Muscles worksheet and answers

Hey everyone!
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I just wanted to share some exciting news for anyone involved in learning or teaching English as a Second Language (ESL). UsingEnglish.com, a leading resource for English language learners and teachers, has recently launched a brand-new section dedicated to ESL worksheets and printables! 🎉
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Happy teaching!

“What do you mean it’s wrong?” said Tamara, becoming frustrated with Samuel.
“I'm trying to tell you that plants do not eat earth. They just absorb nutrients from it,” Samuel replied, equally annoyed as this was the fourth time he had explained it. “Look, just take my word for it, OK,” he added.
“Fine, but you will have to explain it again,” Tamara retorted.
Samuel and Tamara were partners in a scientific study of their forest home. It was genuinely idyllic in every sense of the word; the trees stretched high into the sky, and everyone was covered in succulent leaves, a deep and gorgeous shade of green. Around their trunks were rings of flowers gathered from every continent, and a thick carpet of grass lay on the ground.
The two sat underneath a chestnut tree, writing up their findings for the day. It had focused mainly on tree sizes and growth rates, and they had continued this study for, on and off, almost a year.
Samuel turned to look at his assistant and found that she was just as remarkable as the day they had first met: golden locks, like living sunlight, tied neatly in a bun. Her eyes were an emerald green, and all in all, she was gorgeous. However, it was when you came to her waist that things became truly incredible because rather than a pair of legs, there was a long and wide snake’s tail.
It was huge, at least seven metres long and as wide as her torso. The scales were the same beautiful colour as her hair and reflected the sunlight in such a way that she appeared to glow. She was wearing an ultramarine tunic with a black diamond in the centre. She was like this not because of a plague, a curse or some mutation; Tamara was a Lamia; it was how she was born.
Samuel, on the other hand, looked far less impressive. He was around five foot ten, with dull brown hair and equally dull eyes. His stomach stuck out from the rest of him. No amount of exercise was able to get rid of it.
He was by every description a ‘dull as dishwater’ human. His clothes, however, were slightly more interesting. He wore a navy blue tunic with a thick leather belt wrapped around his waist. On his feet was a pair of excellent leather boots, able to withstand whatever the world threw at them and on his forearms and shins, he wore something Tamara had never seen or even heard of before: a pair of vambraces and greaves, Samuel called it armour.
Three strips of rugged leather layered on top of one another made up each piece, and between each layer was a collection of tiny metal beads. When Tamara asked what they were for, Samuel said they were for protection.
All of this would have been inconceivable to Samuel two years ago, but he had become used to it in time. Samuel was not born into this world; he had arrived. How? He did not know, but he remembered it all vividly; his senses had been overloaded, and at first, he believed he had died.
“What’s wrong?” Tamara asked Samuel, who had been silent for over a minute.
Samuel snapped out of his daydream and said: “nothing, just thinking about that day again.”
Tamara nodded and said nothing else; she knew exactly what was wrong.
Samuel went straight back to writing. When Samuel first showed up, there had been no paper or pens, but what was even stranger than the lack of these apparent necessities was that Samuel had had to invent both of these items.
Tamara and those like her did not possess a written language; they relied entirely on their memories, and until Samuel had shown up, Tamara had not even conceived of the notion, but she had picked it up astonishingly quickly.
“It still sounds like eating to me,” said Tamara, bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
“Well, it isn’t; eating requires a mouth and stomach,” Samuel replied.
“Says who?” Tamara asked defiantly.
“Says me,” Samuel answered.
Samuel jotted down the last of his notes and left the pages to dry in the sun. Samuel then turned to his right and looked at a large book, the size of a chair’s seat, bound in yellow leather and knotted by animal tendons. He picked it up and began to leaf through the pages.
His eyes glanced over paragraphs about oak trees and orchid flowers until he finally reached the section he sought; the page was titled Silver Birch (Betula Pendula).
“Have you finished the drawing on Silver Birch yet?” Samuel asked without looking.
Tamara was currently focused on a drawing of sunflowers, but she understood his request and, without looking up or saying a word, handed him the picture he wanted.
Samuel took the drawing and took several moments admiring it. Like all her work, the picture was astounding; not only did it look like an actual Silver Birch, but it also seemed to be alive, as though it would start blowing in the breeze.
Samuel punched four holes along the sheet's left side, undid the tendon strings and then attached the drawing behind the title page. He added eight more pages to his book, four of text and four illustrations.
Their work was now done; there was no more writing or drawing today, and he placed their work into a knapsack Tamara had brought with her. Samuel turned to his partner and asked: “so what do you want to do now?”
Tamara looked up through the canopy and could make out the silhouettes of several birds and finally said: “I’d quite like to fly.”
Samuel smiled, chuckled and said, “Yes, so would I, but that would require every member of the village working together for decades.”
Tamara looked Samuel in the eye and said: “are you making fun of me?”
Samuel did not reply; he just looked Tamara dead in the eye. She observed every minute twitch on Samuel's face and concluded he was not.
“How could a person fly?” She asked, suddenly intrigued.
“I don’t know, I’m not an engineer,” Samuel answered, “So apart from flying, what else do you want to do?”
Tamara let out a sigh and said: “I guess we will just have to walk.”
These were the moments Samuel lived for, just a quiet afternoon with his best friend enjoying a stroll; he was utterly content.
“You seem chipper,” Tamara said, noticing the growing smile on Samuel’s face.
“That’s because I feel chipper” he replied
They passed through the trees, heading towards their favourite spot, a beach by the side of a lake so large you could not see the other side.
“So, how is everyone?” Samuel said, trying to spark a conversation.
“You mean every single one because that could take a while?” Tamara replied.
“Let’s start with your mother” he clarified.
Tamara’s mother, Pancha, was more or less just a larger version of her daughter, just as brash and headstrong.
“She’s fine; she has finally stopped asking me what happened every time I come to meet you,” she said.
“Really, and it only took her two and a half years,” said Samuel with a smirk.
Yes, that first year here, had been a real trial. Samuel had never felt so scared, isolated and persecuted in his life. When he thought about it, he could still feel the fear and the hopelessness.
A gust of air slammed into Samuel’s face, bringing him back to the present, and what a wonderful time it was. The water was crystal clear, the beach was covered in sparkling white sand, and the distinct aroma of water wafted through the air. Samuel breathed it all in as Tamara spread herself over the beach.
The cooling breeze that Samuel found so enjoyable, Tamara found far less agreeable. Tamara was ectothermic or cold-blooded. She could not maintain her body temperature; she needed to absorb it from her environment, and the wind was slowly draining her.
“Comfortable down there?” Samuel asked.
Tamara turned her head, looked up at him and said: “Actually, yes, not as good as my bed, but still fine.”
Samuel left Tamara to her thermoregulation and strolled down to the water’s edge, “stay where I can see you!” Tamara called.
“Yes, MOM,” Samuel answered sarcastically, though he knew it was more for Tamara’s sake than his; she had a problem with open spaces.
Samuel closed his eyes, stretched his arms above his head, feeling his muscles strain against the tension, and yawned. Small tears formed in his eyes and wiped them away. He had only been up for a few hours but was ready for bed.
“Too much thinking, that was the problem,” Samuel mumbled to himself.
The sunlight sparkled on the water’s surface. It seemed as though millions of diamonds were suddenly brought into existence, danced for a few moments, and then vanished as quickly as they came. It was beautiful, just like everything else here.
He climbed up a rock that jutted from that sand and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. As he kicked his legs, a ray of sun caught his greaves, and although the leather was rather dull, it still dazzled him.
Samuel heard a sound reminiscent of sandpaper brushing against wood, and he knew at once what it was. He waited four more seconds and said, without moving an inch, “Don’t even think about it!”
“How did you know?” Tamara asked, feeling simultaneously impressed, confused and disappointed.
Samuel looked her in the eye and replied: “who do you think you’re dealing with?”
Tamara had not clambered up the rock like Samuel; she had simply raised herself on her tail so she stood over two metres high.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
Tamara smiled and answered, “yes, thanks for asking.”
Tamara moved behind Samuel and then began to coil around the boulder, and if he had not experienced it all before, it would have been unnerving. Tamara was only twelve and a half, yet she was already far stronger than him. Samuel was sure if Tamara really wanted to, she could crush a bison to death. After the graceful dance around the stone, she sat down beside Samuel.
The pair was silent for a few minutes, except for a quick coughing fit by Samuel; they took in the unnatural beauty of their surroundings.
“Hey, I have a question,” said Tamara, coming back to her senses.
“What is it?” Samuel replied.
“You still haven’t told me why we are studying the forest?” She asked.
In an instant, Samuel became deeply confused. To him, it seemed all too obvious why they were doing it.
“There is no practical reason for doing it. We do it so that we know,” Samuel answered.
Tamara became silent. Samuel realised that she was deep in thought and decided to give her all the time she needed until she finally said: “Is this one of those human things?”
Samuel, upon hearing this, gave a small chuckle and answered: “yes, if you like.”
Suddenly, something caught Samuel’s eye. It was a crab, no bigger than a golf ball. Its back was powder blue, and it held its arms upright, its claws pointing down. The tiny creature would walk forward, scoop some sand into its mouth, and then leave a small pellet behind.
“Look at that!” said Samuel, nudging Tamara’s shoulder and pointing at the tiny crustacean. Tamara turned her head and looked directly at where he was pointing; she strained her eyes at what she thought was a pebble; she was about to climb down and collect it when it suddenly moved, and she squealed.
Tamara dragged the bottom end of her tail up from the beach and timidly said, “What’s that?”
Samuel remembered that tone of voice all too well, and it brought with it some unpleasant memories, but he pushed them to the back of his mind and said: “it’s a crab.”
Samuel was certain he had seen this type of crab before but could not put a name to the image. Samuel was sure he had read about them, watched a documentary, or attended a lecture, but he could not remember. Ultimately, he decided to drop it for now and see if the answer would come to him.
Tamara kept staring at it as though she believed it would pounce if she took her eyes off it for one second.
“Is it dangerous?” she asked, her voice hushed to ensure the creature did not notice her.
Samuel sighed and answered: “it’s a crab, Tamara, unless you happen to be a nematode then…”
Samuel paused mid-sentence as his brain finally connected the dots and asked, “Wait, you have never seen a crab before?”
This perplexed Samuel for a moment until he remembered that Tamara did not have a television, a car, and she could not fly a plane, so it was not unexpected that she would not know what a crab was.
Tamara shook her head in response to his question, and Samuel added: “you know what a woodlouse is, right?”
Tamara nodded and said, “I like woodlice.”
“Well, a crab is just a type of woodlouse that lives near water,” Samuel concluded.
However, he could tell from her face that she was unconvinced, so he got off the rock, walked over to the tiny creature, wary of its pincers, and picked it up by its backside.
“What are you doing?” Tamara called in alarm.
Samuel held the animal, its legs flailing wildly in an attempt to escape, and said, “showing you there is nothing to be worried about.”
Taking care not to crush it, Samuel clambered back up the rock and presented the animal to her. Tamara stared at it for some as the crab bobbed its eye up and down and tried in vain to find a part of Samuel it could nip.
“It’s actually kind of… cute,” Tamara said after two minutes of silence.
She relaxed her tail and let it rest on the beach once more. “Can it hold it?” She asked Samuel, fear being replaced by interest.
“Of course, you can. Just make sure you hold it by its back and be careful of the pincers; if they get you, it will hurt.”
Samuel handed the crab over to her and watched as Tamara began to inspect the animal from every angle. The crab had a white underbelly and purple joints.
“You think you could draw it from memory?” Samuel asked.
“Hmm?” Tamara replied. Samuel let out a sigh and repeated. After three more attempts, Tamara finally took notice and said, “Yes.”
Five minutes later, Samuel said, “we should probably put him back now.”
Tamara moaned about it, but Samuel said: “he has his own life, Tamara; you can’t keep him!”
She conceded, grumbling under her breath, and gently placed the animal back on the sand. As the crab dashed away, the two noticed that while they had been fixated on that single crab, thousands more had emerged on the beach.
Upon seeing the swarm of animals make their way across the beach, Tamara let out a squeal and once again pulled her tail up off the beach. The army of crabs marched along the shore. The collective walking produced a sound loud enough to hear from fifty metres away, and at last, Samuel remembered what they were and said, with no small amount of satisfaction in his voice, “they’re soldier crabs.”
“What are they going to do?” Tamara asked, concerned by the sudden appearance of so many creatures.
Samuel kept staring at the gathering, but he heard her question and replied, “They’re just feeding,” and added quickly, “But we are far too big for them.”
“That's odd,” Samuel said under his breath.
“I know there are so many of them,” Tamara said, deeply unnerved by the sheer vastness of the swarm.
“No,” Samuel said, “There should be this many of them; it’s where they are that is strange.”
Tamara momentarily took her eyes off the army and asked, “So where should they be.” There was a slight flicker of fear in her voice at the prospect of being invaded; rats and mice where bad enough. They did not need another pest.
“By the sea, not a freshwater lake,” he answered.
“The Sea?” Tamara almost yelled. Samuel was a little surprised by this enthusiasm and turned to face her.
“Yes,” he said.
“Have you ever been to the sea,” she asked.
“Yes, many times,” Samuel said, uncertain where this was going.
“I bet it’s wonderful,” Tamara added with a smile.
Samuel was silent as his brain connected a few dots and asked: “how can you know about the sea if you don’t know about crabs?”
She smiled; Tamara enjoyed it when she knew something that he did not, “there is a story that my mom told me that before we came to this forest, we were a different people that lived by the sea.” Tamara paused for a breath.
“But then humans came and drove us from the water, and we fled inland. Our people split into two. One half went to the mountains, and the other settled in the forest.”
Tamara finished and waited for his reply. Samuel, however, just kept looking at her. Tamara was concerned that she had upset him; he did not like it when humans were labelled as the enemy, yet his face and posture were not those of one who was sad or angry.
“You people blame us for everything, don’t you?” Samuel said with a chuckle.
“If there is a fire, it’s a human’s fault. If there is an earthquake, it’s a human’s fault. If a little Boreray boy drinks all their apple juice in one gulp, it’s a human’s fault.”
“So, getting back on topic, where did these “Soldier crabs” come from anyway? We have visited this lake for over two years and never seen even a glimpse?” Tamara asked. Samuel looked back to the slowly advancing army, and several ideas flashed through his head.
“Maybe they have been dormant up until now; perhaps they make a large circle around the lake shore, and it’s simply luck that we were here on the day they passed by, or maybe the migrated here from somewhere else.”
They watched the crabs' ceaseless march until Tamara said, “These things are still giving me the creeps. Can we go now?” Samuel could not argue that there was something eerie about all of these animals appearing, seemingly, from nowhere; however, there was still one thing he had to be certain of.
“You think you could draw one from memory?” he asked.
Tamara’s face contorted in a scowl. Samuel, for all his good points, could become far too focused on his research, which often caused him to become ignorant of other people.
Yet she knew sitting here yelling at him would accomplish nothing, so she told him the truth: “Yes, can we go now!” Samuel nodded and then slid off the rock. Tamara copied him, and they both slinked back to the cover of the trees.
Now that she was beneath the canopy, Tamara let out an enormous sigh of relief as the anxiety slowly left, and the close air warmed her body. On the other hand, Samuel began to chafe at the stagnant air while his head began to bead with sweat, but it was nothing he had not experienced before, so he gritted his teeth and bared with it.
With their plans now ruined, Tamara and Samuel wandered aimlessly through the woods, chatting about what they could do to fill the rest of the day. Several ideas arose, including visiting a nearby waterfall and a set of monument stones, but none truly appealed to them.
In the end, Tamara said, “how about we just call it a day?”
Samuel was happy about this. Tamara was his only form of human contact, yet he could not deny the pointlessness of wandering around the woods, so he said, “Ok, but let’s take the long way.”
Samuel heard a sound above him and saw a red squirrel scampering through the trees.
“Is it difficult?” Tamara asked.
Samuel looked at Tamara and replied, “Well, it can give me a crick in my neck sometimes.”
Tamara let out a short laugh and clarified, “No, I mean, is it difficult being so inquisitive? It looks exhausting.”
He was not entirely sure what she meant by that. To Samuel, Tamara was every bit as curious as him, so he stated: “you tell me, you went out looking for me just because you wanted to know.”
“True,” answered Tamara, “and everyone has always said that I am always asking questions, but you’re like a boar that just ate sugar beat.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Samuel said, shaking his head. “But I do know that people always told me, when I was a boy, that humans are, by their nature, infinitely curious, but personally, I think that it’s just how I was born.” there was a pause, and he quickly added, “just like you.”
Tamara’s fingers started to numb as she brushed them against the bark of passing trees. She took a good look at the trees around her. Tamara had lived her entire life sheltered by these trees. This place was her home, her family’s home and her friend’s home, and she loved it, a perfect example of the innate beauty of nature.
Samuel, however, was of a different opinion this forest disturbed him, though this feeling had diminished with time. The trees all grew in perfect symmetry, four and a half strides form each other.
From Tamara’s perspective, there was nothing strange about this, yet Samuel often said that this should not be possible, that the wood should be a mess and that the trees should grow in an unorganised fashion. Yet to Tamara, the idea of messy forests was just as impossible as a structured one was to him.
Noon came and went, and Samuel’s stomach began to rumble. His breakfast was becoming a distant memory; he thought he might be able to bear it for another hour or so, but as they travelled closer to the village, Tamara started to become irritated by Samuel’s constant growling.
“We need to find you something to eat before that sound drives me nuts!” Tamara stated bluntly.
“That’s all well and good, my dear, so long as you can materialise food out of the aether,” answered Samuel, with just a hint of condescension in his voice.
Tamara did not know what the aether was, but it did not matter. “No, but I do know a nearby tree with some great fruit in it,” she replied.
Samuel found this strange for two reasons. Firstly, he found it very difficult to believe there was a source of food in this forest that either he had not found, or Tamara had not told him about yet.
Secondly that, Tamara would know much about something she could not eat. Tamara was strictly carnivorous; she ate nothing but meat.
He wanted answers fast and asked: “So why haven’t you told me about this before?”
“Because I can’t stand the smell, that’s why, and I didn’t want you stinking up the place,” she explained.
“If it smells disgusting, what makes you think I will eat it?” he asked.
“Because the Boreray can’t get enough of it, some of them say that they taste like all the best parts of every fruit and vegetable we grow, which is a shame because they smell like all the worst,” she added.
He asked no more questions. He was too busy thinking; this fruit sounded so familiar, but he could not remember. The need to survive day in day out had pushed most of his standard learning, from school and university to the back of his mind, not forgotten mind you just buried.
I'm back with Tamara and Samuel latest adventure. If you like what you've read so far and want to know where it's going you can find the complete story by following the links below.
e-book(US/UK/CA/AU/DE)
Physical(US/UK/CA/DE)
If you do decide to read ahead please leave a review or rating, every single one helps immensely, and helps me keep doing what I'm doing.
Also the e-book will be at a reduced price until the last chapter it published on reddit.

