said, “I understand, tonight I’ll keep note of anything I see or hear. I’ll look for any signs of break ins in the morning”
That night, after the Soldier had fallen into a slumber, he experienced a terrible nightmare. In the dream he was in a pool of liquid that was warm and smelled of iron, he knew it could only be one thing but it was too dark for him to tell. As he crawled around, wrapped in darkness, he eventually came across something in a solid state. While attempting to determine the object that laid in front of him he heard a faint whisper, this whisper sent chills all the way down the soldier's spine and caused him to panic as he desperately crawled for anything that resembled safety. In his state of shock, the soldier awoke drenched in sweat. The intensity of the dream left the Soldier in deep contemplation over its contents, however as hard as he tried, he could not remember the words that had been whispered to him. While absolutely exhausted, the Soldier was eager to begin his assignment, he ate a light breakfast that had been prepared for him and set out to search for any valuable information he could get ahold of.
The Soldier started his search by searching the perimeters of every house in the village. There were a total of nine houses in the village, a church, and a single barn used to house the village's livestock. Due to the canopy cover of the forest, the crops that the village grew consisted mainly of cabbage, beets, radishes, and carrots. There was also a spring located near the village with a waterfall created by the cliff that towered over the forest’s canopy. The Soldier knew that if there were a band of thieves camped nearby, that they would likely use the town's resources and the forest’s wild game to subsist off of. While checking the perimeters of each house, a few things would not leave the Soldiers mind. First was that there was no clear motive for this village to be targeted by thieves, let alone an entire band. The second thought was that even with no clear motive, the perpetrators had to be very skilled and experienced to pull off such a high number of break-ins with no evidence of forced entry. The last thought that the Soldier could not shake off was that of the dream he had experienced the night before as he tried to recall what had been said to him to shake him up as much as it had. At the seventh house that the Soldier inspected he had finally found a tangible clue that he could work off of, a slight dent in the frame of the window. Before drawing up any theories, the Soldier decided that it would be best to interview the occupant of the house in order to make sure the dent was not created by any other event as well as to inspect the inside of the house. The Soldier walked to the other side of the house and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” asked a feeble sounding voice on the other side of the door.
“My name is Lieutenant Godfrey, I have been sent here to investigate the recent break ins” replied the Soldier
The door opened to reveal an elderly woman who seemed as if she might collapse after even the most mundane of tasks.
“Ahh, well come on in and have a seat then” said the woman with a smile, “I am very glad to see someone has come to aid us during this time of strife”
“I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions” asked the Soldier as he sat in a chair across from the woman.
“Why yes, although I am not sure how useful any information I might have would be” stated the woman
“I’m sure it will be plenty useful, anyways, first I would like to know about that window” replied the Soldier as he pointed across the room.
“What’s wrong with that window?” asked the woman
“There is a dent in its frame and I would like to know if you know what might have caused it” exclaimed the Soldier
“Well, it could have been anything really” said the woman in a confused tone, “I don’t see what this has to do with the break ins”
The Soldier then retorted with, “I believe that the dent in that window frame could have been the result of forced entry through your window ma'am”
“Oh, well that might explain that thing I found out back” said the woman
“What thing?” asked the Soldier
“Well you see, a while back I found some strange tool in my garden, it was made from metal and was curved at the end” replied the woman, “I just thought it might have been one of the children’s toy’s”
After making a mental note, the Soldier asked, “Would you happen to know where it is now?”
The woman had a concerned look as she replied, “I had meant to ask the children about it but I seemed to have misplaced it somewhere around here, I am truly sorry sir”
“No worries ma’am, if you don’t mind, I may be able to find it” said the Soldier
“Why, go ahead and look if you think it will help put a stop to all this madness that’s been going on” replied the woman with a confident look
The Soldier looked around the house for this tool along with any other signs of intrusion. He started by searching underneath and behind the woman's furniture. He could tell that she hadn't looked in these areas due to the massive build up of dust amongst the otherwise well kept cottage. When he looked behind the woman's wardrobe he saw the slightest shimmer, at closer inspection he saw that it was the tool that he had learned about underneath the wardrobe. Before removing it, the Soldier made a mental note of its position and searched the rest of the room while developing a theory about what happened. The theory was that whoever originally botched the break-in attempt returned to reclaim the tool they used to commit the burglary but at last second left it somewhere secure to prevent being caught. As the Soldier was forming this theory, he took a look inside the wardrobe and was met with a peculiar sight. Inside the wardrobe was a tied up bag, a bag that had been much heavier than he had anticipated. He felt the bag from the outside, noting the malleable feeling to its contents. The Soldier then placed the bag on the woman's bed and carefully started to open it, the smell that came from this bag was so noxious that he needed to take a step bag to prevent himself from regurgitating his breakfast. When he was finally able to compose himself, the Soldier lowered the sides of the bag to see what it held. What met him was a horrific sight, in the bag was a mound of rotten flesh wrapped around a partly exposed skull. There were small chunks of hair left at the parts where the pale green skin remained. In the left eye socket there rested a shriveled up eye that looked as if it had all of its moisture squeezed out of it, in the right socket was the half decomposed remains of a rat that had once feasted upon the eye and parts of the person's brain tissue. The right side of the jaw was no longer intact with the rest of the head, inside of the mouth was a swollen tongue that was covered in small holes that resembled bite marks from some sort of small animal or insect. When it had finally registered what the Soldier had seen, he went into a flurry. He started screaming and hyperventilating amidst his panic. He fell to the floor and attempted to reach the door that led to the woman's living room, but all he could do was stumble over himself. The woman rushed into the room after hearing the commotion expecting only the worst just to find the Soldier curled up covered in sweat and incoherently whispering to himself.
"What happened?!" asked the woman with a great amount of concern, "L-Let me get you some water sir, come here, come sit out here a while"
Once the Soldier managed to compose himself somewhat he asked, "Why do you have something like that in there, in that sack?"
