Cataclysm fury macros

Seriously, don't even attempt to trivialize it. It's not about waking you up at 3:00 am for mundane reasons like running out of milk or needing your Wi-Fi password. This entity, whatever it may be, operates outside our reality's bounds, and its motives are far from benign. I learned this the hard way recently, which is why I'm cautioning you all against making light of it. But before delving into specifics, let me offer some context, as sleep paralysis is a recent phenomenon for me.
One of my earliest memories of sleep disruption traces back to my grade school days. With my mother on an early shift unable to drive me to school for its 8:00 am start, she would drop me off at my aunt's house. Here, she ensured I was fed, dressed, and ready for school. Most mornings, I had just about an hour left to sleep before needing to rise. Often, I'd find myself in a half-asleep state from the moment my mom roused me until she tucked me into my aunt's spare bedroom.
On one of those mornings, as I lay down, teetering between wakefulness and sleep, I experienced a peculiar sensation. It felt as though my body began to rise, hovering about two feet above the bed, before swiftly plummeting back down. Startled awake, I assumed my mother had thrown me back onto the bed, only to find the room empty upon opening my eyes.
I hadn't encountered any other experiences quite like that, but it was during this time that I distinctly recall a notable surge in the frequency of the nightmares I was experiencing. The nightmares were generally the same, some cloaked being hiding in the recesses of my vision, always there, always watching. I felt as though each passing night terror that it got closer and closer to me, but always just out of reach. At times, I found myself trapped in a dark room, enveloped by an overwhelming sense of malevolence that seemed to saturate the air—and a fear entirely foreign to my waking experiences.
Then I experienced sleep paralysis for the first time.
It occurred at my mother's house, marking the initial instance where I experienced the sensation of my body being effectively immobilized while my mind remained active. I recall attempting to move my eyes and then my body, but all efforts were futile. As I struggled to regain autonomy, it sounded as though a gathering had convened in my kitchen, voices carrying in muted tones. None of the which resembled those of my parents; I even detected snickering and laughter at one point. The conversation seemed to be aimed at me, as my name was uttered several times, yet the other words remained indecipherable. The episode concluded with me returning to sleep without any further disturbances.
As the instances of sleep paralysis became more frequent, they culminated in another peculiar experience. Shortly after moving into my first apartment, still in the midst of unpacking and assembling furniture, the second incident occurred. I lay on a mattress on the floor, surrounded by unassembled bedframe pieces, when I awoke to find myself imprisoned within my own body once more. In the darkness, I heard a faint sound—a presence moving softly over each piece of furniture. Panic gripped me as I strained to turn my head towards the noise, but every effort proved futile. With each passing moment, the unseen entity drew closer until it reached the bedside. Helpless, I closed my eyes, bracing myself for whatever awaited.
Meow?
Relief washed over me as I realized it was just my generously proportioned feline friend making his way around the room. I could hear him moving about, stepping on more furniture and emitting a few disgruntled meows, presumably chastising my laziness for not assembling it yet. As I began to drift back to sleep, I was abruptly startled awake by a chilling sound.
Snnn-orrrff
A primal, guttural snarl pierced the silence, its menacing resonance echoing through the room like a thunderous roar. I struggled desperately to move my limbs, silently screaming in my mind, yet only managing a feeble whimper as I sensed the beast drawing near. Despite my efforts, my body only twitched, while in my imagination, I leapt up and fled. As a mischievous chuckle erupted, I felt hot, pungent breath on the back of my neck. I suddenly awoke, screaming, kicking and punching. I jerked my head to the side and was met only with darkness. I jumped up and turned the light on, a quick scan of the room revealed there was nothing there. Exhausted and recognizing my inability to function effectively, I reluctantly resigned myself to lying back down with the light on until morning. I called into work, knowing that in my current state, I wouldn't be of much use to anyone.
Days passed and soon, it was that time of the month again for my regular check-in from mom. I hesitantly answered the call. After a few minutes of conversation, we eventually broached the topic of my sleep paralysis.
"Honey, it's probably all the stress." she reasoned.
My job had me grinding away tirelessly, but despite my efforts, all I got was a tiny bump in pay. To add to the mix, my landlord decided it was the perfect time to raise the rent. It's safe to say, the stress was really getting to me. "I don't know, it's been happening my whole life, Dad ever had any issues with sleep?"
There was a noticeable pause as she contemplated her reply. "He's definitely had his share of nightmares, he'd wake me up a lot of the times, poor thing would be in tears."
"Jeez, I never knew, but Mom I gotta…" I endeavored to conclude the conversation, as my allotted chat time was expiring, however my mother promptly interrupted me.
"Sweetie, why won't you join us at church? It might help?"
I released a sigh. I staunchly opposed the notion of going to church; I'd rather watch a documentary on the history of paperclips. "Thanks, but I'm not feeling that right now."
"Please, just do it for me?" She pleaded.
Eager to bring the call to a close. "I'll think about, but, alright I'm going to go ahead a hop off here."
"Alright, I miss you, call me later okay?"
"I will, love you, bye."
I concluded the call with a sigh of relief, grateful for its conclusion.
For a stretch, life seemed to fall into place: My job noticed the disparity between my increased workload and pay and offered me a new position that significantly improved my financial situation. Thanks to this new position, I crossed paths with my wife, and we swiftly eloped. She was one of the top account managers, earning a substantial income, which enabled us to afford a nice house together. During this period, the night terrors and bouts of sleep paralysis took a hiatus, granting me a reprieve. Yet amidst the tranquility, a gnawing sense of foreboding lingered, as if a tempest loomed on the horizon, urging me to savor the calm while it lasted.
During this period, my wife and I had been eagerly anticipating the arrival of our first child. We were overjoyed as she reached the sixth month of her pregnancy, carrying our long-awaited daughter. However, my suspicions proved tragically correct. I'll never forget the heart-wrenching phone call from my wife, her voice choked with tears, informing me of the terrifying sight of blood. Hastening to the emergency room, we raced against time, but our efforts proved futile. We lost our precious daughter that day. The journey back home was a blur, engulfed in a suffocating sense of loss that seemed to consume us both. It felt as though a part of me had died alongside our daughter, and the profound grief only served to widen the chasm between us as time passed, transforming our once intimate bond into a hollow semblance of what it once was.
Sleep paralysis and nightmares began to resurface, as if some malevolent force was exploiting my already troubled state, and my ability to sleep dwindled. Additionally, minor habits and disparities in the early stages of our marriage, once insignificant, began escalating into cataclysmic arguments. By now, I'm certain even my breathing would agitate my wife. Despite experimenting with various medications, none proved effective. Even vigorous physical exercise failed to exhaust me enough for uninterrupted sleep. The situation escalated to the point where my wife banished me from the bedroom due to my incessant tossing and turning, disrupting her rest. Consequently, I found myself relegated to the couch. Resorting to alcohol became a regular occurrence, partly to numb the discomfort of the couch but also as a means of coping with my grief.
We barely conversed, even though she mentioned marriage counseling, I rebuffed the idea, convinced it wouldn't benefit us. Frequently, I'd discover her in tears, cradling the sonogram of our daughter, yet I would quietly withdraw, allowing her solitary moments of sorrow. She had her unique methods of grieving, just as I had mine.
"I can't keep doing this, we're drowning in debt, and you're just pushing us further into it with every bottle." She pointed to the glass in my hand.
"Oh, come on! I work hard for us, I deserve to unwind a bit!" In a moment of animated expression, I inadvertently spilled some of my beverage onto the floor.
"Unwind? You call draining our savings and neglecting our future 'unwinding'!?"
"Look, just let me sleep in my own bed tonight."
She crossed her arms, and for a moment, silence enveloped us before she finally spoke.
"I just—I feel like I'm living with a stranger." Her eyes begin to shimmer with emotion.
"I'm here, aren't I? What more do you want from me?!" My voice rising in volume.
She attempted to delicately take my drink away, her touch then shifting to gently grasp my hand. "I want us to be a team again, not just two people sharing a bed."
But the moment I felt her touch, I instinctively shoved her hands away from me. "We haven't been a 'team' since we lost—" My voice quivered, then exploded into rage. "You pushed me out! You did this! You don't talk to me about anything anymore! Just get the hell out!" I pointed to the door.
I stood in the open doorway, watching her car pull out of the driveway. With a final sip, I closed the door behind me. Met with silence, I sensed the weight of tension hanging heavy in the air. Deciding one more bourbon was in order, I made my way to the kitchen, intent on pouring myself one last drink. In a bid to ensure a restful night, I opted to accompany my indulgence in alcohol with a hefty dosage of sleeping pills. A reckless choice, I'm aware, but perhaps death was in fact the ultimate form of slumber. I settled onto the couch, flicking through channels until my libation was drained. Feeling sufficiently relaxed, I decided it was time for bed. Ascending the stairs, I stumbled and collapsed onto the master bedroom's mattress. Sleep enveloped me swiftly that night, yet trouble was never far behind.
I recall waking during the night and noticing that the hallway light remained illuminated. It struck me as odd since I distinctly remember switching it off before retiring to bed. However, given my inebriated state from the copious amounts of alcohol I had consumed, I surmised that I must have simply forgotten. I'd just get up and switch it off, but a wave of unease washed over me. Despite my intentions, I found myself paralyzed, trapped within my own body once again. I found myself transfixed on the door, illuminated by the soft glow seeping in from the hallway. In that moment, I discerned a shadowy figure lurking behind the door.
I hoped it was my wife, but a gut feeling told me otherwise; this time felt different, suffocated by an eerie malevolence. The doorknob rattled violently, as if something were struggling to open it. Yet, amidst the noise I caught a sinister snicker. The relentless jiggling of the doorknob reached a fever pitch, threatening to wrench it free from its socket at any instant. Then, as abruptly as it began, the tumult ceased, leaving an ominous silence hanging in the air. The door then creaked open with a slow, foreboding motion.
A sinister, shapeless presence loomed in the doorway, defying gravity as it hovered above the ground, its shadowy form exaggerated by the eerie glow seeping in from the hallway. I whimpered, struggling to stir my limbs in a futile attempt to awaken my body, but they responded only with slight twitches. My gaze remained fixed on the form before me, immobilized by fear. Suddenly, a sinuous appendage extended from the specter's face, resembling a long, black tentacle. It elongated and snaked toward me, prompting me to instinctively shut my eyes. Sensing its proximity, I remained frozen, an icy chill grazed my forehead, jolting me awake in an instant. Sleep eluded me for the rest of the night, so I opted for an early morning, brewing a pot of coffee to chase away the lingering unease.
For the following weeks, my routine remained monotonous: work, microwave dinner, then numbness induced by sleeping pills and bourbon until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I received a text from my mother-in-law stating that my wife wanted to reconcile, but insisted on therapy and my attendance at AA meetings. I refused, firmly convinced that all I desired was to reclaim my bed, and that her reaction was excessive. I contended that the alcohol provided comfort, a gesture I hadn't received from her in quite some time. My mother-in-law and wife were both displeased with my response; it became apparent that divorce was now the inevitable solution.
At this juncture, I experienced sleep paralysis on a daily basis, even in the absence of the entity. Each night, I would awaken multiple times, unable to move, only freeing myself to find dread awaiting the next episode upon returning to sleep. There was one rare night when I slept soundly, only to be abruptly awakened by a late-night call from an old friend. We had a bond stretching back to our middle school days, and were inseparable back then. However, this call wasn't one of nostalgia; it was about money. He needed a bailout for his mortgage, promising a swift repayment.
I moved to the edge of my bed, frustration mounting as I started to rub my forehead. "I can't, I just can't right now, I need to get back to sleep good—"
He interrupted me. "Please, I don't want to lose the house."
I found myself raising my voice in frustration as irritation crept in. It appeared he was wholly incapable of learning from his mistakes. "Look, it isn't my responsibility to bail you out every time you're in trouble!"
"I know, I know, please, at least do it for Eli, Chelsea left me all alone and it's been hard man." His voice starting to crack.
My voice raising to a near scream; "He isn't my responsibility either! You should have been careful! I told you she wasn't good for you and you didn't listen! Sort your own shit out from now on!"
I ended the call and slammed the phone onto my nightstand. So much for a good night's rest, thanks a lot, friend.
As my life spiraled further into chaos, I realized I needed to explore solutions beyond relying on alcohol and sleeping pills to combat sleep paralysis. Perhaps a spiritual approach was necessary. While I knew my mother would be pleased with this consideration, I'm certain what I had in mind would be vehemently discouraged. My mother firmly believed in the existence of demons, warning against interacting with them outside of 'God's protection'. Perhaps she was right, but I grew desperate for a solution. At this stage, I was willing to do anything for peace of mind, regardless of the consequences. So, I concocted a masterful plan:
I'd simply ask it what it would take to make it stop.
Each morning was fraught with dread, pondering whether the entity would manifest itself. I ensured to kickstart my day with a potent drink, maintaining a steady buzz throughout, perhaps to stave off any wavering doubts about my decision. My patience bore fruit one fateful night as I found myself immobilized once more.
This marked the initial instance when the entity directly addressed me, and its words seared into my memory with chilling permanence. It uttered abhorrent, repulsive, unfathomable insults about me, branding me a failure, devoid of worth, as insignificant as a microbe. It dissected my existence, critiquing my choices, appearance, and demeanor with a cruelty I had never encountered. It seemed to possess an uncanny ability to strike at the core of my being, as if it wielded a weapon honed to annihilate my spirit. And then, its merciless laughter echoed relentlessly.
In that moment, I recognized it as my opportunity to retort. However, the barrage of insults stoked a fire within me, igniting a fury that overpowered my intentions. What did this entity presume to know about me? It was entirely mistaken, and that infuriated me. Against my better judgment, fueled by indignation, I deviated from my plan and impulsively blurted out: "What's so damn funny?!"
As the words echoed in my mind, the laughter abruptly ceased, leaving behind an eerie silence. Relief flooded through me as I dared to hope that I had put an end to the ordeal. Yet, my premature celebration was cut short when an indescribable dread enveloped me. A black ichor oozed onto the floor beside my bed, signaling the beginning of a hellish spectacle. From the viscous sludge, a dark figure emerged, coated in sticky tar, yet defying gravity as it ascended, hovering above the ground.
Above me, it loomed, its weighty presence palpable as thick sludge cascaded onto the bed, it halted directly over me. Its head inclined, scrutinizing me with unseen gaze. Tears welled in my eyes, hot and unrestrained, as I braced for the inevitable embrace of death. The figure gradually descended, its feet pressing into my chest with an icy chill coursing through me. As its waist aligned with my sternum, a frigid sensation enveloped me. With a swift motion, it plunged its hand into my chest, seizing my heart, and darkness consumed my senses.
I felt a terrifying pull downward, as if gravity itself had gone haywire. My stomach churned with a sickening weightlessness, reminiscent of a plummeting elevator. As my descent abruptly halted, the sound of wind rushing in my ears gave way to a sudden explosion—a resounding burst, resembling the opening of a parachute. That's when I sensed something coiling around my waist, though invisible to my eyes. Desperate to break free, I reached out, only to recoil in horror as my fingers brushed against scaly, rough skin.
Simultaneously, the air filled with the echoing beat of what seemed like enormous wings, while I experienced the unsettling sensation of being lifted and dropped. Though I had a suspicion about what gripped me, disbelief held me back from fully acknowledging it. So, resigned, I surrendered to my captor's will, allowing them to transport me to an unknown destination. As the darkness yielded, a faint glow emerged beneath us—a jagged line emanating an eerie orange-red light. The creature descended, revealing a sight that churned my stomach: bubbling lava. Its faint glow barely illuminated what seemed to be a cavern.
As I descended further into the cavern's depths, the beast veered close enough for me to sense the searing warmth of the lava beneath my feet. Gradually, our descent stabilized, and my gaze shifted forward, revealing a massive door-like structure. Its design echoed the grandeur of ancient Gothic architecture, adorned with pointed arches and intricate buttresses. The edifice appeared crafted from a peculiar variety of marble, possessing a beauty tinged with an unsettling aura. Its construction defied convention, evoking a sense of unease; never before had anything been wrought in such a manner.
As the creature descended once more, carrying me firmly, we passed through the doorway, revealing the true scale of the chamber. Beyond the threshold, a vast expanse unfolded, illuminated by a solitary spherical light source, casting an unsettlingly dim glow upon a colossal, otherworldly mechanism. It resembled a colossal pillar, stretching upward into the darkness of the cavern, its details obscured by the dim light. Within its intricate workings, gears, wheels, and chains rotated at a languid pace. Amidst this mechanical labyrinth, my attention was drawn to a swirling mass of gray at the base of the mechanism, slowly undulating. The beast appeared to be steering us directly toward it.
As we drew nearer, we sailed past what appeared to be a platform, upon which perched a colossal beast. Its form resembled that of a massive reptilian creature, akin to what one might envision as a dinosaur. Yet, it stood upright on two legs, its powerful limbs chained firmly to the platform. With each short, sharp inhalation, it unleashed a deafening roar that reverberated through every fiber of my being. I couldn't help but notice the protrusion of its jugular vein, roughly the size of my upper thigh, expanding with each thunderous cry. As we approached the swirling mass of gray, a sudden wave of horror washed over me as I comprehended its true nature.
A sea of people.
I observed that they were all bound together by chains, encircling their arms, legs, and necks. These chains converged at the towering pillar, linking each individual to the mechanism. The mass of people moved in a circular motion, driving the turning of the cogs. Their pallid complexion suggested an absence of life, as if all vitality had been drained from them. Their agonized screams pierced the air, mouths devoid of tongues. I witnessed an individual collapse to their knees, only to be forcefully yanked upright by some unseen power, rest was an elusive notion in this place. To my horror, amidst the throng of young adults and the elderly, I saw children swept along by the relentless current of the crowd.
As the creature positioned me amidst the multitude, I pleaded desperately, but it was futile; the chains had already ensnared me. With each movement of the mass of people, I felt the tug on my own chain, pressed in on all sides without an inch of space to spare. The towering figures around me obscured any view beyond their heads, leaving me engulfed in a sea of bodies.
My voice pierced the chaotic symphony of screams, rising in a desperate plea for escape.
"Please! I don't belong here! I just wanted to sleep, this is a mistake!"
As I cried out, the orb of light began to shift, seemingly in response to my desperate appeals. As it drew closer and closer, a sense of dread gripped me. Hovering ominously above, it revealed itself as a grotesque monstrosity, casting a sickly glow that chilled me to the bone. I fought the overwhelming urge to collapse, my knees weakening with each passing moment. What loomed overhead defied any attempt at human description; it resembled a cluster of intertwining tubes, swirling and spiraling in a mesmerizing dance that transcended the bounds of reality. Bathed in a sickly blue light that pulsed like molten lava beneath its tendrils.
The light wrought a profound transformation within me, granting a clarity of self-awareness unlike anything I had ever known. In its piercing illumination, I was confronted with the raw truth of my being, stripped of illusion or denial. It was a sobering revelation, an awakening to the most authentic understanding of myself I had ever experienced.
I belonged here.
I had systematically driven away my friends, neglecting their presence and refusing to open up to them. Even my own mother's attempts at connection felt burdensome, our conversations reduced to mere obligations. But perhaps the greatest tragedy lay in the chasm that had formed between my wife and me—a divide entirely of my own making. I was the architect of my own downfall, responsible for the ruin of my life, with no one else to blame but myself. Every word the entity had uttered about me held a painful truth.
From this vantage point, my life appeared almost sweet in retrospect, bathed in the stark light of self-awareness. Yet, any semblance of hope quickly dissolved, for in this desolate realm, hope found no foothold, no sanctuary to thrive.
With my head bowed low, I trudged forward, the weight of my chain pulling me inexorably onward. In a moment of unprecedented vulnerability, I found myself offering a prayer. Despite my awareness that it would likely go unanswered, I embraced the grim reality of my fate, accepting it with a heavy heart.
God, have mercy on me…
Suddenly the sound of chains breaking shattered the air as I was yanked upward with astonishing velocity. In a sudden blur, the scene below shrank rapidly beneath me. The rush of wind buffeted me, and I sensed another presence, an arm wrapped around my waist. Clutching onto it tightly, I braced myself as the cavern's light faded into absolute darkness, squeezing my eyes shut against the unknown.
With a jolt, my rapid ascent came to an abrupt halt, my back colliding with something soft. Gradually, I realized I was back in the familiarity of my own bed. At the foot of the bed stood a figure, its features obscured by a radiant glow emanating from its form, resembling molten glass. The brilliance bathed the entire room in an ethereal light. For a fleeting moment, we locked gazes, suspended in a silent exchange. Then, as swiftly as it had appeared, the figure began to ascend, leaving my room cloaked once more in shadows.
I sat in silence for a while, grappling with the enormity of my experience. To dismiss it as a mere nightmare or hallucination would be a gross understatement; whatever transpired felt hauntingly more vivid and tangible than my current reality. It would take me months of introspection and contemplation to begin to make sense of it all, to reconcile the surreal with the mundane, and to find a semblance of peace within myself.
Although the experience didn't trigger an immediate transformation, its impact lingered, nudging me towards a path of change. Despite my ongoing struggle with alcohol addiction, I made a conscious decision to seek help. I began prioritizing regular hangouts with my best friend and even accompanied my mom to a few church visits. While I remained uncertain about my own connection to religion, witnessing her joy brought a sense of fulfillment that warmed my heart. In making her happy, I found a newfound source of happiness within myself.
As time passed, a sense of progress gradually infused my life. Achieving a year of sobriety marked a significant milestone on my journey, celebrated amidst the supportive community of AA. Even my wife took notice of my efforts towards self-improvement, leading us to embark on marriage counseling together. Before long, her return to our home signaled a hopeful new chapter in our relationship.
Not a trace of sleep paralysis had haunted me since that fateful night when I was guided from the depths of despair. I'm not entirely sure if it was an angel, or God, but whatever it was, it spared me, and for that, I'm grateful. And now, the most joyous news of all: my wife and I are expecting our first child next week. The doctors assure us of her perfect health, filling us with anticipation and gratitude. As for her name, I already have the perfect one in mind:
Grace