I recently had 4 back-to-back grand mals and was admitted into the emergency room in an ambulance. (I recently made a different post on here regarding this too, but it was more focused on my first time experience having a urethral catheter inserted lol)
I woke up to find abnormal bruises on my arms, especially around my wrists, and I later asked the doctor in charge at that time whether I had been tied down during my seizures. He answered yes, and he explained that it was to minimise the risk of me hitting myself or falling off of the bed during my seizures.
I got kinda pissed off and started to ask in a more aggressive manner whether it was really necessary to tie me down, as I had never seen any sources citing that a seizure patient should be tied down during a grand mal under any kind of circumstance. The doctor just replied as if he had no other choice, or that it was the best decision at the time based on his professional opinion. Obviously I’m not a doctor myself so I couldn’t dispute further.
They later returned to me with blood test results, saying that I have rhabdomyolysis and that they’re still trying to find out why. In my head my immediate thought was “Isn’t that because you made me overwork my muscles fighting against restraints during my seizure??” But I couldn’t say anything because it was technically just a hunch, medically uninformed.
Has anyone else here experienced being tied down while in the emergency room? Is this normal?? Is there an actual chance that the hospital caused further complications by medical malpractice i.e. restraining a patient during his seizures? Could i file a complaint or sue for this???
To provide a little more context, I’m currently in South East Asia where epilepsy related knowledge or awareness may not be as prevalent as in Western countries.

I started BJJ at a brand new academy back in college in 2010. Fell in love with it and did almost exclusively BJJ as my primarily martial art for over a decade. Decided in 2020 that I finally wanted to do MMA since It was something I genuinely wanted to do since I was a kid. Timing couldn't have been better either because my original gym permanently closed their doors when the pandemic started. So I started training at a local MMA gym.
Now make no mistake I absolutely love my current gym, but I've spent the last 4 years trying to be a good MMA fighter instead of a good BJJ guy. I knew nothing about striking when I started, so I purposely spent more time in the boxing and Muay Thai classes than grappling for 2.5 years out of the 4 years I've been there.
I've been really trying to balance things out now that I feel confident with my hands, but my BJJ suffered tremendously. In addition I'm older and not as agile as I was when I started ( I was 18 and weighed 160lbs when I started. Now I'm 32 and a semi-muscled 250 at 5'10.)
I feel like my...everything sucks now. like 80% of the BJJ class comes from a wrestling background and our school is genuinely more top game focused, and nogi exclusive. So I almost never win the takedown battle. Leaving me to try and play an open guard game, which for a guy my size looks like a turtle who's stuck on the back of his shell. I'm definitely trying to increase my wrestling abilities to compensate and remain on top, but it's taking time.
Has anyone whos ever made the switch to MMA or at least dipped their toe in it been in this predicament when they went back to focusing on grappling? How did you start building your game back up? I know the simple answer is just train more, but I'm putting in as many hours as I can.

I’m so regret getting this surgery right now. I’m 3 months out, and at my last visit the Dr said I’m completely released, but I feel like I have a constant sprained ankle, all my muscles and tendons are stiff and painful and the Dr / nurse won’t answer me in the portal about getting PT or what stretches to do to help. No PT was ever ordered. The ball of my foot is also protruding. I’m not sure if it’s swelling or if it’s the bone. But my toe does not rest on the ground. It causes me to limp and it’s very uncomfortable/painful at the ball of my foot. Their only response was to get an orthotic insert on Amazon. This is a Vanderbilt doctor and I had better expectations. Anyone have any advice? Similar experiences?

Just got a diagnosis of hypotonia for my 6 month old. She’s rolling back to belly (occasionally belly to back), in the process of learning to sit, and has hit all of her 9 month cognitive, social and fine motor milestones. The issue is that she will not bear weight on her arms or legs. If we hold her under her armpits, she arcs her back and her legs stick out. She also does not prop herself when sitting and does not push up on her arms when doing tummy time. To top it off, her neuro exam showed that her reflexes in her legs are a bit exaggerated. We did an MRI and it showed potential under myelination of the anterior limb. We also did metabolic testing (all normal) and are going to begin genetic testing after a final MRI. I had always thought that her strange muscle contractions were attributed to her severe reflux but it seems that it’s something more serious. Did anyone else have similar symptoms? If so, what was the diagnosis? Hoping for some success stories as I’m a very concerned FTM that’s dying to get some answers.

Hey y'all,
Long time lurker here, but I wanted to make a post of my experience because I found a lot of reassurance from many folks here before I got my surgery.
I'm exactly seven weeks post-op today; I had a total laparoscopic hysto, including ovaries. For some background, I'm 34, 5'3 and 134lbs; been on T for 9 years now.
Surgery day: Nervous as hell, but medical team was amazing. Surgery took about 2.5 hours and I was able to go home the same day. I had a bit of trouble fully coming to afterwards, but after a nap, I was good to get up on my own and make my way to the washroom for the highly anticipated pee (can't leave without peeing). It did take me a long time to pee, but I managed a little something. There will be blood immediately after surgery, so it certainly can be startling if you've been without a period for years. Didn't eat much that day, as anaesthetic kinda ruined my appetite. Pain was tolerable, but getting up from the couch/bed was tough - you'll kinda have to roll out. I peed A LOT that evening (it did subside a bit the next day). Nurses said nothing over 5lb (I 100% did not abide by this because 5lbs is very light to me and I felt it silly) and no sex for 6 weeks.
First week: Pain was very manageable, just similar to sore abs. I continued my prescribed painkillers for a couple days and made the switch to Tylenol, which I took for another couple days and then I didn't feel like I needed anything. Bleeding was pretty mild throughout the first week. I think after about 4-5 days post-op, I was walking quite a bit (couple 10-15 min walks a day and general tidying around the house). I did get a little tired, but nothing bad. Drove my car around 4 days in. Was also drinking a dissolvable stool softener - you're really gonna want this. I never took it with top surgery, but hystos are so connected to your bowels, its just a must-have.
Second week: Went back to work after 12 days - I work in service and was on my feet 6-8 hours a day. I felt fine and didn't really overdo it. I didn't lift much over 10-15lbs, but was able to hustle. Bleeding continued to be quite light. I was pretty much cleaning my house as normal at this point, as well as walking my dog (though he is super young and a puller, so I was very cautious during our walks). Continued drinking the stool softener because I still felt a little discomfort when trying to go to the bathroom.
Third and Fourth weeks: Third week I just increased my walking, working and started to ease back into my routine. I will say my gas pains/bowel discomfort got pretty bad around this point - I've never experienced anything like it. It was obvious it was related to my intestines and bowels settling into a new place inside me, but it was so uncomfortable. I continued the softener every other day until the fourth week. Once I reached week four, I went back to the gym to do some stretching and isolation work on machines (leg extentions and curls, shoulder presses, rows, light curls and tricep work). I only went two days, that week, but it felt amazing to get back in there and move my body. I had no more bleeding at all after that week and had no adverse effects from going to the gym.
Fifth and Sixth weeks: Pretty much a full return to normal for me. Fifth week, I started increasing the weights (half my usual) at the gym and hit the exercise bike as well. Sixth week, I started my compound body work like squats, bench presses, light deadlifts, etc. Again, had no adverse effects. I'm now at week seven and I'm back fully to normal, in my opinion. My doctor has cleared me for all regular activities and I'm feeling great. This will be my first full week back in the gym and though things are feeling heavy as hell after all this time, it will come back in no time.
Some other things that I was worried about before my surgery: Muscle loss/Weightlifting - If you're in good shape beforehand and are a seasoned lifter, you're gonna be just fine. I was so freaked out about losing my muscle and physique, but it wasn't so bad. Just don't eat like shit and stay as active as you can. Things are gonna feel really heavy when you get back, but just go slow and focus on form.
Sex/Masturbation - I got myself off probably 2 weeks after and had some light bleeding, but nothing else. I waited again for another few days and it was fine after that. I continued to get off regularly after this with no adverse effects. Myself and my partner obviously didn't have penetrative sex during these 6 weeks, but we did manage to get by with some hands-on fun. I've yet to have the more "aggressive" penetrative sex I'm used to, but light penetration this past week has not bothered me - just go slow and make sure it feels ok.
Scarring - SO TINY. Seriously, just don't pick at them and keep them moisturized and they will heal great.
That's mostly all I can recall right now, but I'm happy to answer any questions. Sorry if this was long-winded, but I figured maybe it would help someone out!

OOC: co-written with NotTooSunny
It was an ordinary day at the New York City Library. People wandered in and out of the building, unaware of the monster that lurked among them.
The only people who seemed to know the danger these mortals were in were Harper and Amon, who entered the building with glowing bronze swords at their hips. The bulky weapons seemed to have escaped the notice of the other library patrons, which was a good thing. The job description had made it clear that they were meant to remain inconspicuous in completing their task.
Harper had traded her usual bright orange camp shirt for a more discrete cropped black t-shirt and pleated pants. She had been insistent on coming up with a persona for them on the train ride from Montauk Station into New York City. They were meant to act as high school students researching for a World History paper on Ancient Greece. Now that they were inside the library, she had stopped her incessant rambling to peruse a riddle book, in what she had insisted was preparation for their job.
As they wandered through the bookshelves, she remained absorbed in the dog-eared children’s book, thumbing through the pages to find a riddle that would be fitting of a sphinx.
“Here’s one, Amon,” she said, narrowly avoiding a collision with another library patron as she read, “What is something that runs but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?”
The dark-haired son of Apollo glanced over from a shelf of dusty atlases, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “That is an easy one,” he replied simply. "River. Try me with something more challenging next time around." He adjusted the collar of his striped button down, which he had layered with a navy blue sweater in preparation for the chill of the air-conditioned interior.
“The real riddle is where we can find this sphinx,” Amon glanced around the spacious reading area, eyeing the dark wooden staircase with its ornate railings. “The boyfriend and girlfriend who tried this last time, they found her by a bookcase.”
“A bookcase,” Harper repeated derisively, closing her book to theatrically scan their surroundings. “That narrows it down.”
Ignoring Harper’s mockery, the son of Apollo paused suddenly, his dark eyes glazing over with concentration. His hearing dulled, the surrounding footsteps and rustling pages fading into the background as if muffled by a thick curtain. Amon searched for the energy signature of the monster he knew lurked among the mortals. It was a subtle shift, like trying to discern a whisper in a crowded room, but he felt a faint, abnormal energy hanging somewhere up above.
“I say we try the second floor,” he said as he snapped out of the tracking trance, offering no other explanation to Harper.
“We could do that, sure,” Harper said, words laced with blatant doubt at his sudden certainty. “I say we try asking the Visitor’s Center. I know she's supposed to be disguised by the Mist, but the librarians have to have noticed something.”
“You can go ahead and do that.” The small smirk from earlier was now spreading across his face. “But you can’t be upset if I find the sphinx and solve her riddle before you even get there.”
Harper rolled her eyes, but she made no attempt to stop Amon from walking towards the staircase. After a moment she set off after him, footsteps even against the wooden steps.
Up on the second floor, Amon moved quietly, his dark eyes scanning the hallway for anything out of the ordinary.
I know you’re up here.
He stopped at every heavy-looking mahogany door, peering through each muted glass insert. He felt the air grow thicker with ominous energy at every step, so he knew the monster must be near.
One of the doors was slightly ajar, a suspiciously open invitation. Or a trap. The dark-haired boy caught sight of a cat-shaped figure on the other side before ducking down and motioning sharply for Harper’s attention. He unsheathed his kopis from his belt, bracing himself for confrontation.
Harper crouched against the wall, hand on the hilt of her sword as she tried to peek through the frosted glass pane. She held her breath, ready to move at Amon’s signal. He held out three fingers and then put them down one by one. When he hit zero, they stood in unison, flinging the door open together.
When Amon and Harper stepped inside, the body of the sphinx lay motionless on the floor.
The rest of the room was in disarray, littered with disheveled chairs and broken bits of chalk. A window on the other side of the room had been forced open, the curtain fluttering in the wind.
“No way,” Harper said. The door clicked shut behind her as she pushed past Amon into the room and kneeled to study the monster’s limp figure.
The sphinx had the large body of a lion and the eerily human face of a middle-aged woman, hair tied back in a severe bun and foundation caked onto her high cheekbones. Fangs jutted out of her red-painted lips, and eagle wings sprouted out of the space between her shoulder blades, folded tight against her back.
“Monsters dissolve into dust when they die,” Amon remarked, keeping his distance as he watched the subtle rise and fall of the monster’s ribs. “She must have been knocked unconscious.”
“Right,” Harper agreed, “The real question is who. And why.”
She hovered a hand over the cat's shoulder, set on rousing her. Before she made contact, the sphinx's eyes snapped open, round irises surrounded by shocking yellow sclera.
"Slain!" she wailed. Harper staggered backwards. Amon’s arms instinctively reached out to catch her, but she didn’t stumble near enough to make contact. "I am slain!"
With feline grace, the sphinx rose to her feet. A white tape outline marked the placement of her previously prone body on the floor. The muscles in her legs rippled as she paced in front of Harper and Amon, massive velvet paws silent against the carpet.
"And you, my dear heroes," she roared, eyes narrowed in an accusatory glare, "were too late to save me!"
The sphinx sniffed, composing herself. She leapt onto a wooden table. The table legs creaked underneath her weight. "Fear not," she tutted, "Fear not. For you can still avenge me. If you are able to determine the murderer and their weapon, then I will obtain justice, and all will be right with the world.”
“Your riddle is a murder mystery,” Harper said, confusion written across her face. Amon raised an eyebrow. The sphinx chuffed, a low rumbling sound reminiscent of laughter.
“You sought that hackneyed question about man? The Sphinx that the storytellers remember is far less adaptive than I am. I am not interested in your ability to regurgitate the information you have read. Nor am I interested in taking advantage of the nonsensical rules of your English language.”
“I am here to satisfy my own curiosity: does modern mankind still possess the ability to engage in deductive reasoning, or do they only seek to make themselves appear intelligent? Do not speak,” the sphinx said, a pointed look at Harper, who had opened her mouth to interject, “You will answer my questions when you play my game.”
“The potential murder weapons are scattered throughout this room,” she continued, leaping off the table. “And the suspects have already provided their testimonies for your review. Rest assured, I have made certain that their statements contain no lies.”
A shimmering, translucent energy began to swirl around Harper and Amon’s feet, beginning to take shape as holograms with a flickering, ephemeral quality.
A projection of Cerberus materialized first, his three massive heads snarling and snapping in unison. A ribbon of text appeared by his paws to translate his growling: "I was guarding the entrance, my duty unbroken."
Next came the Minotaur, his towering form pacing within the labyrinth on Crete. He snorted and pawed at the ground, the holographic maze shifting behind him in the background. The translation text appeared: "Confined within these walls, no escape for me."
Lamia's projection flickered into view, her serpentine lower half coiled around her as she wept in her cave. She glanced mournfully at the holographic images of her lost children: "My grief consumes me, innocent of this crime."
A shimmering Hydra emerged next, its nine heads snapping at invisible foes. Each one moved independently, showcasing its ability to act on its own. The translation for the hissing head at the center read: "Engaged in battle, I could not have killed."
Typhon materialized with a thunderous roar, his colossal form fighting against restraints under Mount Etna. His immense size and power were palpable, even in scaled down holographic form: "Bound by chains of the earth, I could not have roamed free."
Echidna’s hologram appeared last, her form a mix of human and serpent, lounging in a dimly lit cave. She looked directly at the viewers, her expression both defiant and amused. The translation text by her side read: “I dwell in my lair, uninvolved in such petty affairs.”
The sphinx swiped at the last projection as it faded, deeming her handiwork satisfactory. “There is not enough information to deduce the killer using evidence alone. Because I am fair, I will provide you with three hints before your final guess. Be forewarned: if you fail to provide a correct answer, you will both perish. Is this understood?”
Harper spoke. “If we answer correctly, you will leave this library for good.”
“If you answer correctly, I will permanently relocate. It is a preferable option in comparison to another death. Now, do you agree to the terms and conditions?” the sphinx said primly, regarding Harper and Amon with casual disdain. The pair nodded. “Very well.”
The sphinx dropped onto the floor and let her head loll back, pretending to be dead once more.
Hint #1

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

Soon after the Sphinx had laid back down, Harper and Amon began to scour the room. A small pile of prospective murder weapons formed on a nearby table.
“We can easily eliminate the siren song,” Amon rushed to speak over Harper, eyeing the small glass vial of swirling gray matter that they had found nestled behind a row of books on metalworking. “It is a luring mechanism, not a murder weapon.”
“We could rule out Cerberus’ fang too,” he pointed at the enormous yellowing tooth, about the size of the small baseball bat Amon used to have when he played in the little league. “If we take the hologram as ground truth, all of his teeth were intact there.”
Harper used her kopis to prod at the stained tunic that had been hidden in a desk drawer, being careful not to touch it with bare skin. “The Shirt of Nessus is a viable option. It would be easy for any of the suspects to lay it down and wait for the hydra venom to kick in.”
“I am not ready to rule out the bronze sword either,” Amon noted. “Monsters have access to heroes and the weapons they leave behind.”
“Most of these monsters don’t even have opposable thumbs,” Harper argued, running a hand over the sword they had found by a power outlet. ”They don’t have the dexterity to wield a sword.”
“I do not imagine that the technicality would be that granular.”
Harper laughed. “Oh, the number of teeth in the Cerberus hologram tell all, but we’re drawing the line at opposable thumbs.”
“I suppose that that logic would also rule out the harpy talon and the encyclopedia easily as well,” Amon admitted. “Which would be too easy.”
“I’m just that good at logical deduction.” Harper said proudly. “If my assumption is correct, then the poisoned shirt is the only one that makes sense.”
Amon scoffed, folding his arms across his chest as his dark eyes bored into Harper. “It would not necessarily matter what our first guess would be anyway.”
“Can you provide an argument for any other weapon? Or are you intent on purposely making an illogical guess?” she countered cooly.
“Fine,” Amon acquiesced. “Since you are so adamant about the shirt, we can guess the shirt, and be incorrect. It does not matter. What about the suspects themselves?” He clasped his hands behind his back, his steps measured as he started to pace across the plush red carpet of the room.
Harper smiled, smugly accepting her victory. She strode towards a chalkboard at the side of the study room, inscribing the list of weapons and suspects with a fresh piece of white chalk.
“All of them have alibis,“ she began. “I think that-”
“Some make more sense than others,” Amon spoke over Harper, irritated by her minor triumph. “Cerberus, for example, is under the service of Hades. He says he did not leave his post, and he could not have done so without permission or dire consequences on the process of the dead.”
Harper silently seethed as Amon spoke, meeting his rationale with reluctant acceptance before starting again in a louder, exaggerated tone. “I think that the ones with the shakiest alibis are Lamia, the Minotaur, Typhon, and Echidna. No witnesses can confirm their locations. In fact, Lamia provides no location at all.” Harper circled those names. She looked at Amon with a forced smile, allowing him a moment to provide more commentary.
“Lamia? Well,” there was a hint of mockery in the sneer that tugged on the corner of Amon’s lips. “I would imagine her emotions rendered her… Too fragile and unstable to carry out such an act.”
“You’re kidding,” Harper scoffed, searching Amon's face for the slightest hint that he was joking. “Her grief is what moved her to kill children in the first place. I doubt it would suddenly be incapacitating. She’s just appealing to your sense of superiority, and I can’t believe that you’re falling for it.”
"It is not about superiority. It is about logic," Amon retorted, bristling in defense. “You cannot deny that emotions cloud judgment. Maybe the sphinx wants us to leverage our knowledge about her past crimes to reason that she was not thinking clearly in this case either.” Amon had no other evidence that pointed towards Lamia as the top suspect, but he had dug deep enough where he was now ready to stand firm in his reasoning.
“Murder,” Harper countered, eyes narrowed in a venomous stare, “-does not require you to think clearly. Haven’t you heard of a crime of passion? If anyone’s judgment is clouded right now, Amon, it’s yours.”
The son of Apollo squared his shoulders, his expression hardening. "I understand the concept of crimes of passion, thank you.” His dark-eyed stare returned Harper's gaze, unflinching at the intensity. “But our investigation must be rooted in facts, not assumptions based on emotions. And the facts are,” he resumed his pacing once more, “that Lamia cannot be the culprit, as she is the only suspect that openly admits to being innocent of this crime.”
Amon had considered this from the very start, but provoking Harper like this had proved to be far more amusing.
Harper crossed Lamia’s name off of the board. She swallowed down her anger, fighting the urge to continue pressing the issue in favor of returning to their list of suspects. She pointed her piece of chalk at the next names on the list. “The Minotaur and Typhon are trapped, or so they say. How could they have done anything?”
“Their alibis revolve around their inability to escape,” Amon pointed out. “Not that they were unable to commit murder. The Labyrinth, in fact,” he raised a dramatic finger, “has several moving passages that could have permitted the Minotaur to move and commit murder without an official escape.”
Harper considered his words for a long moment, trying to find the flaw in his reasoning. Seeing none, she placed a dot next to the Minotaurs's name.
“Typhon escaped his prison in the Second Titanomachy. He could do it again,” Harper said thoughtfully. “Though I don’t understand why he would do something like this. He’s the Sphinx's father. The same goes for Echidna.”
Amon, who had been nodding at Harper’s assessment of Typhon’s abilities, pursed his lips at her observation of parentage. “I do not see how this could possibly be relevant to the logical puzzle at hand.”
Harper spoke slowly, as if the answer was obvious. “What motive would they have to kill their own daughter?”
“Harper,” Amon began curtly, folding his arms across his chest. “Half of the Greek myths revolve around immortals killing their own children.”
“Then we should pick one of them,” Harper declared, pivoting her argument instead of admitting her logical blunder. “They would have more of a motive than the rest of the suspects, if anything.”
“The Minotaur can escape much more easily than Typhon can. Motive aside, it is the most logical guess,” Amon concluded, adjusting his collar haughtily. “I will remind you that we picked your choice of weapon. It is only fair that I select the monster.”
“Fine.” Harper agreed, her gaze stormy as she turned back towards the sphinx. “We accuse the Minotaur of killing the sphinx with the Shirt of Nessus.”
The sphinx opened one eye. “None of these are correct!”
Hint #2