The woman's concerned face changed into a look of deep sadness as she explained, "Well, my husband, he was a swordsman in the royal army. He died on the battlefield maybe 20, 25 years back, why are you asking about this?"
Hearing this made the Soldiers face contort into a mixture of disgust and anger, "Why am I asking? You can't be serious, th-that thing in there, it isn't right. Are you some sort of mad woman?!"
"What are you going on about?" replied the woman, "I would have expected you of all people to understand"
"Understand? There's nobody as sick enough to understand what you've done" exclaimed the Soldier
"You should be ashamed to make such accusations, you are no Lieutenant" responded the woman in a harsh voice
The Soldier became pale and his eyes had a distant look in them as he stated, "You know nothing of me"
The Soldier walked back into the room to grab the morbid memento of the woman’s husband and attempted to make her understand the issue with what she had been doing. As he reopened the bag he was met with an even more shocking sight than he would ever have expected. Inside the bag was a helmet and chainmail hood meant for a common soldier. He knew what he had seen before, he had all the sights, smells, and textures of that head burned into his mind. Discovering the true contents of the bag disturbed the Soldier deeply, he was shaking uncontrollably as he stumbled outside forgetting all about the break-ins or the tool behind the wardrobe. He went back to the room he had been staying in order to recollect his thoughts as well as find some sort of reasonable explanation for what had happened. It didn't take long before Tom confronted him about his strange interaction with the woman.
“I heard ‘bout what happened between you and Paula today, care to explain?” said Tom with a very stern look.
“Listen, I just need some time to clear my head, I don’t really know what happened to me. I just need some time” pleaded the Soldier.
“Alright, I’ll let it go, however, if you pull any other weird shit with the people ‘round here you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay,” said Tom before following up with, “and that’s only if we decide we still want your service, understood?”
"Yes, I apologize for my misbehavior, it's unbefitting of a man in my position" replied the Soldier
Tom was satisfied with the Soldier's apology, so he left him to sort out his thoughts as he went about his day. The Soldier went through the situation step by step in his head finding a logical reason for what happened. After a few hours of ruminating, he figured that for the time being he would continue forward with the assumption that his tiresome journey to the village along with his prior experience in the army culminated into the vision he saw. Though he wasn't completely satisfied, this answer was enough for him to continue his duty. He walked back to Paula and apologized for his actions and asked to see the tool in order to further the investigation. The Soldier started by comparing the shape of the tools blade with the dents in the window so he could verify that it was in fact used to enter Paula's house. It only took a couple minutes before he was able to find the similarities between the blade and the window frame. After verifying the evidence the Soldier made an assumption about the intrusions, the perpetrators were highly skilled but included at least one inexperienced member. With this most likely being the case, the Soldier could catch one in the middle of a break-in attempt. With this in mind, he devised a plan to catch the inexperienced member of bandits. When Tom returned home later that day the Soldier pulled him aside.
"I have an idea of how we can catch one of the perpetrators, but I'll need you to help me" stated the Soldier
"Alright, what's your idea?" responded Tom
"I want to set up some traps, bear traps would work best, underneath people's windows" said the Soldier with a hint of excitement
"We don't have too many bear traps round these parts, but I'll see what I can do" replied Tom
"Thank you, that should be a huge help in finding these people" exclaimed the Soldier
"Did you happen to see who was okay with having bear traps around their properties by chance?" inquired Tom
"Now, I'm thinking it would be better if you were to ask them about that, after earlier I can't imagine they would be too open to what I have to say" replied the Soldier
"Alright, I'll ask them first thing tomorrow" said Tom
"Wait, why tomorrow?" Responded the Soldier who was now baffled, "We can catch them tonight"
"Sorry, but that just won't work. We don't have the time nor daylight to properly hide any of those bear traps effectively enough" Tom stated
The Soldier then sighed and said "Alright, we can do it tomorrow"
The Soldier then ate supper and headed to bed eager to enact his plan. After falling asleep, the Soldier found himself in a familiar situation. Surrounded in darkness and crawling in a pool of warm liquid, after crawling awhile he found a soft object that felt warmer than the liquid. When he felt this object he heard a voice faintly speak into his ear.
"Your cowardice is what sowed your fate, bare witness to the sins of your past" recited the disembodied voice
The Soldier's heart sank as he heard this, he tried desperately to scream or to cry but nothing came out. While he struggled, a dim light engulfed the object in front of him. What lied before the Soldier was the same head from the day prior only now the head had a body. The body looked as if it had been chewed up, spit out, and left to rot for years. His arms had exposed bones and muscle, his ribcage was decorated by what remained of his organs and had been knocked out of place. His legs looked like they had been ripped off from the shins with only the nerves and a thin layer of skin left intact. This sight made the Soldier completely freeze up, there was no more struggling, no attempts to scream or call for help, he just sat there in shock for what felt like hours if not days. After he froze up the corpse began to move, it slowly crawled towards the Soldier leaving bits and pieces of itself in the pool of liquid along the way. The Soldier tried his best to get up and run, he mustered all of his willpower but couldn't do anything more than shiver as the corpse got closer. The corpse started climbing on the Soldier after it reached him, the smell was unbearable. It then reached into its stomach, grabbed its intestine, then started wrapping it around the Soldiers neck. It wrapped the other end around its ribcage and applied enough of its weight onto it in order to restrict the Soldiers breathing but not enough to strangle him. The corpse then began to speak.