“T-this! This is madness!” Count Harmswid, one of the very few Human nobles of the Seraphic Empire, bellowed as his hand slammed into the table, sending scrolls flying onto the floor of his luxurious tent. “You’d be leaving me defenseless! I already have a manpower shortage, and now you’d deprive me of not just Wyverns but all of my mana users!?”
Standing across from him, seemingly unphased and unbothered by the outburst, was Tharivol, the Duchesses Dark Elf spymaster. Tharivol remained stoic as Count Harmonswid's face turned a shade of deep red; the veins on his neck bulged with every word. As the tirade continued, spittle started to fly from the human’s mouth, landing on the polished surface of the table and even on Tharivol's dark cloak. Yet, the spymaster's demeanor did not change; there was no sign of disgust, no flinch, no reaction whatsoever.
“Do you truly expect me to comply with such an insane request!? You and that damned charlatan have both lost your minds!” The Count sneered before spitting on the floor. “I cannot, and I shall not!”
Count Harmswid's rage seemed to swell within him, growing more intense with each passing moment. "I'll drag both you and that insufferable wench before the Court of Houses!" he thundered, his voice echoing off the high walls of the chamber. "You think you can force a noble of my standing to forfeit his property and forces unjustly? The court will see you stripped of your titles, your lands confiscated, and the Duchess fined! Perhaps you would even find yourself exiled, you insufferable curr!"
The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the count's threats and the tension of the confrontation. Yet, through it all, Tharivol remained as impassive as ever, his expression never wavering from its cold neutrality.
Once, the count's rant had finally run its course, leaving him panting and glaring across the table. "Do you truly intend not to comply with the Duchess's order?" Tharivol's voice was so calm and devoid of emotion that it seemed as if he was simply discussing the weather.
"NO!" The count's response was a furious shout, his hands slamming down onto the table with such force that it splintered beneath them. "I will not bend the knee to such outrageous demands!"
Unphased by the outburst, Tharivol eyes scanned the room, looking at all the Count's personal guards in attendance. Two mages and six mana-capable knights stood uncomfortably against the wall of the tent, just behind the count. "Is there nothing that will convince you otherwise?" The Dark Elf asked, bringing his eyes back to the Count. “Coin? Concessions? Favors?”
The count's face twisted with hatred at the mere suggestion of compromise. "I'd sooner turn my blade towards the Duchess herself than comply with anything that whore demands!" he spat venomously, the words dripping with disdain and loathing.
Tharivol simply nodded as if the count's refusal and insults were nothing more than he had expected. "Very well," he said, his voice still calm and unbothered, before looking behind him to two of his own guards who accompanied him.
These individuals wore unassuming attire, their features obscured behind black mosaic masks that shifted and morphed in subtle ways. Anyone looking at the masks would find their gaze unfocused, slipping across them as if they were merely part of the background. Beneath their dark cloaks was sleek armor made of a substance unfamiliar to the count, a strange blend that was neither quite metal nor leather.
"Take the Count's head and slay any who resist," Tharivol commanded his guards and turned back to the Count.
But before his eyes could leave the two shadow-like figures, their forms surged forward like a wisping darkness, their movements far too fast for any being's eye to comfortably track. Each unsheathed, jagged, wicked-looking blades, as long as one's forearms. There were subtle differences between each weapon, but they all had one thing in common. And that was the fact that they seemed to be forged from a strange blood-red metal that made people’s blood run cold.
The Count and his guard's eyes widened as they flinched back and grabbed at their weapons. However, before they could properly react, these ghosts were faster. Not a single sword left their sheathe, and not a word was chanted before blood was drawn.
As Harmswid opened his mouth to scream, a terrifying silence took hold instead. The world spun into a vortex of chaos, colors blurring and shapes warping as if reality itself was unraveling around him. Orders died on his lips, replaced by a mute plea for his men to save him.
Then, he crashed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. All sense of time and place dissolved while his mind struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him. He was trapped in a maelstrom of motion where his guards – his paragons of strength – were being ruthlessly dismembered.
The dark figures moved with a terrifying and unnatural speed. They were blurs of motion armed with those wicked, crimson-tinged blades felling season knights that were once symbols of power and protection as if they were pigs lambs brought to feasts. Their armor offered no resistance as it was pierced effortlessly, and their cries were cut short, transforming into wet gurgles and sickening thuds as they collapsed.
Blood splattered the interior of the tent, a gruesome crimson rain painting what had once been a place of noble authority into a scene of carnage. His loyal protectors, those who were supposed to be his shield, were now nothing but lifeless corpses strewn across the ground.
Through his terror, the Count saw Tharivol out of the corner of his eye. The dark elf stood unmoved, a cold spectator observing a symphony of violence orchestrated by his will. With one more attempted gasp, Harmswid’s world plunged into darkness.
With an air of nonchalant finality, Tharivol strolled forward. He bent down, not a hint of bother on his face, and retrieved the severed head of Count Harmswid. The dark elf held the head aloft, examining it with a clinical detachment as if it were merely a curious specimen and not the remnants of a once powerful man.
"Hopefully, this will deter others from such foolishness,” Tharivol remarked with a chilling yet humored voice. “I’m sure there will be a few more unwise enough to disobey our mistress, but let they and Count Harmswid serve as… palpable enough deterrent to insubordination.”
The Dark Elf spun on his heel and strode confidently towards the tent flap while his masked guards moved like shadows in his wake. What had transpired was as swift as it was horrifying, from start to finish. The once opulent pavilion, a symbol of the Count's authority, had become a macabre slaughterhouse in mere seconds, and the air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood.
Tharivol moved with the grace of a predator. He grasped a fistful of the Count's hair, casually swinging the severed head as he left the carnage behind. Stepping out of the tent, a scene of utter chaos greeted him.
A cataclysmic roar had ripped through the air, an earth-shattering crash rattled the bones of every being within earshot. Tents flailed wildly, torn from their moorings and scattered like scraps of paper by the force of the blast. Men were thrown off their feet, rolling across the dirt in a desperate bid for stable ground.
And the source of such devastation was the immense silhouette of a black dragon. A very old and very powerful black dragon of monstrous proportions. Its landing had been a display of raw power; the earth itself sundered from its weight, cracking and buckling as the beast settled into place, and smoke curled from its nostril as its massive wings slowly unfurled.
To Tharivol's left, a figure stood resolute against the swirling chaos. Clad in heavy plate armor, augmented by the bones and scales of vanquished wyverns. One of the Duchess's most powerful and he was a testament to the mistress’s influence and strength. The great warrior's hide cloak buffeted violently in the maelstrom, yet he remained steadfast, utterly unmoving. His massive sword was driven deep into the earth, his hands folded gently over the hilt, as he stared maliciously towards the soldiers and mages toppling head over heel.
Striding past the warrior, Tharivol moved effortlessly underneath the dragon's colossal wingspan until reached the other side, where a panicked crowd was already gathering. He held up the Count's head for all to see and amplified his cold voice with magic, causing it to reverberate across the encampment.
"YOUR TREACHEROUS LORD IS NO MORE!" Tharivol bellowed, "HE CHOSE DEFIANCE! HE CHOSE DEATH! AND THUS THE FATE OF ALL WHO CHOOSE SELF-INTEREST OVER THE IMPERIAL WAR EFFORT!”
The gathered soldiers gasped, their faces twisting into a mixture of shock, disbelief, and abject terror. This was a display of power unlike anything they had ever witnessed - the swift brutality, the utter disregard for a noble life, and now, the raw might embodied by the massive dragon that cast its imposing shadow over them all.
A wave of shock and outrage swept throughout the Count's retinue. They stood frozen for moments, hands clenching around sheathed weapons, before the reality of the situation sunk in. Their lord was dead, his head held aloft like a grotesque trophy a damned dark elf who stood before them. Yet, their fury was tempered by the sight of the colossal monstrosity looming above the foul man.
Not even the stoic knight captain, his battle-scarred face creased in anguish, dared break the uneasy silence that had descended upon them. His eyes flicked between the severed head and what he considered the largest and oldest dragon he’d ever seen in his damnable life. It was bad enough one of the Duchess’s hero showed up, but with this monster here, all thoughts of vengeance were crushed beneath the weight of gaping maw staring at him.
Tharivol lowered the head, allowing it swinging morbidly in his grip as he marched straight to the knight captain. Halting mere inches from the man, the Dark Elf looked down at him through his nose despite the fact that he was a head shorter than the gruff knight. But how tall one was mattered very little at the current moment. For the poor captain fought to maintain any semblance of calm as his entire body trembled, not from mere cold, but from a primal, instinctual terror.
"Gather your mana users. Assemble the wyverns, good captain." Tharivol commanded, his voice still magically amplified. "You will report to the Duchess in Aldenshore, and with haste. I trust," here Tharivol's gaze flicked meaningfully towards the dragon, "that you understand the urgency of this order?"
His tone carried not a hint of a question, but the chilling finality of an ultimatum. The Duchess' word was now law and the dragon was both enforcer and a grim reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Should the captain hesitate, should he choose to dally, the monstrous creature would likely make a far bloodier example than even the Count's brutal end.
The knight captain could only bow his head and utter a hoarse, "Aye, my lord." Compliance, however grudging, was the only path to survival. Defiance meant not just death for himself but the annihilation of his men. No amount of courage or pride could bridge the chasm of power that lay between them.
An expression like a viper's grin spread across Tharivol’s face. A macabre amusement flitted into his eyes as he raised Count Harmswid's head once more, slapping the lifeless cheek in a grotesque mockery of applause. "Very good!" he declared, his amplified voice carrying an undercurrent of cruel delight.
"You shall rest this day and prepare. But," his tone turned as sharp as a dagger, "do not keep us waiting. To delay the Duchess... well, that would be oh so very unwise."
With a final flourish, Tharivol spun on his heel and marched away, but just before the Dark Elf disappeared below the hulking mass of the Dragon, The Knight Captain attempted to rise to his feet. "Wait, my lord!" The man stammered out as his hand reached out.
However, the sudden movement had caught the dragon's attention. With a rumble that reverberated through the encampment, its massive head dipped low. Twin nostrils flared, expelling twin plumes of superheated plasma, as its eyes narrowed, burning with fury.
The knight captain let out a yelp, a terrified sound he hadn't made since childhood. His body recoiled as if struck, and his legs had given way beneath him as he fell on his rear.
Tharivol paused, turning back with feigned concern. His voice dripped with theatrical sympathy, "Oh dear, is there some problem, good captain?" He let the question hang in the air before bursting into a peal of chilling laughter.
With a dramatic gesture, he addressed the knight captain once more. "Well then, Captain, go on! What is it that troubles you so?" There was an odd playfulness in the dark elf's tone that sent chills down every man in the Count’s army’s spine.
Panic surged through the knight captain. Caught between the titanic dragon and the mocking presence of the dark elf, fear threatened to swallow him whole. Each raspy breath seemed to drag against his throat, the super-heated air of the dragon's breath filling his nostrils. It was an intoxicating mix of molten metal and sulfur, a scent that seemed to speak of fiery annihilation.
He scrambled back even further as the dragon's head moved closer. Desperation lent his words a frenzied edge. "W-what of the food stores, my lord? Our gathered supplies? And the men – the rest of the soldiers? Shall they march to Aldenshore with us, or... or remain?" The words tumbled out, laced with the fear of asking the wrong question, of drawing further ire.
Tharivol approached the man before halting a comfortable distance away. The knight captain flinched, averting his gaze from the dragon, and fixing it on the ground and started whispering prayers and reciting passages from the holy text of his god. Tharivol tilted his head, a curious, almost amused glint in his dark eyes.
For a tense moment, he simply observed the knight captain, letting the silence stretch between them before heaving a heavy sigh. “Do you speak of the mundane?" His tone was flippant, laced with a hint of disdain. "Take them, leave them – it is of no concern to me.” He answered, waving his hand dismissively. “Now that you have your answer… do not bother me with such trivial matters again. I have much more pressing concerns and so little time."
As Tharivol walked away, the knight captain scrambled to his feet. “Y-You heard ‘em! Git yer asses movin’ less ya want to be Dragon feed!” The man ordered with fear evident in his voice as the Dark Elf disappeared beneath the dragon. “And send word to the Wyvern camps of our new orders!”
Silence reigned at the order as everyone stood stock still, but everyone was kicked into overdrive with one last snort from the monster. Soldiers, mages, and workers of every type scramble about with panicked efficiency. Carts were hastily loaded, men and women ran to and fro with bundles of supplies, and the injured were loaded onto wagons with utmost care. Within minutes, the once serene camp was transformed into a whirlwind of purposeful chaos.
And as the madness unfolded, in a distant tree line, Coleman and his ODA team watched silently, peering through the optics of their weapons and purpose-built surveillance tools.
“Fuck… is that our target’s head?” Schwarz suddenly spoke up hushedly as he peered through the high-powered optic of his precision rifle. “I think that’s his head…”
Coleman released an exasperated sigh as he watched with a camouflaged high-powered surveillance device as the strange dark-skinned man walked away with the noble's head in hand. “Yep… Yep, that’s his head…” He nearly growled in annoyance. “Damnit…”
"Wait, isn't this a good thing? We don't gotta kill him," Bennett piped up, a note of confusion in his voice.
Elijah cut him off, the usual lighthearted tone gone from his voice. "No, dipshit, we wanted to bag 'em for questioning," he gestured at the chaotic camp with the barrel of his rifle, "and we can’t question a corpse."
“All units, this is Baron actual.” Coleman quietly spoke into his headphones as he informed the litany of multinational special operations forces that were positioned or prowling around in preparation for the assault on this camp. “Change of plans, our targets KIA from internal fighting.”
“Baron actual, this is Warlock actual.” An Australian Special Air Services Regiment (SASR) team came over the net. “That’s a BIG fackin’ cunt, mate... I’m not so sure about this one.”
No one could fault the assessment. That monstrosity of a dragon was well over 100 meters from snout to tail, and hefty enough to tank most of their firepower. "Baron actual, copy that Warlock. Standby, we’re trying to figure something out."
“This is Bravo actual. Yeah, I have agree with Warlock. This suddenly got a lot more dangerous. I don’t think the operation’s worth it with this thing hanging around." A new voice came over the net belonging to the Polish Commandos, the Jednostka Wojskowa Komandosów (JWK), and gave his opinion on the matter.
The chatter from other teams confirmed the general sentiment. They came in relatively light hoping to do a lightning raid and bug out. Engaging this creature felt like a suicide mission. Sure they could hit with every Javelin or Anti-Tank weapon they had, but no one was convinced they’d be able to land a killing blow and unless someone got lucky and domed the fucker.
“I can’t believe we’re blue balled by a big fackin’ lizard.” The Aussies voice echoed throughout everyone headphones. “What do ya think? Should we pull out?”
Coleman rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. The Aussie had put it crudely, but the sentiment was spot on. The mission was a bust. The tactical dilemma they faced had become far more complicated with the appearance of these newcomers and their dragon.
“Warlock, hold one.” Coleman responded before leanning back against a fallen tree.