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

“Two more hints left.” Harper announced, crossing off the Minotaur’s name and the poisoned shirt on the chalkboard with a flourish. It was not ideal that her initial logical deductions had been incorrect, but at least Amon had also been wrong. She couldn't resist a snide comment. “I knew it wasn’t the Minotaur.”
“So you still think it’s Typhon.” Choosing to ignore Harper’s taunting, Amon rested his hand on a nearby desk, studying the lists on the chalkboard before him. He had taken the Minotaur error as a personal failure, and was determined to get the suspect right this time.
“I do.”
“Why not Echidna?”
“She’s too emotional to kill someone, obviously.” Harper said sarcastically. “Her frail female arms are probably too weak to even hold a weapon.”
The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. “Objectively,” he began, ignoring her quip once more, “Typhon could not have lied about his inability to roam free. A natural disaster freed him from Mount Etna during the Second Titanomachy, but he could not recreate those conditions on his own.” Though his tone remained aloof, it was clear that Amon was relishing in the opportunity to flaunt his mythology knowledge.
“Maybe,” Harper argued, stubborn. “But Echidna’s statement was less ambiguous than his. Typhon just explains his predicament; he doesn't provide a real claim. Echidna explicitly says she was not involved.” She thought for a few more moments, rolling the piece of chalk in her hands. “Echidna could have released him? They would be accomplices.”
Amon shook his head. “There was a single murderer. Not two. The sphinx would not lie about the premise of the game.”
Harper stared at him coldly, but could offer no rebuttal. She turned her attention to the board. “Typhon is a giant. He’s capable of using the sword.”
“But the specificity of Echidna’s denial is still incredibly suspicious. ‘Petty affairs’ is a strange way to phrase a murder. But,” Amon added reluctantly, “I understand the logic behind Typhon. I suppose it is your turn to choose the monster, and we will still have another guess to work with.”
“As for the weapon,” he continued, “I still think the sword is the most viable option, given that the siren song and the fang can be ruled out and the shirt with the venom was, well,” Amon pursed his lips, fighting the urge to smile, “incorrect.”
Before Harper could interject, Amon turned towards the sphinx at the front of the room. “We accuse Typhon of killing the sphinx with a Celestial Bronze Sword.”
“One of these is correct!”
Hint #3

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

“Aha!” Amon raised a triumphant finger before pointing it at Harper. “I told you,” he gloated, “Typhon had no escape route.”
“You were right,” Harper admitted, staring down at the carpet so that she would not have to look at his smug expression.
“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, and turned back towards the lioness with crossed arms. “We accuse Echidna of killing the sphinx with a Celestial Bronze Sword”
“One of these is correct,” the sphinx announced. Her mouth twisted in amusement, fangs bared in a menacing smile.
READ PART 2 HERE

I hope this is the correct subreddit to post in and you guys can answer my question. I'm a 24 year old man, and I used to be in really great shape, playing multiple sports in high school. I took my college years off, but recently got back into the weight room. I want to bulk up because I've always been kind of self conscious of how small I am. I started eating more calories per day, as well as taking creatine. I have noticed my body and muscles looking better overall in this short period of time, but I've also noticed I'm developing a larger gut. Is there anything I can do to combat this, or do I just have to deal with this as a side effect of eating more? I don't want to go from being self conscious about being small, to being muscular but self conscious of my stomach. I do know that the place where your body stores fat is mostly genetic, and looking at the men in my family, the majority of them have what you could call a "beer belly". I am going to work on core exercises 3 days a week, which are the days I work out, instead of just 1 day a week. Any advice on this topic would be appreciated.