"You will always be a slave, bound by another and forced to do as they please. You are no longer allowed to exist, to live, without the permission of your master. If you were left to your own devices for too long, you would leave only a path of destruction and chaos in your wake. If you don't give in now, you are only prolonging the inevitable. Accept your fate or be left to suffer"
The Soldier woke up feeling dread from the pit of his stomach, however he didn't have the energy to do anything but lay there and think to himself. The images from his dream kept replaying over and over as he tried to think of anything else. His thoughts were so uncontrollable that he forgot about the break-ins, the village, and his plan for catching the inexperienced bandit. He was trapped in the endless cycle of thoughts and images that popped into his head. While stuck in his thought loop, his body moved on autopilot with him acting more as a bystander than an actual participant in his life. It was only at the end of the day when the bear traps had already been set and he was ready to head to sleep that he gained full control over his actions. Wary of what occurred the night before, the Soldier decided to stay awake and maybe even catch the bandit in the act. His approach was to keep watch through the window in his room for anything suspicious. Several hours had passed with nothing of significance happening, the Soldier was battling his desire to rest with a mix of determination and fear of what would meet him if he did succumb to sleep. The Soldier decided that some time outside patrolling the village could help fight off his exhaustion, however while on the walk he realized something. At least six hours had passed since he started watching, despite this the moon was in the same spot as it was when he decided to watch through the window. The Soldier knew that all that time had passed, he was used to spending long amounts of time without much to do so it couldn’t have been his imagination. The very moment he made this realization he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, there was a silhouette barely visible by the house to his left. He froze up as his eyes met a familiar looking man who had been ensnared by the bear trap. The man was moaning in a faint voice as he tried to remove his legs from the trap, only instead of disarming it he tried to force them out of it. The more he struggled the tighter the grip on his legs became as he grew more and more desperate for help. All of a sudden there was a snap. The bear trap had clamped down hard enough to sink into the man’s bones, this caused him to yell out in pain which in turn snapped the Soldier out of his frozen state. Trying to act fast, the Soldier ran over to the man and began to undo the trap. The man then started to completely start panicking when he noticed the Soldier. In a desperate act to flee, the man crawled in the opposite direction from the Soldier which in turn caused his legs to become shredded with only loose bits of skin left attached. The Soldier stepped closer to the man right before a bright light emanated their surroundings. Within only a fraction of a second it had become day and the man who only a moment before was howling in pain and wriggling around on the ground was now covered by various birds that were picking through his innards, this sight compelled the Soldier to shoo away the animals and take a look at the man. He nearly fell over as he came to realize why he had recognized the man, all it took for him to remember was for the man to be in the same state as he had seen him previously. The Soldier desperately fled back to Tom’s house, noticing the sun growing larger and dancing across the sky as he approached it. Where Tom’s house once stood was now only gallows with the bodies of the villagers draped from the ropes. The sky became covered in the sun's fiery essence as a group of men who looked half decayed shambled out from beneath the gallow’s platform. One of the men stepped forward and began to speak with a deep growl.
“Sin’s left unatoned for must be repaid in more than blood. Before you, lie those who are an affront to God, those who would never repent and must now give all that they have left as recourse”
The Soldier only had a single thought in his head, and that was to run. He scurried towards his horse hoping he could get out of the situation. He was relieved when he reached the stable without any pursuers, he was soon going to be able to leave the nightmare that he had found himself in. As he rode through the forest the trees around him started to wilt and shed their leaves which revealed that a group of hooded figures had been keeping pace with him from within the canopy. He tried making his horse run faster but the ground beneath them became soft and caused the horse to start sinking. Each step made them go lower and lower until the horse was incapable of moving any longer. The figures who had followed them now waited in the trees, watching for the Soldiers next move. His decision was to get off the horse and try to make it out of the forest on foot; this was immediately proven to be fruitless when the figures threw out hooks that had been fitted onto chains. Two of the chains were skillfully placed so that they would fit just below the collar bone while the remaining two hooked right into each of the Soldier’s thighs. The figures then dragged the Soldier back towards the village as he screamed and incoherently attempted to beg for his life. When they reached the village there were logs that had been set up to resemble a cone with straw beneath them, one of the figures stepped forward and removed its hood, revealing itself to be like a malformed human. Its skin had constricted to the point where the skeletal structure was exposed, it was missing a nose and both of its eyes. It pointed over to the gallows and then produced a wretched and ear piercing screech that was capable of bursting eardrums, in response the group of corpses cut down a young boy that became filled with life after hitting the ground. The corpses then dragged the boy over to the logs and sat in the stack of logs while restraining him. The hooded figures then started to chant as the remaining four removed their hoods, each taking out a torch from their robes and raising them into the air. Lightning then struck from the sky, which was now a deep red color, and ignited each torch individually. With their torches, the creatures set the log formation on fire as the boy screamed and cried hoping for a way out of the situation. When the boy tried to wriggle out of the corpse's grasp, one of them held him to its chest as he wept. The process was grueling and lasted far too long, but when the effigy was done burning and its sacrifice complete, a black cloud swirled in the sky directly above. As the cloud grew and swirled a funnel began to reach down towards the effigy, once the funnel had entirely obscured it something arose from within. Out walked a creature that stood on two legs with patches of fur covering its body, its eye’s resembled that of a goat’s with a third larger eye that resembled a human’s. It had sharp bones protruding from the tips of it’s fingers and feet. The heart was exposed in the chest with bone wrapping around it. It had a set of antlers that intertwined at the center in a concave shape. The creatures that had summoned the beast continued to chant in unison as they presented the Soldier to it. The beast then stepped over to him as a voice echoed throughout the entire forest.
“With every action comes a price, a debt to be owed. To Sin is to take on the largest of debt’s. When a man amasses far too large a debt he may come to believe that he owes more than he can give. He is wrong to believe this, with every price, is a way to pay. There is no debt too large for a man to pay, today all here will bear witness to what happens when a man has a debt greater than himself.”