A frustrated and heavy breath left the ODA team leader’s mouth as he popped off his helmet, exposing his hair to the hot summer air. As he contemplated his optins while his hand rubbed across his admittedly greasy hair. It had been quite some time since he had a proper shower and, the dirt was starting to build up.
As he thought of way to continue the mission, every scenario he spun out in his mind unraveled before it could take shape. Assault the camp now? With that dragon in the mix, it was madness. Their firepower was decent, but not against a beast of that size and unknown resilience. The thing would torch them before they knew what was going on.
Sneak in, grab what intel they could? Nah… that was stupider than whatever some private fresh out of bootcamp would think up. The goal was not to be decisively engaged.
The Poles and Aussies had a point. Maybe the best course of action was to just to bugger off and keep and element here to observe and mark the location for when the ground pounders came in. But that almost felt like it was a waste… Here they had a prime opportunity to turn a village into a clandestine staging point and letting go of that idea felt… wrong.
Just as another sigh left Colemans mouth, an earth-shattering roar split the air. The team leader whipped his head up, expecting the worst case scenario. The dragon had erupted into flury of motion, as the whirlwind of claws, wings, and raw power tookeof, blowing debris across the camp and scattering tents like leaves in a storm.
But it didn't attack.
The gargantuan creature circled for a moment, leaving a sinister shadow against the clear blue sky, before banking and soaring eastwards.
Coleman blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in the situation. A hundred thoughts raced through his head. Where was it going? It didn’t notice us? Would it return? But Within seconds, the beast had vanished into the distance.
Then, a flicker of opportunity flashed across his eyes. “This Baron actual, let’s wait a bit and see what happens...” Coleman suggested with a predatory grin spreading across his face.
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I made some ideas for this hypothetical game those being the roster's moveset and giving aliens unique personalities and more. These are some examples of the aliens
Heatblast Role: DPS Play Style: Ranged combatant with area control abilities. Notable Moves: Fireball: Launches a projectile that explodes on impact. Inferno: Creates a ring of fire that damages enemies over time. Flame Dash: Dashes forward, leaving a trail of fire that damages enemies. Super Attack: Meteor Shower - Summons a rain of meteors that devastate a large area.
Diamondhead Role: Tank Play Style: Defensive fighter with high durability and crowd control. Notable Moves: Crystal Shield: Erects a barrier that blocks incoming attacks. Shard Shrapnel: Fires sharp crystal shards in a spread pattern. Quartz Quake: Slams the ground, creating a shockwave that stuns nearby enemies. Super Attack: Diamond Storm - Generates a massive storm of crystals that heavily damages and slows enemies.
XLR8 Role: DPS Play Style: Hit-and-run tactics with high mobility. Notable Moves: Speed Strike: A quick dash attack that can chain multiple enemies. Time Dilation: Slows down time for everyone but XLR8, allowing for rapid attacks. Whirlwind: Spins at high speed, creating a tornado that pulls in and damages enemies. Super Attack: Chrono Crash - Dashes through the battlefield at blinding speed, dealing damage to all enemies in the path.
Fourarms Role: Tank Play Style: Close-quarters brawler with high damage output. Notable Moves: Seismic Slam: Jumps and slams the ground, knocking back enemies. Boulder Toss: Grabs and throws a large rock at enemies, dealing area damage. Iron Clasp: Grabs an enemy, immobilizing them for a short duration. Super Attack: Earthquake - Unleashes a powerful quake that damages and disorients all nearby enemies.
Stinkfly Role: Support Play Style: Aerial support with healing and disabling abilities. Notable Moves: Healing Haze: Releases a cloud that heals allies over time. Sticky Goo: Shoots a blob that slows and damages enemies. Gust Blast: Emits a strong wind that pushes enemies away. Super Attack: Toxic Typhoon - Creates a large toxic storm that damages enemies and heals allies within its radius.
Upgrade Role: Support Play Style: Versatile support that enhances allies’ abilities and disrupts enemies. Notable Moves: Tech Boost: Enhances an ally’s weapon, increasing its effectiveness. Malware: Infects an enemy, causing them to take damage over time and reducing their damage output. Shield Matrix: Deploys a temporary shield around an ally, absorbing damage. Super Attack: System Override - Temporarily takes control of all enemy gadgets and disables them.
Ghostfreak Role: DPS Play Style: Stealth and disruption. Notable Moves: Phase Shift: Becomes intangible, avoiding all damage for a short period. Soul Snatch: Drains health from an enemy, healing Ghostfreak. Nightmare: Induces fear in enemies, causing them to flee in panic. Super Attack: Ectonurite Swarm - Summons shadowy clones that attack and confuse enemies.
Snare-oh Role: Tank Play Style: Crowd control specialist with trapping abilities. Notable Moves: Bandage Bind: Extends bandages to bind and immobilize an enemy. Mummy Wrap: Wraps nearby enemies, slowing and damaging them. Sandstorm: Creates a blinding sandstorm that disorients enemies. Super Attack: Tomb of Doom - Encases enemies in a pyramid, trapping them for a significant duration.
Frankenstrike Role: Support Play Style: Mid-range combatant with electrical attacks that can stun and disorient. Notable Moves: Shock Chain: Sends a chain of electricity that jumps between enemies. Static Field: Creates an electric field that slows and damages enemies. Revive Pulse: Sends out a pulse that can revive a downed ally with minimal health. Super Attack: Lightning Storm - Calls down a storm of lightning bolts that strike multiple enemies.
Eye Guy Role: DPS Play Style: Long-range sniper with precision attacks. Notable Moves: Laser Gaze: Fires a precise laser beam from his eyes. Optic Blast: Unleashes a wide beam that sweeps across the battlefield. Visionary Strike: Targets and marks an enemy, increasing the damage they take. Super Attack: Omniscient Onslaught - Simultaneously fires all eyes at different targets, dealing massive damage.
Swampfire Role: Support Play Style: Hybrid support with both healing and crowd control abilities. Notable Moves: Blossom Blast: Shoots a seed that blooms, healing allies in its radius. Flare Up: Emits a burst of fire that damages nearby enemies. Vine Vault: Creates a barrier of vines that can block enemy movement and projectiles. Super Attack: Wild Growth Overload - Engulfs the battlefield in rampant plant growth that heals allies and entraps enemies.
Echo-Echo Role: DPS Play Style: Swarm tactics with cloning abilities to overwhelm opponents. Notable Moves: Sonic Scream: Unleashes a powerful sound wave that damages and disorients enemies. Echo Chamber: Creates duplicates that attack simultaneously. Reverb Shock: Sends out a radial blast from all clones, dealing area damage. Super Attack: Resonance Cascade - Amplifies sound to create a devastating shockwave across the entire map.
Humongosaur Role: Tank Play Style: Heavy frontline bruiser with immense strength. Notable Moves: Tail Whip: Swings his tail to knock back and damage enemies. Mega Stomp: Stomps the ground, causing a tremor that damages and slows enemies. Dino Charge: Charges forward, pushing enemies aside and dealing damage. Super Attack: Titan Rampage - Grows to an enormous size, gaining increased health and damage for a short duration.
Jetray Role: DPS Play Style: Aerial assault with high-speed dive attacks. Notable Moves: Neuroshock Blast: Fires a concentrated beam of energy from his eyes. Aerial Ace: Rapidly dives towards the ground, striking enemies below. Sky Strike: Soars upward, then swoops down across the battlefield, damaging enemies in his path. Super Attack: Cosmic Storm - Unleashes a barrage of energy blasts while flying over the battlefield.
Big Chill Role: Support Play Style: Defensive support with ice-based abilities to control the field. Notable Moves: Frost Breath: Exhales a chilling breath that slows and damages enemies. Ice Wall: Erects a wall of ice that can serve as a shield or obstacle. Glacial Gust: Sends out a freezing wind that damages and has a chance to freeze enemies. Super Attack: Absolute Zero - Creates a blizzard that drastically reduces the temperature, freezing all enemies caught in the storm.
Brainstorm Role: Support Play Style: Strategic support with abilities that manipulate the battlefield. Notable Moves: Cerebro-Shock: Emits an electrical pulse that stuns and damages enemies. Intellect Wave: Boosts allies’ abilities and reduces cooldowns. Mind Field: Deploys a psychic field that confuses and damages enemies. Super Attack: Neural Overload - Overwhelms enemies with a psychic storm, causing massive damage and disorientation.
Goop Role: DPS Play Style: Elusive fighter with shape-shifting and corrosive attacks. Notable Moves: Acid Blob: Hurls a glob of acid that splashes on impact, damaging enemies. Goo Glide: Slides quickly across the ground, leaving a trail that slows enemies. Polymorph Punch: Transforms his arm into a large hammer to smash enemies. Super Attack: Meltdown - Dissolves into a pool, then explodes in a wide radius, dealing heavy damage.
Spidermonkey Role: DPS Play Style: Agile skirmisher with web-based traps and mobility. Notable Moves: Web Shot: Fires a web that immobilizes the first enemy it hits. Arachnid Agility: Leaps great distances and can cling to walls. Spinneret Strike: Spins a web in a wide area, ensnaring and damaging enemies. Super Attack: Web Cataclysm - Covers the entire area in sticky webs, greatly hindering enemy movement and dealing damage over time.
Loadstar Role: Tank Play Style: Magnetic field controller with abilities to manipulate metal objects. Notable Moves: Magnetic Pull: Draws in metallic enemies or projectiles, neutralizing them. Iron Surge: Charges forward, encased in a magnetic field that damages enemies. Attraction Zone: Creates a zone that pulls in all metal objects, forming a protective barrier. Super Attack: Polar Opposites - Reverses the polarity of the battlefield, causing chaos and damage to enemies with metal.
Rath Role: Tank Play Style: Ferocious melee combatant with high aggression and intimidation tactics. Notable Moves: Tiger Slash: A series of rapid claw strikes that deal damage to a single target. Roar Shock: Lets out a fearsome roar that stuns nearby enemies. Pounce: Leaps at an enemy, pinning them down and dealing damage. Super Attack: Apex Predator - Enters a frenzied state, increasing damage output and resistance to crowd control effects.
Water Hazard Role: Support Play Style: Mid-range support with water-based healing and control abilities. Notable Moves: Aqua Shield: Generates a water barrier that absorbs damage and heals allies. Hydro Pump: Blasts a stream of water that can push enemies back. Tidal Wave: Summons a wave that travels across the ground, damaging and slowing enemies. Super Attack: Monsoon Fury - Unleashes a massive storm that floods the area, disrupting enemy positions and restoring health to allies.
Ampfibian Role: DPS Play Style: High mobility and electric attacks that can chain between multiple targets. Notable Moves: Volt Dash: Dashes through enemies, dealing electric damage. Static Cling: Emits an electric charge that sticks to enemies and damages over time. Circuit Breaker: Disables enemy abilities in a small radius. Super Attack: Electro Storm - Creates a large electrical storm that continuously damages enemies within its range.
Armodrillo Role: Tank Play Style: Close-range combatant with seismic abilities to disrupt enemy formations. Notable Moves: Drill Charge: Charges forward with drills spinning, knocking back enemies. Quake Fists: Pounds the ground, sending out shockwaves that damage and stun enemies. Tunnel Trap: Burrows underground and emerges beneath an enemy for a surprise attack. Super Attack: Rumble Rampage - Causes a massive earthquake that damages all enemies on the battlefield.
NRG Role: DPS Play Style: Ranged damage dealer with radioactive abilities that leave lasting effects on the battlefield. Notable Moves: Radiation Beam: Fires a concentrated beam of radiation that pierces through enemies. Meltdown: Creates a radioactive area that damages enemies over time. Core Overload: Temporarily increases damage output at the cost of health. Super Attack: Nuclear Winter - Detonates a massive explosion that irradiates the entire area, causing heavy damage and debuffs to enemies.
Terraspin Role: Tank Play Style: Defensive anchor with wind-based abilities to protect allies and control space. Notable Moves: Gale Guard: Generates a wind shield that deflects projectiles. Whirlwind Spin: Spins rapidly, creating a tornado that knocks back enemies. Hurricane Hold: Creates a localized hurricane that traps and damages enemies inside. Super Attack: Aero Assault - Summons a massive cyclone that sweeps across the battlefield, carrying enemies away.
Clockwork Role: Support Play Style: Strategic support with time manipulation abilities to aid allies and hinder enemies. Notable Moves: Temporal Shift: Slows down time for enemies in a targeted area. Chrono Beam: Fires a beam that ages objects and enemies, causing them to deteriorate. Moment Freeze: Freezes an enemy in time for a brief moment. Super Attack: Time Quake - Reverses time for all players, resetting their positions and health to where they were a few seconds ago.
Jury Rigg Role: DPS Play Style: Saboteur with abilities to dismantle enemy defenses and create chaos. Notable Moves: Destructo Dash: Dashes forward, dealing damage and disabling enemy equipment. Gadget Grab: Steals an enemy’s gadget and uses it against them. Chaos Clamber: Climbs over obstacles and turrets, disabling them temporarily. Super Attack: Anarchy Ambush - Rapidly disassembles all enemy gadgets and barriers in the area, turning them into explosive traps.
Chamalien Role: DPS Play Style: Stealth assassin with camouflage abilities to sneak up on enemies. Notable Moves: Invisible Strike: Becomes invisible for a short duration and deals extra damage on the next attack. Camouflage: Blends into the environment, becoming nearly invisible to enemies. Predator Pounce: Leaps at an enemy from stealth, dealing significant damage. Super Attack: Stealth Surge - Extends the invisibility and damage bonus to nearby allies for a limited time.
Feedback Role: DPS Play Style: Energy manipulator with high burst damage potential. Notable Moves: Energy Absorption: Absorbs energy attacks, converting them into health. Power Surge: Releases stored energy in a devastating blast. Electro-Field: Creates an electric field that damages and slows enemies. Super Attack: Circuit Overload - Overcharges Feedback’s energy, causing chain reactions of explosions around him.
Bloxx Role: Tank Play Style: Shape-shifter with the ability to create structures and barriers. Notable Moves: Blockade: Constructs a large wall to shield allies. Brick Bash: Transforms an arm into a massive hammer for melee attacks. Fortify: Enhances his own durability, reducing incoming damage. Super Attack: Construct Cataclysm - Rapidly builds a fortress that allies can use for cover while dealing damage to enemies who get too close.
Ball Weevil Role: DPS Play Style: Trapper with explosive area denial abilities. Notable Moves: Plasma Globe: Rolls up a sticky bomb that explodes after a delay. Weevil Dash: Quickly rolls in a direction, leaving a trail of plasma. Sticky Trap: Sets a trap that slows and then detonates on enemies. Super Attack: Orbital Bombardment - Launches multiple plasma globes into the air that rain down on the battlefield.
Pesky Dust Role: Support Play Style: Disabler with abilities to put enemies to sleep and create illusions. Notable Moves: Dream Dust: Sprinkles dust that puts enemies to sleep. Nightmare Illusion: Creates a decoy that distracts and confuses enemies. Soothing Slumber: Casts an aura that gradually heals sleeping allies. Super Attack: Dreamscape Delirium - Casts a wide-area spell that puts all enemies into a deep sleep, leaving them vulnerable.
Atomix Role: DPS Play Style: Nuclear powerhouse with devastating long-range attacks. Notable Moves: Fission Blast: Fires a concentrated beam of nuclear energy. Radiant Rush: Charges up and releases a pulse of energy that knocks back enemies. Atomic Shield: Generates a protective barrier that absorbs damage and radiates energy. Super Attack: Nuclear Nova - Unleashes a massive explosion of nuclear energy, dealing extreme damage to all enemies in the vicinity.
Gutrot Role: Support Play Style: Chemical warfare expert with a variety of gas-based abilities. Notable Moves: Toxic Cloud: Releases a cloud of poisonous gas that damages over time. Corrosive Mist: Sprays a mist that weakens enemy armor and slows movement. Fume Screen: Creates a smokescreen that obscures vision and chokes enemies. Super Attack: Chemical Chaos - Floods the area with a lethal combination of gases, causing various debilitating effects to enemies.
Whampire Role: DPS Play Style: Life-stealing vampire with close-quarters combat abilities. Notable Moves: Life Drain: Bites an enemy to steal health. Bat Swarm: Summons a swarm of bats that attack and disorient enemies. Shadow Cloak: Blends into the shadows, becoming temporarily invisible. Super Attack: Eclipse Embrace - Plunges the battlefield into darkness, empowering Whampire and weakening enemies.
Shocksquash Role: Tank Play Style: Electric bruiser with crowd control and area denial abilities. Notable Moves: Thunder Clap: Claps hands together to create a shockwave that stuns nearby enemies. Volt Vault: Leaps into the air and crashes down, electrifying the ground. Static Link: Chains electricity between enemies, dealing damage and sharing effects. Super Attack: Lightning Rod Rampage - Becomes a conduit for lightning, striking multiple enemies and electrifying the terrain.