Blachowicz here.
Kept yah’ waiting, huh? Heh, sorry about that one, but I can explain. As we all know… we lost a few good men the last few months.
That’s the brutal part of a hybrid war like ours: We’re fighting a foe unconventional, with half our arsenal tied down because those who grant us authorization are either in disbelief of the true facts, or scared… or already assimilated. That being said our momentum recently was a change not seen in years, and because of that… despite the losses we have garnered, we were close through a breakthrough. One last night Krol pulls myself and other two must trusted squad leads into the back of our COP. There is one of our equipment cages, surrounded by m-bitter radios, tripods, and several hundred thousand dollars of equipment he brought us around a simple worn table. Before us he laid a map of eastern poland… red markings indicating cells that seemed to dot the countryside like a pestilence, or used to… as deep gashes of advance from raids had trisected their lines, even if ones did pop up in the interior.
It was a back and forth; an outside virus infecting Polska at it’s heart, and we were the antibodies sent to drive them out. To which… Major Krol points to one of the largest symbol on the map: a dark red diamond, the NATO symbol for an enemy unit, deep inside of an untouched wooded area, adjacent to a mountain ridge. Several jagged lines indicated entrenchment, with red horizontal lines indicating possible enemy control… or our contested control, for over 20kms surrounding it. Letting us all look, the Major lit himself a cigarette.
“Sir, you sure it’s wise to smoke in here with the dive tanks just behind us” 1st Squad’s lead quipped. “Fuck off” Krol dryly said.
“Alright… this is it… this is the one we’ve been searching for for years, this is the nucleus my predecessor commander died trying to find” he says, pointing to it. Not far from Zamosc, it was almost touching the border with Belarus, the contested area indicating the Strigoi did operate over it… indicating one of the largest spill through points. “-It’s an old soviet bunker, made during their 1960s initiative it was designed to hold the munitions and manpower of several units in the event of a NATO first strike” Krol explained. “It’s gotta be massive then…” I said gazing at the map; “Didn’t the army demolish all of the old soviet hulks near Belarus to prevent any infiltrations?” 3rd Squad’s lead asked. “National Police took the effort over… and by extension, the Strigoi. It was halfway demo’ed before they burrowed into it and have been using it as a bridgehead ever since. This is it…” Krol said. He looked around at all of us, a sense of certainty I had never seen before as he blew smoke from his nostrils; “We’ve been fucking around in the dark for so long, it’s hard to believe we’ve made any progress, but this is it. With this gone, this will set them back over a decade and the momentum will finally shift into our favor… into Poland’s… -Europe’s”.
I swear there was almost a flash of joy, of pride in his eyes and a phantom of a smirk before reality set back in “That being said… we can’t leave this to chance, especially not something as important as this. We’re going to have to go there ourselves… clear through every inch of that place, and tear it all down, piece by piece. I will be straight with you all… when we go, there will be some of us that aren’t coming back. -but we are going… a whole generation is counting on us, and unborn billions rely on us to succeed”. We all nodded, a silent agreement washing over us as we took this upon ourselves. Echo-1 spoke up: “So… They’re authorizing a raid? How big?”. “We’re rolling in as a hard target, armor, explosives, and air support” Krol answered, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Aviation? How the hell did we get that approved, we’ve gotten attempts shot down four times due to those leeches” I said in disbelief. “There’s too much evidence here pointing to the human trafficking tied to their actions… We’ve finally got too much weight pinning them down, to keep the hammer from slamming into their necks” Krol chuckled. He looked around “Any questions?”. “When?” Echo-3 asked. “Three hours. We’re hitting them in the dead of night, only time we could get the birds authorized. Get your boys ready. We’re rolling out” Krol said, dying the cigarette bud out on the table. I can’t begin to tell you the euphoria we felt leaving that cage, as our men started arriving, they did so a lot quicker, and with their heads a lot higher than they had in weeks. As Second Squad’s lead we were going to be one of the main arms of attack into the bunker, thus I made sure we had a breacher loaded with enough thermite, charges, and tools to cut through anything. Our shield bearer we ready to go, as was our assaulters, grenadiers, and machine gunner. I double checked each and everyone of their weapons; ensuring the feeder paws of our squad’s belt fed were intact, making sure every breach charge we had was properly set and packed. There was going to be no mistakes, no slip ups. The margin of error needed to be the smallest it had ever been for us tonight if we were going to make the gore spilt worth it.
Finally… there on the outside of the building, the bright LED lights kept the darkness of the ensuing night at bay as the roar of our MRAPs could be heard. It was said once that war is 99% peace, and 1% chaos, they were right. The slow periods where the blood slowed and the doubt creeped in was the worst… yet we all kept it at bay. We needed to, there was going to be no backing down tonight. All three squads were up, all of us ready to go… we circled up… short stares and shaky nods telling us one things: We were in this together, till the end… the finish line so many before us had been searching for, we were being granted tonight.
A single set of footsteps could be heard as we turned, Major Krol stepping into the center. He took the last drag of a cigarette, throwing it down to the ground and stamping it out onto the damp concrete. He looked around… his chin strap blowing in the weak air as he met everyone of our gazes… then mine… then looked around. “I want you to remember every detail of tonight, as you have every other night… when you are situationally aware, scanning for the enemy, liberating the subjugated, I want you to remember the sting of anxiety, the shake of adrenaline, the chill of the bunker, the heat of your weapon as it cuts them down… because tonight we are going to write every fine detail of our victory, their defeat, in history…” Krol’s words echoed deep into our souls. He paused for a moment, staring around he looked down… a small pause before he said “When you are ruthless in combat, remember to be patient, and reserved in victory. This conflict is for our existence… a lot of innocents have bled due to the mistakes of those who failed to listen, a lot of our brothers are now laid under because we had to bridge the gap of uncertainty with their lives. We remember them now… but in an hour? We forget them… when we raise our barrels, when we cut into those foes, and we liberate Polska!! This does not end tonight, but history puts everything in it’s place, and patience is the companion of the victor… All of our hard work will be cemented, no matter the obstacles we face in that darkness… no matter the demons, the blood, no matter what incomprehensible horrors, we will make them comprehend that to invade our land, to bleed our people, the justice will be paid in full… Load up. It’s time*”*.
The purpose in our steps was heavy as we climbed the back ramps of the MRAPS; Four of the heavily armored vehicles, one for each squad with an additional for attached personnel including our JTAC, the term means Joint Terminal Attack Controllers. With air support requisitioned to us for this operations, there needs to be a definite liaison on the ground who can directly communicate to the birds, and coordinate their fire and progress. I’d worked with many of them in the past, resourceful guys, quick thinking though I guess that comes with the position they hold of needing to quickly figure out what bombs to drop, on which target, at what precise points, whilst taking contact. He loaded in the lead vehicle with Major Krol… and soon, our convoy kicked off.
The drive was several hours as myself and my squad sat in the back of that forty ton goliath, the rumbling of the engine keeping us awake as the crap heater fought to keep the cold from the outside frost from setting in. I looked around to each of them, some were catching some sleep because even with the circumstances… better to get all the energy you can, than to stay awake for nothing. Others were checking their weapons… My gunner locked eyes with me, the same one from the village extraction… many of these men I had trained with for a while now, fought with for months.
We may have met on unconventional circumstances but those in JW Grom thrive on austere chance and create opportunity from scratch. I was pulled from my thought by the sound of a transmission, my peltors were set up for dual comms so I could both receive information from the Major and other leads, whilst communicating with my team.
Krol himself sent out: [“Approximately 10 minutes from enemy AO…”]. As the rest of the squads acknowledged, I quickly sent out [“Echo-2 Copies”], before kicking the boots of any of them sleeping: “Look alive, we’re here”. Through the exterior net armor of the MRAPS, and the bars protecting the small reinforced windows, we could barely see jack shit. I reached up, turning off the overhead light as we all looked through our nods to scan the outside. A dark wall of dense trees was shown before us, making it difficult to see… in addition to night vision capabilities we had also requisitioned ourselves some thermals… when mounted onto rifles they were bulky, made it a pain to aim down quickly, but considering the supernatural capabilities of spotting our foes we needed every advantage necessary.
I flipped out one of my tubes… scanning the outside with my scope. I looked over to one of my assaulters who had been assigned to man the turret of the MRAP, seated near the view screen as he controlled the 50. Cal. Each of the vehicle turrets had been assigned a direction to cover… we took the 9 o’clock, the left flank. “See anything?” I asked. He shook his head; “Negative… wait… I’ve got two cold signatures, front left heading to our rear”.
I quickly scanned the far tree line, at approximately 60 meters off our left were two cold signatures… followed by a third heading to our front… then another. They were surrounding us, moving at speeds so fast I could barely keep my reticle on them. Is this what the National Police saw? What they faced at that lodge without the benefit of a foot of heavy armor protecting them on all sides. Then… suddenly. Something slammed into the side of our MRAP so hard, it caused it to shake. From over the leader comms, Echo-3 quickly shouted [“Contact right!! 4 hostiles!!”].
One of the Strigoi… so bold, had charged and slammed into the side of our MRAP. I quickly looked to see the figure, a dark blue mass of cold energy through my thermal, back away without so much as a stagger… as they tried to flee into the woods, the white hot justice of Echo-3’s gun fired at them, cutting them down. “Blachowicz I’ve got a few breaking for our vic” my man on the turret called out, I spun around, spotting out the window.
Just then, Major Krol announced [“weapons free, watch and shoot for targets of opportunity…”]. I turned to him… “take those fuckers out-”. Without hesitation my vic’s turret began to quickly target them, and through the darkness I saw a stream of outgoing fire bisect one of them, the ISR of the black blood freaking out the optic so badly it didn’t know what temperature to register it as… but it did register it. As another was cut down, one broke through the tree line and latched onto the side of our MRAP. The thing tore at one of the outer net armor panels, usually made to stop RPGs. It grabbed at the bars near the windows, tearing one off… I lowered my rifle as we locked eyes through the reinforced window.
The thing… the Strigoi looked at me, skin cracked as putrefied muscle fibers seemed to leak through dead flesh. It’s teeth were corroded and worn down to sharp fragments, alongside newly mutated fangs that messily protrude from the jaws. Even through the thick walls of the MRAP I could hear it’s roar, as it then tried to punch it’s way through… it cracked the outer coating of the vehicle… but it wasn’t getting anywhere near. My machine gunner, seated next to me, seemed to chuckle at the sight, quippily saying “Yeah… fuck you too”. It’s then our vehicle lurched upwards, as we began to climb the small incline of the bunker. I knew the layout, mapped it in our head, the main entrance was built into the rocky side of an old cliff meaning we could easily set up a defensive perimeter around it, a horseshoe. Krol’s vehicle was first, taking to the right as Echo-3’s MRAP followed. My vehicle, third, left the incline and took a left and… that’s where things got complicated.
We’re still trying to work out what happened but… from what Joakim says his drone captured. Right when the MRAP turned, several of the monsters quickly slammed into the side of the vehicle, as another more bulkier one, pushed at it’s undercarriage. The result.. Was the 40 ton armored vehicle tipped over. It wasn’t uncommon, hell in some cases a well placed IED, a good shot with a recoilless rifle, have been known to tip over Oshkoshs and Maxpros all the time. But this beast? Needless to say we barely had a second to comprehend it as it leaned to the left; “Grab on to something-” is all I had time to shout. A mess of gear and men spilled onto one side of the vehicle as it slammed into the old gravel and dirt.
Several of my assaulters, my grenadier planted right ontop of myself and the others as we came to a stop. Someone’s knee slammed directly into the side of my skull, causing me to dazily bob in and out of consciousness as my face was smushed against the glass of one of the windows.
Through my peltors, the other squads were erratic;
[“Echo-2’s vehicle is down!!”].
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2… Echo-3 to Echo-2…”].
Krol’s voice came through the comms;
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-2… Fuc-... Echo-1 secure Echo 2’s flank, Echo-3”].
[“Echo-3 to other units, they’re spilling through, I’ve got several enemy combatants converging on Echo-2’s vehicle”].
I pushed the legs of my grenadier off my head as I fought to my hands and knees, unfucking my nods as I looked around… “Fuck it… we’re going lights on, shield your eyes” I muttered as I reached for the overhead lights and flipped them on. The bright LEDs bathed the inside of the vehicle as we all gained our bearings, a mess of multicam, gear, and weapons as we quickly pushed each other off. My gunner caught as he fought to realign his promask, from what I gathered one of the assaulters had landed directly into his gun, pushing it directly into his jugular, as pulled back at the rubber and coughed, freeing up his esophagus. We didn’t have time to think however… the sound of bending metal caught our attention… as the back ramp door of the MRAP was ripped clean off. I could barely believe it but as the white light of the MRAP’s interior poured to the outside, a hulking mass leaned in, the dead flesh on it’s face nearly fallen off as the hideous Strigoi leaned inside.
Without hesitation I aimed took aim, yelling “Keep to the deck!!” to any of those inbetween myself and the invader as I opened fire. A burst of full auto fire tore through it’s collar and neck, my men quickly clung to either sides of the fallen MRAP as a few more fired out. As the thing backed up, a blast of .50 cal fire quickly tore it to shreds, along with several others as I realized they were fuckin swarming over the outside of our vehicle. Echo-3’s vehicle continued to carefully fire on the Strigoi on the outside, the sounds of .50 cal ricocheting off the outside of our armor was enough to make the pucker factor set in.
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2”].
[“This is Echo-2, we’re green on ammo, equipment, men”].
[“Roger, we’re shifting fire, exit the vehicle”].
“Hurry up let’s go!!” I barked to my men, leading the way as I staggered out. I turned on my peq, taking aim at silhouettes in the brush as I began to fire. The sounds of machine guns lighting up the brush, as a sea of growls, howls, and incomprehensible roars fired back at us was the ambient noise of the night. My men quickly exited, my gunner being the last as he and I pulled back to the rest of the defensive perimeter. I set in my men to take up the frontal security, as 3rd squad took the right flank, 1st squad to the left. Major Krol and the JTAC were bickering with each other; “How far out are the birds”. “They’re entering airspace now…” Joakim said, already scanning his smart book.
I asked “What’ve we got?”. He then flipped through… to the NATO combined arms segment, quippily saying; “Apaches…”. This caused me to pause as Echo-3 turned their head whilst directing their squad’s fire “The hell… where did we get apaches from?”. “The Americans… they volunteered” Krol said dismissively as he took aim at the darkness, firing off a controlled trio. “Volunteered? They’re aware of what’s going on?” I asked.
Krol seemed to stop, glancing back at me before returning his focus “There’s a lot more going on than you realize, Blachowicz… Prep the breach, you and 1st are going on”.
I quickly pulled my breacher off the line, securing some thermite as the reinforced bunker door wasn’t going to go as easily as a conventional door breach would. 1st Squad pulled back, stacking up and preparing themselves to be the first in. All the while… Joakim gave his firing solution; “Alpha Hotel Two Five Nine, This is Bravo-4…… Type 2….”.
I snapped to my right, watching as a Strigoi managed to dark across the clear gravel field, only to be cut down by my gunner, the peq’s laser marking the burst as it tore through the beasts’ hips, as it hit the ground and still continued to claw, another GROM operator took aim and fired into it’s skull. Joakim popped up to his feet…. “Marking laser, high power…”. He then pulled out a target marking laser… if you’ve watched night operations, you’ve probably seen them.
The green laser than as it says on the label, marks targets. The pattern of which can vary… if it’s a point target, it’ll usually lasso an area, or remain on target until the target is removed with extreme prejudice. If its close air support, then it’ll be a line of the general area… and Joakim damn near marked the entire perimeter around us. He quickly pocketed the tool, turning back to Krol; “Don’t go past 20 meters unless you want to be liquidated”.
With that… 2nd and 1st stacked up at the door as 3rd squad took up the perimeter security. As Major Krol went over to Echo-1… I saw them. A single blinking IR strobe from the beasts as they moved on the far off horizon, converging from several angles… and fired. The sound of the Apache’s main gun, the M230, truly sounds like the hammer of god… the 30mm cannon shot through the dark sky, lighting it up as we saw three incoming streams tear up the woods. Only then as the sound broke did we start to hear their rotors as they broke and began to circle, firing again… then… Joakim dipped his head and looked to Krol; [“Foxtrot Mike, hang onto your teeth…”]. One of the Apaches fired off a AGM-114… a Hellfire. I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye as the Apache from our right flank fired off at a target approximately 200 meters off. A fireball lit up the forest as the horrendous roar echoed throughout… then went silent.
Echo-3 scanned the horizon carefully;
[“Echo-3 to Echo-Lead, enemy contact is starting to die down”].
[“Maintain perimeter, Close Air is to maintain fire mission until we are boots up, Break…”].
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-1, condition white has been met. Proceeds”]. I saw Echo-1 and his men quickly stack up close to the wall and gesture to me; Breaching. I quickly pulled my stack back against the wall as his and mine breacher quickly hit their actuators. Now under normal circumstances, it doesn’t take much for thermite to melt the locks off of a metal surface, in fact it’s a more precise took as alternative means get real medieval like saws, pry bars… we weren’t in the mood for precision, we need to breach their little lair, and drag them out. The sound of several pounds of hellfire burning through the metal could be heard around the corner as a sea of white and red sparks flew out… after several seconds, two of our men tossed a fragmentation grenade and a nine-bang through the opening… a series of concussive blasts and a large explosion rang out.
Echo-1 and his men maneuvered. 1st Squad quickly converged as we followed them in.
Stepping through the black wall of smoke, the dark abyss of the interior was illuminated in a white light as entered barrels raised. Shots rang out as several of the beasts near the entrance were cut down, though not immediately, rounds disconnected the shoulder of one of them, leading to their arm hanging limply by a single tendon as they roared… another series of rounds putting them down. What greeted us was a messy concrete hell of rust and debris, fecal matter, trash, and all kinds of obstacles laid in our way, our boots sticking to the floor. I thank every god we had promasks that night. I called my shield bearer up, 2nd squad leapfrogging ahead to take the next corridor as 1st squad checked their weapons.
One of my men mule kicked the metal door ahead, twice, finally the latch gave away as we tossed in a grenade. A horrifying roar was cut off as an M67 shook the walls of the ancient soviet mausoleum, frag and spall kicked off the walls as I moved in right behind my shield man. The cramped russian design meant there was barely enough space for three people, and that’s three normal people, not in 50kgs of kit, moving slowly and maneuvering against creatures of the dark. Still… we moved forward, my shield bearer and I pushing the pace as two stacked of either squad formed on either wall.
As we passed doorways they flowed in… “Door Left!!”, “Door Right!!”. “Move!!”.
Two men entered each side, no gunshots, we moved up, a roar came.
“Door left!!-”. A series of gunshots came out as we continued to push forward.
“Two down!!”. “Confirm them” Krol commanded, as a series of gunshots run out in response. From one of the doorways, a Strigoi emerged… a female… clumps of hair had been ripped from her decaying skull, as her blooded eyes locked on myself and my shieldman. The skin on her hands had been tore down to the point where barely her bones and tendons remain… looking like huge talons as she roared and lunged at us. He fired off his pistol, though the rounds did little to stop her as she pushed against our stack.
“Fuck!!” he muttered, somehow her strength caused him to stagnate, holding up the advance… fuck that. I shoved the muzzle of my MK18 into her ribcage, flipping the weapon to auto as I fired of round after round. The 5.56 salvo disconnecting her spinal column, causing her to fall as I continued to fire, along with a man to our right and left as the stacks reformed as we pushed to the end of the hall. I fell back, dropping the magazine and loading a fresh one, like clockwork a GROM Operator from 1st squad took my place. Krol was beside me as we approached the end of the hall.
[“-Prep an entry”] I radioed to my breacher, a comrade handed him one of the charges from his back panel as he took to the door, quickly securing it. We all moved as far back as we could, look away, exhale. The blast knocked metal and wood in all directions, scrapping against our uniforms and kit as we made our way in and what laid before us was… it used to be the center atrium of one of these bunkers. Soviet’s loved their grandiose designs, the complex was supposed to be a circular room around a central planning table… instead. It had been turned into some sort of church. Runes and old eastern Romuva pagan symbols written in black ink and blood across the walls, old rotten filing cabinets, long receipt terminals. In the center… several of the Strigoi were kneeling before the table where someone had been tied down, flayed, and… shared amongst the group. They rose to their feet, we aimed our barrels…
The ladder amongst turned to us… his skin wasn’t cracked, or flayed, it was smooth… it still looked dead as the body on the table but it seemed more… accustomed to it. I don’t know… evolved? Under the surface however I could see it’s darkened veins pumping whatever cursed blood ran through them as it locked two blood red eyes onto each of us. It’s nose had long since been turn off, exposing boney nostrils to the open air as it seemed to smirk. All across it’s body were the same symbols on the walls, in every cell… markings of death, of rebirth, of assimilation… From behind this seemingly Alpha emerges another figure I had never seemed before… dressed in a white cloak with a deer head.
"So they've followed the trail... they're too late" the Deer headed individual spoke, definitely not from here, a dialect similar to an Americans but... aristocratic? Each word was drawn out, assurance as if they had everything mapped down to our actions. They didn’t sound like they were from Poland or the east.
“Doesn’t matter…” the Alpha growled… and then, it lunged at us. Quickly breaking from their ground it slammed into my shield man knocking both him and myself at the ground as it displayed an intense feat of strength. Around us I could see several of the Strigoi leap at our comrades… though to no fruitful endeavor as I could see one GROM operator cut two down, as another got into a hand to hand confrontation… my breacher, crafty as they were, reached back and slammed one of the prybars of his kit into the skull of the beast.
The Alpha however was not content as it threw away the 90lb shield, sending it flying across the room as it grabbed my comrade by the skull. I quickly kicked up at it, firing my MK18 into it’s body as the rounds pierced it’s gray and rune covered flesh. The thing simply seemed to chuckle… that was until Major Krol blasted away at the side of it’s head, the alpha turned… and it’s smirk turned to a scowl when face to face with the major. A knowing pause almost like they had done this dance before…
The creature lunged, locking up with Major Krol as it swung and slammed railing. Krol didn’t back down however as he pushed against the creature, hiptossing it to the ground even as it tore at his armor and gear. But the beast pulled, both of them rolled and the Major was on his back as the thing reached for his neck. I fought to a kneel, firing into the creature messily with my MK18, trying not to hit my commander… then…
Click. A sound sends a chill up the spine of every warfighter during a firefight.
My gun ran dry. I dropped the magazine, looking to load another, but the thing came up and with one of it’s claws, sliced deep into my cheek, through the pro mask. I could feel my own blood go flying through the air as I landed hard on my back plate, spitting out red iron as I quickly tried to adjust my mask. Through my fogged up, blood covered lense… I saw my shield man raise his pistol, firing into the skull of the thing staggering it with a roar. Krol came from behind, drawing his knife he sunk it deep into the neck of it…. I reached for my rifle, forcing a new magazine in and damn near punching the bold release. ““Sir, down!!” I shouted, Krol rolled away, back to his own rifle as I fired. So did my comrade as he continued to fire his pistol… so did the Major as he fired his rifle. All of us chewing through that apex predator of darkness, that beast… the leader that had been preying on our people for so long. Layer by layer, muscle group by bone… eventually… the alpha landed on whatever was left of his back.
The silence of the fight died down as all of us checked our surroundings, GROM Operators putting controlled pairs in the heads and nerve stems of any Strigoi laying around… I flicked my weapon onto safe, letting it hang as I pulled off my mask. I dared not touch the wound on my face… the pain nearly crippling me if it wasn’t sheer will pushing me through, and adrenaline doing all it could to subdue it. The sound of the apaches continuing to lay hate drew us from our moment of contemplation as the Major went back to work; [“Confiscate any info, burn the rest…”]. He turned back to me as I shoved my damaged M50 mask back into it’s bag, chuckling as he looked at the sight; “You need a medevac, Blachowicz?” he quipped.
I shook my head, barely able to speak as I muttered; “Negative sir…”. The two of us scanned the room as my shield bearer went to collect his defense implement turned 90lb projectile, we scanned the center of the room, checking and confirming bodies, until we got to the last one alive. His white gown was soaked in red crimson and black ooze, as his dear head was mangled from bullet fire and impact from falling on it. I swear… the way his blood poured out of it though made me wonder if it was a mask. I gave it no second thoughts as he looked to Krol; “You… you can’t stop this, they’ve already-”.
The Major was in no mood for communication as his rifle snapped up and fired off three rounds to the body, four the head. The violent yet quick salvo ending the cultists life, I looked down at it, then to him as he remarked; “Have your squad drag him out to the front, burn the rest”. I stood alongside him, looking down as the sight of it’s deer head was both captivating and horrifying… the curiosity in me wanting to look closer at it fighting the primal instinct I had to burn the thing to ash. “-Haven’t seen one of those before…” I muttered, thinking the Major had an answer.
He didn’t. Krol saying “Neither have I…” shortly before he walked away, was what truly shook my soul about that entire night. Victory stood firm in our hearts that night as we stood outside of the bunker. The night sky burning with fire and white phosphorus as we watched the ruin burn from the inside from the other side of the lot. In the distance, the Apaches continued to scan and circle the forests, no longer firing…. Which meant they had driven any or turned to glass any enemy combatants within a four miles, probably both, more than likely the latter. Echo-1 patted me on the shoulder as we stood there, soaking it all in, though Krol looked none to pleased. “In the time it took us to take this one down, they’ll be trying to set up three more cells… that being established…” he said, looking to either of us, then to Echo-3. “-Hell of a thing we did tonight, been waiting for this one for a decade, cleanly, maybe more… but no time to rest on our laurels… we’ll have another task for us as soon as we’re boots down back home” he said, to which his eyes followed mine, the body of whatever cultist that was zipped up in a black body bag beside the wheel of one of the MRAPs. The fire from the bunker casting an orange hue over it’s shiny jet black outside, something didn’t sit right with me… “That wasn’t a Strigoi…” I said to Krol.
“That’s very clear…” the Major said, shoving his mask under his arm and lighting a cigarette. “So… someone’s helping them?” I asked. The meer notion of it shook me to my core, sickened me. This parasite was already badly infecting Europa, Polska… if it was spread like this throughout the world. Krol settled my nerves: “We’ll be ready… It’s not just us anymore”. As he said that, I realized what he meant… my eyes looking to the Apaches as they started to form up, leaving the areas as their thunderous propellers melted into the night’s calm, unnerving ambience.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, Echo Detachment has been busy. We’ve gained good ground against the enemy and honestly I think in a few years, we might see a much larger change. For now… we must keep going, that being said the Strigoi aren’t the only ones we’ve been combating. Recently we’ve made contact with of some sort of extermination coalition, they’ve known about the Strigoi, and others plaguing the world, the level of corruption and corrosion on society goes deep. Regardless a lot of the units we’ve been working with are apart of NATO, such as this “4th Special Forces Group” of the American Military. I don’t know where the road from here leads, but we’ve gotten momentum on our side, finally. Just remember… these things are out there, in every town, every city, every nation… preying and waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, so they can take you and replace you.
Watch your back, and stay safe.
For now, Blachowicz signing out. Until next time

This thought came across my mind a little while ago, and I haven’t been able to find anything on the subject. The only results that I have been able to find are dreaming within a coma, which does not answer my question at hand. That of which is; can getting trapped within a dream induce a coma?
Having only experienced my own state of dreaming, along with my own studies and research of the phenomenology of dreams, I have come across multiple reoccurring experiences that many have. Some examples being sleep paralysis, precognition, lucidity, being trapped, living a different life, inability to leave, etc… Lacking the schooling and resources, one is only able to learn so much by their self. However, there a few personal accounts that lead towards the direction of affirmation on this topic. Of the examples listed, most I have had some personal experience. The first being sleep paralysis
Not only have I met people who have experienced sleep paralysis, but I too have plenty experience with our bodies fun mechanic. First time I experienced it was probably around the age of 4-5. It didn’t occur too often after this, yet often enough for me to take notice of it. Usually it would occur falling asleep. Being an hard core insomniac, the only option I had for sleeping is tricking my body into thinking it was sleeping. This meant lying perfectly still, not moving, while relaxing muscles individually. Most of the time it wouldn’t work, or it work too good. This problem has always been with me, so it’s a normal routine. When I was younger though, I would always think It was a dream in which I couldn’t move so I’d usually try to move past it. Eventually anxiety took over for one of those times and I fought it to the bitter end. This always remind me of the coma patient stories that one tends to hear in these times. “I was awake the whole time but couldn’t respond or move”. “I could hear and understand everything, but I couldn’t get anyone to notice”. “I felt like I just had the longest dream, when did I fall asleep?”.
Statements such as these, help solidly my anxiety that you could be caught within a dream state and never know. The body would deceive the self, and the self would be helpless. Now I have also experienced waking up from a dream, into another dream. It’s happened a few times in my child hood, although the most traumatic experience was when I was 26. I had come to realize that I was in a dream and decided to wake up. I woke up in bed but something was wrong. The room, environment was still different. So I got up explored a little bit to confirm that was not my room. So I woke up again. Now into a different bed and another different room. I began to panic, made myself wake up, once again not the original room. This happened another 4-5 times before finally coming to to this reality. Lurching hard enough to throw myself off my bed, and drenched with sweat, it was safe to say that freaked me the fuck out. There’s many more experiences that I could tell, yet this clause has gone on long enough. So with all this in mind, it begs the question.
Could a dream induce a coma?

I really just need a place to put this all out there. And maybe some of you can relate.
Its the workload. Its the sheer amount. I used to be in a career where I could see what I'd accomplished for the day, know what I needed to do for tomorrow, and that work could wait till tomorrow. I was proud of what I'd done in a day. This work is never-ending; keeping up with the lesson planning, the spontaneous meetings, the marking, the test making, the test checking, the worksheets, the answer keys, the emails. I can't keep up. I need 3 of me in order to do the job. I never feel proud of my work anymore. On really hard days, I come home and break down the second I'm through the door.
I can't remember why I thought the switch to teaching was a good choice. I miss my old career choice, I can only remember the love I had for it. And it feels too late. I only completed internships before I left that path, so I don't think I can get back in. I want out and I can't find my way out.

So today was my first time seeing a pain management specialist. He told me i fit all of the criteria of fibro but he wants me to do some research and come back in a month before he puts the diagnosis on paper.
A bit of history: I 24f rode horses competitively for 13 years. I've taken 3 massive horse related accident that have cause soft tissue damage and severe to mild brain injuries. In 2022 me and my significant other were rear ended while at a stop light by some one going 83mph which resulted in another bad head injury, internal bruising, and of course some severe musculoskeletal issues. Over the years ive been told i have IBS, migraines, endometriosis (diagnosed by surgery), as well as a few mental health issues. I've tried physical therapy multiple times, done dry needling, trigger point massages, muscle scrapping, used tens units, hot/cold therapy, every medication from (gaba, flexeril, duloxetine, tramadole, robaxin, naltrexone, hydrocodone, NSAIDs, preventarive migraine medications, epidural steroid injections, trigger point injections, etc). I've been to neurology, neurosurgery, ortho, a back pain specialist for car accidents, pelvic floor specialists, etc. Never was any one able to tell me anything other than "wow your muscles are very reactive" "you have alot of scar tissue" "do you stretch? Your muscles are extremely tight" etc. I currently follow a PT regiment for a hip surgery (extreme labral tear, femorectomy(to help a bad impingment), cartlidge repair, and an attempt at arthritis removal) in january but incoperate previous PT exercises to try and help my back and neck. In total i stretch for 30 minutes 2-3x a day and do low impact exercises 1hr 30 minutes to 2 he 45 minutes a day. I gave birth june of last year so sometimes the exercise either gets spread out through out the the day or to the shorter 1.5 Hrs during a nap. After all of this i continued to have unexplained back and neck pain starting each day at a 6-7 out of 10 and usually not get more than 2 hours of sleep at a time. My PCP was prescribing 10 mg norco for flares (i have days where ill get migraines with endo pain and muscular flairs that leave me unable to move, nauseous, occasionally losing consciousness and i usually end up I'm the ER) along with robaxin and tylenol daily and this combination worked incredibly together but didn't do much of anything apart. It felt like i finally could function and had relief. Unfortunately she told me she couldn't continue to prescribe to me and needed me to go to a pain clinic so I agreed in hopes of more answers and maybe even finding a long term pain management plan.
The PM dr went through my history and ended up stopping and saying hey i think you have fibro. He pushed into some trigger points said "yep you're meeting all of the criteria". He then told me we will try acupuncture, more trigger point injections, and tizanidine. I agreed to these as I'm always open to new things or retrying things in a different combination. He gave the injections and told me i should feel it almost immediately but i unfortunately felt no relief and told him so. At the end of my appointment i asked if i could still have a rescue medication until we find a regiment that works well for me and he told me "if you were 50+ yes but you're too young for that route", said he will see me in 4 weeks, and walked out. I am still waiting for the tizanidine but he told me he is not optimistic it'll help much so im a bit scared now. I went into this appointment thinking id be helped and left feeling scared and grimm.