The beast then walked within an arm's length of the Soldier before shutting the eye on its forehead. When the eye was completely shut the Soldier found himself somewhere he spent many years trying to forget, a battlefield. He felt his memories rushing back to him as he took in his surroundings. It didn’t take long for him to remember where he was, his platoon had just been blindsided and overwhelmed. He remembered making the decision to take the route he did despite being warned several times of the potential danger. As he looked around he noticed someone in particular, his younger brother who had been a part of his platoon, the man who he had seen in his dream and in the bear trap. The Soldier watched as his platoon was overpowered and his brother on the ground wounded, crying to him for help. He wanted to help, to do what he thought he should have done. The Soldier tried to muster up all the courage he could and in the end all he could do was run away, he ran as his brother was cut off halfway through his yelling by a blade straight through the throat. After he started running, he was suddenly right back where he had been before in the village with the Beast and the hooks. The Beast, now with its eye open, took the chains from the creatures and dragged the Soldier over to the black funnel that covered the effigy. The Soldier felt his body burning from the inside, he sat there for nearly an hour as parts of his skin started melting and his organs swirled inside of him like a stew. When it ended the skin that stayed on him was hanging off of his body, there were intense sharp pains throughout the inside of his body, and his brain had been tampered with so severely that he would be left in a permanent state of confusion. The Soldier then heard the same disembodied voice from before.
“You shall now be left to roam only these woods, with the company of your past sins. When it comes time for you to be useful, I will use you as needed.”

As an example, Monster Hunter.
We play as the biggest most hard dicked monster Slayer in all of existence. So we don't see the average.
A jagras is as big as a tiger. A rathalos is comparable to a blue whale in length.
The people you've known for being super-hunters for killing a rathalos get obliterated when an Elder Dragon comes near.
Then you have super-freaks who can beat Elder Dragons and they get vaporized with no effort because an Alatreon was near.
Nightmare world, every waking moment is a prayer that a demon doesn't see your village as a threat.

Sucking in a deep breath, a pristine scarlet and black bedroom greeted me. Sitting up in a rush, the room spun around me. Massaging my forehead, Master Scarston came in with an iced tea and scone. Piecing everything together, this must be his house. Sensing wards twice as powerful as mine, his black robes flowing onto the floor distracted me further.
“Do you mind helping me out today? It is a break from a demon and a simple task.” He promised me with an eager smile, my eyes looking for Salem. “He went back home. I can whisk you away whenever you want to go home. If you help me, a welcome advantage waits for you.” Great, the bastard was starting to sound like an old radio ad.
“Ask a girl on a date before inviting her to potentially never die.” I teased sarcastically, his eyes rolling. Placing a black robe at the end of the bed, the bed groaned as he rose to his feet. Pausing in the doorway, apprehension burned in his eyes before his footfalls echoed down the hall. Swinging my feet over the edge of the bed, my tattered clothes did need covering up. Tying the cloak around my neck while sliding on my boots, my fingers snatched my blade’s case. Carrying it under my arms, Master Scarston greeted me at the end of my hall.
“Damn that thing is huge.” He commented with a soft chuckle, my eyes rolling. “Time to go into the realm of the reapers and take care of a little pest.” Something in the twinkle in his eyes had me thinking that this problem wasn’t so little. Summoning his scythe, bones rattled as they whisked us to a sea of marble ruins. Dark shadows scuttled over the piles of marble, dread bubbling in my gut. Undoing my cloak for a second, Master Scarston helped me strap my case over my shoulder. Ripping out my blade, a quaint smile illuminated his features as I tied my cloak back around my neck. Popping my hood over my head, his expression was creeping me out.
“You are as wonderful as Asher mentioned.” He spoke sadly, his eyes welling up with tears while my body stiffened. “He told me to watch you if anything happened to his brother and him. He would be so proud of you.” Fighting back tears, his death was my fault and my fault alone. If only I had been there in time to stop his untimely end, his brother’s proving to hit me worse. Averting my gaze to the ground, frozen tears shattered into shards the moment they hit the dirt. Nudging my shoulders, my wet eyes met his. Both of us had lost the same important people, my next sentence shocking me.
“Then don’t you ever die on me!” I blurted out desperately, his sad smile heating up to a warm one. “If they made you promise, the laws of a promise mean that you must hold up your word.” Hugging me in a fatherly manner, something about this simply felt right. Releasing me, his hand ruffled my hair. Placing his hands on his hips, his eyes scanned the sea of ruins.
“If we take a left about there, we should be where the signal of distress is coming from.” He informed me with another quaint smile, his fingers drumming on his legs. “If you must know, this was my old village. The master before me destroyed it and I had to fight a bloody war to steal his crown. My younger years were full of strife. What can I say?” Mixed emotions flashed in my eyes, his life had been as difficult as mine. Seconds from apologizing, a dark mist bathed the ruins. A tattered steel gray robe floated into the sky, a yellowed skeletal hand pointed towards us.
“You have returned, Scarston. Revenge is going to be served.” He laughed maniacally, his empty eye sockets falling on me. “This one reeks of tragedy and depression.” Thanks, I thought bitterly to myself. Who knew that both scents made a fantastic perfume? Turning towards Master Scarston, a fit of laughter burst from my lips. Holding my stomach, a cruel grin curled across my lips.
“Sounds like my perfume entices you.” I returned with a wicked chuckle, the dark playfulness shifting abruptly to a look of defiance. “Unlike you, I get to roam around freely. Freedom tastes so sweet. Shall we play?” Pulling out a shadow scythe, the scent of decay had nausea forming a rock in my gut. Unable to control myself, the next taunt had Scarston panicking visibly.
“Seems you could use a spritz yourself.” I teased with a cocky grin, hoping to trip his ego. Ice crept out from underneath my boots, a stomp had ice spikes shooting from the remains. Snapping my fingers, smaller ones groaned into a thick ice dome. Spinning on my heels to face Scarston, a plan needed to be made.