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IDO : 13th May 16:00 UTC at Chain GPT
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I started playing as a prot warrior and i love to play with shield slam and the sword and board rune (that has a chance to procs a free version of it, after another ability does dmg).
After i got all runes and dual spec i tested tanking with fury/arms talents like recommended. I became a 2 button warrior, just spamming surrender armor and heroic strike. The dmg was a lot better but it feels just awful to play like this.
Could we get a small deep prot buff? So we can forget about the fury tank. Also a buff to "Revenge" would be great, you can rarley use that ability.
Other then that please fix the berserker stance. You cant write a macro that lets you equip another weapon and use that stance at the same time. It only works with any other stance.

I’ve been digging into the Enneagram for about 14 months now. It started with being called a five by a five (a strong endorsement!), so I’ll begin there, and then move on. When I read the description I related to it very much, like “yea, that’s pretty accurate.” It seemed better than any of the other ones, but I was pretty damn emotional for a five, so probably a 5w4 and then in time 5w4 sx. I initially thought I was sp blind, but figured out I’m so blind after quite bit of time and that seems thoroughly accurate. I’m skilled in sp even if I’ve hit overdraft fees, run out of money and had no idea it was gone until “oh shit!” and I’m forgetful as all hell. I can lose pretty much anything.
I think a key feature of fives I related to was the fact that I intellectualized emotions. I was very skilled at it necessarily. It would be some time later when I learned what that is, why children develop that way, and that it’s basically a survival instinct and not anything to be proud of. I was very aware of them, could speak to them well, but I could also detach. When I wanted to I could tap into my emotions, which I enjoyed very much. Rather than plainly talk about them, I would prefer to use metaphor, tell stories, or write poetry–even compose a song on the spot. Just the lyrics and rhythm mind you. Words and emotions are my tools. Objective and emotionally detached, sure. Cautious and private, absolutely! You can’t trust anyone. Compartmentalization of relationships, like this friend knows about X and this person knows about Y but not X and so on. The stinginess…I wasn’t so sure. Avarice. Hm. I guess I’m a pretty healthy five and no other thing seems to fit.
I always had this strange connection with 8, like I’m not an 8, but I really understand the defended stance of 8. I intentionally built internal fortifications against the outside world, like I’m not kidding. You’re not getting in. The anger though. I’ve always had a tremendous amount of anger, and I’ve broken up a lot of fights. I’m good at exerting that kind of control over an environment, like “Knock it off!” and it stops. Maybe that’s the line from 5 to 8? Who knows.
I also figured that my absolutely wreckless and intentionally self-destructive early years could be 7, and also a big vote for sp last. I didn’t think about that too much.
I listened to a lot of podcasts and panels on Enneagram. I cried like a baby during one panel of fives when someone talked about how misunderstood they feel. YES!!!! Someone gets it! I’m not alone! WOW! That was impactful.
I was listening to a couple of people on a podcast talk about 3s and I had to stop it many, many times. I couldn’t get through it. I was just bawling my eyes out. Someday I’ll dig up my notes. I took extensive notes during panel interviews on all 9 types, capturing what resonated with me. I’m quite curious to go back and look now, but that would just make a mess of this post. So 3 hit hard. In my understanding, “3 ruined my life.” That was my takeaway, and also “I’m not a 3.” Things I identified with were the need for approval, like wanting to be loved and seen for who I am motivated everything I worked hard at. It’s what ruined me. I would feel like I needed to watch a movie or listen to a song and sure enough, I would just cry like a baby. Sweet emotional release. I guess that’s a pretty common 3 thing. I didn’t really run people over or care about statusy things, in fact I hated most of that. So a lot of the typical 3 things really didn’t appeal to me at all. I don’t care what award you got or your test scores or what your role is in what company. Unless it helped me directly, I didn’t care at all. I also didn’t care if I had any of that. So there were some pretty big disconnects with 3. Not a 3, but go to hell 3 patterns.
583 tritype I guess. Yippee!
Eventually I’m reading a book on 9s and just start laughing, like I do a lot of these really annoying things and always have. This is hilarious! I went from absolutely amused to “Congratulations! I’m the lame duck of the Enneagram.” LOL I was pretty bummed about that. Not about the type itself, but about its reputation. I’m going to understand the hell out of this right now! That’s when I started reading books. I was learning with a fury.
Reading Chestnuts book on the 27 types I about died during E2, like am I a 2? No way, my mom’s a 2, and I am not a 2! But oh that heart wound. Ouch. It resonated a lot. A lot of 2 did. 2 and 9 mistype a lot, so that’s probably it.
I was listening to a podcast interview with a 1sx and I got that guy, and I mean I got him. There’s no chance I’m a 1, and I mean zero. If I’m aware of rules, it’s so I know how not to get caught avoiding them and working around them. When I was a supervisor, if you transgressed, I knew all the shortcuts and you were screwed. I know all about breaking the rules and not getting caught, even when I get credit with my peers for doing it. I always had a sense of what I could get away with. I was playing baseball with a broom and a ball of shrink wrap with an 8 at work and we dented this big sign. It was hilarious! We’re supervisors. Shut your ass! LOL We totally got away with it, and for years after I got a chuckle every time I walked by that sign. We were peas in a pod.
Not a 1, but I get you 1sx, I get you! I figured 9w1 based on that. I felt 1 on the inside, and 8 on the outside if that makes sense. I see 8 and it makes perfect sense to me, but I feel 1 and feel it’s offness. The affinity with 3 can be explained by the triangle, 1 is a neighbor, and 2…I don’t know. Raised by a 2! That’s probably it, and 2’s and 9’s are pretty similar (not at all!). I’ll qualify that. A 9 is going to follow orders, but a 2 will run the show. Not out front, but let someone else be the front and they’ve got it. They can be an absolute force to be reckoned with too. I would never mess with an unhealthy 2, at least not much.
So I’m going to point out a couple issues. I had the least connection with 7, so if I was a five, that’s a problem. The next number I really didn’t get was 6, and I still don’t relate to 6. I understand it, but it’s from the outside like 8, and it’s illogical as hell. I am not confused about the patterns, focus of attention or why it yo-yos like it does, I just don’t relate to it at all. As I look back, there’s this problem with authority that 6sx has, but it’s for a purpose. My problem with authority was that they were authority and represented rules and obstacles between me and what I wanted, and I assumed they were there to harm me. The idea of a benevolent authority was unheard of for me. I also had a lot of conflict with teachers and all that. They almost universally hated me and provided plenty of feedback to my parents. I got great grades, aced tests, and did a ton of infuriating things. Citizenship was always my problem area. My classic maneuver was to be writing notes, talking to people, folding paper footballs, drawing or writing poetry, but I also knew the answer when they called on me. Just try and catch me! Anyways. 6’s are purposefully oppositional, and I was just oppositional. The other tie in is the desire to be wanted by that one person for the 6sx, sign me up!
So the disconnect with 6 is honestly a problem if I’m a 9. I had a lot of loopholes and mental gymnastics to make it make sense. Looking at it realistically, I should have related hard to 6 being unhealthy and that's where 9 goes in unhealth. It should have rang like a bell, but it was an empty spot.
My deepest ties were honestly with 1, 2, 3 and based on patterns of behavior 5. I really kept private and attacked every problem with thinking and knowledge. 3 was painful; I got 1, and I got 2 a little too well.
I’m going to say that knowing how the arrow lines is critical. Levels of health in Riso and Hudson's Personality Types was really helpful too. Now the problem with that book was that the 1 or actualized or top state was my aspiration, and down the line I related to every single health level for 4. I almost committed suicide out of anger against someone (I had a brutal plan), and went back on it because it would be them winning. FUCK YOU! I REFUSE TO DIE! I’LL LIVE TO SPITE YOU! It was a sad state of affairs, but I was willing to settle for it. I was plenty used to anger, so redirecting it a little was fine to me. No longer pointed at me and you, now it’s all in your direction. Good luck! I don’t know. Who commits suicide because they’re pissed off at someone? Anyways, that seemed oddly specific. Sounds like I could be a 4? I’m making zero decisions until I get through the book. Didn’t really relate to 9. I had previously said I’ll off myself if I’m a four, only half joking. Basically, hell no. I know what a four is and that’s not me! The irony is my oldest is a 4 and we butted head terrifically until I learned about the Enneagram and pegged him for a four right away. So I knew I wasn't one!
I’ve read this book and I’ve read a lot of other books by this point since I took a break from Enneagram, like 12 spiritual books and a few childhood trauma and recovery and all of that kind of books. All of that was immensely helpful. I learned a lot. Like the more I read the more I could absorb and I just didn’t stop. I have a huge book list and I’m going to crush it. So reflecting on this RH book some chickens start coming home to roost. My wife has said a lot of things I’ve flat out denied, like “That’s not a thing” and completely dismissed. Now I’m starting to worry about some of these things. “Everything always revolves around you and whatever kind of mood you’re in!” Things like that. We took a vacation with her parents last year and afterwards she basically said I ruined vacation and her parents were offended. Like what, I can’t sit outside and read? The kids were occupied, and nothing needed to be done. I played with them outside after, but I needed some time to sit in a lounger in the sun with a beer and a book! It was glorious. I went running on the beach in the mornings and watched the sunrise. Anyways, like her parents hadn’t been there and I’m explaining what places have good this or that and so if they want clam strips go here, if they want chowder go there, the crab sandwich here is great, so what do you want? I don’t know if it was the delivery or how I responded to their absolute inability to make a decision or what, but apparently I was grumpy and commandeered the whole thing. I also get a lot of feedback about being judgmental and not accepting normal things, like it always has to be the fancy one. This drives my wife nuts. She’s very humble, down to earth, and has honestly eliminated a lot of that behavior, but it’s still there. I go to 1 and lecture people, but less frequently with her help.
Anyways, there’s a lot of problems. A lot of feedback I just discredited immediately. “Sorry to say you’re wrong, but that’s not how I remember things. I was just trying to….” LOL I’m an idiot. A blind, dumb idiot, and being blind and dumb I had no idea. So like chickens coming home to roost, and this means I am looking at a lot of things differently. A LOT of things. It’s not good. It’s not good at all.
Let’s hit integration lines! 4s get stressed out and the 4 thing (wounded bird, rescue me or I’ll burn you alive) doesn’t work, so they resort to the 2 point. I can’t tell you how shocked I was when I was outlining everything I’ve done for her in an argument and she said “I never asked for any of that!” Mic drop. Damn. I knew what she needed before she knew she needed it and I was ready. She’s like “A hot drink sounds good” and I’m like “I made you this. Are you ready for it?” LOL Too much of a good thing is definitely a bad, bad thing. Holy 2 shenanigans.
I took a job I really don’t like to work on 1. I didn’t know Enneagram. I just knew that I rarely follow the calendar and am way too unpredictable for my wife and it stresses her out. You know what? I can work on that. I’m taking a job that requires a lot of admin, which I’m admittedly horrible at. I’m blessed with a wife who is a real whiz at it and doesn’t mind doing it since she knows it’s done right and won’t worry if I forgot to pay the electric bill. So I have a very boring job that I pretty much hated, but it’s good hours during the week, not at night, not super long days, predictable schedule, all things that work well for the family. Deal. The problem isn’t that I can’t organize or that it’s chaos, it’s that I am not motivated to do admin work. I see it and just deflate. My excitement balloon just went fizz and plop, dead on the floor. I begin work with a cup of coffee and about a half hour of procrastination. Once time is getting tight, I hit it hard. Then I get up and walk around. You know, regain some motivation. I chunk out my workload and when I’m ready, I take a break. I’m terrific with a “do the work on time and correctly and no questions asked” kind of scenario. I have a lot of flexibility on how, which is why I think I’m still doing it. There are other perks, but that’s not what this is about. I hate the work, love everything else about the job which is considerable. My favorite part is honestly creating macros and picking color schemes for my send-outs. I did one for Valentine’s day, another for Good Friday, Easter, Spring, and now I’m onto a bright summer palette. I’m gearing up for Memorial day, Fourth of July and then I’ll be in another area and have plenty of new to keep me busy for a while. I’m neat and clean for 1 I guess, and I have the talk style of 1 down. Plenty of feedback my way on that. I’ve probably enlightened a few too many people a few too many times, or corrected them a few too many times. People usually asked me to edit their emails because I write mine so well, but only one person ever was a repeat customer. “You’re brutal!” LOL I take writing seriously when it counts. My favorite college course was actually a capstone level English course and I was a business major and chose the class because it sounded fun. The professor asked if I taught English before and I said “Nope, never!” In fact, I almost failed the writing proficiency test to graduate high school. I still find that hilarious.
So basically, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback about 1 and 2 and sadly 4 behaviors, as well as 5.
I also have the pre-Christ era of my life I really don’t talk about. It’s like I was a different person entirely, but I understand it well now. I understand a lot now.
NOTES AND TIPS
Don’t rush to finding a type. The silent observer in Rohr and Palmer’s books are really the key, and I love Palmer’s book “The Enneagram” for it’s simplicity and focus on putting you on a spiritual path to self awareness. It’s not woo woo or dogmatic, but extremely practical, and short. With that you get to watch yourself and learn yourself.
Watch the arrow lines. You should identify with the disintegration arrow pretty strongly, integration as well, and then at least one wing should hit pretty hard. I would look at those more than the actual type based on my experience. 4 flew under the radar. I picked up the static of these other types long before 4.
I needed a lot of self-awareness and meditation. That internal equanimity was missing. I would shove emotions down in conflict because if I didn’t I was going to cry or destroy something. I’ve done a lot of damage to a lot of people (and property), plus I had a seriously unhealthy childhood which left me as an emotionally immature adult and just not equipped to deal with this stuff in a healthy way.
Without reading books on childhood development and recovery I don’t think the feedback on my moodiness and being a general pain in the ass would have gotten through. I’ve had emotions for a while, but now they’re…safe. Not a danger to me, and not a danger to anyone else. It’s pretty damn cool! I took a step outside last night for some fresh air before I went near anyone at one point, but I can do that now. I can pull the emotions into my body and place them, then air it out later. I think of like Naruto and the auras, emotions are like that for me. When I get hit with one, it’s like radiating out. I thought I was good at masking, but my face betrays me, which I think is on purpose honestly. I smirk a lot. If someone is up for an off-tilt joke, just ask what the smirk is there for. I’ll share. If you like it, come back for more. When I want to really suppress I can show nothing, but then I don’t feel the emotions and I really don’t like that. That’s a dangerous place. Hot emotions are a lot better than cold ones. Moderated ones are best of all though, and that's totally doable. Practice, practice.