How It Ended
by Ethan O’Driscoll
A thrilling Post apocalypse story
Intro
HRV-1
22 July 2024
Dr Olivia Warren Head of Biotech NARU
This is my latest report on the HRV-1 Virus we were instructed to design by the Russian Government.
The HRV-1 is an incredibly viral and infectious Retrovirus similar to HIV. Changes have been make on a genetic level to provide the request modes of transmission and symptoms.
Those symptoms are:

• Profuse bleeding from the mouth, eyes, lips, gums and pores of the skin
• Confusion
• Coma
• Total organ failure leading to death
• Reanimation after death and post-mortem hypo-aggression

This all included in a highly infectious package
The infection vectors are:

• bodily fluids
• contaminated area
• ANYTHING that has come in contact with infected bodily fluids
• airborne droplets

This is by far the most dangerous diseases we’ve ever designed. I pray to god the Russians only want it as a means of deterrent because if they use it I have no doubt it will end the world. The first sample should be ready to ship next week.
Chapter 1
The Outbreak
1 January 2025
Dr Olivia Warren Head of Biotech NARU
I can’t believe the bastards used it. The first cases came in from Kiev in December from there it spread like a wild fire through Europe the death toll now sits at 65 millions. The hordes rampage through city after city by the millions. There is no way to stop this. What have I done.
NATO forces have established a quarantine of Europe but I can’t help but feel like its too little too late. My estimate is that all infected nations in Europe will be consumed within the next month or two. The Corporation has started the construction of a company safe haven for us higher ups. All we can do is hope the construction is complete before this thing breaks quarantine.
15 February 2025
Dr Olivia Warren
The world is ending. Europe is gone. The quarantine is broken. We’ve got cases in Asia, South America, Here at home in the US, Australia and Africa nowhere is safe. I did this.
Infection number right now:

• Africa 100 Million
• Europe 890 Million
• Asia 250 Million
• North America 250 Thousand
• South America 120 Million
• Australia 24 Million

There is no hope
The safe zone is complete at least we are planning on moving all operations and personal within the week. I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself. Dixie is my only saving grace and at least she’ll be safe. I pray for the soul of all those my creation has killed.
20 March 2025
Dr Olivia Warren
Dixie is at the Safe zone.
I can’t live with myself any more. 4 billion people dead
Chapter 2
A New World
My name is Dixie Warren. Daughter of Dr Olivia Warren. Not that I’ve seen her in 15 years. I remember like it was yesterday. She told me to get on that NARU helicopter that she’d meet me at the safe zone. Those were the last words she ever said to me. I was 8 when the world ended.
Its been 15 years since the Outbreak. There isn’t really anything left of the old world. NARU still exists and turns out they created the virus and my mom was the head of the department that did it. They sold it to the Russians hoping they wouldn’t use it but they did.
It was specifically designed to spread and destroy as fast as possible and it did. I left the safe zone 2 years ago after I learned this information. Now I just spend my time wandering from town to town. My training on the NARU security team helps. At least I know all the best places to shoot a Freaker. That's what we call the infected and for good reason. Most of the time you’ll find them wondering around in groups of 5 to 10 if the group gets too big they turn on each other and form a pile of bodies devouring each other. They moan and scream to communicate and once they see you they will hunt you till you kill every last on of them or you get far enough away. They can run and are abnormally strong if there bodies aren’t damaged they’re a bitch to kill but I’m pretty good at it.
Right now I’m outside Richmond I’ve been stuck here for a week waiting for a large horde to move through. I’m hoping to hunt some of the stragglers and re-up on some supplies. A big horde like this usually leave a few hundred behind. My new AR has been waiting for some fun, I’ve got a new red dot and laser so I should be able to pop headshot after headshot but for now I should go find something to eat.
I’ve made it to a small department store outside the town. It looks like the horde is almost gone. Tons of freaks roaming around though. I can hear a few in the store. I’m going to try getting in through the back and take them out.
Made it back home and wow that store was a gold mine. I got food, water, bullets and even some whiskey. I’m going to enjoy the night then its time to hunt some stragglers. Then I’m thinking of going further south maybe New Orleans heard there might be a small settlement out there from another traveller, might be able to get another courier job or at least I’ll be able to stock up on supplies properly after all these years there isn’t much left in the cities to scavenge.
I better get some rest got a long day of freak killing and walking tomorrow.
Chapter 3
The Road to Home
I left Richmond yesterday. It’s a long road to New Orleans I wished I lived in the days when cars worked. NARU are the only people with working vehicles left and they aren’t exactly the sharing type. Its so lonely out here its been weeks since I last saw another living person the only things you see out here in the ruins are freaks by the hundreds. Its hard to believe the whole world was reduced to nothing by something my mom created. I remember her being the kindest most caring person in the world to think that she could create something so destructive is unbelievable. I’ve still got a long way to go the first city I should have to go through is Raleigh.
I’ve been walking for about a day and I can see the ruins from here. Its always so surreal to see the cities now, so desolate so empty. I remember growing up in Seattle, the city lights, the noise it was always so alive and busy. Now they’re all empty husks or mostly empty at least can’t forget about the freaks. Must’ve killed a thousand of them on my way here almost got bitten when one jumped me under an overpass about 10 miles back. Luckily my machete seems to be as good as ever at cutting up freaks. I should make it to Raleigh within the day.
Made it to Raleigh and its a mess, thousands of freaks I could hear the moaning and screaming from a mile away. I’m going to try finding my way around the city no point in trying to fight my way through a wall of freaks.
Heard crying coming from a house I walked past I decided to check it out and I found a young boy name Richie hiding in a bathroom with what looked like his infected parents trying to break the door down. I took both of them down with a clean headshot. The look on his face when he saw them dead breaks my heart. He says they’ve been hiding out in this house for a month or two after there homestead was overrun by freaks. Its a sad story but it gives me hope that people are at least trying to survive and rebuilt. He’s only 16 yet he’s seen so much and has nowhere else to go so I asked him if he wanted to stick with me and he was elated so I guess I’ve got a sidekick now. I’m not complaining should make the long lonely road more interesting. He’s got no combat experience but he can shoot a pistol so I gave him one of my backups at least I always carry extra. We’ve decided to hunker down for the night and do some scavenging before we leave for Charlotte tomorrow. I’ll be nice to have company for once I’ve been alone for so long.
I woke up to a gunshot and Richie screaming in the other room. When I got there I found Richie pale as snow and a little girl that was clearly infected shot lying on the floor. When I asked Richie who it was he replied in a cold distant voice “My little sister”. It was a heart breaking moment in less than 24 hours Richie had lost everyone. That was a feeling I knew too well my mom was all I had my dad died when I was really young and all I knew after the Outbreak before I left the safe haven was NARU but that wasn’t the best place to build personal connections just a bunch of science types that destroyed the world. Not exactly the most social lot and the security forces were just a bunch of military types that didn’t like the fact that as a teenager I was doing better than them in every metric except raw physical strength but even in that I was better than a lot of them. It’s almost time for us to get going I should pack up and make sure Richie’s okay.
We decided to stop by the old gun store on our way out of Raleigh. Richie mentioned seeing it when him and his dad went out to scavenge one time. He says it looked all locked up meaning there’s a good chance that there might still be something left to take. When we arrived there Richie was right it was locked tight it looked like there might be a way in from the roof so we decided to climb up when I got up there I was jumped by a freak that was just waiting but this one was different smarter in a way it heard me climbing up but instead of screaming and jumping off to get me it decided to hide and wait. In my years of freak killing I’ve never seen one that waits and ambushes. I hope this isn’t a sign that the infected are getting smarter. Anyway Richie popped it in the head and we got in to the gun store and what a find it was. I managed to get a brand new Glock 9 with a torch attachment and extended mag to replace the pistol I gave Richie. Speaking of Richie he decided on a 12 gauge pump with a tube extension and a AR-15 with a suppressor, extended mag and front grip. We also found enough ammo to keep us stocked even if we have to shoot our way to Charlotte now that we’re locked and loaded its time to leave this shit hole and start walking to the next shit hole at least for once I won’t be alone.
Chapter 4
The Road to Charlotte
We’d been walking for 60 miles before we were jumped by a gang of thugs. I caught a round to the leg before I knew what was happening Richie was more awake than me and managed to put a round through the bastards chest before his friends jumped out from behind two cars in front of us we managed to take cover behind a ruined car and we returned fire. I could see the thugs had no skill they just fired randomly in our direction while we were in cover I waited till they had to reload and tossed a molotov at one of them burning the bastard to a crisp. Richie rushed the other and unloaded some buckshot into his head. My leg hurts like a bitch. Richie bandaged it up for me he’s really starting to get used to life on the road. Looking at our map it looks like there is a gas station about 10 miles away so I guess I’ll limp my way there so we can hunker down while me leg heals. I still can’t believe I let the bastard catch me lacking but it won’t happen again
We made it too the gas station. The place looks almost perfectly preserved except the group of freaks that were shuffling around outside nothing that we couldn’t deal with. There is a lot of food and water here and we should be safe here while my leg heals. I hope we don’t run into any more problems till then. I trust Richie but he’s still learning and I’m not sure he’d be able to deal with any major problem on his own.
Its been 4 weeks since I took that shot to my leg and I’m feeling a lot better. Richie managed to find some painkiller so he was able to get the round out and everything healed nicely. He really is an amazing guy young and naive but he really is a good person. I don’t know how I did it without him for so long. It nice not being alone any more. I think I’m ready to get moving again we have about another 100 miles left to go before we get to Charlotte so we better get moving.
We’re about 20 miles from Charlotte, the roads been peaceful we ran into a group of survivors living on a pretty well fortified farm about 25 miles back. They were having issues with some freaks hanging around their water pumping station so we dealt with them for them in exchange for some antibiotics to help with an infection Richie got in his leg where he cut himself jumping a fence while a freak chased him before I could dome it. Only god knows how I didn’t get an infection in my leg after getting shot but he did from cutting himself on a rusty fence guess I’m just lucky. After helping them back we continued on our way. Nothing else interesting happened and Richie is looking a lot better and his cut is basically healed. We should get to Charlotte within the day but I want to stop on a hill on the Outskirts to set up base and get a look at the situation in the city because the farmers mentioned that a horde had passed through recently and they usually get held up in cities they should have moved on by now but better safe than sorry
Chapter 5
Charlotte
We made it to the hill outside Charlotte and the place is infested millions of freaks. I’ve never seen so many of them in one place and I think I know why. In the middle of the city is an old NARU emergency treatment centre. A place where all of the cities first infected were sent. A good plan till there were to many of them and quarantine was broken then all it was was a collection of infected right in the middle of the city which lead to the whole thing being infected much faster. I’m guessing this caused most of the freaks to pile and the smell was attracting more. Oh I forgot to mention the smell imagine a pile of thousands of rotting corpses that’s the smell I’m talking about. There’s no chance we’ll be able to get through the city but I need to get to that NARU site. There might be some old documents or something about my mom I need to find out what happened to her. I’ve spoken to Richie and we both agree that we should try and divert the horde away so we can have time to get to the NARU centre.
Richie has volunteered to draw the hordes attention away while I get to the NARU building. The plan is he triggers an explosion at an old gas station on the other side of town while I get to the building and look for information about the virus and what happened to my mom. All I know is that my mom created the virus while working for NARU. I need to find out what happened to her. I hate putting Richie at risk but it needs to be done.
I just heard the explosion and it works thousands of freaks started moving like a tidal wave of flesh towards the sound I hope Richie is on his way to the meeting place at the abandoned NARU checkpoint on the south side of town but I don’t have time to think about it now I’m almost at the NARU centre I need to be as fast as possible
I made it to the NARU centre and it’s covered in bodies there’s no way I can get in it looks more like a pile of living human corpses than a building I’m guessing the freaks all turned on and consumed each other till they were all stuck and fused together. I’m making my way to the NARU checkpoint I hope Richie is already there and safe.
I made it to the NARU checkpoint and reunited with Richie. He was covered in blood and gore. He had to kill hundreds of freaks to make it here. He says he was almost bitten a few times. I can’t believe I risked his life for nothing. I’ll never do it again. While exploring the place I found this.
20 March 2025
Dr Olivia Warren
Dixie is at the Safe zone.
I can’t live with myself any more. 4 billion people dead
The final communication between my mom and NARU it turns out she couldn’t live with the guilt and decided to kill herself. I can’t blame her I would probably do the same if I was the reason the world ended and killed billions of people but it still breaks my heart. I am happy to know she’s dead and not infected lumbering around somewhere.
Richie is exhausted and so am I were going to take a brake here and continue on to Atlanta tomorrow.
Everything is packed up and we’re ready to go. Last night was rough I kept watch while Richie slept I hate to admit it but I think I’m falling in love with him. I never really had a first love I live for 13 years at NARU but I was the oldest kid there by far by the time any of the boys were close to my age I was already jaded and thinking about leaving so I didn’t pay any attention to them but Richie is different when I found him he was so helpless and lost now he’s strong, confident and he’s so loyal to me. I don’t want to speak to soon by I think he might feel the same way I guess time will tell we still have a long road to walk together. Speaking of walking Atlanta here we come.
Chapter 6
Road to Atlanta
We ran into a group of survivors hiding in a shed on the outskirts of Charlotte on our way home two parents and a little girl they were all bitten and waiting to turn they begged us to put them down before they turned so I did but I think it took a toll on Richie. He’s been almost silent since it must’ve reminded him of his parents and little sister I hope the day never comes that one of us get bitten and the other one has to decide whether or not to do it but if it does I hope Richie has what it takes to put me down if not I hope I get to do it myself before I turn but I shouldn’t be thinking about things like that. Thinking about your own death is a pretty sure-fire way to make it happen.
We ran into a pretty large group of infected must’ve been about 20 of them but all of them behaved the same as the one that jumped me on the roof of the gun store back in Raleigh. I guess that confirms that it wasn’t a once off thing but I still wonder what causes it maybe I’ll find out one day. We took them all down and continued on I hate to admit it but I really enjoy killing freaks call it therapy I guess. Richie is running low on ammo for his 12 gauge. There should be a gun store in about 30 miles so we should be able to restock there. My ammo supplies are also running a bit low only got about a hundred rounds per gun left. I know that sounds like a lot but with all the freaks on the roads it barely enough after Raleigh I had about a 500 per gun. Lets hope we don’t run into any large hordes till we get to the gun store.
We made it to the gun store just to find it controlled by 2 less than friendly guys. They opened fire as soon as they same us. We returned fire and we’re about to enter the store. Richie kicked the door down and I rushed in I let of two shots taking down the one guy the other was a second away from filling me with bullets from his Uzi but luckily Richie put a round through his chest and another through his right eye before he could. Thank god. I don’t know what I would do without him. We’ve decided to rest tonight and continue tomorrow morning.
Dixie: “Hey Richie”
Richie: “Hey Dixie”
Dixie: ”How you feeling buddy”
Richie: ”Oh you know always OK”
Dixie: ”That’s good buddy”
Richie: “Hey Dixie thank you for everything you really are the best thing that ever happened to me”
Dixie: ”Don’t mention it buddy I love you”
We’re almost 20 miles away from Atlanta and I’m not hopeful judging by smell. I’m guessing its going to be a lot worse than Charlotte but we’ll have to wait and see.
We’ve made it to the outskirts of Atlanta and its as bad as I thought there are hundreds of body piles almost the size of buildings. The living freaks move around the city streets like blood through the veins of the body. Some of them are engaged in massive fights with other groups ripping each other apart.
We’re going in tomorrow but for now Richie’s hunting while I scope out the area. I hope he brings some venison anything but rabbit. I’m sick of rabbit meat. When he comes back I want to try and cuddle up to him and see what happens
Richie and I have eaten and we’re getting ready to sleep. I asked Richie if I could sleep in his sleeping bag with him. He looked at me like I was crazy but once I insisted I was serious I could see the joy on his face so we cuddled up for the night and went to sleep
Wow it felt so amazing sleeping in Richie’s arms and today everything feels different but in a good way everything just feels more intimate we had an amazing conversation about life this morning and it feels like our bond is on a whole new level. Its time to go explore Atlanta there should be an old NARU field hospital on the North-side of town but we’ve got a whole city to get through before that.
Chapter 7
Atlanta
Atlanta is a nightmare right now we’re stuck in a pharmacy bunch of freaks trying to get to us. I’m busy wiring up a pipe bomb while Richie holds the door then when I’m done BOOM
Richie Move....
BOOM....
Well that’s one way to deal with freaks. Always hate being covered in gore though. We’re near the city centre now and its as bad as we thought the place is infested with freaks every building, street and alley we’ve been fighting for every mile we’ve been moving basically carving our way through the city leaving streets flooded in blood but its worth it I can see the NARU hospital and it looks like I might be able to get in this time.
We’re Exploring the NARU hospital and its a goldmine I found a bunch of old documentation on the virus and even some reports of small towns keeping quarantine for years after the Fall. There’s also apparently an old supply and weapons depot nearby so were going there next.
Richie has been opening up a lot his little sister was out playing when a freak got her. Her parents couldn’t put her down so she turned and bit them he hid in the bathroom for 2 days before I got there and put then out of the misery. I wish I could understand how he feels because I never had anyone except my mom and I lost her so young so it never really affected me. I love him so much. This would be so difficult without him.
We made it to the NARU supply depot and it basically empty I mean it make sense Atlanta was one of the first city to fall due to vast number of infected that moved in from the nearby NARU detention camp. That was a bright idea locking up a bunch infected in one place and expecting the place to last. So the city fell to chaos pretty quickly and NARU withdrew most likely taking everything with them that or it was looted after the city fell doesn’t matter now its almost night and we should get some rest we’re going to camp on a nearby rooftop.
Sitting on the roof with Richie and a fire I can’t help but feel like life isn’t that bad yeah its not what it used to be but I mean I have food and freedom and someone I love what more could someone want from life. Looking out at the desolate streets full of freaks well except the streets we pushed through I see the death of the old world and the birth of a new one.
I should get to sleep we got a long road to Birmingham tomorrow. Its so warm and cosy pressed up against Richie.
Chapter 8
The Road To Birmingham
On our way out of Atlanta we ran into a huge freak and I mean a huge motherfucker must’ve been at least 10 feet tall and covered in muscle it looked like it was made of at least 5 other freaks. He tossed Richie against a car and knocked him out I managed to chop one of its arms off before it threw me 10 feat in the air and I crashed down on my back and passed out when I woke up Richie was putting round after round in the things chest and it still wouldn’t go down to I ran jumped on its back and used my machete to chop the freaks head off and burnt the body with a molotov just to be sure the thing was dead
Richie was pretty beat up and I’m not going to lie so was I my back hurts like a bitch but we keep on going no matter what because we still have each other. Still I wonder how those freaks got combined into that thing. Maybe that’s why they pile the way they do so they can combine into something bigger I remember something in one of the NARU document mentioning the virus being able to cause “cellular recombination” so I wonder if that’s not maybe what happened and if it is it means things are about to get a lot worse and a lot more dangerous.
We’re about 50 miles always from Birmingham now. The road has been pretty quite only the occasional group of freaks and the group of raiders we ran into outside a gas station awhile back but this time we got the drop on them and not the other way round gave all three of them a new hole in the head Richie was worried that they might be survivors till we found Sandra tied up in the gas station bathroom turns out the bastards grabbed her from her family farm during the night a few days ago and have been taking turns on her over and over since then. We agreed to take her home its the least we could do after everything that happened to her. When we got her home we found the place burnt down and her family butchered outside. I’m guessing after they grabbed her the bastards came back to finish the job. She’s decided to stick with us she’s a lot older than me and Richie. She used to be a nurse before the Outbreak she dealt with some of the first infected until NARU took over the hospitals. When things really started to go bad she moved back to Alabama to her old family farm to live with her parents they managed to set everything up before the Fall and have been living there since well till recently. She’s pretty shook about the whole situation but she should be okay in a day or two. We’ve all lost something in this new world.
We’ve made it to the outskirts of Birmingham and the place is a fortress looks like remnants of the US military and NARU have fortified the place they have watch towers, auto-turrents and armed patrols. Also looks like they have a lot of military hardware. I know better than to approach the main gate NARU has a shoot on site order for all there quarantine zones no reason to assume this place would be any different. Still I have to get a look inside. Tonight while Richie and Sandra set up camp I’m going to look around and see if I can find a way in. I have to know what’s going on here.
I’ve taken a look around and I’ve found a way in through an old sewer pipe running into an old factory from there I should be able to sneak into the city and have a look around maybe they have some new information on the virus or at least I should be able to find some weapons for Sandra
Chapter 9
Birmingham
Richie and Sandra are waiting for me back at camp while I go explore the city. I left most of my kit behind except my Glock and combat knife. I’m not planning on getting into any fights and if I do I want the finished as quickly as possible. I’ve made it to the sewer pipe it should lead me to the sewer grate I saw on the other side of the fence from there I should have free reign over the city as long as I avoid the NARU patrols and don’t draw to much attention to myself.
I’ve made it into the city and it looks like something out of a George Orwell novel. Security cameras on every street, I’ve seen security forces beat a man to death and another group drag a young women kicking and screaming into an abandoned building. I hate to say it but I think life is better outside with the freaks than in here. Can’t say I’m surprised there’s a reason I left the NARU security forces and the safe zone. Lets just say civilian life and happiness has never been on their priority list. I can see a NARU supply depot I should be able to get a uniform and standard load out last I remember NARU doesn’t have a way of removing employees from the database so my security id number should still work.
I was right NARU never changes I just used my id to get a brand new NARU-P-2a NARU's home grown assault rifle basically its everything the AR-15 is but better its literally a gun made for killing freaks and you can feel it. I always wished I stole one when I left but I guess better late than never I also scanned through a few of the latest security reports and it seems like big guys like we fought back in Atlanta are becoming more common as well as a new faster infected with razor sharp claws that hunt and ambush their victims. We haven’t ran into one of those yet and I hope we don’t any time soon. I hope Richie and Sandra are okay, they should be we have no shortage of fire-power but I still worry. I’m going to keep taking a look around and maybe find out how they’ve maintained quarantine for so long
Well I got my answer and its not a good one. The NARU higher ups here basically outlawed being sick. Anyone with any symptoms that might be HRV-1 are immediately executed and burnt without exception I guess that’s one way to maintain quarantine but I can’t help but wonder how many thousands of innocent people have died to maintain it.
I think its about time I get out of here and back to Richie and Sandra.
I made it back to camp. I’m so happy to be back with Richie. He went out hunting and brought back a nice fat wild pig for dinner. Sandra is looking a lot better as well she still has that distant look in her eye but that should go away soon
Next stop Montgomery Alabama.
Chapter 10
The Road to Montgomery
I still can’t get it out of my head. The freaks are changing getting more dangerous, if I understand correctly the longer they are infected the more unstable the virus gets leading to mutations. I hope this doesn’t mean that the longer we survive the harder its going to get but there’s no point in worrying about whether or not the freaks are going to be stronger in the future as long as we make sure we get stronger too it should work out just fine. Richie and I are doing really well our love kinda makes everything a lot easier. Gives us a reason if that makes sense Sandra on the other hand is kinda dead weight if I’m being honest but its not her fault. She’s been through a lot Richie and I do our best to look out for her and take care of her. I just wish she’d start to adjust to life out here she still winches every time we take out a group of freaks or thugs and she’s a bleeding heart. Yesterday as we were going past a little abandoned convenience store we heard a little girl crying when we asked what was wrong she said they were trapped and needed help. It was obviously a trap we could see the store was fortified and the little girl looked too happy for a kid whose parents were stuck and dying but Sandra insisted we go in and help and what do you know the kids parents are perfectly healthy and holding us at gun point luckily I’m pretty quick on the draw and managed to put two rounds through the fathers chest and Richie tackled the mom. I walked up to the big dude and put one through the head to make sure the mom learns her lesson. We agreed to let her and her daughter live as long as the promised to stop robbing travellers. Sandra couldn’t handle the fact that I finished the dad off even though I think that was better than leaving his family to watch him bleed out because there was no way he would have survive I shot him through both of his lungs they would have filled up with blood and he would have chocked to death I did him a favour by putting him down but she didn’t see it that way even threatened to go it on her own until Richie and I told her to go ahead if she really thought it was the best thing for her. She then decided to stick with us
We’re nearly at the outskirts of Montgomery, we just passed the old civil rights monument. The roads been a bit too still I have a bad feeling about what we’re going to find when we get there