“Since you haven’t killed him exactly, how do we permanently push him into the realm of death?” I questioned with a comforting smile, his numb look scaring me. “Give me a clue and I will help your ass out.” Bangs echoed on the other side of the ice cage, my hands gripping his shoulders. His blade smashed the cage into shards, a raise of my hand resulted in a wave of ice shattering the barrage of ice shards. Sitting him behind the tallest wall in the area. Snapping my fingers in front of his face, a nightmare spell had been cast on him. Slumping forward, a nightmare demon had its claws holding his head. Cursing under my breath, the other problem had to be solved. Coming out from my hiding spot, his shadow scythe whistled over my head. Yanking him down close to me by his ribs, the weakened bones crumbled with the slightest touch. What was holding him together? Kicking him into the sky, jealousy glittered in my eyes at his ability to fly. Hating that my wings hadn’t grown back quite yet, he had to come down at some point. Kicking him back into the air, something was tethering his ass to this realm. Darting in between the ice spikes, the source of his magic had to be somewhere. The ground quaked violently upon his landing a black pearl glinting in the distance. Bingo! Ice sparkled in the rising red moon’s rays of light with every violent clash of our weapons. Skidding back, the pearl was within reach. Taking a hit to my side, my fingers curled around the pearl. Throwing the pearl into the air, one swing cut it in half. Staring numbly over my head, his shadow scythe was inches from my face. Dissolving to ash, that nightmare had been dealt with. Struggling to my feet, my hand cupped my side. Limping towards Scarston, something in my heart told me that he needed my help. Fishing around my boot for a healing potion strong enough to knock me out, the correct one grazed my fingertips. Sinking to my knees, blood stained my borrowed robes. A wave of ice brought him to my lap, my fingers plucking the thick violet vial from its pocket. Popping off the cork, the liquid coated my throat on the way down. Bright lights twinkled in front of me, a rough darkness stealing me away.
Standing in a sprawling sea of onyx marble homes, the reapers walking around me freaking me out. Holding my blade close to my chest, that nightmare demon hid him well. Thinking back to his story, a clue lay in his words. Poking one of the reapers, their body shifted into a black smoke. Fantastic illusion, I thought bitterly to myself. Spinning my blade over my head, a dull creak bounced off the fake buildings the moment I slammed the tip into the cobblestone street. Ice devoured all my eyes could see, a powerful kick sending ice shards into the air. Sighing to myself, an ice dome glitched to life over me. Waiting patiently for the last shard to shatter inches from my feet, water rained down on me the moment it melted. One twisting tower remained, my brow cocking at the flicker of an oil lamp in one of the windows. Way to give yourself away, the danger being real in this situation. Skating across the ice, his wails had my ears pinning back the whole way there. Digging my heel into a small crack, my body lurched with the abrupt stop. Tapping my toe twice, an ice platform rose from the ground to the first floor. Hopping into an eerie tower, this nightmare had to be the most elaborate one. Sprinting through the empty halls, a few quick pauses gave me the right direction. Stopping behind a thick iron door, his screams of terror had me shrinking back. Glancing around the room, a pot of ash caught my eyes. Kicking in the door, my boot knocked over the pot of ash. Filling up the room with a flurry of ash, a bloody and bruised Scarston lit up at the sight of me. Using the chaos to toss him over my shoulder, a gracious smile met mine. Horror rounded my eyes at his fatal stomach wound. Crashing into the nearest room, I laid him against the wall. Offering him my arm, his head shook. Tears welled up in my eyes, his refusal pissing me off.
“It’s my time. Please let me d-” He began, my fangs extending over my lips. Biting into his neck, his head lolled back and forth. The door wiggled violently, his limp body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Popping to my feet, the final nightmare had to be dealt with. Leaning on the other side of the door, a much bigger level of power had me cupping my stomach. This demon must be the king of them all, a sly grin curling across my lips. If I kill them, they all disappear from existence. Grimacing at the task at hand, he wouldn’t be an easy target to take down. A strained fuck escaped my lips at the scene glitching to sea of inky blackness. Kicking Master Scarston out of the way, his help would be nice. The shadowy giant glitched out for a second, his hold on Scarston weakening. Raising my blade in this direction, the asshole pulled his own shadowy blade from his form. Gauging him from a short distance, the jerk had two feet on me. Ruby eyes glinted with hatred, a row of sharp teeth appearing with his growing Cheshire Cat Grin.
“How dare you interrupt my work!” He demanded cruelly, tapping his blade against his leg. “Why did you take what was mine?” Scoffing in disbelief, he was a real piece of work. A fit of laughter burst from my lips, all of the insanity getting to me. Ice crept out from underneath my boots, a winter wonderland devouring what was his. Now that the realm was under my control, a dome of ice clicked into place over Scarston.
“I am afraid you can’t have my friend.” I retorted with a sarcastic grin, another dark chuckle flooding from my lips. “Anything to do with him has everything to do with me. Come hell or high water, the ending of you is my goal. Your kind has tortured my family and the time to pay is now. Of course, the payment is your head on my wall.” Charging at him, one swing of his blades had me flying back. Smashing into a wall of ice, a fountain of blood spurted from my lips. Sliding down quickly, the rough landing had my burst organs bouncing around. So strength wasn’t on my side, quick wit would have to be my best friend. Using the wall to get to my feet, the dome cracked, a healed Scarston bursting through with his scythe in his hand. Smiling with tears in his eyes, his boots crunched in the snow. Scarlet ribbons spun around him, his comforting smile melting my heart.
“Thanks for the assistance.” He whispered with fresh tears in his eyes, our cloaks floating up. “Nice try scaring me. God, people like you piss me off. You energy suckers are all the same. Time to show her why I am Master Scarston!” Sliding back down the ice, my muscles screamed in protest. Motioning for me to cover my ears, no hesitation lingered in my eyes. Covering my ears, ice shattered the moment screams shattered the still air. The demon cupped his ears, Scarston becoming a blur. Striking him left and right, Scarston landed in a cloud of snow. Cuts appeared on the shadowy figure, muddy sludge painting the snow. The wounds began to seal shut, my palm smashing into the snow. A spike impaled the damn demon, brains joining the muddy rain. Mouthing thank you, Scarston pushed off the snow. Spinning his scythe over his head, wonder mixed with terror at the sheer power of his strike. A blast of energy sent him flying, the king of nightmares decaying into a mountain of ash. Landing gracefully near me, his hand hovered in front of my face. Accepting it with a grateful smile, one toss had me over his shoulders.