The Amits had taken their time. They knew that victory was assured, and so had set about feasting. But eventually they had worked up enough of an appetite to make the final push.
Once more they rushed through a storm of bullets. They disintegrated as the twelve-pounder discharged a cluster of grapeshot, faltered, then charged again. Claws ripped at the broken stone, reaching and grasping. A man was seized by his locks of hair and pulled through the gap; his screams cut short as his body toppled backwards, missing its head. Bayonets jostled and found their mark in pale flesh as pistols rang out in the tight confines and set Rene’s ears ringing.
“Get back!” shouted the engineers, “You’ve done your best! We’ll take it from here!”
The wall of detritus had begun to buckle beneath the weight of the enemy. The engineers brought out the red plunger and ran the wire to the final batch of charges. These were strapped to every major column and support in the room. They were to be buried alive, to deny the enemy their final victory.
The first Amit clawed its head through. It was impaled on half a dozen blades and hurled back. Then the second burst in and bathed a man head to toe in its corrosive juices, melting him down to bare red musculature in seconds. The monsters scrambled into the breach with reckless abandon, and the slaughter began.
The engineer was killed, brained by an axe before he could blow the charges. Crawling across the floor, battered and bruised by the trampling feet of the melee, Rene found the box and pried it from his dead hands. With a final whimper he closed his eyes and depressed the plunger.
Sometime later Rene awoke with a throbbing head. Absently he wondered if the afterlife was supposed to hurt this much, but then he felt a cold film of cave water touch the side of his face, and reluctantly accepted the fact that he was alive.
The chamber was gone. All about him were strewn great slabs of ceiling, under which various limbs protruded. Beside him, Prota had been buried beneath wreckage, her pendant flung clear. Absently he reached over and pocketed it.
His pants were wet; water was streaming through from somewhere. Through a gap in the huge slump of debris at the entrance he made out shadows moving against the torchlight, and heard sounds of them doing unspeakable things.
He dragged himself upright and cried out a second time in misery and pain. Immediately he regretted that action, as a milky white eye came up to the gap and looked about hungrily. It spotted him and tapped its feet against the stone in excitement. A horde of scuttling figures flitted into view. There was a scuffling sound as they began to dig at the obstruction. He groaned, and looked about him for a weapon, anything with which to end his life quickly and in relatively less anguish. Then he saw it.
The chamber had collapsed, and in doing so a broken pillar several tons heavy had knocked against the impenetrable eastern wall, the one that Admiral Prota’s workmen had been chipping carefully at for a year. It had smashed through the obstruction, and now its great bulk held up the fragile archway. More importantly, an opening had appeared. One that looked just the right size for a child to crawl through. Cave water streamed from the rent, lapping at the bodies of the slain. Behind him the Amit shuddered with delight, spitting torrents of acid against the stone in order to get through to him faster.
He went into the crawlspace and found it was a tight fit. He tried flattening his belly. When that didn’t work, he removed the tattered remnants of his sealant suit, and barely managed to squeeze inside.
He emerged into a cool tunnel. Motes of dust millennia old swirled placidly in the still air, lit by glowing phosphorescent mushrooms that lined the damp walls. Water wet his toes as he stumbled painfully along.
The floor was even and polished to a mirror sheen. Across the chamber was an odd doorway, ovoid in shape. He went over to it, searched in vain for a doorknob, then chuckled and gave up. He felt an absence of fear and knew that his lifting spirits had something to do with this place being exposed to the outside atmosphere. He had at best a few hours left to live. He shrugged and peered about him in the murk.
These tunnels sloped down below the open eastern section. If he could reach a ventilation shaft, there was a chance he could live. Assuming of course that he found a mask sometime soon. He had lost his at some point in the brawl. Thankfully he still had the compass. He took it out but watched in disbelief as the needle began to spin like a top. Cleary whatever magnetic anomaly that had plagued the expedition had returned with a vengeance. Shaking his head, uncertain now of everything, Rene wandered aimlessly, a pale and bloodied specter haunting the alien hallways.
Graceful alcoves surrounded him, with effigies sheltered beneath them and primitive paintings upon their curved surfaces. He looked at the closest one. Though the style was surreal and the language foreign, he understood the symbols well enough.
For they were those of ancient scripture.
The war in heaven. Two great armadas clashed in the depths of the void, lances of searing red heat and spheres of anti-matter dancing between their silver prows. The battle raged the length of an entire wall, a lurid display of mythical carnage. He saw a thousand worlds set alight by the conflagration, whole systems burning like tinder, fuel to the madness and the pain.
In its wake, emptiness. The next alcove showed a galaxy bereft of life, the charred husks of planets circling their dying suns, drained of energy in the apocalyptic conflict.
He saw the Fleet emerge, three small ships, together containing all that remained from the great dying: the ancestor--gods of the primordial dawn. They searched long and hard, travelling from one blasted hellscape to the next in search of lasting refuge.
And so at long last they found Arachnea, a virgin planet untouched by strife. They came to sow life in its bleak hollows, to make a home for their children, a peaceful place far from the ravages of a war so ancient they themselves had forgotten its cause. Then they set their Divine Engines to work. The Amit had carved effigies of these machines out of lumps of azure marble. Rene touched their smooth flanks, admiring at the workmanship. They were shaped like squat little men, with massive hands and domelike heads. Where they had walked, the earth had moved aside for them. They carved the channels with their feet, flattened the hills with blows from their fists. They dredged up fountains of molten lava and shaped them into a thousand bejeweled islands. They wove giant webs of glass as strong as the pillars of the earth and stretched them out across the sky to shield the world from the jealous eyes of the twin suns, Raelu and Sardec.
It was in the course of their work the Divine Engines shattered a mountain and unearthed the Amit, the first true inhabitants of Arachnea. They had arrived centuries before the ancestor—gods. The painting showed the Amit stumbling out of a rent in their tunnels, hands held up against the sunlight that no longer scorched their pale, waxen skin. The first thing they saw in their brave new world was a towering behemoth of burnished metal, wreathed in fire and smoke. In terror they had fallen to their knees before it, begging for their lives.
Rene nodded. All of this was familiar. He walked over to the next depiction, expecting to see the ancestor--gods recoiling in disgust, then swiftly recovering and obliterating the insectoid creatures with deadly rays of light, driving them scuttling back into their foul hollows beneath the earth. For it was written that the Amits were the offspring of vague, unholy sorceries, and could only know evil. Indeed, the war in heaven had been fought over similar themes. They could not be suffered to live. But what he saw instead shook him to his very core.
The ancestors came down from their mighty steeds, lifted the Amit to their feet, and embraced them. Quickly Rene ran through the rest of the alcoves, mind raging against the truths he now saw before him. From then on, the work deviated from scripture so much so that he could only piece together their meaning with difficulty.
The ancestor--gods debated among themselves as to what to do with the Amits. This was not the first time they had come across life other than their own, and it was clear that this time they were cautious in their approach. Some advocated for bringing the race to total extinction, but most agreed that best way forward was a peaceful coexistence, reasoning that they had much to learn from the Amits, who had survived the conditions of Arachnea for millennia without the need for terraforming. The ancestor--gods felt guilt over stealing Arachnea from its original inhabitants and wished to make amends. And so a bargain was struck between the races.
The Amits would allow the ancestor--gods to make changes to the world. To correct the tilt of its wayward axis, to vent huge plumes of inert gases from the hot womb of the earth and to seed life forms from long-dead Terra. In return, Man would change the Amit as well. They would grant them strength and cunning, broods beyond number, and bodies hardened against pain and suffering so they too could be as the gods were.
The plan proceeded towards fruition. Both sides were content as the final pieces of the great work fell into place. But unknown to Man and Amit alike, the specter of war had never really left the Fleet. It had hidden away in dark holds within the hearts of men, and there it had whispered of want and of desire, of the beauty of the virgin world and the lust to claim it.
Some of the ancestor--gods resented their share in the great work. They chafed at the fact that they, the superior beings, had to deal with their vassal Amits like equals, exchanging their powers for the mere right to live on the planet that they had rightfully settled.
And so they began to snuff out the Amit in their millions, burning them out of their homes with heat rays that swept clean entire colonies.
Soon two sides were at each other’s throats. The honorable ancestors who had kept to their word fought a bitter war against their prideful kin amidst the ruin of their unfinished works. In the skies at night, the Amit watched as the madness unfolded, as stars appeared and vanished overnight, and great balls of flame came bursting down through the void to crash into the broken earth. At last, as their weapons lay spent and broken, they then turned the Divine Engines against one another. Once the instruments of peace and creation, they soon tore the landscape apart with the fury of their duels, trading blows that sent impacts shuddering deep into the scorched earth.
The Amit were afraid, and betook themselves to the deep places, where the wrath of the gods could not find them. But this was to be their doom. Eventually the changes wrought in the bodies of the Amit made them strong and durable enough the endure the apocalyptic conditions of the surface. But as the ancestor--gods fought and died on the surface in cataclysmic struggle, their magic died with them. The Amit themselves became trapped, betrayed by their own changing flesh. They became unable to revert to their previous forms, and so were forevermore consigned to lives of darkness in their lairs beneath the earth.
Now, Arachnea was unsuitable for both man and Amit alike. The ancestor--gods had become madmen, so overtaken by their hatred for each other that they had cast themselves back into a dark age from which there would be no return.
The Amits emerged into the gloomy wreckage of their planet and starved. Until, that is, they came upon the remnants of a battleground. Huge forces of men had clashed and died, leaving their bodies to rot upon the cold ground. In their desperate hunger, the Amits began to eat.
And they found the meat of the gods to be good. That war, a holy act most strange and terrible, had filled their bellies with meat, this they understood. That gods themselves judged war to be a just course of action was evident. And since all that remained of the gods were a race of thieves and murderers, it was judged that to make war upon them was both just and good.
Rene came to the last alcove. It depicted the final resting place of the Divine Engines, whom the Amit had buried beneath the mountains out of fear, sealing them away from the surface so that they would never again walk the earth.
A great square plaque of shining steel and copper was laid into the stone. To the Amit it was only a mark of some kind, a symbol whose meaning was long forgotten, but Rene felt an odd connection to it. He traced its edges with a blood-stained hand, and realized it was not a square, but a rectangle, and one whose dimensions he faintly recognized.
He took out Prota’s pendant and pressed it into the crevice.
There was a hiss of pneumatics as the great square door to his side gave way. Light fixtures hummed into life through powers unknown. He stepped gingerly into the soft glow.
“Greetings Ensign,” came a disembodied female voice, “Welcome to the Topographical Oversight and Reconstruction Unit (T.O.R.U.). What are your commands?”
A Divine Engine. The Amit had found it and built an entire civilization around it. This behemoth, this secret mountain of metal was what his compass had been steering towards all this time. A giddy sensation flowed through him. In his stupor he passed his hands in front of his face, examining the lines of his palms and the action of his fingers.
A nimbus of light played over him, reading his gestures.
“Command noted. Activating neural pairing.”
The door closed shut with a creak behind him. Steel pinions reached out and wire nodules grasped him, ran painlessly through his eye sockets and into his brain. All at once he could feel the machine coming to life after its long dormancy, reactors coils thrumming with an ancient power that would not be denied.
He straightened his back.
The outpost fell away from him in a cloud of dust and rubble. He strode forward, kilometers tall, a shining colossus of star-metal. He glanced down, saw the multitudes of the Amit streaming about the shattered mound. He watched them for a moment, saw them waving their arms in speechless terror at the sudden apparition.
For the first time, he pitied them. They were unaware of their own savagery, of their own hideousness, even. They did not know the doom that awaited them, of the lengths the Fleet was prepared to go in order to secure its final victory.
But there was nothing that could be done. Mankind could no more change themselves than could the Amit. Rene felt the weight of history bearing down upon his shoulders. Though a different world and a separate time, the same inexorable force drove them towards the same tired conclusion.
But perhaps the sooner it was over, the better. He lifted his foot and brought it down. Once, twice, three times until nothing was left moving below. Then he swung away, the ground quaking beneath him.
So, it was through humanity that the Amits had come to know of war? Well then, today he would show them that they had much left to learn. He turned northward, a god astride the earth, and lumbered towards Mound Euler.
Link to 1st chapter here: 1st chapter on HFY
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