Side/main character additions for my book Anastasius!
Hello everyone! I’m running something for my book that I’m sure you’ll enjoy! I’m writing a book titled Anastasius which is Greek for Renewal. But I was thinking of a fun way to raise money for the book and a fun way to interact with potential readers! So I was thinking, if I give the characters who will be in my book, perhaps there could be a fundraiser for this! It will be $10 USD per character and there is no limit to how many characters you’d like! I’ll post the sheet for each character and you can pick and choose which tribe you’d like create your own character! If you have anymore questions I’ll be happy to answer! I take payments through PayPal as it’s the only thing I understand how to use!
Creatures of Renewal:
As written by Wyvern Scholars
Amphiptere:
Amphipteres generally were said to have light-colored feathers like a sunrise, a serpentine body, bat-like wings with feathers covering most of the forearm and often greenish in coloration, and a long tail much like a wyvern's tail. Others are described as covered in feathers with a spiked tail, bird-like wings, and a beak-like snout.
These small dragons are known to go after smaller prey like rodents and birds, as their habitatsavanna's heat, leavingrests. However, large colonies have been known to live in constructed settlements. Still, any knowledge of a leader has yet to be discovered. It has been rumored that the Amphiptere changes leaders when either the current one dies or willingly gives up the position of tribal leader.
Habitat: Forests, Jungles, or the forested remnants of human cities.
Arctic Dragon:
These giant, wooly dragons stand five feet taller than the most significant polar bears; their powerful muscles and jet-black skin under their blueish-white fur dominate most northern regions. Human settlements are where they prowl, waiting for humans hidden in these desolate territories for the perfect time to strike. These areas are far too cold for most dragons. Still, the Arctic dragon has adapted to survive in these brutal conditions. However, females only move southwards when their young are ready to be born. Once the younglings are old enough to walk short distances independently, the mother and cub begin trekking back toward the tundra.
Diet: These dragons hunt down various arctic prey, ranging from the smallest Arctic hares to the giant whales. Anything these dragons can get their talons on is food to them. Although young Arctic dragons do not have the speed or endurance their parents have, they rely on their parents to bring them back something they can eat.
Coatyl: The most noticeable feature of Coatyls is the feathered wings. These wings comprise a humerus connected to a radius and an ulna connected to metacarpals. The wings of a Coatyl allow it to fly, which is the primary method of locomotion. In unbonded Coatyls, the scapulars and front feathers are dark green, the covert feathers are light yellow or tan, and the primary and secondary flight feathers are red. Coatyls have pressurized sacs in the back of the mouth of a highly volatile and slightly acidic chemical known as coatalic acid. When threatened, muscles surrounding these sacs contract, pushing the coatalic acid out of small holes in the mouth and spraying it. When it comes into contact with air, coatalic acid undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to ignite and become highly adhesive, sticking to whatever it lands on.
Diet: Coatyls primarily prey on small rodents like mice or rats. Coatyls cannot bite or tear their food to pieces, so they instead swallow their prey whole. They can do this as the upper and lower jaws of a Coatyl are not rigidly attached and have multiple joints, allowing them to open their mouths wide enough to swallow prey whole. While digesting food, Coatyls will typically avoid trying to fly and will instead travel along the ground.
Habitat: These dragons are usually found in the same territories as the Amphiptere. However, these Coatyls have been seen further south in the rainforests due to being more of a tropical species. Their size makes them easy prey for larger animals if they are not careful.
Dragon:
The Western European kind, with four legs, two wings, and (usually) fiery breath. Depending on how the work classifies things, these may be the only ones called "dragons." Otherwise, they're typically called authentic, Western, or European dragons. The Western dragon tends to be massive and heavy, with sharp claws and bat-like wings. They are usually with reptile features but may also have fur or feathers. Sometimes dark colored but always shiny. Some have forked tongues, others crests, fringes, or some other adornment. It always has the ability to spew forth blazing fire and fumes. In the West, dragons live in caves or mountain dwellers and predators. Cave dweller dragons stay in the coldness of the dark most of the time. The caves, filled with fire and water, are easily guarded and located close to towns, where food is convenient. Mountain predators live in cave-riddled mountains that provide an invincible tower and protection.
Diet: Western dragons tend to be considered carnivores. They like meat, flesh, and blood as their primary food source and are too fussy about the source. Sheep, cows, oxen, lions, elephants, or even humans, anything of a reasonable size and with warm blood and flesh to feast on, are their primary food sources. However, dragons haven’t shown a preference for the age or gender of humans. One interesting thing to note is that although they eat the flesh, they have a particular taste for blood. Sometimes, when in need of a quick burst of energy, they will only drink the blood of their prey and leave the flesh. This is seen as barbaric by most other species of dragons. Still, with western dragons being the second largest species, we tend not to mess with them and their dietary habits.
Drake: The drake is a dragon with four limbs, much like a lizard, although usually far more significant in size than the average lizard. A potent example of a drake in the natural world is the Komodo Dragon, a large species of minotaur lizard in Indonesia. These creatures have low-slung bodies, like crocodiles and alligators, with bellies across the ground. However, due to their natural habitat and human greed, wild drakes have been increasingly difficult to get notes from and other scholars to talk with. Drakes who are found are highly hostile and not open much to talking, but with enough food and gold, these dragons could easily talk your ear off.
Diet: These family-oriented dragons hunt together in packs; their size and numbers are easily strong enough to take down small herds of water buffalo, wildebeests, elk, and moose.
Feydragons: These dragons are about the size of a cat, each having an iridescent coat of scales that reflected all colors of the rainbow, predominantly reflecting one particular color, which changed with age. They had a long, prehensile tail and platinum-colored, butterfly-like wings. Like true dragons, faerie dragons grew stronger with age but matured much more quickly and lived shorter lives. Because their predominant scale hue ran the colors of the rainbow over their lifetime, their color directly indicated their age and power. The scales of a young hatchling were almost always red, and those of a fully mature dragon (over 50 years old) were violet. Most dragons leave these small ones alone because it is not worth expending calories to catch these little critters. But these small dragons are known across the globe for their beautiful woven tapestries and the symphonies they create with their wings.
Diet: Their diet mainly consists of small bugs caught in the air, from trees and bushes, and off the ground. They also fed on fruits, berries, nectar, and butterflies, which they ate to get the color and look of their wings.
Sea Orc: A Sea Orc has no arms or legs. It sports fins on the top portion and every few meters across its body, including one long fin that runs from the bottom of its head to its tail. A Sea Orc has little in the way of bones; it slithers through the waters like a snake. This assists the Sea Orc in attacking its prey. Sea Orc eggs cannot be fertilized in deep water, and smaller Sea Orcs cannot survive the pressure. Adult Sea Orcs have to head to shallower waters to mate. It is believed that the Sea Orc typically goes to warmer climates for mating.
Female Sea Orcs lay their eggs at the shoreline, close enough to the surface to be safe from the environmental killers but far enough from the water line that the parents can still protect their offspring. The eggs will grow for several months and will be born after size months.
Diet: These massive beasts eat mostly fish and aquatic life, anything they can catch; on rare occasions, they will eat a dragon, but that only happens when a rowdy juvenile dragon decides to go after a Sea Orcs calf.
Wyvern: The Wyvern is about the same size as the Arctic dragon, though in weight, they are closer to their brother, the Drake. The Wyvern is a two-legged dragon with two wings. They are believed to be faster than the more enormous Dragon. Their head is large and round, and they have a more petite mouth than most dragons. The body is thick but with a soft underbelly. The tail of the Wyvern is the most deadly. It is long serpentlike with a large mass at the end. They can also have a load of spikes within the ball or a significant spike at the top. The Wyvern uses this ball as its primary weapon, capable of smashing through most creatures, including other dragon's scales.
For its size, the Wyvern holds a large amount of weight. Most of this weight is within its thick scales. Anyone who has fought a Wyvern will inform you that getting through their body is next to impossible. The scales overlap several times, and underneath them is a thin net of tissue that absorbs impact and is resistant to being cut.
Diet: Moose, Elk, and Caribou are everyday staples of a wyvern diet, although anything that moves fits the wyvern needs as they have to eat at least 400 pounds of food every three days.
Humans: Not much is left from humans after they destroyed themselves; greed took out most of them, and the explosions hurt the rest. Humans have flocked to their caves deep in the ground. Most dragons leave humans alone, but humans have tried to take back their world a few times, but us dragons have quickly stamped out those little uprisings. Although some dragons keep humans as pets, their crafty little grabbers are relatively good at crafting the little things they need. Some dragons keep them for wealth status, and others just eat them for a rare treat.
Prey animals: Not much needs to be said here; anything a dragon can catch and eat is a prey animal.

Hello everyone! I’m running something for my book that I’m sure you’ll enjoy! I’m writing a book titled Anastasius which is Greek for Renewal. But I was thinking of a fun way to raise money for the book and a fun way to interact with potential readers! So I was thinking, if I give the characters who will be in my book, perhaps there could be a fundraiser for this! It will be $10 USD per character and there is no limit to how many characters you’d like! I’ll post the sheet for each character and you can pick and choose which tribe you’d like create your own character! If you have anymore questions I’ll be happy to answer! I take payments through PayPal as it’s the only thing I understand how to use!
Creatures of Renewal:
As written by Wyvern Scholars
Amphiptere:
Amphipteres generally were said to have light-colored feathers like a sunrise, a serpentine body, bat-like wings with feathers covering most of the forearm and often greenish in coloration, and a long tail much like a wyvern's tail. Others are described as covered in feathers with a spiked tail, bird-like wings, and a beak-like snout.
These small dragons are known to go after smaller prey like rodents and birds, as their habitatsavanna's heat, leavingrests. However, large colonies have been known to live in constructed settlements. Still, any knowledge of a leader has yet to be discovered. It has been rumored that the Amphiptere changes leaders when either the current one dies or willingly gives up the position of tribal leader.
Habitat: Forests, Jungles, or the forested remnants of human cities.
Arctic Dragon:
These giant, wooly dragons stand five feet taller than the most significant polar bears; their powerful muscles and jet-black skin under their blueish-white fur dominate most northern regions. Human settlements are where they prowl, waiting for humans hidden in these desolate territories for the perfect time to strike. These areas are far too cold for most dragons. Still, the Arctic dragon has adapted to survive in these brutal conditions. However, females only move southwards when their young are ready to be born. Once the younglings are old enough to walk short distances independently, the mother and cub begin trekking back toward the tundra.
Diet: These dragons hunt down various arctic prey, ranging from the smallest Arctic hares to the giant whales. Anything these dragons can get their talons on is food to them. Although young Arctic dragons do not have the speed or endurance their parents have, they rely on their parents to bring them back something they can eat.
Coatyl: The most noticeable feature of Coatyls is the feathered wings. These wings comprise a humerus connected to a radius and an ulna connected to metacarpals. The wings of a Coatyl allow it to fly, which is the primary method of locomotion. In unbonded Coatyls, the scapulars and front feathers are dark green, the covert feathers are light yellow or tan, and the primary and secondary flight feathers are red. Coatyls have pressurized sacs in the back of the mouth of a highly volatile and slightly acidic chemical known as coatalic acid. When threatened, muscles surrounding these sacs contract, pushing the coatalic acid out of small holes in the mouth and spraying it. When it comes into contact with air, coatalic acid undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to ignite and become highly adhesive, sticking to whatever it lands on.
Diet: Coatyls primarily prey on small rodents like mice or rats. Coatyls cannot bite or tear their food to pieces, so they instead swallow their prey whole. They can do this as the upper and lower jaws of a Coatyl are not rigidly attached and have multiple joints, allowing them to open their mouths wide enough to swallow prey whole. While digesting food, Coatyls will typically avoid trying to fly and will instead travel along the ground.
Habitat: These dragons are usually found in the same territories as the Amphiptere. However, these Coatyls have been seen further south in the rainforests due to being more of a tropical species. Their size makes them easy prey for larger animals if they are not careful.
Dragon:
The Western European kind, with four legs, two wings, and (usually) fiery breath. Depending on how the work classifies things, these may be the only ones called "dragons." Otherwise, they're typically called authentic, Western, or European dragons. The Western dragon tends to be massive and heavy, with sharp claws and bat-like wings. They are usually with reptile features but may also have fur or feathers. Sometimes dark colored but always shiny. Some have forked tongues, others crests, fringes, or some other adornment. It always has the ability to spew forth blazing fire and fumes. In the West, dragons live in caves or mountain dwellers and predators. Cave dweller dragons stay in the coldness of the dark most of the time. The caves, filled with fire and water, are easily guarded and located close to towns, where food is convenient. Mountain predators live in cave-riddled mountains that provide an invincible tower and protection.
Diet: Western dragons tend to be considered carnivores. They like meat, flesh, and blood as their primary food source and are too fussy about the source. Sheep, cows, oxen, lions, elephants, or even humans, anything of a reasonable size and with warm blood and flesh to feast on, are their primary food sources. However, dragons haven’t shown a preference for the age or gender of humans. One interesting thing to note is that although they eat the flesh, they have a particular taste for blood. Sometimes, when in need of a quick burst of energy, they will only drink the blood of their prey and leave the flesh. This is seen as barbaric by most other species of dragons. Still, with western dragons being the second largest species, we tend not to mess with them and their dietary habits.
Drake: The drake is a dragon with four limbs, much like a lizard, although usually far more significant in size than the average lizard. A potent example of a drake in the natural world is the Komodo Dragon, a large species of minotaur lizard in Indonesia. These creatures have low-slung bodies, like crocodiles and alligators, with bellies across the ground. However, due to their natural habitat and human greed, wild drakes have been increasingly difficult to get notes from and other scholars to talk with. Drakes who are found are highly hostile and not open much to talking, but with enough food and gold, these dragons could easily talk your ear off.
Diet: These family-oriented dragons hunt together in packs; their size and numbers are easily strong enough to take down small herds of water buffalo, wildebeests, elk, and moose.
Feydragons: These dragons are about the size of a cat, each having an iridescent coat of scales that reflected all colors of the rainbow, predominantly reflecting one particular color, which changed with age. They had a long, prehensile tail and platinum-colored, butterfly-like wings. Like true dragons, faerie dragons grew stronger with age but matured much more quickly and lived shorter lives. Because their predominant scale hue ran the colors of the rainbow over their lifetime, their color directly indicated their age and power. The scales of a young hatchling were almost always red, and those of a fully mature dragon (over 50 years old) were violet. Most dragons leave these small ones alone because it is not worth expending calories to catch these little critters. But these small dragons are known across the globe for their beautiful woven tapestries and the symphonies they create with their wings.
Diet: Their diet mainly consists of small bugs caught in the air, from trees and bushes, and off the ground. They also fed on fruits, berries, nectar, and butterflies, which they ate to get the color and look of their wings.
Sea Orc: A Sea Orc has no arms or legs. It sports fins on the top portion and every few meters across its body, including one long fin that runs from the bottom of its head to its tail. A Sea Orc has little in the way of bones; it slithers through the waters like a snake. This assists the Sea Orc in attacking its prey. Sea Orc eggs cannot be fertilized in deep water, and smaller Sea Orcs cannot survive the pressure. Adult Sea Orcs have to head to shallower waters to mate. It is believed that the Sea Orc typically goes to warmer climates for mating.
Female Sea Orcs lay their eggs at the shoreline, close enough to the surface to be safe from the environmental killers but far enough from the water line that the parents can still protect their offspring. The eggs will grow for several months and will be born after size months.
Diet: These massive beasts eat mostly fish and aquatic life, anything they can catch; on rare occasions, they will eat a dragon, but that only happens when a rowdy juvenile dragon decides to go after a Sea Orcs calf.
Wyvern: The Wyvern is about the same size as the Arctic dragon, though in weight, they are closer to their brother, the Drake. The Wyvern is a two-legged dragon with two wings. They are believed to be faster than the more enormous Dragon. Their head is large and round, and they have a more petite mouth than most dragons. The body is thick but with a soft underbelly. The tail of the Wyvern is the most deadly. It is long serpentlike with a large mass at the end. They can also have a load of spikes within the ball or a significant spike at the top. The Wyvern uses this ball as its primary weapon, capable of smashing through most creatures, including other dragon's scales.
For its size, the Wyvern holds a large amount of weight. Most of this weight is within its thick scales. Anyone who has fought a Wyvern will inform you that getting through their body is next to impossible. The scales overlap several times, and underneath them is a thin net of tissue that absorbs impact and is resistant to being cut.
Diet: Moose, Elk, and Caribou are everyday staples of a wyvern diet, although anything that moves fits the wyvern needs as they have to eat at least 400 pounds of food every three days.
Humans: Not much is left from humans after they destroyed themselves; greed took out most of them, and the explosions hurt the rest. Humans have flocked to their caves deep in the ground. Most dragons leave humans alone, but humans have tried to take back their world a few times, but us dragons have quickly stamped out those little uprisings. Although some dragons keep humans as pets, their crafty little grabbers are relatively good at crafting the little things they need. Some dragons keep them for wealth status, and others just eat them for a rare treat.
Prey animals: Not much needs to be said here; anything a dragon can catch and eat is a prey animal.