“Thanks for the immortal life.” He choked out through a wall of tears, something telling that his vulnerability was rare. “Opening up is hard for me. Most of the people we lead would run away but no you jumped right in. No one is a better second hand man. I am going to take you to Salem.” Clapping his hands, a bright light blinded us.
Stirring awake in a fancy study, gauze had my skin itching. Salem and Scarston blurred in the corner, their words coming into focus with them. Massaging my forehead, both of them rushed over to me. Smothering me in feverish kisses, Salem cupped my cheeks. Examining me for any more wounds, his arms buried me into a desperate embrace.
“Not that I can lose you, we need you to stay in one piece.” He joked with wet eyes, my favorite female vampire clearing her throat. “Nice to see you here.” Stepping back, an abrupt embrace has happy shock rounding my eyes. Rocking my body back and forth, her fingers gripped my chin.
“What have I told you about being reckless!” She berated as a mother would, a fit of laughter bursting my lips. Curling my hand around hers, confusion mixed with love at her sweet concern for me. Too stunned to speak, Scarston shifted uncomfortably next to her.
“How about we get some food together and I will give you a bit of my blood after you eat?” I suggested with my genuine smile, Salem giving in with the rest of them. “Let’s go to The Rooftop!” Dropping her hand to her side, a nice silky black dress hung off of her arm. Offering it to me with a big smile, the chair groaned as I rose to my feet. Accepting it with a kind embrace, they all watched me walk into the bathroom. Peeling off the destroyed clothes, the clean gauze caught my eyes. Remembering the first time Asher patched me up, silent tears stained my cheeks. Sinking to my knees, the designer dress fluttered to the floor. Laying my head on the claw foot bathtub, the tears slid down the porcelain. Ice began to devour the tub, a numb stare coming over me. A knock interrupted my zoning out, Scarston asking if he could come in.
“Give me a second!” I blurted out, my shaking fingers tugging on the dress. Tracing the fifties’ style silhouette, a quiet okay had him coming in. Noticing my tears, his steady hands sat me down on the toilet. Crouching down to my level, a silent agreement hung between us. Averting my gaze to the ruby and onyx tiles, shame dimmed my eyes. Lifting up my chin with his finger, another wave of grief crashed over me at how Asher had done this after every mission.
“I may not be Asher but I can kind of take over his role. If you need anything, come to me.” He promised in a fatherly manner, his hand dropping to his lap while violent sobs wracked my body. Burying me into a desperate embrace, his tears soaked the top of my head. Had I known about his connection to the same fallen angel, my respect for him would have been instant.
“I miss him too.” He admitted honestly, his sobs shaking his body as much as mine. “His face would light up when he spoke about Salem and you. My heart broke when I had to collect the soul of your child and Salem’s. My hatred for myself kept me from talking to you. I thought you would hate me for what I had to do. Bringing the matter up to God was the only way to fix it. I ap-” Holding him tighter, it was because of him. All of my current joy was due to him, my love for him blooming right there. Cupping his face, it was my turn to take his pain away. Wiping away his tears, broken smiles had us drowning in the moment. A knock interrupted the moment, both of us rising to our feet while clearing our throats.
“If you need a daughter in your life, let me be it.” I spoke sweetly, his hand lingering on my shoulder. “I don’t care about what you had to do back in those days. Your job is your job but what you did to fix it makes you amazing. Don’t hate yourself. Trust me, I know how that feels. Screw the restaurant. Come have dinner at my place. You can play with my children and have a good home cooked meal.” Flashing him a quirky grin, a shy okay flooded from his lips. Walking out with him, Salem had his shadows ready to bring us home. Spinning up to him, he shuddered the moment I kissed his neck. This was the signal to go home in tense moments, the other two gathering into the puddle of shadows. Sinking into the shadows, we rose through the mansion’s kitchen floor. Samson looked up from a bubbling pan of sauce, his eyes narrowing in Scarston's direction. Noting the infinity mark on his palm, his annoyed glare met my apologetic smile. Asking me to join him in the preparation, Samson wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Death was knocking on his door and I couldn’t let him die.” I explained sternly while chopping up an onion, his expression softening. “Play nice and give him the respect he deserves.” Scarston joined the other side of Samson, his fingers picked up another knife to chop the peeled potatoes. Working together through the next couple of hours, Samson called for someone to set the table. The rest of the team flooded in and out with plates, Scarston watching with wonder. Guiding him to the table, his eyes lit up at my two kids. Presenting him with Flyx, his arms took him onto his lap. His real smile illuminated his features, the left side of his lip hung a centimeter over the right. Basking in the warmth, Salem kissed the top of my head as he took his seat on the other side of me. A pleasant conversation broke out among everyone, Scarston fitting right in. Seeing him so happy after what had to be a horrible day, the meal seemed to go by too fast. Helping clean up, the others assured that the task was theirs. Scarston made his way to the couch with Flyx and Sphynx, his smile never leaving as he found the show they wanted. Madame Maria asked for me to follow her to the balcony, one last glance around permitting me the solace to allow such a request. Smoothing out her sleek ruby dress, her gentle smile spoke of a rare sense of peace for her.
“Thank you for making him happy.” She gushed with her hands on the railing, her smile growing bigger by the second. “He lost his family that day. After that he numbed out. Why wouldn’t you if you lost your wife and kids?” Silent tears stained my cheeks, our pasts matching a little too much. No wonder he felt guilt about taking Salem’s and my lost child away. Offering my arm, her head shook. A tender blush rose to her cheeks every time she spoke his name.
“Forgive me for asking but do you fancy Scarston?” I questioned bluntly, her nervous smile answering my question. “Ask him out and give him that second chance. Hell, shoot your shot right now.” Dragging her to the living room, a half asleep Scarston glanced up from the two happy boys. Throwing her in front of me, her hand covered her lips. A pensive silence hung between them, her lips parting to speak several times. Scarston spoke up first, shock having my jaw hit the floor.