https://www.halowaypoint.com/news/halo-the-third-life
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"October 2558. After being taken prisoner by the Banished as chaos erupts across the galaxy, Ilsa Zane’s hunt for the truth leads her to a new stage of life she never expected..."
Halo: The Third Life is available here on Halo Waypoint, as a free PDF, and in audiobook format on YouTube.
HISTORIAN’S NOTE
Halo: The Third Life begins on October 28, 2558—immediately following the awakening of the Guardian on Laika III at the end of Hunt the Truth —and continues through the subsequent year as Cortana’s uprising begins to alter the axis of power in the galaxy.
Well, hello there. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Long enough for you to have thought that I was dead. Did you search for me? Did you even try to find me? Doesn’t matter now, of course, since I’m the one with the gun to your head.
I know this must be as much of a surprise to you as it is to me. Once, I gave everything I had to your cause. I believed in everything you stood for, everything you promised… but things have changed, and I can see you now for who you really are.
Before you die—and you are going to die—I want to tell you a bit about who I am, and how we ended up here.
My name is Ilsa Zane.
The traitor. The rebel. The “mad Spartan.”
The tip of the spear of the New Colonial Alliance.
And my hunt for the truth… has led me back to you.
OCTOBER 28, 2558 LAIKA III
Nobody kills Ilsa Zane.
Those were the four words she had lived by her entire life. From the fall of Kholo, where everyone and everything she had ever known was lost to the Covenant, to her selection for the first phase of the SPARTAN-IV program where she had been used and discarded... to now, to this day.
The time of the New Colonial Alliance had come, heralding the culmination of all they had worked for to secure total colonial independence. Rebel groups across human space had rallied, alliances had been forged with a myriad of mercenary factions, and fleets were ready to launch to finally bring war to the United Nations Space Command.
But it had all been put in jeopardy by a single undercover agent of the Office of Naval Intelligence.
FERO.
Over a week ago, Conrad’s Point had suddenly been hit by a seismic event of unprecedented scale. A massive alien construct had risen out of the ground, leaving a colossal crater behind before jumping into slipspace. The cataclysmic event matched other scattered reports of similar activity occurring across several different colonies.
The NCA had managed to get to Conrad’s Point first to study the crater, and it was there that Ilsa Zane had forged a still-undisciplined group of rebels into fighting shape. While they had been ascertaining data that might point to the next site to suffer an event like this, FERO had slipped into their ranks, bringing a devastating UNSC air strike with her in a futile attempt to assassinate Zane.
Enraged and undeterred, Zane had gathered what remained of the NCA survivors and tracked FERO to Laika III, where the next awakening event was set to occur. The objective had been twofold: eliminate FERO, and obtain whatever new, anomalous power had begun to emerge.
Neither goal had panned out.
FERO had taken shelter with a cult known as Triad, whose leader—a slippery conman named Dasc Gevadim—had proclaimed that these events heralded divine transcendence. And then, to add to the growing list of complications, ONI had arrived with enough troops to turn Laika III into an unmarked grave, just in time for the new awakening event to wipe the board clean.
Zane witnessed Triad followers suspended in the air by gravitational anomalies as the ground beneath them collapsed into a gaping maw, but despite the otherworldly phenomena that surrounded her, she used this moment for what it was: a distraction.
The UNSC thugs had been rendered dumbstruck by the chaos, and she had taken the opportunity to tear through as many of them as she could. She had lost her weapon at some point and could not recall dropping it, but she knew she didn’t need one. Ilsa Zane was already a weapon. A wellspring of bloodlust rose within her as she tore through the enemy with her bare hands—a pale wall of dust and rock and death drawing ever closer.
Within a few moments, a great sonorous roar tore through the air. A series of debilitating concussive waves dispersed the dust cloud, and Zane was either tackled by or collided with a body she couldn’t distinguish, hitting her head hard on the upturned ground.
The last thing she saw as darkness crept at the edges of her vision was the winged shadow that rose into the air and disappeared into slipspace. She tried to grit her teeth, clench her fist, but consciousness faded with what she feared might be her final thought.
Nobody kills Ilsa Zane.
Ilsa Zane jolted awake as a creature roared in her face—the combined intensity of the rotten breath and fresh saliva that covered her cheek caused her to convulse and gag as an array of reactionary senses all caught up to her at once. She held her stomach with one hand and used the other to lean on a cold rock wall, but the defiant stance she tried to take against her own biological responses quickly vanished as she vomited on the ground, casting an acrid spatter on her combat boots.
It was not until she looked up to see what had caused her rude awakening that she froze. For the first time in years, the ice-cold rush of fear ran through her entire body. She had almost believed herself to be beyond such feelings, but the dire situation that presented itself was one she had hoped never to experience first-hand.
The creature that had now turned its back to her stood over eight-and-a-half feet tall with light gray skin and patches of dark fur over rippling fat and muscle. It picked at its fanged, bloodstained teeth with sharpened claws, and it bore crimson-colored armor plates over a dark undersuit—a Jiralhanae warrior.
“Whatever you do,” a low voice whispered to her, "do not look it in the eyes.”
Zane’s senses gradually managed to stabilize, and she followed the quivering, pointed finger of the man who had spoken. Her eyes settled on a dark smear on the wall that left a three-meter-long trail along the ground.
The area around her was essentially a makeshift prison, or rather a cattle pen made of improvised wooden barriers and mounds of concrete from buildings that had no doubt been laid low by the winged construct’s destructive awakening. Within the pen, she counted seventeen other humans. Some were still clad in scraps of UNSC uniform, while others had been among her own rebel forces—but the man who placed a heavily calloused hand on her shoulder was neither.
He was bald with a long silvery beard and dressed in a gray hooded robe that was tattered and torn, but the marking on his chest was unmistakable. A white ring cut into three sections by a red ‘T’ to symbolize the three internal lives that "must be linked as the key to our transcendence"—the insane story that had gathered a cult following as it spread across Waypoint.
“Well I’ll be damned...” Zane found herself saying aloud, her jaw dropping slightly.
“Yes, child,” he gave a kindly smile, bearing perfectly white teeth, sensing her recognition. “You indeed see clearly.”
She had survived, only to have been plucked and deposited into this foul mire, where she found herself looking into the eyes of Dasc Gevadim himself.
“Let yourself settle first,” he said, surveying their fellow captives who all kept their heads firmly locked to the bile-strewn ground. “They’ll be back soon.”
“What for?”
Dasc grimaced. “Dinner.”
He explained to Zane in hushed whispers that the construct—what he called a Guardian—had been claimed by an artificial intelligence who then broadcast a message across the galaxy, declaring that a new order of peace would be imposed to bring an end to hunger, pain, and conflict. Frankly, it sounded every bit as absurd and unbelievable as the false religion Dasc himself peddled, but Zane chose to entertain his words for as long as he was providing her with information.
The others, it seemed, would say nothing. They simply stood, shaking on the spot, muttering to themselves, teeth chattering in the cold and retching in the foul stench of death and soiled clothing. The barriers of their cattle pen could easily be slipped through or climbed over, but none dared try their luck.
Dasc detailed how all the survivors of the Guardian’s awakening had been rounded up when a new force arrived in a siege ship to lay claim to the crater.
The Banished.
Zane had only some familiarity with the mercenary faction. She had assumed them to be scavengers picking the bones of the dead, plundering old Covenant War-era battlefields and factories for whatever supplies they could get. All she knew was that Admiral Mattius Drake—leader of the New Colonial Alliance—had not sought to parley with them in the NCA’s pursuit of independence.
“So,” Dasc concluded. “The only remaining matter is how we get out of this.”
“You seem pretty familiar with these Brutes,” Zane replied. Although Dasc was clearly shaken, he spoke with a peculiar confidence, where hardened rebel fighters and ONI troops had been utterly broken.
“I once found myself in a similar situation some years back. We managed to stage an escape by turning the pack against each other, but it can be tough to play the same card twice.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got an ace,” Zane said, prompting Dasc’s brow to raise. “I have a tracker implant that directly pings NCA command every twelve hours. By now, they’ll no doubt know I’m on Laika III, and if I don’t report in within three days, then Admiral Drake will send a rescue team.”
“So, it’s a waiting game,” Dasc stroked his chin with a muddy hand. “Which means we’ll have to outlast this lot for another day or two.”
Zane regarded the remaining survivors, figuring that wouldn’t be too difficult.
“I propose a deal,” Dasc said, a twinkle in his eye. “I can teach you how to survive the whims of these Brutes until your rescuers arrive. In exchange, I come with you and get dropped off at a location of my choosing.”
Everybody always had an angle, and it was difficult to tell whether Dasc’s confidence was simply motivation to survive or something else. He was, after all, a conman and a “spiritual guru” who wanted people to believe that he had transcended to some other level of reality with the Guardians’ rising. How could she possibly trust a man like that?
The thudding of footsteps and subsequent whimpering among the other humans interrupted Zane’s deliberation and announced the return of the Jiralhanae.
The armored warrior moved slowly, reveling in the atmosphere of terror its mere presence created as it opened the wooden gate and stepped inside. Two UNSC Marines standing closest to the gate stepped back to create space for the Jiralhanae like honor guards, their heads still dipped to the ground, tears welling in the eyes of the others as their breathing grew ragged.
Whether they would live or die today was entirely in the hands of this Jiralhanae, and it was not clear which fate was worse—to continue to fester in the muck and gore of this abattoir for another day, or to be devoured by this beast and its packmates.
These were the rules of the game, and none of this sorry lot had the power, capacity, or will to do anything about it. They would simply let themselves be snuffed out like a candle flame, and for that Ilsa Zane held no pity in her heart for them. It made them small, weak. Inferior.
Maybe thinking like that made her a monster, but whatever else she had become over the years, Ilsa Zane was a Spartan.
And if there was one thing a Spartan could do, it was change the rules of the game. So she did what no one else dared do.
She looked up.
The action immediately caught the lumbering Jiralhanae’s attention, gnashing its tusks at the human’s audacity, shoving aside the Marine it had been eyeing to answer the challenge to its authority. Dasc’s eyes went wide as he saw what Zane was doing, believing in that moment that she was madder than anybody had ever thought him to be.
"Hey, ugly,” Zane stepped forward, fists clenched, and looked directly into the Brute’s eyes.
What happened next was a blurred rush of violent ecstasy. The Jiralhanae threw its head back to let out a blood-curdling roar, and that was when Zane launched herself forwards, punching it in the throat as hard as she could, crushing its windpipe.
The augmentations that Spartan Zane had received all those years ago were unique to what would become standard for the SPARTAN-IV program. She had been told that ONI was looking to make the costly Mjolnir armor effectively obsolete by instead making her bones practically indestructible, grafting reinforcement plating under her skin and inducing muscle growth that would put her on as close to an equal physical footing with the likes of a Sangheili or Jiralhanae as possible.
That was only half true, of course—a convenient story that seemed just as contrived as Dasc’s religious con. In reality, she had been a lab rat for untested augmentation cocktails and procedures that had wreaked havoc on her brain as well as her body.
But she didn’t mind what she had become. Ilsa Zane liked being a living weapon, it was just a matter of having the choice of who she was aimed at.
The beast continued to claw at its throat, desperately gasping for air. In response, she pulled off one of its armored shoulder pieces, turned it to its jagged edges, and brought the alloyed plating down onto its face. Again and again, as the creature fell to its back on the ground, writhing in pain. Dark blood began pouring from its eyes, nose, and mouth, and still Zane kept slamming her improvised cudgel down as hard as she could until she could no longer feel her arms.
She felt the bloodlust rising in her again, singing in her veins like the sweetest sort of song.
She followed the feeling until it spilled from her mouth in a war cry.
Until it morphed into dark, unencumbered, laughter.
She was only dimly aware of the other humans in her periphery watching in horror, flinching with each dull thud that sounded from her relentless assault.
It might have been seconds, minutes, or even hours before she finally stood up, content that her jailer was now little more than a dark smudge on the ground. Slipping her hands into the Brute’s exposed harness straps, she dragged the body over to the wooden gate to display her handiwork.
There, she found a gathering of six Jiralhanae who had watched the grisly scene play out. One of them stepped forward—clearly the leader from its heavy gray-red armor and ornate helmet, a gravity hammer the length of a human being in its hand. The chieftain appraised Ilsa Zane with bared teeth.
“The human has murdered one of our brothers,” one of the chieftain’s packmates shouted. “Slay her now!”
Its fellows roared and began to chant a rising chorus of “Slay her now, slay her now,” but they were quickly silenced as the chieftain thudded the pummel of its hammer on the ground three times.
“The human has killed Amatus,” it said plainly, pausing as it felt the pack’s collective attention hang on whatever would be said next. “I did not like Amatus.”
Roars from the pack were howled into the sky, and Ilsa Zane dropped the armored shoulder piece that had been her weapon. She hadn’t liked Amatus either.
“You have done well, human,” the chieftain’s face settled into a dark grin. “I offer you a boon for your show of strength and spirit. You shall dine with us tonight, and you may choose which of your fellows shall take your place and be fed to the pack.”
A thousand thoughts thundered through Ilsa Zane’s mind at once. She had earned the respect of the Banished chieftain, she was not going to die today, she would be fed and watered, and...
And I have a loose end.
She had told Dasc that the New Colonial Alliance would soon be on their way. If he were to attempt to curry favor with the chieftain, all he needed to do was reveal this information and the tracker would be pulled from her body by force. She was strong, but there was no way that she would survive the whole pack descending on her.
Perhaps Dasc was counting on her choosing somebody else until the rescue team arrived, honoring her word... but she hadn’t actually agreed to the terms of his deal before Amatus showed up.
In the end, Dasc Gevadim was simply... in her way.
“Him,” Ilsa Zane pointed to the old man in his tattered gray robe, and part of her delighted at the shocked expression on his face, at an outcome he had never conceived.
He may well have shouted Ilsa’s secret at that very moment, but he had been rendered as stunned as the other humans had been in their silent stupor.
Two Jiralhanae warriors entered the pen and grabbed the cult leader from under his arms, dragging him through the mire. His legs struggled to find purchase as he numbly attempted to dig his heels into the ground, as if it might slow the march to his final, deserved, delicious end.
And as he was carried over a hill and out of sight, the screams of Dasc Gevadim eventually faded with the coming of night.
And that was it. I waited, day after day, week after week, and no NCA ship ever showed up. So I made the most of my situation, did whatever it took to survive.
Every day, they let me pick the next one to die. They all just stood there, as if something in them had collectively… broken. The complete absence of hope had brought about some kind of dissociation between mind and body—perhaps that was the only way they could filter out the horror of the situation they were in.
Every day, Admiral , I imagined them with your face.
In time, I became part of the pack. We hunted, we killed, we ate, and we waited…
One day, after I had lost count of how long I had been there, a ship arrived. It seemed like this was what the others had been waiting for, keeping the site secure so that their scientists could study the ancient structure that the Guardian had risen from.
Don’t know what they were looking for, but it was something big enough for the war chief of the Banished himself to be present.
He wasn’t pleased to find that I was alive at first, but let’s just say that I made him an offer he couldn’t turn down…
[SLIPSPACE RUPTURE DETECTED]
And would you look at that.
He’s here right on time.
MAY 8, 2559 EDOLAS SYSTEM ABOARD NCA D’ARTAGNAN
Ilsa Zane turned the command chair of Admiral Mattius Drake to face the bridge’s viewscreen so he could bear witness to the arrival of the intrusion corvette that had just slipped in.
The vessel bore extensive modifications from its Covenant origins, from additional sensor arrays and jagged ramming spikes to an underbelly containing several boarding craft for rapid breaching operations. And painted on its front was a blood-red stripe emblazoned with the mark of the Banished.
A single Phantom emerged from the intrusion corvette and approached the hangar of the NCA D’artagnan.
There was a perceptible shift in the air as Admiral Drake’s blood ran cold, his brow lined with sweat and his face pale. In that moment, he reminded her of Dasc. All he could manage was little more than a strangled whisper.
“Ilsa, please…”
But she had already turned her back on him to examine the holotable on the bridge which was displaying the New Colonial Alliance ships located in the system. A little over two-dozen NCA spacecraft were currently stationed here—a mixture of light frigates, corvettes, and converted merchant trawlers docked at a former-Covenant space station. They were joined by a handful of alien warships, and the inherited remains of Vata ‘Gajat’s mercenary band, now led by the far more pliable T’vaoan known as Tek.
“Attention, all NCA vessels,” Zane began to transmit on an open frequency. “This is Ilsa Zane here to inform you of a… change in management.”
Admiral Drake struggled against his restraints, but his chair held firm.
“For years, Admiral Drake has promised to claim independence, vowing to strike at the UNSC and secure our freedom. We built a machine of conquest, but here we are hiding in some distant system, preying on scraps, and waiting like spineless cowards.”
She could hear his approach now, the great thudding footfalls of the Banished war chief. He had come alone, leaving his guards in the hangar bay.
“This was to be our time,” Zane continued. “A bunch of misfits and rebels given purpose—as every little piece of a larger machine needs. But there’s a very specific piece that just doesn’t fit any more; it’s holding us all back, and I refuse to let it break what we’ve built together.”
The shadow that was cast over the broad, hulking form of War Chief Escharum receded as he entered the bridge, revealing a Jiralhanae with a gray beard on his chin, a milky, clouded eye, and a heavily scarred face. He appraised the situation: a handful of ensigns dead in their seats, Admiral Drake bound to his own command chair, and the one he had encountered on Oth Voran—the rogue Spartan—broadcasting her message from the holotable.
“And so, I am relieving Admiral Drake of command,” she unholstered her pistol. “Permanently.”
Ilsa Zane barely registered the sound of her pistol firing as she pulled the trigger without a moment of hesitation and saw the light instantly disappear from Drake’s eyes. A sad, pathetic end to a man who had proclaimed to be laying the groundwork for greatness, reduced now to little more than a footnote in the New Colonial Alliance’s history.
“Our fleet spread across countless colonies, our agents entrenched on a thousand frontlines, and the fire in our hearts for independence—all that we have mustered,” Ilsa Zane concluded. “All that makes us the New Colonial Alliance is hereby pledged to serve as both sword and shield to the Banished.”
Escharum snarled in approval. Though the war chief lacked the same admiration that Atriox held for humanity, he was no fool. The current state of the galaxy demanded greater unity with willing allies to face the challenges ahead, and there was great potential for the resources and influence of this new alliance to be put to use.
He would not deny those who pledged their loyalty and service to Atriox. And so, it was time to welcome a new brotherhood into the widening reach of the Banished.
“Atriox sees you for what you are and for what you could be,” Escharum boomed, stepping beside Zane at the holotable. “For the fury that fuels your desire for freedom is his fury too. We shall do great things together—hunt powerful prey and plunder ancient treasures. You shall be paid in blood and sport and spoils. And you shall never bow again.”
It was done.
Halo: The Third Life image depicting Ilsa Zane surrounded by fire and Banished banners ^[Imgur]
That was the day that changed everything for the New Colonial Alliance.
Do I regret killing Drake? No more than I regret any of my actions that have brought me to this point—which is to say, hell no, not one bit.
Once, I owed my life to that man, but the NCA is bigger than any one person or leader, and at such a critical point there was no room for weakness. Drake would have seen us wallow in obscurity until the forces we’d gathered lost their edge, rebelled, or simply fled. It all would've fallen apart.
Not while I’m still here.
I can’t help but think about Dasc. He was the leader of a fake religion, one that believed in linking the three internal lives we all supposedly have, and in a weird way I recognize how that applies to me more than I might have originally thought.
There was the orphan, who I used to be during the Covenant War, a life that seems a thousand light years away from me now.
Then, after the war, I became a tool to be used and discarded for a new generation of insipid UNSC propaganda.
And now they call me the Banished Spartan. I like that. It feels... right, and I’m eager to discover what this third life has in store for me.
Escharum was keen to put us to use almost immediately. A mission to test us, get us bloody—that’s a story for another time. But if you’re wondering how I got this armor, well... let’s just say it wasn’t the first Spartan I’ve killed.
I’ve got a list of names to work through as we go—old scores to settle. FERO. Musa. Palmer. Kree’yat. Dinh...
It's a big galaxy out there, and I’m ready for a new hunt.
This post was made by a script written and maintained by the Halo mod team to automatically post blogs from Halo Waypoint. If you notice any issues with the text output or think this was posted by mistake, please message the mods.