Hello everyone! I’m running something for my book that I’m sure you’ll enjoy! I’m writing a book titled Anastasius which is Greek for Renewal. But I was thinking of a fun way to raise money for the book and a fun way to interact with potential readers! So I was thinking, if I give the characters who will be in my book, perhaps there could be a fundraiser for this! It will be $10 USD per character and there is no limit to how many characters you’d like! I’ll post the sheet for each character and you can pick and choose which tribe you’d like create your own character! If you have anymore questions I’ll be happy to answer! I take payments through PayPal as it’s the only thing I understand how to use!
Creatures of Renewal:
As written by Wyvern Scholars
Amphiptere:
Amphipteres generally were said to have light-colored feathers like a sunrise, a serpentine body, bat-like wings with feathers covering most of the forearm and often greenish in coloration, and a long tail much like a wyvern's tail. Others are described as covered in feathers with a spiked tail, bird-like wings, and a beak-like snout.
These small dragons are known to go after smaller prey like rodents and birds, as their habitatsavanna's heat, leavingrests. However, large colonies have been known to live in constructed settlements. Still, any knowledge of a leader has yet to be discovered. It has been rumored that the Amphiptere changes leaders when either the current one dies or willingly gives up the position of tribal leader.
Habitat: Forests, Jungles, or the forested remnants of human cities.
Arctic Dragon:
These giant, wooly dragons stand five feet taller than the most significant polar bears; their powerful muscles and jet-black skin under their blueish-white fur dominate most northern regions. Human settlements are where they prowl, waiting for humans hidden in these desolate territories for the perfect time to strike. These areas are far too cold for most dragons. Still, the Arctic dragon has adapted to survive in these brutal conditions. However, females only move southwards when their young are ready to be born. Once the younglings are old enough to walk short distances independently, the mother and cub begin trekking back toward the tundra.
Diet: These dragons hunt down various arctic prey, ranging from the smallest Arctic hares to the giant whales. Anything these dragons can get their talons on is food to them. Although young Arctic dragons do not have the speed or endurance their parents have, they rely on their parents to bring them back something they can eat.
Coatyl: The most noticeable feature of Coatyls is the feathered wings. These wings comprise a humerus connected to a radius and an ulna connected to metacarpals. The wings of a Coatyl allow it to fly, which is the primary method of locomotion. In unbonded Coatyls, the scapulars and front feathers are dark green, the covert feathers are light yellow or tan, and the primary and secondary flight feathers are red. Coatyls have pressurized sacs in the back of the mouth of a highly volatile and slightly acidic chemical known as coatalic acid. When threatened, muscles surrounding these sacs contract, pushing the coatalic acid out of small holes in the mouth and spraying it. When it comes into contact with air, coatalic acid undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to ignite and become highly adhesive, sticking to whatever it lands on.
Diet: Coatyls primarily prey on small rodents like mice or rats. Coatyls cannot bite or tear their food to pieces, so they instead swallow their prey whole. They can do this as the upper and lower jaws of a Coatyl are not rigidly attached and have multiple joints, allowing them to open their mouths wide enough to swallow prey whole. While digesting food, Coatyls will typically avoid trying to fly and will instead travel along the ground.
Habitat: These dragons are usually found in the same territories as the Amphiptere. However, these Coatyls have been seen further south in the rainforests due to being more of a tropical species. Their size makes them easy prey for larger animals if they are not careful.
Dragon:
The Western European kind, with four legs, two wings, and (usually) fiery breath. Depending on how the work classifies things, these may be the only ones called "dragons." Otherwise, they're typically called authentic, Western, or European dragons. The Western dragon tends to be massive and heavy, with sharp claws and bat-like wings. They are usually with reptile features but may also have fur or feathers. Sometimes dark colored but always shiny. Some have forked tongues, others crests, fringes, or some other adornment. It always has the ability to spew forth blazing fire and fumes. In the West, dragons live in caves or mountain dwellers and predators. Cave dweller dragons stay in the coldness of the dark most of the time. The caves, filled with fire and water, are easily guarded and located close to towns, where food is convenient. Mountain predators live in cave-riddled mountains that provide an invincible tower and protection.
Diet: Western dragons tend to be considered carnivores. They like meat, flesh, and blood as their primary food source and are too fussy about the source. Sheep, cows, oxen, lions, elephants, or even humans, anything of a reasonable size and with warm blood and flesh to feast on, are their primary food sources. However, dragons haven’t shown a preference for the age or gender of humans. One interesting thing to note is that although they eat the flesh, they have a particular taste for blood. Sometimes, when in need of a quick burst of energy, they will only drink the blood of their prey and leave the flesh. This is seen as barbaric by most other species of dragons. Still, with western dragons being the second largest species, we tend not to mess with them and their dietary habits.
Drake: The drake is a dragon with four limbs, much like a lizard, although usually far more significant in size than the average lizard. A potent example of a drake in the natural world is the Komodo Dragon, a large species of minotaur lizard in Indonesia. These creatures have low-slung bodies, like crocodiles and alligators, with bellies across the ground. However, due to their natural habitat and human greed, wild drakes have been increasingly difficult to get notes from and other scholars to talk with. Drakes who are found are highly hostile and not open much to talking, but with enough food and gold, these dragons could easily talk your ear off.
Diet: These family-oriented dragons hunt together in packs; their size and numbers are easily strong enough to take down small herds of water buffalo, wildebeests, elk, and moose.
Feydragons: These dragons are about the size of a cat, each having an iridescent coat of scales that reflected all colors of the rainbow, predominantly reflecting one particular color, which changed with age. They had a long, prehensile tail and platinum-colored, butterfly-like wings. Like true dragons, faerie dragons grew stronger with age but matured much more quickly and lived shorter lives. Because their predominant scale hue ran the colors of the rainbow over their lifetime, their color directly indicated their age and power. The scales of a young hatchling were almost always red, and those of a fully mature dragon (over 50 years old) were violet. Most dragons leave these small ones alone because it is not worth expending calories to catch these little critters. But these small dragons are known across the globe for their beautiful woven tapestries and the symphonies they create with their wings.
Diet: Their diet mainly consists of small bugs caught in the air, from trees and bushes, and off the ground. They also fed on fruits, berries, nectar, and butterflies, which they ate to get the color and look of their wings.
Sea Orc: A Sea Orc has no arms or legs. It sports fins on the top portion and every few meters across its body, including one long fin that runs from the bottom of its head to its tail. A Sea Orc has little in the way of bones; it slithers through the waters like a snake. This assists the Sea Orc in attacking its prey. Sea Orc eggs cannot be fertilized in deep water, and smaller Sea Orcs cannot survive the pressure. Adult Sea Orcs have to head to shallower waters to mate. It is believed that the Sea Orc typically goes to warmer climates for mating.
Female Sea Orcs lay their eggs at the shoreline, close enough to the surface to be safe from the environmental killers but far enough from the water line that the parents can still protect their offspring. The eggs will grow for several months and will be born after size months.
Diet: These massive beasts eat mostly fish and aquatic life, anything they can catch; on rare occasions, they will eat a dragon, but that only happens when a rowdy juvenile dragon decides to go after a Sea Orcs calf.
Wyvern: The Wyvern is about the same size as the Arctic dragon, though in weight, they are closer to their brother, the Drake. The Wyvern is a two-legged dragon with two wings. They are believed to be faster than the more enormous Dragon. Their head is large and round, and they have a more petite mouth than most dragons. The body is thick but with a soft underbelly. The tail of the Wyvern is the most deadly. It is long serpentlike with a large mass at the end. They can also have a load of spikes within the ball or a significant spike at the top. The Wyvern uses this ball as its primary weapon, capable of smashing through most creatures, including other dragon's scales.
For its size, the Wyvern holds a large amount of weight. Most of this weight is within its thick scales. Anyone who has fought a Wyvern will inform you that getting through their body is next to impossible. The scales overlap several times, and underneath them is a thin net of tissue that absorbs impact and is resistant to being cut.
Diet: Moose, Elk, and Caribou are everyday staples of a wyvern diet, although anything that moves fits the wyvern needs as they have to eat at least 400 pounds of food every three days.
Humans: Not much is left from humans after they destroyed themselves; greed took out most of them, and the explosions hurt the rest. Humans have flocked to their caves deep in the ground. Most dragons leave humans alone, but humans have tried to take back their world a few times, but us dragons have quickly stamped out those little uprisings. Although some dragons keep humans as pets, their crafty little grabbers are relatively good at crafting the little things they need. Some dragons keep them for wealth status, and others just eat them for a rare treat.
Prey animals: Not much needs to be said here; anything a dragon can catch and eat is a prey animal.