“Go steady with me!” He blurted out with crimson cheeks, tears welling up in Maria’s eyes. “Don’t take it the wrong way but hanging out with Nyx today woke something up in me. My dead wife and children were yelling at me when her boot kicked the door open. Give me a shot, please.” Flashing her a crooked grin, the corner of her lips twitched into a her natural smile.
“Yessss.” She stammered anxiously, her smile growing brighter. “I vow to be your forever mate.” My eyes flitted between him and her, neither of them moving. A ruby ribbon connected them together, a force knocking her onto his lap. Lifting her chin with his finger, a devious grin spread across his lips.
“My dream is about to come true.” He mused with a twinkle in his eyes, his lips pressing against hers hungrily. Ribbons swirled around them, a scythe appearing on her neck. An infinity mark glowed to life on the handle, relief crashing over me. At least Maria couldn’t die, a pleasantness further igniting the flames of hope.

Previous Patreon
---
Hours of walking in the desert heat brought perspective. Unwanted, but maybe not unneeded. The power suits worn by PanTech soldiers were composed of multiple bulky sections, but the bulk didn’t come from poor design. The thing had its own environmental containment system. Kept you cool in the heat, and warm in the cold. It kept the body hydrated, sealed wounds, and even filtered body waste. A gross concept, but convenient for any mission. My armor, as this heat was reminding me, did very few of those things despite being more advanced. It filtered my sweat back into my body to keep me from dehydrating too quickly, but no built-in air conditioning.
It also stimulated optimal muscle use and protected me from damage. It would deflect virtually any blade and harden upon a sudden blunt impact. That wouldn’t stop my organs from being turned into soup if I was hit hard enough. A rifle carried by an Adversity Management soldier would do the trick.
I pulled my black ponytail tight, wiping the sweat from my dark skin, scanning the landscape with my narrow, brown eyes.
Would Mother be proud of me for taking better care of my hair than I did when I was a teenager?
Better yet, why was this thought even crossing my mind?
“You’re going in the right direction,” Ghost said, swooping down and landing next to me.
“What made you think I didn’t already know that?” I snapped, letting the heat get to me.
“Because you’ve been changing directions every few minutes. You aren’t focusing.”
“What?” I shouted. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”
“I assumed you knew what you were doing,” Ghost said, flying off again.
Just a few years was all it took, though I still wasn’t quite ready to admit it. It was much harder for me to keep my direction in the desert, distracted or not. Even with this suit helping a bit, I couldn’t handle the heat like I once could. Barely a day into this mission and I was already doubting myself.
It probably had more to do with coming home. This adversity zone, in particular, was the trouble. Too many memories. Many wounds that had barely closed. In a few moments, I’d be stepping into the market where Linus, the rebel PanTech soldier I’d fallen for, was gunned down by other PanTech soldiers. I still had the nightmares sometimes.
I wondered if the village chief had stopped terrorizing the young girls here, like Linus made him promise he would. Probably not.
As the market came into sight, it became abundantly clear this village had more than just a couple of soldiers guarding it. There was one stationed at the gate, though luckily he was distracted. I’d have to take a bit of a detour.
It was coming back to me now. The layout of the village naturally popped into my mind as I approached. A less-used alleyway a bit to the side. If a soldier was stationed there, I’d have to handle the problem directly.
I sighed at the thought, veering away from the village again until I was out of sight. Once I was confident I could no longer be seen, I sat down behind a large boulder.
Ghost flew down, staring at me quietly for a moment.
“What is it, Ghost?” I asked, drawing random characters in the sand below. “If you have any questions, just ask.”
“You decided it may be easier to sneak in during nightfall. There’s nothing to ask,” he said.
“You know, you could just ask me questions to make me feel better.”
“What questions make you feel better?”
I sighed, leaning my head against the hard surface, then growled in frustration. I looked over to Ghost, thankful he was holding together better than I was.
“I guess I just really don’t know what I’m doing, or if this is even something I can do. There are a lot of adversity zones, and this is the only one I’m actually familiar with. I grew up here, but I’m struggling already.”
“Human psychology is a strange concept to me. You appear to be stalling. Do you know why?”
“St-stalling?” I asked, the realization sinking in as soon as Ghost said it aloud. “Yeah… I guess I’m stalling. Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Ghost asked. “This is your mission. I’m just accompanying you.”
“I think I’m just apologizing to no one in particular. Myself, maybe. I guess.” I picked up a small rock, drawing another animal in the sand before rubbing the image away violently with my hand and sighing. “If you want to hunt for a bit, I think I need some time to settle my mind down.”
Ghost tilted his head. “Are you sure you’re alright, Taylor?”
“Yeah, go ahead. I’m sure it’ll be nice to hunt familiar prey again. I’m going to wait a couple of hours after dark before I sneak in. Maybe I’ll take a nap until then.”
Ghost hesitated a moment before flying off.
Maybe a nap is exactly what I need. I rested my head against the rock and almost instantly fell asleep.
***
I’d become a light sleeper. It seemed to be one of the side-effects of using an enhancer. Hyper-awareness of one’s surroundings, often involuntarily enhanced during sleep. With the older, more powerful, brain frying version, it wasn’t unusual to hear the wings of an insect flapping across the room. The sound of a person’s heartbeat before they were even close enough for a conversation. Yet, here it was a comfort, as my current observations confirmed.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep. A couple of minutes, or hours. I couldn’t sense Ghost, but the heartbeat of someone approaching quietly from behind. So quietly their steps were nearly silent, even as I strained my enhanced hearing to detect them.
Whether it was curiosity or animosity, I didn’t know, but they were clearly trying to be very quiet and sneak up on me. Without the enhancer, I’d have no idea they were approaching.