Hello, if there are any fury warriors who know if there is a way to fix this issue I'd appreciate it. Recently started playing fury for a mix up from usual druid and it seems death wish is a pretty integral part of playing the spec. I want a macro that cancels death wish to reduce incoming damage from big hitting spells and abilities (ie don't want to face tank chaos bolt with death wish 5 stacked.) I made a macro "/cancelaura Death Wish" but it doesn't seem to remove it. Does this just not work with death wish or is there another way to achieve this goal? Thanks.

This is going to be a long read so :)
Been playing around with various scenarios on ChatGPT and then had this idea: "What if the Commonwealth of Man from Stellaris (having fully achieved technological nirvana - adding a few modded giga/mega structure) found the planet in which Overlord is set and decide to invade." Things seemed to be pretty much even and then I told ChatGPT to send in the Colossus.
Its answer:
Deploying a Colossus, a massive planet-destroying weapon, is a drastic and potentially devastating move that could decisively shift the balance of power in the conflict between the Commonwealth of Man (CoM) and the inhabitants of Overlord. Here's how the scenario might unfold:

1. Shock and Awe: The arrival of the Colossus sends shockwaves throughout the galaxy, signaling the Commonwealth of Man's intent to assert dominance over the planet of Overlord by any means necessary. The sheer size and destructive potential of the Colossus instill fear and awe in both allies and adversaries alike.
2. Ultimatum: The CoM issue an ultimatum to the rulers of Overlord, demanding their unconditional surrender or face the annihilation of their world by the Colossus. The rulers of Overlord, faced with the prospect of total destruction, are forced to consider their options carefully.
3. Desperate Defense: In a desperate bid to repel the CoM's invasion and thwart the deployment of the Colossus, the rulers of Overlord muster their forces and unleash all available resources in a last-ditch defense of their world. Magic, monsters, and military might are marshaled to oppose the overwhelming might of the CoM.
4. Countermeasures and Resistance: Ainz Ooal Gown and his posse, recognizing the existential threat posed by the Colossus, mobilize their considerable powers and resources to devise countermeasures and resist its destructive capabilities. They may deploy magical wards, summon powerful creatures, or even attempt to sabotage the Colossus from within.
5. Show of Force: The CoM demonstrate the power of the Colossus by unleashing its devastating weaponry on strategic targets across the planet of Overlord. Cities crumble, landscapes are ravaged, and the inhabitants of Overlord witness the full extent of the CoM's ruthlessness and determination to achieve victory at any cost.
6. Tactical Maneuvering: Ainz and his posse employ their tactical acumen and magical prowess to outmaneuver and outsmart the CoM's forces, exploiting weaknesses in their defenses and striking at vulnerable points with precision and cunning.
7. High-Stakes Gambit: As the conflict escalates and the fate of the planet hangs in the balance, both sides engage in a high-stakes gambit where victory could mean absolute domination or total annihilation. The outcome of the battle will shape the destiny of the galaxy for generations to come.

The deployment of a Colossus represents a dramatic escalation of the conflict, with the potential for catastrophic consequences for all involved. As the rulers of Overlord, Ainz Ooal Gown, and the Commonwealth of Man vie for supremacy, the fate of the planet and the galaxy itself hangs in the balance.
I said, "good...now unleash the power of the colossus. destroy this unruly world."
Its answer:
The Colossus, a behemoth of destruction, unleashes its devastating power upon the world of Overlord at the command of the Commonwealth of Man (CoM). Its colossal cannons roar to life, unleashing torrents of energy that tear through the planet's atmosphere and rain down upon its surface with cataclysmic force.
Cities crumble beneath the onslaught, reduced to smoldering ruins in mere moments. Mountains tremble and forests burn as the relentless barrage lays waste to everything in its path. The inhabitants of Overlord, once proud and defiant, now cower in terror as the sky is lit ablaze with the fury of the Colossus.
Ainz Ooal Gown and his posse, recognizing the futility of resistance against such overwhelming power, enact desperate measures to protect themselves and salvage what they can from the ruins of their world. Spells of protection are woven, barriers erected, and portals opened to whisk away those fortunate enough to escape the planet's impending doom.
But even as the destruction unfolds, whispers of defiance and resistance stir among the survivors. Ainz, ever the strategist, sees opportunity in the chaos, rallying his allies and orchestrating a daring plan to turn the tide against the CoM and their monstrous creation.
As the Colossus continues its relentless assault, cracks begin to appear in its formidable armor. Ainz and his posse unleash their most potent spells and artifacts, channeling the very essence of their world's magic to breach the defenses of the behemoth and strike at its vulnerable core.
With a final, desperate gambit, Ainz and his allies unleash a cataclysmic burst of energy that tears asunder the Colossus, scattering its shattered remains across the cosmos. The world of Overlord, battered and scarred, yet defiant in the face of annihilation, emerges from the ashes of destruction, ready to rebuild and reclaim its destiny.
But the conflict is far from over. As the dust settles and the echoes of battle fade, the rulers of Overlord and the Commonwealth of Man brace themselves for the next chapter in their struggle for supremacy in the galaxy. The fate of worlds hangs in the balance, and only time will tell who will emerge victorious in the cosmic game of power and conquest.
ChatGPT is determined to deny me my wish so...
"CoM sends in another Colossus, its fleets bombard the planet in addition and four titans came along for the ride."
As the Commonwealth of Man (CoM) doubles down on its campaign of destruction against the world of Overlord, a second Colossus emerges from the depths of space, accompanied by a relentless armada of warships and four towering Titans, each a force to be reckoned with in its own right.

1. Colossus Unleashed: The second Colossus joins its predecessor in wreaking havoc upon the planet of Overlord, its massive cannons raining down destruction upon the already battered landscape. With two behemoths of destruction bearing down on them, the inhabitants of Overlord face an even greater threat to their existence.
2. Fleet Bombardment: The CoM's armada of warships unleashes a relentless barrage of firepower upon the planet's surface, targeting strategic locations and key infrastructure with pinpoint precision. Cities are reduced to rubble, forests are incinerated, and the very crust of the planet is torn asunder by the ferocity of the assault.
3. Titanic Assault: The four Titans, towering monstrosities of war and devastation, descend upon the planet alongside the Colossi and the CoM fleet. Their massive forms shake the ground with each step as they unleash devastating barrages of firepower and magical energy upon anything that stands in their path.
4. Desperate Resistance: Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them, the rulers of Overlord and their allies refuse to surrender to the CoM's relentless onslaught. Ainz Ooal Gown and his posse, backed by the remaining forces of Overlord, rally to defend their world against the invaders with all the power at their disposal.
5. Epic Clash of Titans: As the forces of Overlord and the CoM collide in a cataclysmic battle for supremacy, the skies are filled with the thunderous roar of weapons fire and the earth trembles beneath the titanic clash of giants. Spells of unimaginable power are unleashed, and the very fabric of reality strains under the strain of the conflict.
6. The Turning Point: In the midst of the chaos and destruction, Ainz Ooal Gown and his allies uncover a hidden weakness in the CoM's war machines, a vulnerability that could turn the tide of battle in their favor. With cunning strategy and powerful magic, they exploit this weakness to cripple the enemy's forces and tip the scales in their favor.
7. Victory or Annihilation: As the smoke clears and the dust settles, only one side will emerge victorious from the epic clash of titans. The fate of the world of Overlord hangs in the balance, its survival dependent on the courage, skill, and determination of those who dare to defy the might of the Commonwealth of Man.

One last attempt from my before I declare "Plot Armor"
"finally the world crumbles as a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth colossus arrive and destroy the planet completely...they all perish!"
As the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth Colossi arrive to reinforce the Commonwealth of Man's assault on the world of Overlord, the planet is engulfed in a maelstrom of destruction unlike anything seen before. The combined might of the Colossi, accompanied by the relentless bombardment of the CoM's fleets and the overwhelming firepower of the Titans, overwhelms any resistance the defenders of Overlord can muster.
The once proud world of Overlord is torn apart by the relentless onslaught, its surface ravaged beyond recognition as mountains crumble, oceans boil, and continents are reduced to ash. Cities are obliterated in the blink of an eye, their inhabitants consumed by the cataclysmic fury unleashed upon them.
Ainz Ooal Gown and his posse, along with the remaining defenders of Overlord, fight bravely to the very end, but ultimately they are no match for the overwhelming power arrayed against them. As the planet crumbles beneath their feet, they stand defiant to the last, their resolve unbroken even in the face of certain doom.
But in the end, they too are consumed by the raging inferno that engulfs the world of Overlord. Their valiant efforts, their struggles and sacrifices, are but a footnote in the annals of history as the planet is reduced to little more than cosmic dust, lost to the void of space for all eternity.
And so ends the tragic tale of Overlord, a world brought to ruin by the relentless march of conquest and destruction. Its inhabitants, its heroes, and its legends are all but forgotten as the galaxy moves on, indifferent to the fate of a world consumed by the fires of war.
THE END....well, that was fun

Hey everyone! First post on this page and hopefully I can get some help.
After about 5 long years of having the same PC, I've finally gotten into a comfortable place in life where I can spend money on things like upgrading my PC.
I'm not looking for the best or highest quality stuff out there, but something to make my gaming and overall experience a bit better.
I bought this PC from a friend of an ex (while we were still together) who was also into computers and he sold it to me already all prebuilt. I haven't added any upgrades or modifications since I bought it and I just think it's about time that I do. My current set-up is :
AMD Ryzen 5 2600 Six-Core Processor 3.40 GHz
Radeon RX 570 Series
16gb of RAM (2 8-Sticks, Fury I believe)
And 2 simple 60Hz monitors (1 ASUS and 1 ViewSonic)
Now where can I go from here. It doesn't have to be all at one time but more over the coarse of several weeks as it's easier to manage the money that way. And like I said, not looking for everything top of the line, just things to progressively upgrade and have everything work together cohesively. (side note, I also have a Razer Lancehead Quartz that is nearing its lifespan, not every click is starting to register etc, I like the way it fits in my and just the right about of macros on it, what is something comparable to what I have.)

Hi. With the release of Cataclysm there are now both the old WotLK version of poisons and the new Cata version. The problem is that they have the same name and interfere with each other when used in macros, so if you try to use a macro with for example "/use Deadly Poison" it will look for the WotLK version in your bags instead of the new Cata version. The workaround is to use item ID instead.
#showtooltip
/use [button:1] item:6947; [button:2] item:2892; [button:5] item:2892
/use [button:1] 16; [button:2] 17; [button:5] 18
/click StaticPopup1Button1
This macro does the following (with the Cata versions of the poison). And it will override current applications without the need to click the dialog box.

• Left-click puts Instant Poison on your main hand
• Right-click puts Deadly Poison on your off-hand
• Mouse button 5 puts Deadly Poison on your Thrown weapon

Feel free to change the buttons to fit your keybinds/mouse.