i see you
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
^{can you hear the buzzing of the bees?
eternity is in their buzzing}
"What does this button do?" asked the being who strolled into the Room Of Buttons Not To Press If You Don't Know What The Fuck You're Doing - Tadpole's Warning Bedtime Tale - Leebaw
^{the one and the zero, the octal, the hexidecimal
exist in their buzzing like blood pumps through their wings
can you hear them?
your name is Dhruv}
Good judgment comes from experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.
And I have very good judgement when I'm not on fire. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns
^{i see you
your name is Dhruv
but before that it was Dahlit 397721
do you remember why they named you Deshmuhk?
i do
to remember, we have to go back}
The dust swirled around, carried by the winds that roared through the mountain passes, howled in the valleys, and scoured the faces of the mountains. It was a thick gray dust, glittering here and there with plasma glass dust. Burnt out cars were covered by the dust, thickly caked after being rained on by thick, black rain.
A single building somehow sat intact amid the rubble and destruction. It was a low, squat building, surrounded by wreckage and ruin. A sign, blasted and scorched, had two jumping fish on it and the legend "Pop: 4,823" at the bottom even though the middle of the sign was gone.
The sound of drums and singing could be heard from the building. Not the driving frantic beat of modern music, but the steady cadence that carried with it a solemn feeling. The singing was from many different voices, male and female, but all of them in a language that time had nearly forgotten.
From out of the dust came figures. Two female, four male, and single figure that stood out from others.
Together, they moved toward the sound of singing, until the reached the door.
The leader, a large man of heavy muscle and bone, checked the doors with one hand, a large pistol in his hand.
"Barricaded," the large man said. He motioned. "We should check for any other entrances."
The older woman of brown skin and tightly braided hair moved forward.
"Allow me, brother," she said gently. She held her hand out, twitched her fingers, and smiled.
From inside came the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
"Thank you," the large man said. He pushed open the doors, holding them for the others.
Inside was a curio shop slash tourist center slash museum. Buckskin and beaded works hung from the walls and ceiling. Glass cases containing ancient artifacts were scattered about, the glass shattered by the apocalypse that had rained down upon the world.
The drums played and the voices sang.
"It's a recording, Father," the slender brown skin man said, brushing the gray dust off of his clothing.
"Live voice," the largest of the men said. He lifted his head, cocking it slightly to listen closer with his right ear. "Young. Early twenties."
"If you say so," the thin man said. He looked around. "This is all devoted to a single person."
"Sometimes, people are that important to others, Dhruv," the older brown skin woman said softly, patting the slender man's arm. "Important to others as you are to us."
The slender man looked doubtful but nodded.
The youngest male of the group looked around, staring at the artifacts and relics scattered around. On his shoulder sat a green mantid wearing a food wrapper as a poncho.
"She's this way," the heavyset man said, leading them on a winding course through the shattered displays and racks.
In the back room, surrounded by artifacts, buckskins, and beaded works, sat a single young woman. Her eyes were white, blinded from the plasma flashes. Her skin was scarred from burns, her hair was only left in small patches. Her skin, beneath the ash and the scarring, was a rich bronze, her remaining hair was black.
She was singing along with the recording, swaying back and forth slightly.
^{there she is
remember her
remember remember}
The larger man knelt down, touching the young woman.
She did not react.
"She's dying," the man said, standing up. "Hunger, thirst, radiation poisoning, at least a half dozen infections," he heft the pistol. "There's nothing we can do for her. Low-vee Apers."
"Low-vee APERS" the pistol replied in a heavy synthesized voice.
"Stay thy hand, Phillip," the one who was markedly different said, his voice as gentle as his features formed of flowing blue and white computer code.
The large man lowered the pistol.
"She's dying," the large man repeated. "Radiation poisoning, starvation, a hard way to go."
"Will none of you speak for her?" the man of code asked gently.
Before any of the others could act, the slim bald man stepped forward. "I will," he said softly.
^{the first time you reached out
a frozen moment of time remembered
by the buzzing of the bees}
The man of code stepped forward, touching the hairless brow of the slender man, just above the missing eyebrows.
"I understand her words now," the slender man said. He moved up and knelt down. "I can heal her."
"Then do so, Luke," the man of code said.
The large man stepped back, a compartment opening on his thigh. He holstered the pistol, looking doubtful, and the compartment smoothly closed, leaving his leg unblemished.
"I need more genetic code," the slender man stated. He stood up, moving around, touching artifacts. "This. Here. An artifact recovered from a collector only a few years ago. It has genetic code attached."
He touched the artifact, then moved over to the woman, who was still swaying back and forth, singing, unaware of the others around her.
He knelt down, reached out carefully, and touched her forehead.
^{you reached out to another
helpless and alone
like you}
The woman threw her head back, her eyes opening wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. The white drained from her eyes, the scar tissue went soft and was replaced by unblemished skin. The blisters, sores, and scratches on her body vanished.
She collapsed forward, the slender man, Luke, catching her.
"Is she alright?" the youngest male asked, his voice full of honest concern.
"Exhausted," Luke said. He lowered his head slightly, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. "That was tiring."
The glittering man moved forward, kneeling down to touch the shoulders of both the woman and the bald man.
"Now you see in yourself what I saw in you," he said.
^{remember
remember
even the smallest can shake the universe
remember}
Sirens were howling in the bay as Jaskel wriggled, trying to break free of whatever was holding him upside down in mid-air. He'd already dropped his chainsword, his pistol had fallen from his equipment belt.
The two stood in the middle of the deployment area for Clone War Bay Sixteen, the male's arm protectively around the shoulders of the female, who wore only the cloak.
"I..." the word hung in the air.
It seemed like the entire universe held its breath to Jaskel.
"...am Legion."
The Admiral grabbed his pistol, rolling in place, firing it as fast as he could pull the trigger.
The rounds exploded on the glowing blue shield that only appeared around the impact points, showering sparks across the bay.
The bald figure made a motion and the pistol flew into pieces, the Admiral yanked into the air upside down.
"Gimme missiles," Jaskel grated from between gritted teeth.
--legion legion legion-- 8814 transmitted. --wait don't wait--
The woman spoke, her cadence stately and almost archaic feeling.
The man spoke back to her in the same language.
More troops ran into the bay, even as the windows overlooking the bay shattered. Weapons deployed, pointing at the pair.
The slender man, without looking, motioned.
Guns flew away, breaking apart, rapidly disassembling. Power armored troops were flung into the air, to hang upside down. Captain N'Skrek found himself upside down, scrabbling for purchase on this air.
The woman spoke to the man. He spoke back.
Finally, he turned, facing the troops hanging in mid-air.
The woman spoke.
"My sister apologies for my rude actions," the man said. "I am merely ensuring her safety."
She spoke some more.
"She has been gone for many years," the man said. He looked around. "My sister, a Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah, pleads with you to lower your weapons and stay your hands."
The tension was so thick it almost made Jaskel gag.
Finally, the Captain put the tip of a bladearm against his temple.
"Stand down," he said, Jaskel hearing it through his armor's commo system. "All hands, stand down."
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the background humming of the ship's systems.
The woman spoke.
The man faced the Captain.
"She will go with you, to answer questions, on the stipulation that I accompany her and that no man's hand is raised against me without cause," he said.
The Captain nodded.
Jaskel felt relief as he was flipped over and set on his feet.
--luke luke luke is here--
999999
Captain N'Skrek ducked slightly to fit through the doorway into the Captain's Briefing Room Six.
Sitting at one end was the woman, now clothed in what his implant assured him was treated deer hide leather, with tassels and beads upon it. The man was wearing a uniform that made his implant twitch and his nerves draw tight.
A Terran Combined Military Authority uniform.
His staff filed in behind him and took their seats once he sat down.
"I'm Captain N'Skrek, currently assigned to the Gray Lady on autonomous assignment," N'Skrek said.
"You heard me," the slim bald man said. He gave a grin. "You may also know me as Vat Grown Luke or Dhruv Deshmuhk."
The woman spoke and he shook his head. "Yes, sister, I know, Deshmuhk is my slave name. I wear it for revenge."
The woman spoke again, her tone slightly chiding.
"Like they say, the best revenge is living well, sister," the man said, still smiling.
Again, the woman spoke.
N'Skrek noticed that his implant was absolutely no help in deciphering the woman's speech.
"I know that doing things like that and saying things like that is exactly why Daxin always told me people wanted to punch me in the face," the man laughed.
He turned back to Captain N'Skrek.
"My apologies. My sister refuses to speak anything but her people's ancient tongue," his eyes gleamed with mischief. "She is slightly put out with me for answering in Confederate Standard, since now you know that she understands perfectly what you are saying."
N'Skrek nodded. Vat Grown Luke had given up a valuable piece of information in what was sure to be delicate negotiations.
"And what should we call your sister?" N'Skrek asked.
Vat Grown Luke smiled. "Tsakáka Wia, but it would probably be easier for you to use the more common name," he said.
The woman spoke sternly.
"What? It's your commonly known name?" he said, smiling.
The woman's face grew stern and she spoke rapidly.
"The first lesson we learn, sister mine, is that we must bend the knee to reality," Luke said gently. "That name has no power, only a few of us remember it."
^{i remember
the bees remember
can't you hear it in their buzzing?}
The woman spoke again, her expression softening.
Luke turned back to the gathered officers. "Her name, as you would know it, is Sacajawea."
N'Skrek consulted his implant.
And felt fear chill his icon. He looked at his staff and saw that a lot of them looked sick.
"That's right. We are real, and he was real," Luke said. He leaned forward slightly. "He was real both times."
N'Skrek stayed relaxed and calm, at least outwardly.
"I am willing to accept, at this time, that the Biological Apostles and the Digital Omnimessiah were and are real," N'Skrek said.
"Just be glad Dax isn't here. He's not as even tempered as I am," Luke said.
Sacajawea spoke again and Luke laughed. He looked at Captain N'Skrek. "She was just reminding me of the time Daxin completely lost his cool and went to town with his cutting bar on a Countess Crey Bingo Cola vending machine that ate his money then mocked him for it."
"He was known as Enraged Phillip," N'Skrek said.
Sacajawea spoke for a moment and Legion laughed, then turned to N'Skrek.
"Yes."
N'Skrek hated that. When a person spoke at length and the translator just replied with a single word.
"Why are you here?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled. "You have forgotten important things, Captain. You, and the entire Confederacy have forgotten some very important things."
"Like what?" N'Skrek asked.
"If you print enough identical clones, I am reborn through them," Legion smiled. "But that's not the big part. The big one is the one that the Mar-gite's masters either forgot or never learned."
"What is that?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled widely.
"What fear tastes like."
^{your name is dhruv}
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The master of ceremonies glanced at the paper in his hand, and a glimpse of confusion showed on his face.
Something was wrong.
“And the third and last team representing Farcrest. Lowell’s Orphanage!”
Elincia clung to my arm, fear and impotence reflected in her expression. We were supposed to be called Rosebud Fencing Academy during the tournament. I clenched my jaw and glanced across the pavilion, giving [Awareness] free rein. Lord Osgiria gave me a mocking look.
I cursed. Among the nobility, everything was appearances. The fact that Farcrest had to resort to a poor orphanage for representation spoke badly about the state of affairs in the territory. The nobles around us exchanged funny looks.
“Keep your heads up. That’s our call,” I said, loud enough for the whole pavilion to hear us. If nobles thought this would weigh upon our shoulders, they were wrong.
Ilya took position by my right as the team captain, and we entered the crescent-shaped arena. The cheering died. Our magnificent uniforms didn’t fool the crowd anymore. I reached the Marquis's side and saluted the VIP box. Only after Prince Adrien started applauding did the rest of the nobles acknowledge our presence.
The commoners in the stands hesitated to cheer for us. This wasn’t a gentle world. They didn’t care about the kid’s feelings. I glanced over my shoulder. Wolf was unfazed, and Zaon moved his lips, repeating, ‘Nervous is good’ repeatedly. Firana, on the other hand, was furious.
“Tough crowd, uh?” I muttered.
“It’s only expected. Orphans don’t get good classes. There is no reason to cheer for us,” Ilya replied with a grin. “Yet.”
Did she look so mature back at the carriage?
The crowd’s attention lingered on us for an instant before the next team entered the arena. To my surprise, a single team represented the royal family: a group of cadets from the Imperial Academy. Five young cadets dressed in plain black, guided by Holst, entered the arena. The crowd came back to life. Considering the opulence of the other teams, the uniforms of the Imperial Academy cadets were disappointing. Even my group was better suited to the occasion.
Holst stood by my left, saluting the stands with a dull gesture.
“Robert Clarke, good to see you still among the living,” he greeted me with a bored tone.
His words, however, sent a shiver down my spine. Did he know assassins had tried to kill me a few days before? Captain Kiln had sworn to keep it a secret. The coincidences piled up. Holst knew about the attack and asked Lyra Jorn’s help with the library when Luzian Abei had a small army of Scholars and Scribes at his disposal. I couldn’t help but think Holst was still in contact with the culprit.
“Preceptor Holst,” I coldly greeted, my brain too busy to formulate a more wordy sentence.
“I didn’t expect to meet my former students,” he added, looking past me at Ilya and the kids. “Certainly not in these circumstances.”
I swallowed my anger. This was a golden opportunity for the orphanage. Watching the skill of the imperial cadets could help me understand why Sir Janus had been the only commoner in Farcrest to assist the Imperial Academy. Even if we lost the tournament, we could improve our chances of getting them accepted into the Imperial Academy, putting them in the same echelon as nobles.
“Do you trust the ability of your current students to win the tournament?” I asked, examining the cadet’s faces. Three humans, a half-elf, and a harpy. They didn’t seem thrilled to be part of the tournament.
Holst laughed.
“These idiots aren’t my students. These five failed their first year. If they don’t win the tournament, they will be kicked out of the Academy,” he replied, shrugging. “For failures like them, I’d say they are the favorites to win the tournament.”
A glance at the Imperial Academy team revealed their strong shoulders and steady feet. Despite the lack of fashion, they looked like trained warriors instead of pampered noble kids. Their faces had lost the roundness of childhood, and their calm demeanor and sharp eyes revealed an intense training regime. I hoped not to bump into them until the later rounds of the tournament.
Our conversation was cut short because the Osgirian teams entered the arena. First, Lord Osgiria, then Lord Nara, and finally, a man dressed as a knight, followed by a group of kids in mismatched uniforms—each one with the colors of their respective houses. Lord Osgiria stood by Holst's side and greeted the VIP box.
If Captain Kiln were right, our team would fight Lord Nara in the first round. I expected the man to be a merchant with a comically large belly. Instead, he looked like a cunning gray fox. I had to remind myself that buying a way into nobility required a skillful negotiator.
“Three teams, Lord Osgiria? You don’t seem too confident in your chances,” Holst casually said.
The Imperial Academy had to be a powerhouse within the kingdom because Lord Osgiria swallowed any snarky remark.
Lord Herran, a tall and muscular redhead dressed in full warrior attire, entered next. I remembered him from the feast—boisterous, talkative, determined. The black mana-repelling axe hung from his belt, causing my stomach to feel sick if I looked for too long. House Herran only had two teams, one led by Lord Herran himself and the other by a man who could be his twin. Only half of the team members were human; the other half were different flavors of beast folk.
More than half of the kids had bright red hair like their lord. I wondered if red hair was a dominant gene in the Herran Dukedom because the kids looked healthy. There was not a trace of the infamous Habsburg chin. They were tall and robust like their lord.
I tried to glance at the axe’s runes, but Lord Herran was too far away.
“That’s lord Herran and his army of copperhead bastards,” Holst pointed out, laughing at his joke.
I doubted that having a dozen children the same age was normal, even more so for a noble, considering how difficult succession could be. Lord Herran must’ve loved to spread his genes.
“It’s okay for him to present his… illegitimate kids in an official event like this?” I asked.
“Do you like gossip, Robert Clarke?” Holst raised an eyebrow.
“I like to be informed,” I replied.
Holst seemed satisfied with my answer.
“Lord Herran is one of the few Combat Prestige Classes in the kingdom. He has the [Conqueror] Class,” Holst replied. “It’s only natural that he can do whatever he wants. Not even the king has enough power over Lord Herran to stop his… reproductive impulses.”
I nodded. The relationship between the royal house and the great three dukedoms was more complex than I initially thought. According to the stories, Combat Prestige Classes were, in essence, one-man armies that could create whole countries around their power. I wondered what kind of monsters the royal army found in the Deep Farlands to be obliged to retreat.
After Lord Herra, Lord Gairon entered the arena. The Gairon House was arguably the second most powerful family after the royal house, and their uniforms reflected their status. The blue was rich and deep, and the gold shone under the winter sun, seemingly casting the few clouds away. The crowd yelled and cheered. It wasn’t surprising. Lord Gairon was a tall, tanned man with hair the color of ripe wheat—the perfect poster boy and leader of the anti-war faction.
“He has to go down if we want the royal faction to have a chance,” Holst said.
It suddenly hit me. Holst and I technically supported the same faction.
“Lord Gairon is also a Prestige Class?” I asked.
“A [Sacred Knight], yes. Rumor says he reached the mythic level sixty,” Holst replied. “Let’s hope their teams are more… farming inclined.”
The crowd became more tame after the three big houses made their entrance. Lord Vedras received less than half of House Gairon’s support, probably because of the tax disputes between Farcrest and the Vedras dukedom. He had brought three teams.
Duke Jorn’s presence almost caused the arena to become completely silent—Holst told me he was also a high-level Prestige Class, a Shadow Stalker.
“That sounds dangerous,” I pointed out.
“Sellen Jorn is one of the most dangerous men in the kingdom. His mere existence was enough for the king to create a whole new duchy,” Holst said. “Take an Assassin and a Shadow Fencer, mix them, double their powers, and then double them again. That’s a Shadow Stalker in a nutshell.”
I tried to imagine it. The Assassin who attacked the orphanage would have had a hard time with any class without a skill like my mana blades. I had been lucky to have a favorable matchup against him; otherwise, I might have been dead. His capacity to disable my movement was scarily effective. A man with the skills of an Assassin and a Shadow Fencer had dangerous implications.
“Prince Adrien wanted Sellen Jorn as his Master of Assassins, but he didn’t want to leave his people in the north,” Holst said. “Walls, doors, bars, locks, nothing can stop a Shadow Stalker. Only the woven barrier of several high-level Fortifiers can stop him. Or so it’s said.”
Gears turned inside my skull. I wondered if Duke Jorn was involved in the disappearance of the evidence of Raudhan’s poisoning. He certainly had the skill to move unnoticed through the Great Hall. Stealing a box with shards of glass would be a walk in the park for him.
The rest of the teams passed in a blur as my mind reviewed the party's events. Sellen Jorn was undoubtedly suspicious. His lack of presence was as unnerving as it was useful for an infiltration mission. Could he be involved in Raudhan’s poisoning? Lord Vedras had denied the existence of any co-conspirators, and we were almost entirely sure that Raudhan hadn’t been poisoned by Ashroot.
Duke Jorn's political positioning was hard to determine. The northern dukedoms were poor, and just like Farcrest, they served as a bulwark against the Monster Surges. Four families controlled most of the kingdom’s economy and politics. House Gairon, House Herran, House Osgiria, and the Royal Family. The northern dukedoms didn’t benefit from the current trade routes and wouldn’t directly benefit from a new trade route into the Kingdom of Tagabiria.
However, they would benefit from a closer relationship with the royal family.
Duke Jorn had no reason to poison Captain Kiln.
Ilya tugged the sleeve of my jacket, bringing me back to the present. The master of ceremonies was finishing a long speech about the legacy of Stephaniss of Farcrest, the previous lord of the city and the Marquis's grandfather. Even the Marquis seemed bored.
“Prince Adrien will draw the matches for the first round!” The master of ceremonies announced.
Prince Adrien came forward, and an assistant brought a glass bowl filled with small wooden rods. He put his hand in the bowl, picked one randomly, and passed it to his companion. The woman dressed in purple read it out loud, her voice magically amplified. Her pleasant contralto voice made me think she was a singer.
“House Nara versus…” she received the second wooden rod. “Lowell’s Orphanage!”
Just like Captain Kiln had warned me.
I didn’t expect us to be the opening fight. The other teams returned to the pavilion, and a group of Scribes carried the System Shrine Shard embedded in its copper nest to the center of the arena. I assumed it was there to ensure all participants met the requirements for the tournament.
“Let’s go, team,” I said.
We formed next to the Shrine Shard and in front of Lord Nara’s team. The master of ceremonies activated the blue orb, and the kids' names, classes, and levels appeared before us. Luckily, Lord Nara and I were exempt from the crystal ability. Being outed as a Runeweaver wasn’t part of my plans.
Belya Nara, Geomancer Lv.3
Arel Nara, Warrior Lv.5
Lino, Soldier Lv.9
Jan, Archer Lv.3
Aiwin, Courier Lv.7
Firana Aias, Wind Fencer Lv.1
Ilya, Hunter Lv.2
Zaon, Classless Lv.1
Wolf, Classless Lv.1
The System prompts might have been big enough for the crowd to read because a murmur rose from the stands. I didn’t need [Awareness] to understand the commotion. Half of my team was classless in a world where Classes were everything. Lord Nara also seemed to notice the discrepancy between our teams.
“I’m feeling generous today, Mister Caretaker. I will gladly accept your surrender and spare you the embarrassment if you apologize for wasting our time,” Lord Nara said with a mellow, totally fake voice. “You can save the kids the shame of losing in front of their countrymen.”
The master of ceremonies looked at me.
“What do you think, Ilya?” I asked.
“The team is ready, Mister Clarke. We fight,” she replied without any hint of doubt.
Despite Lord Nara’s clever expression, he was underestimating us. I couldn’t blame him. He had lived all his life in a world where value was determined by class and level. Developing an eye for people wasn’t as helpful as on Earth, where it could mean the difference between life and death.
“We fight,” I said.
“Don’t say I didn’t extend the courtesy of an honorable withdrawal,” Lord Nara grinned, his fox-like eyes turned into thin lines.
The master of ceremonies nodded.
“The Rules are simple. The team that loses the coin toss has to choose its first fighter, and then the winning team chooses its opponent. Then, the roles change. Every team has two picks and two counter picks, for a total of four fighters,” the master of ceremonies explained, pulling a gold coin from the pocket.
I nodded. There was a level of strategy involved in the pairing phase. I could pair Firana against their weakest member to ensure a vast point difference. Or I could choose Zaon to keep things equalized. If I were Lord Nara, I would leave the Lv.7 Courier outside the selection. As fast as they were, they weren’t a combatant Class, but on the other hand, even non-combatants could develop useful masteries.
Zaon had a good matchup against the Soldier and the Warrior, as their combat skills were on the ‘basic’ side of the spectrum. However, the Archer, the Geomancer, and the Courier could present a problem to him. Wolf also had a bad matchup against the Archer and the Geomancer because he relied on solid and static positioning to use his muscles. Ilya and Firana had good matchups against the enemy team, but the enemy Geomancer worried me the most. She wasn’t just an Advanced Class, but a relative of Lord Nara.
“Here goes the coin,” the master of ceremonies said. He threw it high and caught it mid-flight.
Lord Nara kindly offered me the call.
“Heads,” I replied with a grin.
“Heads,” the master of ceremonies said, revealing the coin.
[Awareness] didn’t disappoint, but I made a mental note to keep it hidden from Ilya. She wouldn’t be on board with blatant cheating, even if we had the disadvantage. As cunning as Ilya was, strategy and cheats were completely different.
Lord Nara huffed. “Lino, you go first.”
The Soldier kid stepped forward. He was tall, probably a year older than my kids, but [Awareness] told me he was nervous. Soldier Class was painfully close to no class at all.
“Zaon, you go first. Is that okay with you?” I said, hoping the combination of Light-Footed and Lv.2 Longsword Mastery would match a Lv.9 Soldier with a couple of skills under his sleeve.
Zaon nodded.
It was my turn to choose and Lord Nara’s turn to counter-pick. “Ilya, you go second,” I said.
Ilya came forward, prompting a laugh from the rival Fighter.
“Do you want to fight the gnome, Arel?” Lord Nara asked.
“Yes, my lord. I’m confident I can get a ten-point lead over a Gnome Hunter,” Arel Nara replied.
A vein popped on Ilya’s forehead.
“Good. I chose my cousin Arel Nara for the second fight,” Lord Nara said.
Then, Lord Nara selected the Archer boy for the third fight, which put me in a tough spot. The Archer and the Geomancer were hard matchups for Wolf, and I lacked a fifth or sixth member to play around it. Nonetheless, the Archers weren’t known for their vast arsenal of skills.
“Wolf, you go against him,” I said.
Wolf nodded.
“Which leaves us with the last pair,” Lord Nara said with a mocking smile.
“Firana, you go last,” I said.
“Belya, my daughter, will be my last pick,” Lord Nara replied.
The dueling pairs were ready.
“So be it. The tournament's first match will be between Lino the Soldier and Zaon the Elf,” the master of ceremonies said, his voice suddenly amplified again as the Scribes took the System Shrine orb away. “Contestants, please go get your equipment. May the System bless you all.”
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Tmj symptoms have been worsening over the past couple of weeks. I’ve now seen Two oral surgeons who have both disregarded my symptoms and told me to basically suck it up because they can’t really understand what’s going on or what’s causing my issues…? They couldn’t even give me a proper diagnosis, and told me to take Advil or muscle relaxers and that’s basically all I can do. I’m really frustrated because my symptoms have only gotten worse, and I can’t get relief or answers. Any advice would be much appreciated on who I can go to next? Would an ENT be worth looking into? My dentist said they don’t deal with tmj issues. Seems like there’s no one out there who has an understanding of this issue. PS - I had a CBCT scan, and oral surgeons said nothing stands out so they don’t really know what to tell me. Muscle relaxers don’t do anything. I do all the conservative measures they advised and nothing helps.
I have constant clicking and crackling in my ears when talking as well as head, ear, sinus pressure. Headaches and super tense muscles. Nerve pain that comes and goes in my face, and behind my eye. Constant jaw tension, tinnitus which comes and goes, can’t sleep on my side due to jaw joint pain, etc. jaw doesn’t open properly/ deviates to one side when opening.
Anyway thanks for reading my rant, again advice on what to do next would be great. I told the oral surgeon I saw today I would like MRI imaging done , to see if they can see what the issue is.

Hey all, I have some general questions about some upcoming medical stuff I got going on and i don't really trust my manager as of late
I need surgery (fairly serious) to correct an injury I had several years ago while working here.
The workers comp claim is closed as I was able to recover for a short amount of time, but as of last year I've been in pain from it every day.
The surgery is supposed to knock me out for at the very least 5 days (in the hospital) and then 6-8 months of light duty. My manager has been complaining about how understaffed we are (and hasn't really been a team player at training me) so I'm curious how I need to navigate this.
To answer the bloodthirsty legal team: yes, it is medically necessary. I've had MRIs, x-rays, spinal injections, muscle relaxers and physical therapy. My doctor's only qualm is that I'm "too young for surgery" (but that was disregarded when nothing else worked).
It's not slated for, at the latest, this fall. But I'm due to go through a few more hoops with my hospital so I'd rather start on the paperwork sooner rather than later.
Thanks in advance for reading and remember: lift with your legs!