A sudden swish in the air told me an object was being swung toward me, and I reacted accordingly. Rolling forward, I drew Twisted Key and pivoted on the balls of my feet. This person didn’t wear a power suit. Pushing the enhancer again so soon it could be an issue, not to mention what would happen if I started to rely on it for every little thing.
A weapon shot forward again, and I sidestepped, spinning Twisted Key in an upward arc to deflect it. Using the opening, I charged forward, but the figure dashed back with astonishing speed. An enhancer?
No, not quite. This was a regular human, but very athletic. Maybe I’d need the enhancer after all, or maybe I could hold out for Ghost. He’d be back soon. Any moment.
I was careful to attack with the side of my sword. No need to cut the person into pieces if I could help it. A moment later, I realized I was being extended the same courtesy. A counterattack struck me in the arm, the impact being largely negated by my armor, still sending me stumbling.
A follow up attack came from the spear-like weapon. Eager to stop my attacker’s momentum, I caught the shaft of the spear under my arm, turning as I did and shoving my attacker off balance. However, they quickly released their own weapon and lunged forward. I had no choice but to release the spear, so it wouldn’t hinder my own strike.
But the figure rushed in too quickly, landing a fierce kick to my chest. Could this be…
No, it couldn’t be.
Could it?
I caught her wrist as she launched a blow toward my throat, twisting my hip and throwing her over my shoulder. To my surprise, she landed gracefully, wrapping her legs around my arm, grabbing it with her other hand, and pulling me to the ground in an arm bar. Had I not been wearing the armor I’d be in serious trouble. Sensing the hyper-extension of my elbow, the suit hardened and resisted the movement, effectively making it useless beyond restraint.
Seems I’d have to use the enhancer. Just a bit.
Shifting my weight forward, I quickly stood to my feet again, stepping my foot toward their throat. A woman.
Her reaction was quick, and she released my arm before trying a sweep. My legs didn’t buckle, again thanks to the suit.
A moment later, I could hear the subtle flapping of wings closing in.
“Ghost, wait!” I shouted, causing Ghost to veer off to the side at the last moment.
“Taylor?” the woman asked with a shaky voice, pulling the scarf down from her face.
“Good to see you again, Mother,” I said, smiling.
My mother stepped forward, saying nothing before pulling me into a tight embrace. I wanted to say something else, but the sound of her sobs cut me off.
“Welcome home,” she finally said.
“It’s good to be home,” I replied, no longer able to fight back my own tears.
---
Author Notes:
Thank you for reading Liberation Saga! If you have a moment to comment, I'd love to know what you think.
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Part I
In that phase of life when I was always asking questions, the one I asked most often was: "What's a 'Player'?"
Those days, I wasn't old enough to access the world outside my house. The adults would visit one another's houses, and they sometimes visited my father, although we'd honestly have preferred it if they didn't: they were always a little cold and condescending towards my father, and all the chillier towards me. And there was one thing that always came up in all the conversations: that my mother was a Player.
"How are you doing?" an elderly neighbour would ask my father as she came around with a spare basket of corn she had harvested from her fields. And then before he could reply, she would ask, "And how is your daughter?" Throwing me a calculating look, she would then say, again without waiting for his response, "She looks like she's growing up well. Wouldn't expect it - her mother being a Player. I suppose you were gifted enough gold to bring her up well?"
Or a neighbour the same age as my father would come around with some extra coal he had mined, peer at me and remark to my father, "She's turning out like her mother, isn't she? You were such a lucky dog; she was a real beauty. Of course - Players' skins can be changed, but that's not so bad, innit? Sometimes I wish my missus' skin could change." Then he would look at me again, his peer more like a leer now. And my father would firmly steer him out of the house.
No matter how many times I asked, my father would remain close-lipped about Players. All he would say was an aggravating, "You'll learn when you're older." And after that visit from that lecherous neighbour, I badgered my father about changing skins, but he still wouldn't explain. I had had nightmares afterwards for weeks, of a woman, her face indistinct, stripping her skin off so that her flesh oozed serous fluid and blood.
When I was old enough to leave the house, I played with the other children. At first, they called me Player Spawn as a taunt. But I could collect berries, catch fish, and complete woodwork quicker than they could, and would pass them my items so they could level up at the same speed as I did. And after that the nickname became one that they would speak with some reverence.
It was in those years that I'd first seen the Players. They never came into the village, which was hidden behind the forest and was considered off the map. But they visited the shops on the other side of the forest manned by the adults, and we children would stand, hidden mostly by the shrubbery, to catch a glimpse of them.
Most of them were beautiful, while others looked fierce and forbidding. Just like the villagers, not all Players were human: some were elves, animals, or humanoids. Some looked to be in peak physical fitness as they browsed through the various weapons at the blacksmith's store, while others bore wounds inflicted from battles and carelessly dropped gold onto the counter as they grasped for the health potions of their choice. But one common trait was how they all exuded an aura of pure power, nothing like our parents.
These little sneak peeks made our hearts race, especially at the age of twelve, when we learned that the day we turned sixteen, the Algorithm would pick some of us to go out of the village to various parts of world, where we would interact with these players and sometimes be pitted against them.
My father became somewhat of a celebrity when we learnt of the Algorithm Selections. He had been the only adult in the entire village to have gone to the Outside, and it had been on his adventures that he had met my mother. The other children would come around to our house to waylay him when he returned from manning the shops or tilling the fields, asking him to tell them more about his time out There, but he remained as reticient as he had been in my childhood. Soon they gave up, but I didn't: I could now discern a sorrow that tinged the edges of his silence, a sorrow that grew sharp like a blade whenever I spoke aloud to wonder what the Outside was like. If I needled him hard enough, I fancied the blade would cut through his silence and everything would come tumbling out. So I kept on at it, remarking on how well my swordplay and archery trainings were going, crowing proudly whenever I levelled up, exclaiming how excited I was for the day I turned sixteen. But maddeningly, he kept his silence.
Until the eve of my sixteenth birthday.