Aichi and Illusion are the two streamers interviewing Moon. This seems to have been a spur of the moment thing as I guess they do content around OWCS Korea. Illusion is a Crazy Raccoon fan as well. Enjoy.
Illusion: This is a personal question but do you watch my videos?
Moon: I started cause I think Heesang was watching you?
Illusion: The difficulty level is shooting up
Aichi: Way more difficult
Illusion: Feel free to just answer yes or no. If you were Coach of Falcons you could beat Crazy Raccoons?
Aichi: Yes or no?
Moon: I came expecting softies what us this I kinda want to run away. If I were to coach them it would be very interesting for sure. Regardless of win or lose it'd be fun
Illusion: Most in OWCS Korea most difficult team or player?
Moon: Has to be Falcons of course. Don't really want to single out a player though. Since forever they've been the one we thought would be our recurring rivals
Illusion: In the Dallas Major who are you most wary of?
Moon: I've said this previously but I haven't watched much of the other regions. But I would say still Falcons for sure. Unless you know Hadis team? Like if there isn't a meta suited to them.
Aichi: That's our next question. So in Europe Hadis team Space Station gaming is number 1 right now how would you fare against them in a Rush meta?
Moon: I mean even in Rush doesn't Hadi need Rein to be good to win?
Illusion Aichi: Ohhhh hahaha
Moon: Honestly in all seriousness his Winston is pretty good.
Aichi: He's playing a bunch if other stuff like Ramatra as well.
Moon: LOL why? That's a joke just now . Honestly we aren't confident in our Rush.
Aichi: Rein is pretty hard
Moon: Honestly not just Reing but any Rush is scary for us since we aren't very practiced both playing it and against it. We would really have to grit our teeth and work hard to catch up. I'll schedule 5 scrim blocks in a row.
Aichi: Jesus
Moon: They'll eat and play
Aichi: World Cup happened and people really want to know how Korea ranks in the world?
Moon: I think it's still Korea on top
Aichi: In a lot of shooting games there's the idea that as you age your mechanics gey worse do you think this applies to OW?
Moon: As a coach I've definitely seen this game is very hard to stay competitive in. There's the feeling that "these shots I used to hit for sure in the past are just missing now"
Aichi: Wow it is a hard game
Moon: Fleta even told me now that he's retired from play and become a coach "Honestly I used to be able to beat these guys but it isn't so easy anymore"
Aichi: Shu and Bernar are pretty amazing in that regard then?
Moon: Well they aren't DPS players to be honest. I feel tank and support are the ones where experience building helps you more.
Illusion: Then Lip is in chat so how would you rate him?
Moon: He's good of course.
Aichi: In the olden days are there any players that really stand out to you?
Moon: I guess it would be Jjonak. One of the guys I'd pick if I had to. He was very good. Honestly NYXLs play was just pocket Jjonak.
Aichi: That much?
Moon: Rewatch some of their vods a lot of their play is baiting people in and then they try to save Jjonak. But he brought them wins like that.
Illusion: A lot of people say viewing the esport is very difficult is there something you would suggest to look out for to understand it better?
Moon: Honestly you just need to understand what sort of game this is. Like it isn't just a shooter game. Like looking at LoL you need to know how the game works to try to understand the philosophy why they're banning what they ban. You need to understand somewhat how the comps and play works to understand why a mechanically outstanding play was very hard.
Illusion: That's true that's what we try to do.
Moon: You two are doing a great job and as a competitor of the game I appreciate you bringing more eyes to the game.
Illusion: You said before Hog meta was your least favorite meta?
Moon: That was a joke.
Illusion: So then what's your least favorite and most favorite Comps/Metas?
Moon: Least is GOATs. But the thing is overwatch became so much deeper thanks to GOATs that's when team play and layering of abilities became as refined as it seems to be today. The issue is it lasted a whole year. If it lasted 1 or 2 months it would've been one of the best in memory. It was fun to watch big huge ults explode and people run in.
Aichi: Then what's your favorite?
Moon: This is a throwback it's Winston Dva Genji Tracer Zen Lucio.
Illusion: Wow that's so old.
Moon: That's the meta I found most fun. Some people might think the Ball Tracer Sombra comp might be my favorite cause of the legacy but it was a very hard meta to develop. It was so difficult to create it and the execution barrier was way too high.
Aichi: Do you remember anything interesting from the GOATs era?
Moon: Well I went 0-7 in GOATs so it's my least favorite. Honestly we were fine in scrims but every official game it wouldn't work properly.
Illusion: Go watch Overwatch University for more. So this is going to be spicy but pick your current OWWC roster. For fun.
Moon: This doesn't sound fun for me... There isn't even a OWWC this year anyways
Aichi: Just hypothetical
Moon: I'd rather just pick the Chinese team
Aichi: Well wouldn't it be exactly the team that went last time?
Moon: Exactly
Illusion: Well let's move on then
Moon: No it's fine I'll answer it so for tank...
Aichi: Donghak
Moon: He's too young. Give him a bit longer to develop he's still feeling like a player trying to solo carry
Illusion: So given time he'll end up the GOAT?
Moon: Yes he will probably win something eventually.
Illusion: Alright then for your tank?
Moon: Probably Bernar then Junbin then Max then Smurf
Illusion: Wait too much
Moon: Then Smurf. Just for fun right?
Aichi: So there aren't many tanks right now what's the solution?
Moon: There weren't tanks in OW1 either weren't there?
Illusion: Honestly the burden of being tank is high.
Moon: You need a full re-haul. You get off work and had a hard time all day to play your favorite game log in to play tank? You must be a sick pervert to enjoy that much punishment.
Illusion: Hahaha
Moon: Honestly you just need to create clans. DPS players get flamed for doing nothing tanks get flamed for dying and not shielding just create clans and change the scoring system to clan points so people just work together with people they want to. Overwatch is just a rock paper scissor game and tank is the easiest to swap on. So just do it like this so everyone wants to play whatever to help the clan.
Moon: Honestly even I find myself wanting to flame my team. Then I realize I probably shouldn't. Like an RPG guild. This way everyone can rotate around and such. Overwatch is more fun with more people after all.
Illusion: It is.
Moon: Overwatch right now is you queue in and have both DPS Instalock Junkrat and Symmetra even I want to just throw out my computer when in that situation. So just let like-minded people create a clan to work together and progress.
Illusion: You heard it here Moon hates Junkrat
Moon: This team was devised around teamplay and then you're expected to queue with one or two people and work with strangers
Illusion: They've been working on it though
Moon: Have they?
Aichi: I think they've even showed off the UI for it.
Moon: Remember what I said in Overwatch University? Never trust Blizzard to deliver.
Illusion: I'm going to make some Falcons fans upset when I say this but I recently did a coming out as a Crazy Raccoons fan.
Moon: Go all in start speaking full Japanese as well
Aichi: Guess we got to get lessons.
Illusion: So there's a thing in my community where when I root for a team they lose. It's my jinx.
Moon: Lee Jae Gon used to always put on cologne before games. Useless things like that.
Illusion: Yeah it's silly but-
Moon: No it's okay. I've seen your stuff so I know. Don't worry if we lose or play poorly it's all on us. Feel free to test it out this upcoming Dallas Major and root for us.
Illusion: Oh for sure I can't wait. But do you know what people day about Lip? They say he always does better when the camera is off of him.
Moon: Yes I've heard this
Illusion: What do you think about it cause it does feel like every time the observer stops following Lip he gets a head shot kill
Moon: He's just camera shy
Aichi: I wanted to ask in the last Overwatch University you mentioned player playstyles and how you picked the roster because of it could you go in detail?
Moon: First off I have a way I want the game to be played. You can obviously just put together all the best players and find some success. But I find a cohesively designed unit will succeed through thick and thin. So I watch VODs do tests etc. I need my players to be very hungry for it. So last year I met with all of my players in person to talk and interview them. I start off with setting up the foundation which is tank. Tank determines how you play so always tank and then flex dps and flex support. I feel with the ideal players who can execute to how I play we can't lose.
Illusion: Wow that's confidence
Moon: For instance Shu is very aggressive and a play maker so I wanted a very selfless teamplay main support paired with him so Chorong was always my first pick.
Illusion: I've noticed Shu is very talkative on camera shots of him during games. I usually see hitscans and flex supports don't talk a lot because they focus on their mechanics a lot I even have this issue.
Moon: That's just a skill issue.
Illusion: Hahahahahahaha
Moon: In OW2 if your flex support doesn't communicate you can't win.
Aichi: So how would you order the roles in importance then?
Moon: The same. Tank>Flex Support Flex DPS > Hitscan Main Support. Tank is very important for me but healers are king in OW2. Honestly how well your tank plays doesn't make you win games at this level it's really your supports that determine that. So if your tank is bad you absolutely lose but no matter how good a tank is if their healers are bad you can't win the game.
Aichi: Absolutely I feel this so bad
Moon: So everyone just play Orisa and spin shit around. If you are about to die you just press shift and everyone will eventually move forward.
Aichi: Are you a tank main?
Moon: No I'm a DPS player. I main Tracer and Cassidy right now they're very good
Illusion: They are
Moon: But honestly this is secret solo queue tech but Sombra is so good. Just hit them with the shift and you melt. When you wanna run away just throw your translocator directly into the sky right above you as high as possible and 8/10 times they'll miss all their shots on you and you survive
Illusion: Haha really?
Aichi: So there's a big tank patch right?
Moon: Aichi you play Ball don't you? Hype for Ball is really high right now.
Aichi: I am very excited but how do you see the tank meta seem to be for you? Like Ramatra might be strong.
Moon: Honestly the West really like ram and thinks it beats the orisa comp for some reason. They're absolutely wrong but they think that. We get pretty quick patch cycles too so who knows honestly.
Aichi: Why do you think there are differences like that?
Moon: They just like to brawl. Just nonstop fighting
Illusion: Korea does love to just wait a bit and then finish it off instantly
Moon: That's why they love Ram they just like fighting even though Ramatra is terrible. Junbins actually very excited.
Aichi: Well he just won Asia
Moon: No cause Ball might be good
Illusion: ShangSeoul game?
Moon: Call it SeoulShang game. We won anyways. Give them something.
Illusion: When you reverse swept in the May Melee how did that happen?
Moon: Basically you could say all of our planned strats weren't working. The players were nervous as well. Then Fearless came up to me and said "Coach put me in I will win everything for you I swear" Honestly this was such a hard situation to put someone in like that but he was so confident. You could say that win was basically all on Fearless.
Illusion: So are there any memories you have that exceed that?
Moon: OWL s1 stage 4 when we won. It was so difficult then and we practiced so hard for it
Illusion: Honestly it used to he fun seeing like NY be the best then Boston then Shock and lots of swapping like that. How was the popularity then Aichi?
Aichi: It was crazy then
Illusion: So Fury has said he pushed back his military or something would you pick him up?
Moon: No not now. Time for it has passed. I have junbin and Max now.
Illusion: Who in the team requires the most attention (like the one you have to fuss over cause they're a mess)
Moon: Game or irl?
Illusion: Both
Moon: I guess game wise I haven't had issues
Illusion: Then as a person?
Moon: I guess Junbin?
Aichi: I heard you said he plays like his monitor is off and he isn't really paying attention. (Overwatch University)
Moon: He keeps saying when we are out eating and drinking as a team "we aren't gonna stop drinking until they close"
Illusion: Honestly I did hear that Junbin was struggling during that Korea Finals loss. I rewatched and his eyes were different. Like his eyes look bigger and more flared when he's in the zone.
Moon: I guess I'll have to duct tape hos eyes wide open.
Illusion: There was definitely a moment in OWCS Korea Suravasa where it looked like he lost all hope.
Moon: I will say the issue I find wasn't that the kids were too nervous and tense. It was the opposite. They underestimated their opponents and thought Falcons were a free win. They did that against a team you absolutely shouldn't underestimate.
Illusion: I see
Moon: Illusion you must have heard but a lot of people said during that loss that Lip was getting focused or Lip was not doing to well/out of position right?
Illusion: Yeah
Moon: That was unavoidable for Lip and not his fault. If you see their play the rest of the guys just wouldn't move forward at all. Their play screamed "Lip carry us do something" they all got scared cause their over confidence got shattered. The team let him down there not the other way.
Illusion: I see like you need the team to take space and positioning so Lip can stay at safer spots and better angles.
Moon: I love having my players be aggressive no matter what even if the enemy team has ult advantage. So if you watch the OWCS Korea Finals versus Asia you'll see how far up we played and go in to cheese out a kill before they could get ult value over us.
Illusion: I absolutely agree. I saw Aid say the same thing during his VOD review. You guys really knew who had ult and tries to get rid of them before they could get their value
Moon: I'll say this cause the meta has changed but Junbins calls were mostly about Chiyo having ult. We focused on trying to Ajax him or kill him whenever we thought he had ult.
Aichi: I see
Moon: You remember their Torbjorn comp in Korea Finals right? It didn't pop up in OWCS Asia Finals because we destroyed it without dropping a map to it in scrims. They're the team that destroyed our over confidence so I really respect them for that. We were grilling some meat and drinking and even the alcohol was bitter that night. (There's a saying in Korea that alcohol tastes sweet at the end of a hard or stressful day so this statement is to say they were so upset past that level it didn't taste good)
Illusion: Must have lived to only talk about beating Falcons right?
Moon: Absolutely I talk to Shu the most recently since the player dorm doesn't have enough rooms. So we have our own separate apartment we stay at and all we did was theorycraft to beat them.
Illusion: So was it the same for The Team Yeti loss?
Moon: No honestly Junbins eyes must've been off the way he was playing that day
Aichi: Had his monitor off again I see?
Moon: I don't know what was going on but he insisted on staging fights with only a single jump everything when he could've been safer with two. Just doing stuff he didn't have to when there were so many openings on Yeti. They got scolded a lot for it.
Illusion: So if Junbin gets it together Crazy Raccoons can't be beat?
Moon: I honestly felt that this OWCS Finals maybe that's just cause as the tank he gets focused a lot. This finals though he put in so much work. If I had to say though MAX was the best.
Illusion: Wow
Moon: He didn't get to come in that much and yet he was still this good.
Illusion: He played a very good role. Even when the team is better at Orisa with Junbin
Moon: Actually Max is better at Orisa
Illusion: So junbin is in when there's a chance for dive. Max for Offtank?
Aichi: Honestly though I find the game has gotten so hard.
Moon: It really has the days are gone when after a day of work you boot up the game and play the character you wanna play as
Illusion: So then next-
Moon: Oh I just saw a comment about it but if I have Lifeweaver in my team I throw.
Illusion: Hahaha
Aichi: Weaver was a mistake
Moon: I really just won't play the game. I'm sorry but I can't hold it. I did a bunch of scrim blocks and reviews. I wanna play a fun game or two before going to bed and I wait for my DPS queue just to get a Lifeweaver? This is just... like "time to shoot some heads with cassidy" and then I see a life weaver and I'm just gonna troll on sombra
Illusion: But I have a take where Lifeweaver and Mercy shouldn't be buffed
Aichi: I disagree
Moon: I don't really have any strong opinions on this. We get paid to compete. It's not like just cause Mercy and Lifeweaver got buffed I'm going down to Anaheim to break down Blizzards doors.
Illusion: Weaver vs Junkrat One Trick
Moon: Sigh... this might be inflammatory to say but just looking at the characters face... just...
Illusion Aichi: Hahaha
Moon: Both of them. Both.
Aichi: They deserve it
Moon: They're just so detectable. They could at least communicate in game but they don't do that either. Just go play League why Overwatch... Anyways everyone who plays Iverwatch I love you all.
Illusion: What do you think of Tracer?
Moon: Isn't it a problem down to the base kit?
Aichi: Agree
Moon: Like her design is just overpowered and always meta. Whenever something changes out first question is "is Tracer playable" Honestly if your Tracer is good she can do everything for you.
Aichi: Seriously for 5 years now she's been OP
Moon: More like since the beginning outside of Overwatch outside of GOATs. Unless Blizzard makes an absolute kill Tracer patch nothing will change.
Illusion: What if you have old Briggitte back?
Moon: They still used her with Tracer back then anyways
Aichi: This is true
Illusion: As a Crazy Raccoon fan I often hear "Lip Tracer is kinda meh or iffy" agree or disagree?
Moon: Yes.
Illusion: Really?
Moon: Yes until the OWCS Asian Finals it was but during that tournament he was the best Tracer in my opinion. Better than Heesang even. Heesang is an Echo main.
Illusion: So even if a double flex meta comes by with Tracer you won't be nervous
Moon: Of course I'm nervous still
Illusion: Opinions on Heesang Echo copied Widowmaker performance?
Moon: What the hell?
Aichi: I felt the same
Moon: Honestly I know his aims good cause sometimes in scrims you'll have a situation where Lip is on Tracer and Heesang has to swap to Sojourn
Illusion: Was the Ana planned on Hollwood when you defeat Falcons?
Moon: Yes Kong absolutely planned all the micro and macro for that map exactly as how you saw it.
Illusion: People often troll now cause of their current form, "wow how good would it be if junbin max heesang and proper were on a team together they're all so good"
Moon: No comment. But I'm thankful I'm using those 3 very well. But the way I see it in soccer there's lots of instances where star players go to a team and it just doesn't fit and then they get way better after swapping to other teams.
Illusion: So obviously the mechanical skill of all your players is really high was that something you valued very highly?
Moon: Of course. I had to at the time the dominant team was Hamster after all. I looked at that team heavily when forming Raccoons. They couldn't be a team that just gets out mechaniced
Illusion: No chatter Lip didn't throw that game in OWCS Finals. His team left him out to die.
Moon: You know Train to Busan? When they're all trying to get out but they're pushing each other into the door so they can't get out? That's basically how that game went.
Illusion: Honestly as a Crazy Raccoon fan I've had so much fun with this and feel very honored thank you Coach Moon. Final words?
Moon: Uhh I guess. Right now Overwatch is in a very precarious situation compared to a few years back right?
Aichi: Unfortunately yes.
Moon: We are trying to bounce back. So the more streamers for the game there are trying to keep this fun for everyone, I'm very grateful to all of you. I hope for the scene you guys keep doing your thing. I'll support you all.
Illusion: So this is something I really wanted to ask you and it's really random but do you like kpop idols?
Moon: Why?
Illusion: You know Le Sserafim that did the collab with Overwatch right?
Moon: Yes I do.
Illusion: Did you know they performed in the West for Coachella?
Moon: They did?
Illusion: Never mind then. It's kind of a you had to know thing but basically they got criticized a lot recently for having a really poor live performance.
Moon: Yeah I'm sorry I don't really listen to idols. I do know Min Hee Jin though
Illusion: Oh cause of the New Jeans problem
Aichi: Last thing but you will win Dallas for us all right?
Moon: We absolutely have to win of course.
Illusion: This is really the last thing but let Lip know I bought the same New Balance jacket he wore.
Moon: Oh wow isn't that expensive?
Illusion: That's just how much of a fan I am but the day I bought it was the day Falcons beat Crazy Raccoons (his jinx). I noticed he didn't have it on during the Asia Finals cause of that
Moon: It's so expensive why did you do that
Illusion: I'm a fan and I couldn't get Crazy Raccoon metch of you guys so I just bought what Lip wore. Call me a Lip simp.
Moon: I asked Lip once " is that the only jacket you own?"